Chapter 32

Nappa was in no position to object when the Queen's Captain took charge of the Heir, but the King's Lieutenant was, and he made his disapproval known. Zarbon stood to one side of the quarreling Saiyans, carefully positioning himself between them and the Heir as the argument over jurisdiction became more heated, but he kept his eyes down and his arms casually crossed, underscoring his lack of official standing when it came to the Heir. Only the occasional flick of gold under his lids gave any indication he was following the conversation. Radditz's voice began to go quiet and deep—a dangerous sign in any Saiyan, reflected Zarbon, but especially telling in one of Bardock's sons. "For the last time, my lord, Prince Vegeta doesn't go with you in the shuttle, nor do you take him once we land. He doesn't leave my side until he is returned to the Queen. You've already messed up royally," his lips drew back on the pun, "but then, you were following orders. Don't forget who is in charge here. Make sure you remember how to follow orders now."

Shiruko's eyes sparked. "You think you're in charge, 'captain'? You overstep your bounds!"

"Even if the basic concept of a captain outranking a lieutenant escapes you, my lord, you should remember that where the Heir is concerned, I have the final say. Not you. Not Nappa. Not even Chishan. Me."

Shiruko growled, his short hair beginning to spike. Zarbon idly moved a pebble back and forth with the toe of one boot, studying its placement with rapt attention. "Move closer to the Captain at your own peril, Lieutenant."

Rather than prudently backing down, Shiruko settled into a battle crouch. Rolling his eyes, the Heir reached up with one of his tiny hands and snagged Zarbon's fingers. "I'm bored." His voice was petulant, indicating more than mere boredom. Duly impressed with his recent display of power, several of the watching warriors eyed the little boy askance. "Take me to see Mom now."

Zarbon sighed. He wanted to rub his brow, but Trunks had him by his brow-rubbing hand and he felt he needed to keep the other one unoccupied in case Shiruko became completely suicidal and lunged for Radditz. "I can't escort you, my Prince."

The Prince muttered under his breath a few choice words that seemed to have something to do with the general stupidity of grown-ups. "Captain Radditz!"

His head cocked toward the Heir's petulant voice, but his hard gaze remained centered on Shiruko. "Yes, my Prince."

"Now means now."

The cruel Saiyan smirk teased up the corner of his mouth. Radditz gazed skyward, his attitude mocking. "My Prince calls," he remarked to the empty air. "Is anyone going to stop me from going to him?"

Phrased that way, there was little Shiruko could do without being openly seditious. His face smoothed into a frigid mask as he rose from his battle stance. Folding his arms across his chest, he came to formal attention, but the eyes that trained on Radditz were hard. Radditz pivoted away, no triumph in his face or bearing. He saluted the Prince, but addressed Zarbon in a low voice. "Don't ever do that again."

Apparently still enthralled with the pebble Zarbon did not look up, but a thin brow raised. "I shouldn't warn the Lieutenant to beware your awesome wrath?"

"Weren't you the one whining about his authority being undermined a couple of hours ago? Understand this; when you publicly threaten someone on my behalf, you are undermining my authority as Queen's Captain. Do not do it again."

"As you wish. All threats from now on will be strictly in private."

Radditz's lips drew back, exposing his teeth. He was obviously not pleased with the alien's flippancy. The Heir gave Zarbon's hand a solid pull. "How many times do I have to say 'now'?"

"My Prince, I am ready to escort you," Radditz said. He gestured to two of the King's guards imperiously, pointing to the shuttle that he and Zarbon had arrived in. After glancing toward Shiruko uncertainly and receiving no sign from him one way or another, both Saiyans charged up and flew up to the hovering craft. Releasing Zarbon's hand, the Prince spiraled up after them, with Radditz close by his side.

Zarbon held his hand out to the Prince's companion where she stood in the shadow of her brother. "Come, milady. By now your mother is searching for you. I'll make sure you arrive at the capitol in a timely manner."

Zenza bit her lip and tilted her head back to look uncertainly at her brother. This time Shiruko did give a small, encouraging nod, although the expression on his face remained wooden. She continued to hesitate "I can't fly," she finally admitted on a growl, daring the alien to make something out of her lack of ability.

Zarbon's face gentled. "Just hold onto my hand. I promise, it will feel just like flying."

Unlike Trunks, Zenza wasn't used to the concept of holding hands. She reached out with both of hers, carefully wrapping two blue-tinted fingers in each of her tiny palms. Zarbon extended a tendril of his ki shield to wrap around the child, then slowly lifted off, giving her the chance to become used to the sensation as he levitated toward the hovering shuttle. She was wide-eyed with wonder, staring down at the ground, then up at the shuttle, back and forth. "Hasn't your mother done this with you?" he asked.

Zenza was defensive. "Of course not! I'm strong enough to figure it out on my own!" She tried to let go of his hand to prove her point, but fortunately they were close enough to the shuttle's open hatch for Zarbon to boost her into the craft with a flick of his ki. He secured it after them, thinking wryly that he should have realized Zenza's dangerous dives off of balconies and roofs as she tried to kick-start her flying skills were not just a reflection of her own bull-headedness but the typical Saiyan method of learning to fly. He had often thought it a wonder that any of the simians reproduced at all; now he added to that his amazement that what offspring they did produce ever survived childhood.

Trunks was pacing in tight circles, the release of adrenaline after the recent confrontation with Nappa making it impossible for the small boy to sit still. The sight reminded Zarbon of the teen-aged Vegeta, so over-energized with his untapped ki potential he found stillness difficult. Making a mental note to move to higher levels of meditation techniques so Trunks could take control of his power rather than the other way around, Zarbon studied the Prince. It had taken courage to stand up to Nappa — and it had been clever to brush the Commander aside in that coolly contemptuous fashion. The latter demonstrated that the Heir could have blown away the prisoners if he had chosen to do so.

The rest — was a worry. Zarbon had never heard of a Saiyan refusing to kill. Any Saiyan youth with such qualms could not survive their infant mission. The Heir was young yet, Zarbon reassured himself, and despite his training remained strongly influenced by his mother's peculiar Earth mores. Still — if he had been common-born rather than royalty, he would have been a year into his first mission by now. And if he couldn't bring himself to kill the denizens of the planet he was supposed to purge, the denizens themselves would not hesitate to eliminate the threat to their planet.

His thoughts were interrupted as one of the King's Guards commandeered by Radditz poked his head into the main cabin. "Liaison Zarbon? We have the Queen on the communicator."

Zarbon gave a weary smile. Well, I wanted to buy a little time — and it appears it was just enough. He asked Trunks if he wanted to talk to his mother; after a moment of consideration, the Prince indicated he had waaaaay too much to tell her and he wanted to see her first, anyway. "Inform the Queen that we have the Prince and Lady Zenza, and that both are unharmed. I'll brief her thoroughly when we touch down."

Radditz gave a malicious smirk as the Guard withdrew. "You don't want to talk to her now?"

"Ye gods, no. I'll be in for it soon enough."

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Bulma was still fuming over Zarbon's audacity in refusing her call when the communication panel in front of her beeped again. Thinking perhaps that her husband's soon-to-be-late liaison had come to his senses, she slapped a palm down on the connect sensor and prepared to launch into a vicious harangue. She was brought up short by the face smiling at her from the console. "Hello, dear."

As if she hadn't had enough to deal with for one day... "Mom. Hi."

"My, don't you look...interesting."

Bulma glanced down at herself. She was still in her court finery, although her makeup had been reduced to colorful smears that did not disguise the pale cast of her face. She was sure periodically pulling at her hair over the last few hours meant tufts were sticking up at peculiar angles. The session with the Cold clan seemed like months in the past rather than a very few hours ago. She settled for an brief, acerbic overview. "Rough day. I helped equip King Cold's empire for intergalactic genocide and then Trunks went missing for hours and hours."

"That does sound like it would keep you busy," Mrs. Briefs agreed serenely.

"He's on his way back now, thank Kami. Radditz and Zarbon found him out west somewhere, but not until they sent me on a wild goose chase in the opposite direction. I'm so fraught I don't know who to yell at first."

"Oh, if Trunks went west then I'm very glad Radditz went after him!"

Bulma narrowed her eyes at her mother's image. "Why? What's in the west that isn't in any other direction?"

"It's a bit of a frontier mentality out that way," responded Mrs. Briefs airily. "If Trunks has to go there as part of his training, you should probably insist Radditz is always along. You're very lucky to have Radditz, y'know. He'll be very protective of all your children.."

"Trust me, my son isn't leaving the palace again unless I'm part of the bodyguard team. Tearing off around the capitol is one thing, but taking off to other continents is guaranteed to give me gray hair, and that is something I'm not prepared to deal with just yet."

Mrs. Briefs tilted her head and smiled her aimless smile. "I hope that as you're raising him to be the savior of the universe and Zarbon is raising him to be a warrior king and Vegeta is raising him to be his personal assassin, someone cuts him enough slack so that he gets to be himself someplace along the line."

"Mom, I have to go hug Trunks and kill Zarbon. Was there a reason you called?"

"Oh! Yes, we're about to land, but I had more news than that. Chi-chi's had another baby boy!"

Bulma grimaced. At the moment she wasn't receptive to the idea of one more Saiyan in the universe, even if said Saiyan was produced by the very unSaiyan Goku. Her expressions of congratulations were lukewarm at best. Mrs. Briefs sighed. "Well. I was going to let you talk to Gohan, but I think it would only dampen his enthusiasm. He's very excited about having a little brother to play with. He said it would be like having Trunks around all the time. You're going to have to cut him some slack," she added, and it took a minute for Bulma to understand they were no longer talking about the new addition to the Son family. "If he's going to be king of the Saiyans one of these days...he's going to have to be just a little bit Saiyan to pull it off, isn't he?"

"Goodbye, Mom," said Bulma firmly, terminating the connection before Mrs. Briefs could say anything more.

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As tended to happen, all the major participants in the little drama involving the Prince's disappearance converged on the shuttle port behind the palace all at once. Zarbon's shuttle had to wait a few moments because Nira's was already preparing to land. Radditz wondered if that meant they would have to face two irate mothers, or if Nira's presence would force Bulma to tone down any public temper-tantrum she was planning on indulging in. Not, he reflected, that he had yet to witness anything that prevented Bulma from indulging a public tantrum that she had her heart set on. He eyed the young Prince as the shuttle banked for its final approach. He would not call that display of elite-level power a 'tantrum,' exactly; the boy exhibited far too much control for it to be so termed; but he was strongly reminded of the young Vegeta, who had been impossible to control from the age of six on. At least with Zarbon present, Trunks would have someone of quality to train with for a few years. It had been nerve-racking enough chasing after Vegeta when he had run away to participate in Cold's tournament. He had a lot more than just honor and duty invested in Trunks; if Trunks developed Vegeta's habit of running away to battles before he was even old enough to be in the military, Radditz thought he would be old before his time. Then he gave himself a small shake and told himself not to make worries where none existed. Trunks had not "run away" to the camps, he had been taken, and judging from his actions there he was not anxious to make any unsanctioned return trips. There was no need to compare him to the undisciplined brat his father had been at the same age. Yet.

It had not occurred to any of them to suggest to Trunks that telling his mother about what happened might be a bad idea. As soon as he was off the shuttle being smothered by his mother's embrace, though, he was pouring out the story to her. Radditz glanced over at Zarbon; the alien was rubbing two fingers against his forehead, as if that might stimulate his neurons into the rapid formulation of a "spin." But Trunks was leaving no room for maneuvering. Waving his arms in excited circles, he was telling Bulma all about Nappa wanting him to shoot people for no good reason and how he had needed to knock Nappa around so that he didn't have to shoot people. Bulma's face went more and more blank as the seething emotions evident on her visage when they first disembarked were shunted away, replaced by a frigid, controlled mask. Radditz was not used to Bulma controlling her emotions. It made him nearly as nervous as the manifestation of the Prince's power.

"...and then I walked over Nappa's back and said I wanted to see you!"

"I see," said the Queen. "I see..."

"And Zenza said she hated my guts after I almost dropped her, but I'm not going to say I'm sorry. I can't be sorry for stuff anymore."

Bulma's features relaxed into a grin that was only a little forced. "Did she really? I said that to Yamcha a few times."

"Who?"

"He's a friend of mine back on Earth. We used to have really big fights. I didn't mean it, though."

Trunks glanced toward Zenza. She had made a beeline for her own mother, and was currently glaring at him from behind Nira's legs. "I think she meant it. Do you hate Papa's guts now?"

"No." Bulma gave the boy a hug, but seen over his small shoulder, her face was smooth and emotionless. She pushed him away and pasted on a bright smile. "There's still some time before dinner. Go work on your computer tutorials."

"Aw, Mom. It's dinnertime now!"

"Just because Nappa let you goof off today doesn't mean you can get out of all of your schoolwork. The sooner you finish, the sooner you eat," she added sternly when the boy tried to continue his protests.

Given his recent display of power Radditz wasn't sure someone without ki should speak to Trunks in that tone. The Prince, however, subsided with a few more grumbles. He held up his hand for his mother to take, but Bulma just shook her head. "I have to talk to Zarbon for a minute. Radditz can find the computer on his own, can't you, Radditz?"

"That box thing in the Prince's quarters, my Queen?" drawled Radditz. "I might be able to locate it, yes."

"I'll be wanting to talk to you after I'm finished with Zarbon," returned Bulma pleasantly. "Do make sure you're available later, hmm?"

Radditz forgot about Bulma's lack of ki. He looked at the gleam in her eyes and knew true fear. He quickly ushered Trunks away, praying to a Kami he did not really believe in that Bulma would expend all of her venom on Zarbon and forget he even existed.

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Trunks' two primary caretakers stood on the tarmac of the King's shuttle port, staring at each other. The silence was broken by Zarbon. "What is it that you think you 'see,' Bulma?"

"I see, why I have to remain here. He has to be Saiyan as well as human for this to work. Mom was trying to tell me that earlier, I think. I didn't want to hear it."

For what to work? Zarbon wondered. "Bulma ... what are you planning?"

"Nothing," and there was a bitter note in her voice that made Zarbon believe her. "I chose when I came here. I can't un-choose now. Zarbon. You will make sure he's prepared for anything he ... has to do, won't you? I don't want him killed because ... well. Because of me."

"Yes, my Queen. That being said, I think he's already far beyond anything the camps could teach him."

"I'm relieved to hear that. Consider yourself yelled at, okay? I don't want to waste time with you when I could be spending it with my son."

"No problem," responded Zarbon with unvarnished relief.

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Nira remained at attention until the Prince, the Queen and their assorted guards left the tarmac, waiting until they were well out of sight before she cocked her head down toward her daughter. "I always miss the interesting bits," she drawled. "So. Seems you had a bit of an adventure, brat."

Zenza pointed after the Prince's entourage. "He made me!"

"Don't be defensive. I've had an adventure or two myself, child. It is in the nature of Saiyans, even planet-bound ones."

Zenza bit her lip. She wasn't very proud of this part. "He made me promise to take orders from him."

"The Heir forced an oath of fealty from you?"

"Um...I guess. I'm not sure."

"Was that before or after you publicly proclaimed you hated his guts?"

"Umm... during, I think. Stuff happened really fast. But he's the boss until I get bigger than him. That won't take too long, right?"

"Depends on which line you favor. Southerners tend to hit their full height earlier than the rest of us." Nira's gaze turned calculating, and a little bit sly. "I had not previously considered it — but I suppose an alliance between our houses is not impossible. It seems nothing is impossible anymore."

"An alli — what?"

"Marriage, brat."

"Ew, gross."

Nira's features softened microscopically as she studied her grimacing daughter. "Don't fret. You'll have your choice of mates, little one. You'll have Elites battling for you from one end of the planet to the next. Did you like walking over the back of a defeated foe? I always did."

"Well..." Zenza considered. "Yeah, I guess. I would've liked it more if someone hadn't been such a jerk."

"The Prince is entitled to be a jerk," Nira gravely informed her daughter. "He can be the biggest jerk on the planet if he likes. Indeed, it's a genetic predisposition of the House of Vejiitasei, so you had better get used to it."

Zenza's expression was as close to stark terror as any Saiyans ever got. "Why? Aren't you taking me home now? I want to go home!"

"Now, yes. However, if the Queen continues to look upon our line with favor, brat, you are going to be seeing a lot of the Prince." Nira worked to hide a smile at her daughter's expression, and managed to speak sternly. "Life is full of unpleasant situations. Deal with it."