Chapter 41

 

Bulma had barely closed her eyes when a communication from Radditz chimed her awake. The shipment from Chikyuu had just been delivered. Rousing herself, Bulma instructed a domestic robot to bring her “something, anything to stay conscious.” Whether it the whirring of the robot or her own voice, Trunks appeared in the door of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Mom?”

 

“Gotta go do something, Trunks. C’mon, I’ll tuck you back in.”

 

“Did Grandpa’s stuff get here already?”

 

“How do you—” Bulma cut herself off with a sigh. “I suppose it’s all anyone’s been talking about the past few hours.”

 

“I want to see it, too!” said Trunks with what was meant to be enthusiasm. Unfortunately he was too tired to completely articulate the words, yawning so wide Bulma was sure she could see his back molars.

 

Bulma started to object, but paused, remembering similar conversations with her own mother when she wanted to stay up and help Dr. Briefs with his latest contraption. “There really isn’t anything to see yet, but come along.”

 

Her father had been generous with the harnesses. A dozen were in the shipment rushed from the capitol, in a multitude of sizes. At first Trunks helped a bit with the unpacking, but his curiosity wasn’t enough to keep him awake during the process. After the third barely-hidden yawn, Radditz nodded to two of the Queen’s Guards, instructing them to escort the Prince back to his quarters. Trunks tried to protest through his yawns, but to no avail. Once Bulma was aware how much he was fighting sleep (and that sleep was winning), Trunks choices narrowed to ‘go with the guards quietly’ or ‘get shouted and then go with the guards quietly.’

 

Domestic matters handled, Bulma had her scientists run some quick tests on harnesses, mostly to make sure the material was viable and the electronics sound. The preliminary reports indicated it was a cloth-like polymer based on the armor worn by Vegeta during his attempted invasion of Chikyuu.

 

The alien prince held the breastplate out by one finger, scorn dripping from his voice. “Here. Consider it a down payment on the trade agreement."

 

Bulma shook the memory away. “Clever use of known technology,” she murmured as she ran her hand over one of the straps. “There’s no reason for it to fail.”

 

“Do you want to test it on the Prince first?” asked Radditz.

 

“No,” snapped Bulma. “No, I do not want to test my son. Apparently he has to be tested.” Signing, she raised a hand to her forehead to rub at the worry lines between her brows. “Sorry. It’s the wee hours of the morning and I am so not happy about this.” Bulma turned to her guards, which currently included Tamane and Negin as well as Radditz. “Tell me something. What’s it like to get so big?”

 

“The power can be overwhelming.” Tamane took a deep breath and looked down at his boots. “Maybe too overwhelming,” he added under his breath

 

“You’ll be fine,” said Radditz. “Keep in mind what we’ve been going over.”

 

“I barely held onto my mind last time.”

 

“You’ll be fine.” Radditz reiterated the statement as if it were an order.

 

Bulma cocked her head, caught by the reluctance in Tamane’s voice. “Does everyone do this? It has to be hard on the planet. Is there anyone in the Guards that hasn’t gone oozaru?”

 

There was a brief, awkward silence. Tamane surreptitiously tilted his head towards Negin as Negin just-as-surreptitiously lifted his fingers.

 

“Negin? What about you?”

 

Negin looked as stoic as ever, but Tamane appeared even more uncomfortable at the question. After a long moment. “I have gone oozaru,” Negin finally said. “Not until I entered the Guard, however. Traditionally, those of the North do not participate. I did not find the experience — pleasant.”

 

“How do you ‘not participate’ in something that’s planetwide?”

 

“Northerners go underground during moon years.”

 

“It’s a sore point with some non-Northerners,” Radditz said, a touch sardonically.

 

“Is there a reason for this ‘non-participation’?”

 

There was another long beat of silence. “If the dust is stirred up too much, there’s sickness,” Negin finally said.

 

“And few things stir up dust more than a bunch of oozaru going at it,” Radditz added, still with that sardonic note in his voice.

 

“I can see where that would be a problem,” murmured Bulma, vaguely recalling her father mentioning environmental concerns during his previous visit to Vejiitasei. Mental note:  authorize soil samples on the Northern Continent once this moon business is over. “Let’s see if any of these fit you guys, shall we?” she said to her lieutenants.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Nira arrived early the next morning, far earlier than Bulma anticipated. Bulma was still examining the parameters of the harnesses, going over stress limits multiple times even though all tests confirmed that her father had once again proved his genius. Hastily pulling herself together when informed that Nira’s ship was approaching, Bulma ran back to her quarters to grab another gotta-stay-awake drink and the Saiyan equivalent of a roll. She peeked in on Trunks; still asleep. She rushed to the landing pad behind the compound, choking down her breakfast on the way. "Nira, I wasn't expecting you so early! Welcome!"

 

The Eastern Chieftain paused at the top of the vehicle’s ramp as she gave a short bow. She reached behind her to tug a clearly reluctant Zenza into view. “Bow, brat. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you, my Queen."

 

“Of course not," Bulma said. "I need to start getting things ready for the test so I can't be too hospitable, but Lieutenant Negin will see to your—" she stopped as another form appeared behind Nira and the sullen Zenza. "Bardock?" she said in surprise.

 

Goku's father bowed, hand touching his opposite shoulder in the typical Saiyan salute."

 

After a moment of blank astonishment, Bulma gathered herself. "Well, hello,” she said with a smile. “I didn't know you were part of Nira's honor guard."

 

"He is not. However, he is the originator of the oozaru technique. I thought it best to bring him along."

 

"The originator of — wait.” The smile dropped from Bulma’s mouth. She put her hands on her hips and glared. “You’re why Saiyans can go giant ape on a whim!?"

 

"Some of them," demurred Bardock. "Not everyone has the brains for it."

 

“Hold on a sec. Why do I need the originator of the technique? Zarbon said Radditz could do it.”

 

"I’m sure he can, my Queen. It is appropriate for a Captain of the Guard to supervise the Prince. However, we have little time before the moon arrives. Consider Bardock as a — I believe the word is ‘failsafe’? He is even more experienced, offworld, than your Captain. Should something go wrong, he can step in. In addition,” Nira continued as if Bulma wasn’t glaring daggers at Goku’s dad, “if I understand the procedure correctly, experiments require multiple tests. I would like to volunteer my daughter for any experiments you feel the need to conduct before the Prince’s trial."

 

"WHAT?" Bulma gaped at Zenza, who was standing slightly behind her mother. Zenza appeared sullen and cranky, which admittedly was not much different than usual. "I don't understand..."

 

"I would like—"

 

"I heard you, I mean — why?"

 

There was a long pause. "The moon year can be dangerous for children on Vejiitasi," Nira said in the most neutral voice imaginable. "She needs to transform, of course, but I would like the ability to end her transformation should something go wrong. You didn't go into detail, but from our talk it seemed that is a concern you share.”

 

"Well, I'd prefer the whole thing be put off until Trunks is older, but you're essentially correct. I have to say, Zenza does not seem thrilled."

 

"She is not. My warriors had been preparing an area for her. She's familiar with it."

 

"We could do it there—"

 

"We are low on time, my Queen."

 

"Yes. Yes, we are. Once Vegeta gets here we can figure out when to fit her in—"

 

"Tonight would be preferable."

 

"TONIGHT?"

 

"We can't have two children in the same space going oozaru at the same time, my Queen."

 

Bulma winced. Given the general destruction that tended to accompany the children's' 'play dates even when no giant simians were involved, she had to agree. "No. No, of course not."

 

"I do not entirely understand how ‘experiments’ work, but you need to conduct a trial, yes?"

 

"Well, yes. Having Zenza go oozaru doesn't really test the harness, though. We need a control."

 

"A control?"

 

"Someone who can demonstrate that the harness works as intended," supplied Bardock.

 

“Someone wearing the harness who is exposed at the same time,” Bulma clarified. “If the test subject goes oozaru and the control doesn’t, that’s evidence the harness works.”

 

"Ah. Then allow me to volunteer my son as your 'control.’ I believe he is here already. Shuriko?” Nira helpfully supplied when Bulma just looked at her blankly. “He was sent with a squad ahead of the King’s arrival.”

 

(Shuriko, standing at attention a respectful distance away with several of his subordinates, opened his mouth on a strangled protest before snapping it shut again).

 

Bulma had to think for a moment before she placed the name. “One of Vegeta’s guards? I didn’t realize you were related! The only problem is that if it doesn’t work we’ll have two oozaru running amok.”

 

“I assumed you had confidence in your father’s creation,” murmured Nira. “Is that not the case?”

 

“No. You’re right. It’s been tested on Goku and Gohan. There’s no reason to think anything will go wrong.”

 

Nira shrugged. “Well, then. What else needs to be done?”

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

 

What else included drafting Shuriko as an involuntary participant and fitting the most miniature of the harnesses on Zenza. As Zenza was smaller than Trunks, even that was loose on her. The scientists and engineers fussed over minutia as they debated whether simply tightening the straps or redesigning the entire contraption was the best approach. Bulma happily entered the technical debate, but Nira intervened with a practical question. “Which can be accomplished in in the next few hours?”

 

Bulma grimaced but acknowledged that feasibility was key. The straps were looped around Zenza’s body and tightened.

 

Shuriko was easier to fit, although it was clear that he didn’t see the necessity of the procedure. He made one abortive attempt at an objection, declaring that the King’s Acting Captain should not participate in some bizarre offworld test. Although Chishan usually went along with her plans and helped with her experiments, Bulma wasn’t sure she had actual authority over Vegeta’s guards, let alone one of his officers. Nira, however, did possess a clear hierarchal advantage. “If a daimyo requests the release of a tribesman for territorial duties, it is rarely turned down,” she coldly reminded her son. “Shall I contact the King’s Liaison?”

 

Shuriko surrendered with an ill grace, permitting Bulma’s alien scientists to finish adjustments to the harness.

 

Trunks hovered on the fringes of the activity in the reception room. It was meant to be a throne room of sorts for when the King was in residence, it even had a dais, but right now it buzzed with activity that had a nervous undercurrent he didn’t quite understand. It had to do with his grandfather’s shipment, which in turn had to do with the moon’s approach. Zarbon had talked to him about the moon, even showed him some frankly disturbing vids of what happened when the moon crested into fullness so he knew what was going to happen in a few days. In a way, he was looking forward to it. Or he had been, before grandfather’s shipment arrived and everything suddenly centered on making sure what the moon was supposed to do didn’t happen.

 

Zenza stood on the dais surrounded by Mom’s engineers and technicians, looking increasingly cranky as the harness was tugged and folded to try and make it fit. While much of the activity centered on her, a bunch of Mom’s guards were also being fitted with grandfather’s harnesses. Lieutenant Lord Shuriko had also donned one, although he had snapped it into place himself rather than let Mom’s techs touch him. The scowl he wore indicated his disapproval of the current proceedings.

 

Even though this was all supposed to somehow be for his benefit, Trunks himself was largely ignored. He paced around the edges of the room as the others murmured about specs and fretted over possible scenarios that became increasingly dire as the morning turned to afternoon. What Zarbon had described as a celebration of his lineage as the Heir seemed to be anything but, according to what he overheard. Everyone, even some of the guards, were anxious.

 

“Are you sure about this?” he overheard Mom say to Chieftain Nira for at least the fifth time as he prowled near their location. Mom was mostly on the dais helping with Zenza, but every now and again she would dart down the steps to where the Chieftain stood with her own guards. “Apart from the ethical concerns, this is your little girl we’re talking about!”

 

The Chieftain regarded Mom with a sort of sardonic amusement. “My response has not changed in the last fifteen minutes, my Queen.”

 

Puzzled, Trunks paced away from the adults, to where Zenza stood. The adults were in a nearby clump, discussing contingencies should their makeshift modifications caused problems during the transformation. “You okay with this?”

 

Scowling, Zena folded her arms and glared at him. “Yes!”

 

“You don’t sound okay. Need me to explain what’s going on?”

 

Zenza rolled her eyes, her scowl becoming impossibly darker. “I’m going oozaru before you, that’s what’s going on!”

 

Thinking it over, Trunks admitted to himself that didn’t sound fair. After all, he was the Prince. However, he understood the nature of experiments, and that science sometimes required sacrifices even if it mean Zenza had bragging rights for the next week or so. So he swallowed back the rather rude comment that was his first instinct and instead said, “If you’re scared, you should try to meditate.”

 

“Not that again. And I’m not scared!” Zenza snapped.

 

Trunks lowered himself next to her, cross-legged with wrists draped loosely over his knees. “Remember, Zarbon says it takes you to a higher level. You might need that, when it happens. Here, watch me.” Closing his eyes, he began to take in smooth, even breaths.

 

Zenza opened her mouth, shut it, then grumpily plopped down next to him. She refused to acknowledge him even as she slowly matched his breathing.