Chapter 29

Kyukon was caught unprepared. "He's with his tutors, surely."

"No," snapped Zarbon. The alien had that dangerous air about him, the one that made him seem larger and broader and more male than Saiyans usually perceived him. Kyukon, who had never once seen Zarbon in combat or thought of him as anything other than a sleek toy of the king's, stared at him in awe. "We had a very strange message that the tutors were sent home for the day. Under what authority did you do this?"

Holding his hands up in front of him, Kyukon protested, "This is the first I've heard of it, Zarbon. Let me make a couple of inquiries and see what happened. Perhaps he needed an extra training session—"

"I train the Prince," snarled the alien.

I'm not cut out for this, Kyukon ruefully acknowledged as he tapped on his scouter. The Queen's Captain had no information, nor did the Captain of the Palace Guard, although both were appropriately alarmed. Kyukon began working down the ladder of command, calling the lieutenants of the Guard to report in with any information.

What he gathered was more puzzling than anything else. "Shiruko's not answering. It looks like his scouter is off-line."

"Squad members?" demanded Zarbon.

"None of them are answering, either," started Kyukon, then paused as more symbols flashed across his eye piece. After taking a minute to absorb the information, Kyukon said slowly, "This is ... strange ..."

"What is strange?"

"The Commander-in-Chief has taken one of the royal shuttles."

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Before the beginning of the day shift the illumination within the healing chambers was drastically diminished. In the shadows that enveloped the regeneration units, two dark outlines could be discerned in front of the tank of the Saiyan warrior. The lack of light smoothed out identifying details, obscuring even which species were present. An observer could be excused for not paying much attention to either of the shapes. The tank itself would be more likely to command attention. The figure inside it whirled and twisted as the phosphorescent fluid actively bubbled. Trails of liquid light followed her thrashing hands and feet; her head rolled about on her neck. The froth within the tank was due as much to her gyrations as to any outside influence.

Very few ventured into the healing chambers before the day cycle began, but one warrior had practically lived there since he arrived. Even without the wide light-sensitive eyes bequeathed to him by nocturnal ancestors he was adept at finding his way about the ill-lit compound. When the doors to the healing chambers swished open his gaze immediately went to one particular pod. The newcomer stiffened. Suddenly the early morning quiet was split by a hoarse scream, the sound indicative of a strong warrior powering up. A ragged aura surrounded the figure in the entrance. He flung himself into the room straight at the forms in front of the bubbling tank. Without glancing around, the taller figure flicked a cape over one shoulder and held up a flattened hand. Electric discharge crackled as the warrior crashed into an unseen barrier, briefly delimiting the curved edge of a ki shield. He slowly slid down, collapsing into a heap on the floor, as darkness again claimed the medical center.

Youkan briefly held a palm against his face; it came away speckled with dark smears. He rose to his knees, snarling. "What the hell are you doing?"

One of the figures finally half-turned. The eerie glow from the tank cascaded across cheekbone and nose, mixing with skin tones to produce an odd, bruised hue on the pale flesh. The shadows shifted as a smile creased the skin. Hard amber eyes that gleamed ferally in the reflected light studied Youkan. "'Doing'?" queried Yuzun blandly.

"Get away from her!"

There was a distressed burble from the remaining figure. Yuzun laid a graceful hand against the closest piece of armor jutting from the amorphous body. "I'm sure the silly barbarian doesn't mean to be so ungrateful," he soothed the medical tech. "Please continue."

Growling ominously, Youkan rose to his feet.

Yuzun faced him. Folding his arms, he cocked his head to one side. In the half-light, all that could be seen was his imposing silhouette against the tank; the secondary physical characteristics that made Saiyans tend to dismiss those of his kind were obscured. In spite of himself, Youkan checked, eyeing the changeling warily. There was the flash of white teeth. Yuzun spoke gently, all the while studying the Saiyan with cold, luminous yellow eyes. "Offhand, I would say congratulations are in order. Vejiitasei's Queen has intervened on your behalf. We're in the process of waking your mate up. I'll need to escort you to the border, but once there, you're both free to go."

"Go—?"

The changeling sighed. "Lights, please." After a whir of machinery the compound brightened. The illumination of the attaché's delicate features undercut Youkan's impression of something dangerous and powerful menacing Kimchee's tank. Yuzun tossed his head, flicking the blue-green braid over his shoulder, and said, with a sort of weary petulance, "Yes, 'go.' Leave. Scat. Shoo. However you care to put it."

Youkan ignored him, staring instead over Yuzun's shoulder into the tank. Kimchee's wild thrashing was stilling. She momentary hung suspended in the chemicals as her hair undulated around her before sinking to her knees. Slowly her eyes slitted open, closed again against the rush of stinging chemicals, then flew wide as she became more aware of her non-Saiyan surroundings. One clenched fist struck against the inside of the tank. Ignoring the others, Youkan vaulted from his crouching position, landing next to the container. He splayed his hand against the clear material. Pausing in her struggles, Kimchee stared at him then exhaled noisily. Her closed hand opened. Carefully she aligned her fingers to match those of her husband's.

Glancing between the two of them, Yuzun's features relaxed into a more genuine smile. His expression shifted into something more wry. "Warrior, I apologize for being so sharp. I'm really not at my best this time of day. But when Lord Freeza says he wants something done immediately, he means immediately."

Without turning away from what it was doing, the tech extended a protoplasmic psuedopod from its back and projected it between the faces of the two Saiyans. Youkan found himself staring at a credible representation of a hand with "fingers" forked into a "V" sign.

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Konny had yet to determine if this was the worst day of her life or just one of the worst days of her life. I suppose I'll have a better perspective if I survive it, she decided with characteristic Saiyan pragmatism.

It started innocuously enough. Since many of the King's Guard were on the purging mission, members of the Palace Guard were called upon to fill spots within the Royal Quarters when normally their duties were limited to the more public areas of the Palace. Because there were no fights to break up (or get involved in) as there often were in the communal rooms, most Palace Guards considered it tedious work to be avoided at all costs. Although she shared the general distaste of her comrades for Royal duty, it was also a way to work off the demerits remaining from the last mess hall blow-up instigated by Aemona. At least she could work off her demerit debt, Konny comforted herself. Aemona was still buried under demerits from her foolish challenge of the Earth-Saiyan hybrid three years earlier. So, grumbling all the while, Konny volunteered for a stint within the Royal Wing of the Palace and kept herself amused as she stared at stone walls for hours at a time by imagining the battle for the position of King's Captain between her offspring (which one didn't matter) and Chishan a few decades hence.

This day Konny found herself guarding the hallway outside the Heir's classroom while Lieutenant Lord Shiruko's squad took up the front-line positions within the classroom itself. Even when she saw her father-in-law, Commander-in-Chief Nappa, striding down the hall she had no inkling of trouble. She and the other Palace Guards snapped to attention. Nappa did not spare any of them a glance as he marched into the Prince's classroom. Within instants there was an exodus of startled-looking tutors. Strange, thought Konny as she stared at the closed door. Perhaps there is a special strategy session for the Prince that the Commander is leading. Still, she did not anticipate anything out of the ordinary was about to occur. She simply folded her arms across her chest in the alert posture guards were expected to maintain when they were on duty, anticipating a long wait before she could move again.

Then the doors slid open once more. Startled, Konny again jerked to attention. From her vantage point she could see members of Lieutenant Lord Shiruko's squad hurriedly pouring into the hall, jostling each other as they tried to assume a formation there just wasn't room for. Lifting her chin slightly, she could barely make out the spiky head of Shiruko himself at the back. Dropping her gaze, she saw the Heir with Lady Zenza stepping into the formation, all but invisible behind the forest of thick, muscular legs. Nappa pushed his way to the front, his face alight with expectation and triumph. He glanced back once to nod at Shiruko, then waved the little procession forward.

Konny did the unthinkable. She stepped out in front of the Commander to block his path.

There was a comedic series of collisions as Nappa abruptly halted and the Guards behind him jostled and bumped each other in their efforts to avoid touching either him or the Heir. The Commander stared at her incredulously.

Konny felt the nerve oozing right out of her. Hoping her voice didn't squeak, "Sir, the Heir is scheduled for lessons now," she wavered. Swallowing, she went on in a more even tone. "We have no orders to the contrary."

"You dare," he started to snarl at her before a vague sense of recognition crossed his face. "You look familiar, chit."

Given the state of near-open hostility between the two, it was probably too much to hope that Nappa would remember that she was married to his eldest son. "Konnaku, Palace Guard," she identified herself. "Sir, the Heir—"

"The Heir's training is the responsibility of the Commander-in-Chief." Nappa drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest. He placed his hands low on his hips and leaned over her, a nasty smile curving up his mustache. "Today he's getting a very special training session, wench. He's going to get to blow lots of stuff up. About time, don't you think?"

She had been a lot older before she'd blown anything up in non-oozaru form. She tried to catch the eye of the Prince, but he was utterly concealed in the mass of big bodies. A couple of the other guards, however, were exchanging uneasy glances; she was not the only one who was worried about the Heir being removed from his classroom without prior notification. "I'll just let my Captain know we're leaving," she said as she raised her fingers to the side of her scouter.

Nappa flicked the scouter off of her face and easily crushed the small machine in front of her eyes. Konny looked at the remains of her scouter in the big hand, utterly at a loss.

"Radio silence," chastised Nappa, wagging a finger in her face. "This is a top secret mission, woman, and now you're part of it. Come."

Which was how she ended up where she was, in the co-pilot seat of one of the King's shuttles, half-convinced that she was engaged in some form of treasonous activity even though she knew that the Commander-in-Chief was the traditional trainer of the Heir to the House of Vejiitasei. She could only hope the current Head of the House of Vejiitasei also knew that; the senior Vegeta didn't seem to comprehend or even care about how things were supposed to be done. The Prince, Lady Zenza, and most of the other guards who had been on duty were in the main cabin. Behind her sat Lord Shiruko and another of the King's Guards. Neither of them shared her concern; every time she glanced over her shoulder, they both had chins dropped to their chests, using the brief flight to nap.

"We're being hailed again," said the pilot, nervously. They had been ordered to maintain radio silence, which had been easy at first since no one questioned what the Commander-in-Chief needed with one of the Royal shuttles. Very shortly, however, queries about the Prince's whereabouts began to be directed to them.

Konny scowled at the symbols that identified the caller. "It's Kyukon this time," she said, fighting to keep the relief out of her voice. It's one thing not to acknowledge Zarbon, but Kyukon's a Chieftain and the Voice of the King...! She started to key in the code that would open communications.

The console exploded. Konny snatched her hand back to shield her eyes, turning her head away from the sparks. Only her thick gloves saved her from serious burns, although she could feel the impact of small metal fragments and the heat through the material. Cautiously she opened one eye, relieved to see that the shuttle was otherwise undamaged. A movement caught her attention. Shiruko crossed his arms as he lifted his head, his expression self-satisfied. The glow of power still coated the eyes of the King's Guard. "The Commander doesn't want anyone to interfere with the boy's training," said Shiruko blandly. "The alien has been ... a bit soft on him."

Ah, well, thought Konny as she fatalistically gazed at the ruined communication panel. It's not as if the brats are crying and asking for their mommies. Resolutely she turned her attention to monitoring the shuttle's flight path.

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Unlike the medical facility playing host to Kimchee, the area on the Saiyan flagship where the regeneration tanks were housed was brightly lit. There were very few occupants for the tanks, however. Once Captain Puipui was eliminated, nothing on the planet could stand up to even low-class Saiyan warriors. For all that Vegeta's exit from the ship nearly destroyed all the Saiyan military on the mission, the casualties from the actual purge had been far less than projected. Most of the injured were from on-ship fights. The med-techs were just mopping up after one such influx of new patients, the result, as near as anyone could tell, of an argument over whether broiling or smoking was the best way to prepare the final batch of meat from Koorim.

In front of one tank where the chemicals were gently shifting colors, a med-tech was explaining the delay in reviving the last of the battle casualties. The scar-faced individual he addressed shrugged with apparent indifference. "No hurry," said Squad Commander Bardock. "We have a few days left before we get to Vejiitasei."

The med-tech gave him a skeptical glance and scurried to a raised console near the tank. A few buttons were pushed. Bubbles began to enclose the figure that knelt in the tank. "Draining," the med-tech told Bardock. Slowly the fluid percolated out of the tank. With a quick toss of her head, the warrior within the tank shook off her face mask. She stood with one smooth motion that made it manifest no serious injuries remained. Gathering a handful of her dark hair, the warrior twisted it in her hands, wringing out some of the excess fluid. Frowning, she stepped out of the tank and regarded the figure waiting for her. "What are you doing here?"

"We were done with our mission. It was more intimidation than purge and didn't take very long. Since our paths home intersected I sent a request to be allowed on board. Imagine my astonishment when the cruiser dropped out of hyperspace to pick me up." He graced her with a sardonic smile, his eyes serious. "The King appears to have a soft spot for one of us, and I doubt it's me."

Riiki snorted.

"Maybe it is me, then." Folding his arms, Bardock tipped his head down, smiling slyly. "I do have the more engaging personality."

"Baka," grumbled Riiki. She bent slightly and wrapped her mate in a wet embrace. Bardock snaked one of his strong arms around her bare back, pressing his nose and forehead into her neck. They stood silently together for several heartbeats before Riiki pulled away. "Feh," she growled, "I'm completely sodden."

Turning, Bardock snatched a towel from the railing and tossed it to her. Riiki powered up slightly, just enough to evaporate the moisture on her body, before scrubbing the towel over her still-wet hair. Bardock took a couple of big steps back and tapped on his scouter, training it on her.

"Well?" Riiki's voice was muffled by the towel, but the note of scorn carried clearly.

"Nothing," reported Bardock, his own voice edged with relief.

"So much for that hypothesis," his mate scoffed.

Bardock's words took on that analytic tone that never failed to annoy her. "Although you weren't mortally wounded by our standards, the blood loss and the lack of immediate care made your situation dicey. Not enough, apparently, to increase your ki. That's a good thing. You're as strong as you can get without putting yourself at risk of implosion," Bardock told her gravely.

—you will never be anything more than what you are now—

Scowling, Riiki stopped towel-drying her hair. She straightened to her full height, flinging her damp hair back in a drop-trailing arc. Bardock hissed in irritation as moisture pelted him, stepping further away and glaring at her.

"I'm in no mood to listen to any of your pet theories right now," growled Riiki. "Where's my armor? I have to go get debriefed."

"You're getting more than that. You're getting your own squad. Officially, I mean."

She half-thought that to be no more than delirium. Her eyes followed Bardock's outflung arm, which indicated her warrior's garb laid out on a low table. Shaking her hair again, she moved to the table and began to pull on the armor. For a moment, she held the thigh strap that indicated her new rank between her hands, snapping it like a rubber band. Without looking at Bardock, she murmured, "You should be so much more than a squad leader by now."

"I'm content with what I have," he said, distantly.

Riiki had to struggle not to say 'I'm sorry.' For what? she mentally demanded, her back straightening. She shook the excess moisture out of her tail, then wrapped it around her waist. The band she tucked into her chestplate. "I'll think about putting this on after I actually get a squad together," she said.

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Nappa was completely unaware of the doubts that assailed some of the lesser warriors in his company, but then, Nappa would never have thought taking the Heir away from the capitol as being in any way treasonous or even out of the ordinary. The precautions he took, from waiting until such time as Shiruko's squad was assigned to the Prince's lessons (largely because he could not trust any of those irritating "Queen's" Guards to behave with appropriate respect to the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces) to making sure none of the aliens who somehow thought they had power on Vejiitasei were communicated with until the Prince was well beyond their reach, were all made from simple necessity, not because of any doubts about his right to do what he was doing. Too many factors had already interfered with his attempts to facilitate the Heir's Saiyan upbringing.

There was nothing to be done about the Heir's looks. Unlike the Northern warriors, who would return gray-hued from extended sojourns on their native continent due to some environmental factor no Saiyan cared enough about to try and isolate, the Heir's skin tone and queer hair color could not be altered except by intense and prolonged exposure to the sun. Given the uncertain human genetics, Nappa thought in disgust, such exposure would probably prove fatal. The power the Heir possessed, however, more than made up for any physical peculiarity. The boy was beginning to form nice, concentrated ki blasts, but the alien creature always insisted on using those silly practice spheres. Zarbon was, in Nappa's studied opinion, being far too gentle with the Heir; far more gentle than it had been when it trained the elder Vegeta.

It was time, Nappa decided, that the boy had a taste of what constituted a proper Saiyan training. It obviously couldn't be done at the capitol, where either the King's Liaison or the Queen herself might interfere. Fortunately the instruction of the Heir was the duty of the Commander-in-Chief — and with the King off-planet, no one could deny Nappa access to the Prince. It was evident everyone knew that when he came into the Heir's daily lessons and commandeered the brat. The young Prince himself gave him a steady stare, but did not object when the Commander told him that the next stage of his training was to commence immediately.

Normally he would have stayed at the Palace, but the alien influence was too strong there.

Which left only one area on Vejiitasei suitable for properly training the brat.

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