Six Years Before the Birth of the Super-Saiyan

"I can't believe this!" groaned Youkan through clenched teeth, trying to strap on one arm guard while the other dangled from his mouth. "I'm still in my first week here, and I'm going to be late...!"

"You were the one who insisted on staying up half the night playing sims," pointed out Shiruko. He seemed to be better at getting dressed and walking at the same time; more years of being in the King's Guard, his younger brother supposed, made him practiced at dressing in a hurry. "Stop panicking. We can cut through the King's section of the palace—"

Youkan's protest, smothered by the arm-guard clenched in his mouth, came out a squeak.

"—and we'll be at our posts in plenty of time. All we're doing today is watching the arena, anyway, while Zarbon trains Bulma's brat. It's going to be beyond boring."

"But what if we're caught sneaking through the King's halls?"

"Youkan. We're King's Guards. We're allowed to be there, remember? Relax. The real problem is surviving the gravity differential. The entire wing has been wired for single G. It's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you hit the gravity bubble."

"I've been on a few planets like that."

Shiruko snorted. "Oh, of course. Your 'off-world' experience will be invaluable, I'm sure. This way." They trotted briskly through the wide center public room of the palace, off which the various wings sprung, petitioners and others quickly getting out of their way when they saw the black armor of the King's Guard. The warriors at the entrance to the King's wing nodded at them as they strode past. Youkan desperately hoped he looked like he knew where he was going. The gravity change, despite his words, was a shock; he stumbled slightly, then glanced over his shoulder to see if the guards at the entrance had noticed. Properly, they were scowling straight ahead over the heads of the people in the central room, thus missing his blunder. Relieved, he turned his own head front, but abruptly collided with his brother's back. "Wha—?"

"Hsst!" Shiruko whirled, slapping his hand across Youkan's mouth and pulling him to the side of the hall. Startled, Youkan looked ahead. To his horror, where the hall branched into several corridors, he saw the King. I thought you said we could be here! he thought to his brother.

That woman is with him! came the mental reply. I am not bowing to her if I can avoid it!

What woman? But Shiruko closed off his mind and Youkan received no reply. Squinting ahead, he saw the King check his stride and, just for a second, glance toward them. Then his head turned in the direction he had just come from. "What is it, woman?" he growled.

Youkan heard the Queen's voice before she actually stepped into his field of view. For a moment as he looked at the royal couple framed in the hallway, he had the strange sensation that he was watching a play. "What's this I hear about you sparring with Trunks?"

The King folded his arms and looked down at the floor. "What of it?"

"I don't want you hurting him, Vegeta."

One corner of the King's mouth pressed up. His tail began to sway back and forth, slowly. "Oh, I don't plan on hurting him, Bulma. At least, not if he blocks fast enough."

"Vegeta—" The Queen put her hands at her waist, one foot tapping. She was wearing the denim leggings humans seemed to favor, and a brief blue top. Youkan wondered if this was the equivalent of working armor for her; he had never seen her, in person or in vids, without something shiny on. "Trunks is just a boy. You don't need to be beating up on him already."

The King snorted. Although he was still not looking at his mate, suddenly his tail flicked around and lightly tapped her arm. Ignoring this, "You could wait until he's a bit older," the Queen insisted.

Another snort; the tail whipped around again, tapping her fingers where they rested at her waist. "A bit? If you had your way, woman, he'd still be in diapers." Another tap with the tail; the Queen raised one hand, waving off the appendage as if it were a pesky insect as she glowered at her husband. "Zarbon thinks he's ready," the King said, his tone bored. "He's as much of an old woman as you are; he wouldn't clear the Heir before he was capable."

The Queen finally connected, giving the tail tip a painful-sounding 'thwack' as she muttered, "Well, don't be too rough on him or you'll have me to deal with." Youkan flinched, feeling his own tail twitch, but the King only returned, still in that bored tone, "I quake in terror. Don't you have an engineering section waiting to test the new warp drive for the Earth ships?"

"Yes, dammit, and I'm late." The Queen batted the tail as it flicked toward her again; Youkan wondered in amazement that the King wasn't screaming in pain. "Remember what I said, Vegeta."

A final snort. Sighing, the Queen leaned forward and pecked her husband on the cheek. "Weakling," growled the King, suddenly raising his head enough to nip at her ear. She jumped back, giggled, then she stepped out of Youkan's line of sight as she headed down another passageway, calling to the King to remember what she had said. The King contemplated the floor for a moment. Then, "You can come out now," he said with no discernable inflection in his tone.

Shiruko stiffened, but stepped fully into the middle of the hall and bowed, one hand folded across his breast. "Your apologies, my King. We didn't want to ... intrude."

Without moving his head, the King's eyes slid sideways to glance at Shiruko, to note Youkan hastily stepping behind his brother and bowing as well. "Miso's brats," he said, as if to himself. "You really shouldn't be so terrified of my mate, Shiruko. Sure, she's a gruesome and ugly alien, but if you can survive her looks, there's nothing else too deadly about her. Well, her mouth ..." The King smiled slightly, a derisive curve, then pivoted and strode down the hall perpendicular to the one they were standing in.

Youkan waited a terrified second to see if Vegeta might come back and blast them for impertinence, then relaxed as the King's footfalls faded. He looked at Shiruko with a sudden, relieved grin. "A bit of an adventure, walking in the King's halls," he remarked. "Did he see us before we ducked out of sight? He wasn't wearing a scouter."

"He never wears a scouter," replied Shiruko, shortly. "Neither does the boy. It's said Earthlings have a ki-sensing technique; apparently the hybrid passed it along to his father."

"Who passed it to the Prince?" asked Youkan, a touch sarcastically. "Shiruko, that's absurd. What is your problem? Lighten up."

"You haven't seen the brat yet," said Shiruko, grimly.

"Just because I've been off planet doesn't mean I'm completely out of touch," responded Youkan. "I've seen vids of the Prince. Who hasn't? He looks like the King." Shiruko snorted. "A pale version of the King," conceded Youkan, "but he has his father's stamp about him. You'd never mistake him for anyone else's son."

"I could hardly expect you to care about impure blood lines," flared Shiruko.

"I would hardly expect a comment like that from one of the King's Guards," Youkan replied after a moment, coldly.

"You'll hear that and more, little brother. What fairy tales do they hand out to the off-world troops? Oh, but you were always one for fairy tales. If you weren't in the forests looking for the Golden Balls of Namek, you were running around pretending to be the Great Golden Warrior Monkey."

"Oh, please. I was ten years old then."

"I am constantly amazed at how casual the off-worlders are. There are no standards anymore; the upcoming generation is being contaminated by alien ways."

"I think," said Youkan, "that the on-planet Saiyans would benefit from a little off-world travel. It broadens the mind. And you're only five years older than I am; that's hardly the 'next generation.' Most importantly, I think this shortcut of yours has made us dangerously late. I don't want to end my first full week as a Guard with a slew of demerits."

_______________________________________________________

Although he was always leery about including Riiki in his meetings with his tribal leader, Bardock was also leery on those occasions when ordered by Chieftain Nira to come alone. It was not as if anything would or could happen between the two of them simply because they lacked Riiki's scowling presence to make them behave themselves, but it was Bardock who had to deal with Riiki's hostility afterwards. That was never a pleasant chore for him. He had yet to discover a way to deflect his wife's irritation after such meetings. The news Nira imparted to him, however, might well astonish Riiki into stunned silence. That was its initial effect on him. The second effect was sheer disbelief. "What?" asked Bardock blankly.

Nira folded her arms, glaring at him. "Either you've become hard of hearing, or you do not wish to command a company. Which is it?" The Squad Commander gave her no immediate response. Instead he studied her carefully, as if trying to discern the motives behind this strange promotion. Nira snorted in disgust. "Don't think this came from me, baka. It's orders from the King, or perhaps from the liaison which amounts to the same thing. In either case, I would be wary of turning it down if I were you. You don't want to insult such powerful beings no matter who your mate is."

His thick brows pulling together, "I have no objections to commanding a company," Bardock replied carefully. "I am merely ... surprised."

"Aren't we all," grumbled Nira harshly. "Not that there were ever any official proscriptions against your advancement, you understand, but all blocks on your records have been removed by proclamation of the King. I have no idea who slept with whom in order to do that, and I would prefer not to know. Suffice it to say that, once lifted, your battle achievements are such that promotion was inevitable. Naturally, as your daimyo, I am forced to be the one to tell you of this." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she hissed, "Be very glad that I had to be in the capitol anyway, or otherwise I would be quite annoyed at making a special trip."

"I would never wish to inconvenience you, my Chieftain," replied Bardock with his usual impeccable formality.

That just made Nira scowl all the more ferociously. She really, really, really hated dealing with Bardock and his attendant complications. "Your squads will include that of your mate. You will not show favoritism by always throwing her into the thick of the battle so she can show off."

"Of course not," said Bardock agreeably, ducking his head down as a cruel smile curved his mouth. "I'll throw her into battle because she's an elite. The thick of battle is the best strategic place for her."

"Feh," grumbled Nira, unable to counter that argument. "Out of my sight, Commander Bardock. Any more time wasted on you and I'll be late to pick up my daughter at the palace."

"It would not do to keep the Queen waiting."

There was a roll of the eyes from his daimyo. "You don't know the half of it," she muttered, but there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she waved Bardock away.

_______________________________________________________

Zenza hated being in the capitol. She hated being forced to dance attendance on that spoiled brat of a prince, she hated dodging the huge guards that surrounded the prince, and she hated having to sit through incredibly tedious lectures just because the prince had to endure the wretched things.

Most of all, however, she hated arena days, if only because on those days she couldn't train with Zarbon. As far as she was concerned, training with Zarbon was the only good thing about being in the capitol if only because the sessions he put her through were so much more challenging than any the sessions on her home continent. Arena days were different than normal training sessions since they were for the Prince to practice on advanced ki techniques that she couldn't handle.

Yet.

So she was forced to sit in the near-empty stands, kicking her feet back and forth as she waited for Zarbon to arrive for the training session. Trunks was happily zipping about the arena's circumference, just off the ground, stirring up the dust as he blurred into a streak of smeared colors. "Warming up," he called it. Zenza had another term for it. "Show off," she muttered as the streak flew near her station. There was no indication that the Prince heard her, but there was an unexpected eddy in his wake that lifted her several inches off her seat before roughly depositing her again. "Big show off," she insisted, although this time her words were under her breath and spoken when the Prince was on the opposite side of the stadium.

At least this 'play visit' was nearly over. Although the tedium of the trip had been moderately relieved by the arrival of her newly-appointed older brother, Zenza was more than ready to return to the Eastern continent. She was still upset, however, that her mother was to escort her home. Zenza frankly thought she was more than old enough to fly the distance under her own power, or at least not have her mother come after her like some low-class brat being retrieved after a training mission, but when Nira had sent a couple of squad commanders to retrieve her rather than come herself the Queen had insisted on personally taking the little girl back to the Eastern Continent herself. It was hard to say who was more mortified, Nira or Zenza, although the Queen herself thought escorting Trunks' 'friend' home was only the natural thing to do. Needless to say, after that Nira always came to collect her daughter herself.

There was a stir at one of the entrances to the arena. Zenza perked up a bit and craned her neck, expecting to see Zarbon. There was more than just the alien in the small procession that made its way onto the field. Zenza gaped at the group before a harsh mental probe prodded her to her feet. Shiruko and Youkan were present. It had been the former who had mentally snapped at her, although their presence was not why she had been ordered to stand. The King stood in the group's midst, a sardonic smirk on his face as the blurred streak that was Trunks came to a sudden stop in front of him.

"Papa!" the little boy squealed happily before throwing himself to the ground in the traditional obeisance of the Heir to the King. "You really came! Mom said she wasn't sure you could make it!"

The King raised his brows, and the smirk deepened. "Really? Just goes to show she isn't right about everything. Ready to spar, brat?"

Zenza's eyes rounded in astonishment. She had never once seen the King practice, let alone spar. This might be interesting after all, she decided, grinning in delight.