Chapter 12

Chi-chi soon heard all about Goku's 'fight' with his mother. The guards, agog over the incident, spoke of little else. Flabbergasted witnesses reported that Goku simply stuck out his clenched fist without apparent force and the highest-ranked warrior in the armed forces went careening into a newly-gouged divot. Trying to explain why he batted his mother into the ground, in front of Gohan no less, brought the blurt that Gohan hadn't witnessed any of it. Chi-chi locked onto that careless statement like a heat-seeking missile. Within minutes she had wrung the details of both Goku's confrontation and Gohan's little excursion from her stammering male relatives, displaying interrogation skills that sparked reluctant admiration from the guards.

It was hard to tell which of her males she was angrier at. She tore a strip off of Goku, who stood passively, sheepishly staring at the floor, and let the powerless female do it. Someplace in the middle of the tirade the Earth woman told her son, sternly, that he was grounded for going off with strangers. His tail dragging, Gohan crept to his room and locked himself in, apparently the hidden meaning behind that cryptic word 'grounded.' It at least insulated him from the increasing volume of the female's screeches as Chi-chi informed her mate that any further contact between Gohan and his dangerous grandparents was absolutely forbidden. Goku almost protested at that, but once more ducked his head submissively under the weight of a powerful glare. Why the two tolerated being disciplined by the feeble creature was a mystery. Many of the Saiyans found themselves grateful for childhood solitude on distant worlds that kept them far away from interfering "mothers." Some, though, recalling Radditz's lecture about the difficulties of reading ki in Earthlings, began to tread warily around Chi-chi.

Although deprived of her little protector, Bulma continued to improve and was soon agitating to get back to work. Before agreeing, a delegation of Earth techs made the trek to the capitol's fetus depository, returning with copious notes and frowning faces. The fetuses in the tanks exhibited no great differences from human fetuses at the same stage, meaning Bulma's baby was under-developed by the standards of either race. The doctors were reassuring, pointing out that Chi-chi's pregnancy had followed a similar path. However, they continued to express concern over Bulma's general state of health. She was far weaker than Chi-chi had been at the same stage.

The treatment they proposed was not an easy one. The medical team suggested bypassing Bulma's over-taxed human metabolism entirely by giving injections of concentrated nutrients directly to the protective sac surrounding the fetus. Although appalled at the treatment — she had never been good around needles, let alone really BIG needles — Bulma's intellectual curiosity was faintly piqued by the idea. She agreed, with the caveat that they made sure Vegeta was well occupied during the first series of injections so that any yelp from her would not have him incinerating the medical team on the spot. The medical team laughed politely at her wit; Zarbon hastily sent to the capitol for any of Bulma's ki-reflecting drones, in any stage of completion, then hauled Vegeta well out into the royal forest for an extended training session.

Although Zarbon was able to keep the King at a safe distance, it soon became clear that the medical team had miscalculated. Within hours Bulma developed a fever as her immune system kicked into overdrive. When Vegeta returned from his training trip to find his mate racked with chills, he was livid. So livid that Goku casually positioned himself between the ruler and the medical team, and that Gohan came streaking from his confinement, barreling between guards. The backwash from his energy trail left Elites staggering in comical circles in his wake, blinking and wondering where the tornado had sprung from. Meanwhile, the hybrid responsible for the air eddies solidified between the fuming Vegeta and his ailing wife, feet set and shoulders squared in miniature mimicry of Vegeta's own stance. "Oh, stop with all the macho posturing," snapped Bulma angrily from her bed, "and get the formula to my dad. It should work. He'll figure out what the problem is."

Dr. Briefs responded with a simple solution: smaller protein molecules to sneak by Bulma's immune system. Nearly to a person the medical team slapped themselves on the forehead and berated themselves for not thinking of that themselves. Bulma's response, much like Vegeta's, was a blank stare, but she submitted to another series of nutritive shots. The results this time were far less dire. Soon Bulma was not only demanding to be let out of bed, nothing could keep her prone as her stamina levels returned to pre-pregnancy levels. Largely in self-defense against the revitalized Queen, the doctors pronounced Bulma ready for travel. The Royal entourage returned to Vejiitasei's capitol.

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Zarbon had not even unpacked when a top-priority diplomatic call came through. Grumbling under his breath as he trotted to the main communication chamber, the most appropriate place to take an official call, Zarbon carefully smoothed his hair and composed his features before nodding to the communication officer that he was ready. The screen resolved into colorless flesh, pink ridges framing the cheeks, wide eyes with tiny pupils. "My dear Zarbon, always a pleasure," purred Freeza. "I hope the King's retreat on the southern continent went well."

Zarbon inclined his head respectfully. "Lord Freeza. Yes, the retreat served its purpose, but we've only just returned. Everything's still a little disorganized, although we're all glad to be back, of course."

"I trust the King is now well-rested and refreshed? I have a little favor to ask of him."

Gazing into the highly-magnified face of his former master, Zarbon felt the quickening at the back of his neck that usually indicated danger. He repressed his slight unease, instead raising a quizzical brow.

"It occurs to me, Zarbon, that it has been many, many years since there was a summit between the powers, the last before the current King was even born. The issues between Vejiitasei and my principality, however, remain disturbingly unchanged. There are border problems that continue to be troublesome, and the entire question of bilateral security that the previous King was so uninterested in addressing." Freeza showed his tiny, sharp teeth in a pleasant smile. "Who knows, perhaps your influence on young Vegeta will make him more amenable to negotiations than his late father proved to be."

Not bloody likely. Zarbon prayed to every god he could think of that he didn't look as aghast as he felt. The timing couldn't be worse. Vegeta and Bulma were volatile under the best of circumstances; with the approaching birth, the two were constantly swinging through wide ranges of emotions that kept everyone around them off-balance. Any sort of summit between representatives of the Cold empire, or, worse, Cold's hard-as-steel offspring was out of the question, perhaps for a long time.

Pulling his mouth down slightly, Zarbon once again cursed Vegeta's tardiness in drafting an announcement. It was putting him in a very unpleasant situation. What else is new? Girding himself with a deep, calming breath, Zarbon decided to take the plunge. After all, every guard at the southern palace already knew, and despite their oaths to the House of Vejiitasei, now that they were back in the capitol it would be hard to keep them quiet for long. "My lord, I of course agree that a direct dialogue between the leaders of empires might be very advantageous," he began.

"I hear a 'but' in all that diplomatic speak. My dear friend, you know that 'but' annoys me."

Zarbon's flinch was seen only as a bare flicker of his eyes. "Such an important meeting would require the full attention of all attendees, my lord. Unfortunately I cannot not guarantee my King would be as fully involved as he should be. His attention is concentrated on the imminent arrival of the new Heir."

There was a long pause. Zarbon stared steadily at the screen, feeling his skin dampen from nervousness, hoping he wasn't sweating bullets.

"I had not heard," said Freeza in the quiet, deadly tone he used when unpleasantly surprised, "that the royal birthing chambers there were being utilized."

"Humans don't 'utilize' birthing chambers," replied Zarbon with an involuntary twitch of his mouth.

"You are right, as ever," allowed Freeza in a voice that, while it would not sound different to the Saiyan technicians, made Zarbon very glad he was half a universe away. "Naturally I do not wish to engage in negotiations when Vegeta has his attention divided, and of course I wouldn't dream of intruding during such a — private — time. Please convey the best wishes of the Cold clan to the royal family."

Tight-lipped, Zarbon turned away from the fading screen. "Send a scribe to my suite," he ordered the nearest officer, a young Saiyan who was trying very hard to pick his jaw off of the ground. "It's time to make this official."

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Freeza swirled the green-hued wine in his goblet, his expression pensive. Finally he raised his eyes, staring with a narrow gaze into the dark recesses of his throne room. His face was set in cool lines that made all of his attendants snap to formal attention. "What am I worried about?" he wondered, as always not expecting an answer from his aides. "Why do I even care? Vegeta may be the strongest of the monkeys in centuries, but even he is nowhere near my power level. Even in his transformed state I could vaporize him without getting out of my hover chair. I tire," he announced to his court at large, "of dealing with Saiyans. It is time to turn my attentions to some of these other systems that my father feels require chastising."

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The capitol was a complete shock for Chi-chi. Her arrival on Vejiitasei was just a blur of dashing hither and yon in the rush to get to Bulma. Her sojourn in the southern palace made her think of the Saiyans as a pastoral (in a kill-you-soon-as-look-at-you sort of way) race. Her first days in the capitol changed her mind; a fast-paced blur of aliens with agendas, all crowded around and into narrow, spire-tipped edifices. One Earth woman — or one small Earth boy — could easily get lost in the bustle.

The revelation that Bulma was going to give birth to the Heir — "birth" being the operative word — increased speculation and curiosity about Gohan, much to his mother's displeasure. She reigned in both of her boys, forbidding them to leave the palace, although she relaxed Gohan's confinement to allow him to spend his days with Bulma. While calmer than he had been in their early days on the planet of the Saiyans, Gohan retained a low-grade nervous tension unusual for him. However, Chi-chi flatly refused to lift her sanctions against Bardock and Riiki, and regarded all Saiyans she did not know from the southern palace with suspicion.

Bulma was nearing her third trimester of pregnancy when a well-meaning member of the Earth medical team pulled Vegeta aside, solicitously asking if anyone had discussed Lamaze with the King yet? "Who?" the King queried blankly. "I can't tell you Earthlings apart. Which one is Lamaze again?"

Within fifteen minutes Vegeta was in his wife's chambers coldly informing her that the brat was going into the tank NOW. Startled and alarmed by the lack of volume involved in issuing the demand, Bulma protectively wrapped her forearms across her still-flat belly and nervously asked what the sudden urgency was about. The King made it known that no mate of his was going to endure the indignities of 'Lamaze.' Rolling her eyes, Bulma sharply responded that she had already picked Chi-chi as a birth partner because she knew Saiyans were far too sensitive to handle labor. "You — picked that weak — human — female — over me?" enunciated the King slowly.

"Well, of course I did," uttered Bulma with a curious calculation. "It's obviously more than you can possibly handle."

Which was all it took for a full-scale shouting match to erupt.

Watching incredulously from his desk at the room's edge, Gohan sat frozen, trying to figure out both the peculiar flicker in Vegeta's ki when he first marched in and why Bulma so deliberately provoked her husband into the white-hot rage that now consumed him. Oddly, the angrier and louder Vegeta got, the calmer Bulma became, her aura going the pale blue of serenity despite the volume of her own responses. Vegeta's aura was strange as well, the underlying hues shot through with sparks of platinum fury that were, the boy realized, superficial. The King's true emotions were being masked.

Despite the skeptical adult surveying him like a specimen, "No one is all bad," Gohan stubbornly insisted to his erstwhile grandfather.

Some hard-held conviction in his mind...shifted. Walking out of the chamber where Vegeta and Bulma, the origin of the argument forgotten, were screaming at each other, Gohan went back to his room in the too-elaborate quarters Zarbon assigned to his family, sitting on the bed and staring unseeing at the wall.

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Goku waited a respectable amount of time, long enough for the screaming to fade to petty grumbles, for Vegeta to turn his head away and inform the nearest wall that all humans were cracked--the King's version of capitulation. He glanced at Chi-Chi to confirm the situation was under control and, receiving her bare nod, went to find his son. "Gohan? Your Mom's ready to look at your homework."

"I finished it this morning. It's on your dresser."

"Is something wrong? It's not like you to leave Bulma alone during the daytime."

"I will," Gohan said slowly, almost painfully, "always protect Bulma and the baby. I think with him she might be — okay." He gazed up at his father, his earnest gaze shot through with confusion. "Vegeta's not bad. I mean, he is, but — he isn't, too."

The dark, rotund figure watching in amusement as Goku stared after the Demon King, half-aghast as he realized he shared something very basic in common with his arch-enemy...

Goku grinned wryly. "Gray" was beginning to force its way into his son's perspective, as it had forced its way into his. He put his hand on Gohan's head, mussing the thick hair, deciding that the need they both had to think the best of everyone, as unSaiyan as it was, was probably a good thing.

He had been on Vejiitasei long enough, however, to think it was also a good thing they both had enough power to protect themselves from anyone who might mistake their good nature as a weakness.

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They had been in the capitol for nearly a month when Bulma's pregnancy entered a new stage, the one the Earth techs were bracing for, the one Chi-chi had spent hours trying to prepare her friend for. The first indication was a sharp craving for salt. "Oh-oh," was Chi-chi's response after incredulously watching Bulma down a small hog's worth of heavily-seasoned meat products. "I was flat on my back in the hospital during this part. You might want to get off your feet again."

"Why?" demanded Bulma, mumbling through mouthfuls of food. "I feel great. Better than I have in days."

Within twenty-four hours the changes began.

It was as if the fetus Bulma harbored finally gathered sufficient nutrients and, weary of quiescence, exploded into a rapid growth that utterly distorted the Queen's body in a matter of a few days. Even though half-expecting this turn of events from Chi-chi's pregnancy, the reality of it was overwhelming to Bulma. The new distribution of weight was likely to send her careening into walls and furniture if she made sudden moves. Her stomach actively rebelled against the stresses placed on it. The Earth medical team once again sent her to bed, fearful that she would break a limb and hoping that lack of activity would permit her to retain most of her meals.

Unfortunately that meant Bulma had little to do but focus on her out of control body, which suddenly seemed to be the most alien thing on Vejiitasei. The stretching of her skin to accommodate this stage of her pregnancy left her feeling like an over-ripe orange whose straining peel could barely contain the fruit itself; if anyone squeezed her, Bulma thought, she was sure to messily pop. Chi-chi rubbed her with oil, assuring Bulma that would help her skin expand without leaving too many stretch marks. Horrified at the thought of stretch marks, Bulma constantly reached for the oils to lave on herself, leading Vegeta to complain that she was so slick she was just going to slide out of bed. "It's like sleeping with a seal," he grumbled, which was an unfortunate comparison since Bulma's thickening waist made her feel far larger than she actually was. Bulma screamed at him that he'd better get used to sleeping with blubbery sea creatures because she was going to be the size of a walrus, no, an Orca, no, a blue whale by the time the baby got here, then burst into racking sobs that made her entire over-stretched body feel like it was going to rip open at several key points. She flopped onto her side, her back pointedly directed toward her incredulous husband, sniffling pathetically. Utterly bewildered, Vegeta gingerly patted her slick shoulders and wrapped his tail around her slick leg, wondering what was so dangerous about 'stretch marks' that they would send her into this kind of hysteria, why Bulma continued to insist this was the preferred method of child birth when there were scores of perfectly-good birthing tanks at the military compound, and how the hell he would ever get the oil out of his fur.

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During the time of the baby's most rapid growth, Bulma's Earth visitors did what they could to distract her. Gohan would sit cross-legged on the bed, playing endless games of checkers and bravely claiming not to be bored. Chi-chi distracted her by taking the images of baby outfits sent by Mrs. Briefs and making them into slide shows on the computer.

Goku brought her the one thing most likely to distract her — a project.

"A gravity chamber? You want to train in a gravity chamber while you're here? Goku, this is Vejiitasei. The entire planet's a gravity chamber."

"I want to try something," responded Goku. "Kaiou—" He stopped, went into an unconvincing coughing fit, then continued with, "I have a theory."

"You have a theory? This I've got to hear."

"I think that training under multiple Gs may make you stronger."

"Goku, aren't you all ready strong enough to blow up planets? How much stronger than that do you need to be?"

That was a good question. The response that popped into his mind — strong enough to always be able to beat your husband — was not a good answer.

"It was a silly idea," agreed Goku, reluctantly, beating down that Saiyan voice inside of himself that insisted survival was far from silly. "Never mind."

Bulma shrugged. "Designing materials that would stand up to the stress of Vejiitasei's gravity and a few more dozen Gs might be an interesting problem. I'll think about it."

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After nearly two more weeks of bed rest, Bulma became fidgety. In fact, she became overbearing, driving the medical team to distraction with demands to be let out of bed. Unexpectedly Chi-chi supported her in this, arguing that the worst was over, that the pregnancy should closely follow a human pregnancy from this stage out, and that they were being over-protective. "That's because we only have a sample size of one," said one team member. "Who knows what's going to happen next?"

Chi-chi, the only person in the room who had actually given birth to a half-Earthling, half-Saiyan hybrid, was happy to tell them. In detail. Leaving his desk, Gohan leaned against the bed, listening in fascination and watching as Bulma turned various shades of blue and green. Catching sight of him, Chi-chi interrupted herself at what was (the little boy thought) the most interesting part, saying to him sternly, "Aren't you supposed to be doing your workbook"

"I finished it, Mom."

Even though Chi-chi was making her think longingly of the birthing tanks, Bulma retained enough presence of mind to suggest, "Why don't you go into my quarters and see what's in the latest shipment that my parents sent? There's supposed to be lots of stuff for the baby, but I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

Sighing, Gohan left the grown-ups to their grown-up talk.

Within five minutes he was back, clutching something big and clunky in his arms, excitedly asking Bulma if he could 'try it out' for the baby.

Looking at the miniature dune buggy Gohan was hugging, "I think Dad was a little over-optimistic about the baby's manual dexterity," said Bulma, amused. "Sure, knock yourself out."

"Wait a minute. Have you done your lessons today, young man?"

"Mom!" Gohan all but wailed. "I did everything hours ago, honest!"

It was...strange...to see Gohan acting like any other child. Chi-chi gazed down at her little scholar and relented. Crossing her arms, she issued one last stern directive. "Stay in the single G corridors."

"I will," vowed Gohan.

Giggling madly, Gohan guided the car through the wide corridors of the King's wing of the palace, navigating the occasional sharp turns with various degrees of precision as he learned the sensitivity of the controls. Coming around another corner, he skidded to a sudden halt. The car bumped, backed up, and bumped once more against a broad, booted foot. Sardonically, "You'll have to get some 'umph' into your little machine if you want it to do more than tickle my insole," remarked Chishan.

"It's not a weapon, it's a toy," Gohan informed him. He added, wistfully, "I don't get toys like this. Mom says they're too distracting."

"I can see where they would be," agreed Chishan, watching with interest as the little boy made the faux vehicle bump into one side of the corridor, spin around, and bump into the opposite side before repeating the process. "How does it run?"

"Batteries," said Gohan, flipping the vehicle over and opening it up to show two square energy packs. The little boy didn't know what material was in the packs, although he understood something of how the batteries worked and spent earnest moments explaining the concept of positive and negative poles to Chishan, who listened with a solemn face and a quirked mouth.

"I have something I've been trying to make...'go,'" Chishan told him. "I haven't been able to work out the power source, though. I wonder if it's something like this?"

"I bet Bulma can figure it out," said Gohan, starting down the corridor, then looking back when Chishan didn't follow him. The Captain, stammering in surprise, tried to say he would never presume to ask such a thing of the Queen. Gohan grinned. "She's been real bored waiting for the baby to get here. Something that won't work is just what she needs. She loves stuff like that." Laughing, the little boy ran back down the hall, calling to Chishan to follow.

For a moment Chishan simply stood blinking, obviously taken aback by Gohan's words. Then, with a little shake and a scowling glare around the empty corridor, as if making sure no one overheard, the Captain followed the Earth-Saiyan.

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They found her in the outer, semi-public quarters, embroiled in an argument with some of the medical techs, as impassive members of the Queen's Guard stood in corners and alcoves, flicking their gazes back and forth as if they were watching a tennis match. Bulma insisted for what seemed like the dozenth time, "I'm not staying in bed! I'm fine! If I don't get out and do something, I'm going to go crazy! Not doing anything is what's stressing me out!"

"We have something you can do," Gohan said, happily. He dumped the toy car at her feet.

"Break this already, kid?" Hardly believing she had been reduced to fixing a child's toy, Bulma started to go through the contortions necessary to get her oversized body low enough to scoop it off the ground. Tamane hastily retrieved it for her, holding it out with his head respectively bowed. Bulma glared at him. Does everyone think that being pregnant makes me totally helpless? she wondered, conveniently forgetting that for much of her pregnancy she had been.

Gohan told her, "No, it's not this. Captain Chishan has something broken he wants you to fix."

Amused, Bulma raised a brow at the Captain. "Really?"

Chishan responded with the typical Saiyan scowl, pink color just touching the bridge of his nose. "The brat mistook some idle conversation," he growled, glaring at Gohan.

Saiyans, thought Bulma with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Would it be so hard to ask me for help? "What is it? One of your collection of ancient machines?"

"He can't make it go," Gohan said. "He was wondering if it was a power source he didn't know about or something."

Bulma visibly brightened; this was exactly what she needed. "Chishan! You've been keeping this from me? Where is it?"

Blushing a dull red, Chishan mumbled something about a storage area in the military compound. Bulma began to search for her long-discarded gravity harness, bringing another spate of objections from the medical team, this time with support from Chi-chi who had never trusted the contraption. Bulma waved their worries off. "I was running around in this thing during my first two trimesters, when I was as sick as a dog. It'll be fine."

"The Captain should know you're leaving your quarters," started Tamane, reaching a hand toward his scouter.

Great — the one person other than Vegeta who has no compunction about stopping me. "I. Forbid you. To call Radditz." Bulma punctuated each phrase with a stab of her fore-finger against Tamane's armored chest. As if burned, Tamane took a big step back, staring at her wide-eyed. Bulma tucked her hands in the hollow between her chest and her stomach and smiled sweetly at him. I may not have ki, but I can still halt a Saiyan in his tracks!

From his usual post leaning against a wall, "I'll go with her," offered Goku. Bulma felt a pang of regret as she glanced toward her long-time friend. This trip had been no fun for Goku. Chi-chi's restrictions kept him in the Palace, and he was much too strong to spar with any of the Saiyans. He spent a lot of his time lounging against walls with his arms folded and his eyes closed, meditating.

His offer sent all of her guards straight to the 'stoic stare' stage of intimidation, with Tamane growling as true Saiyans the Queen's Guards knew their duty and they would all accompany her. Bulma wryly reflected that when she mused about her lack of privacy back on Earth, she had no idea how little of that she would actually have in her new life.

In the end only Chi-chi and the medical team remained behind, the former to (ostensibly) look over Gohan's school work, the latter heading for the computer banks so that they could monitor every minor fluctuation in the gravity shield surrounding Bulma and calculate what it might do to the fetus.

Chishan opened up his storage area, which Bulma decided might be better termed a hanger, with a diffidence that told Bulma he was very, very nervous about sharing his hobby with her — or perhaps he feared the scorn her Saiyan guards might express to any Saiyan who bothered having a 'hobby.' His rank protected him from any overt comments from her guards, who glanced quickly about the harshly-lit space and took up positions designed to protect entrances. Goku wandered around the machines — there were many, some the size of fighter jets — regarding each with mild confusion. Chishan led Bulma and Gohan to a small, rounded shape covered with protective material, which he removed with a flourish. Bulma found herself studying a craft with a cracked canopy made of clear material, shaped like an egg that had been smashed flat on one side, resting on a tripod of rims that must have at one time been covered by wheels or tires. It was a size that would comfortably accommodate Gohan. "Is this for a child?"

"It's Tsufurun," responded Chishan with the reverence and fervor of a true collector. "It's hard to get one of these, but this was in such lousy shape the Hall of Machines didn't want it. It's not a toy, my Queen. It was a battle ship. They were much smaller than Saiyans." He grinned slightly. "Ships like this aren't very effective against oozaru, so I doubt it was much of a battle."

Oozaru.

Resting one hand against the top of her stomach, Bulma decided she just wasn't going to think about the entire 'giant ape' aspect of her child's inheritance. Not right this instance.

Reaching into the damaged craft's top, Chishan pressed something, then peeled away the side of the craft under the canopy, revealing the mechanical innards. "Not batteries," announced Gohan with one glance.

"Combustion engine," agreed Bulma, crouching down to look at the rusty, and incomplete, mechanical innards. She touched one finger to the rough surface and sniffed it. "Doesn't smell like a fossil fuel." She had to grasp the edge of the craft to pull herself back up; hauling the extra twenty-five pounds around wasn't easy. I knew I should have made the gravity harness' controls more sensitive. "I think I'm just going to have to supervise this time, Chishan."

While Chishan protested that he never expected his Queen to do any manual labor, Gohan jumped into the machine, playing with buttons. "I think you can put this one to good use," Bulma suggested, grinning.

That was all it took. Within minutes Chishan and Gohan were happily working on the little craft, Gohan pulling off an inside panel, Chishan carefully dismantling a myriad of tubing to better access the engine. When Gohan complained that there were some 'bolts or nails or something' preventing him from removing tubes on his side, Chishan produced a collection of hand-held tools and offered one to Gohan. The little boy stared at it helplessly.

Smiling less evilly than usual, Chishan showed Gohan how to use the tool. Bulma recognized it as a variation on a power-driven ratchet — then realized the 'power' part came from that super-natural Saiyan strength when she tried the tool herself. Gohan, laughing, took it from her and showed her again how it was done, although his hands were almost too small for it. He started to give it back to her, but she waved him off, settling on a nearby overturned crate, absently rubbing her back. "If I try that again my water will break. I'll just watch you boys tinker for a while."

Chishan smirked at boy's earnestness, open indulgence across his visage.

He would be a good father, thought Bulma, idly. But of course he can't be a real father; it's just not done here. "Chishan," she said, "have you ever thought about having children of your own?"

"I am married, my Queen," he said, as if that answered the question. "We sent a brat off last year, but we never got a signal back so I suppose it didn't get to the frontier." Gohan popped out of the vehicle, asking for a spanner, and Chishan turned to the side to look for one as if he hadn't just casually mentioned his child died in transit. Bulma wrapped her arms around her extended stomach, a cold lump of dread expanding through her.

"Bulma? You okay?" Although he had his spanner, Gohan was looking at her with a brows-drawn-down expression of concern. He looks so much like Goku when he does that ... so much like a Saiyan... "I'm fine," she answered him, "but I think I've reached the 'need-to-lie-down' stage again."

Chishan leaped off the machine, ready to escort the Queen wherever she needed to go, but it was Goku that that offered a hand to her. Knowing by now that taking it would get her guards all tense, Bulma sighed, waved him off, and struggled to her feet under her own power. Surrounded by her guards with Chishan hovering on the periphery of the group, the Queen made her way back to her quarters.

Goku gazed down at his son. After climbing out of the machine, Gohan mimed exaggerated 'dusting' motions with his hands as he brushed away grime that, as near as his father could tell, was completely imaginary. "Well," remarked Goku after a pause, "all that watching made me hungry. Let's find something to eat. Isn't there supposed to be a cafeteria or something around here?"

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Konny heard the uptick in the noise level, but decided that, whatever it was this time, she was not going to give into temptation herself. She was just going to wolf down her meal and go back to her quarters in the Palace.

That changed when Aemona, facing the mess hall's entrance, announced, "It's the little hybrid."

The new Prince?! Konny was momentarily flabbergasted. True, rumor had it the Queen looked ready to pop open any second, but surely even if the birth had occurred she would have heard of it. Were human children so precocious that they could walk into a dining hall right after birth? The only child she had ever seen was her own, and that whining creature was far too fragile for rapid mobility. She shook the absurd thought out of her head. "Kakarott's brat, you mean?"

"With Kakarott himself." Konny glanced over a shoulder to confirm that the Earth-Saiyan, wearing that absurd red garment of his, had indeed entered the dining hall. When she turned back, she didn't like the predatory smile Aemona was wearing.

"Aemona, don't," hissed Konny. "Chishan says he took out Riiki with one punch!"

"Did Chishan see that?" demanded Aemona. Konny couldn't answer in the affirmative, so she settled for scowling blackly. "I thought not," snorted Aemona. "Your mate always has 'inside information' on things he didn't actually see. C'mon. This could be fun."

"I'm going to finish my meal," insisted Konny.

"Coward."

Snarling, Konny shoved back her chair and glared. Smirking devilishly, Aemona led the way to where Kakarott was standing, staring around in confusion.

"Hi," he greeted her. "Where do we get the food?"

From just behind Aemona, "You just sit down and it comes to you," Konny told him.

"Wow." Grinning, Kakarott looked down at his son. "Sometimes this place isn't half-bad. Let's go sit and see what we get!"

Casually cracking her knuckles, "I don't suppose you'd be interesting in working up an appetite, would you? The sparring rooms are just down the hall."

Kakarott appeared mildly curious and slightly tempted, all at once. "I don't think I should do that with you," he said after a steady stare, disappointed.

"No, you shouldn't," said Konny sharply. "You have to fill out paperwork to issue proper challenges first, Aemona. This one is off limits for that."

Aemona sneered at her, then smirked down at the round-eyed hybrid, standing composed by his father's side. The brat barely topped his parent's knee. "I don't think anyone mentioned you in all those rules and regulations regarding contact with Earthlings, brat. You up to a fight? Maybe interested in defending the family honor?"

The brat gave her a cool stare, exhibiting a composure Konny would have thought beyond his years, whatever they were. "There's nothing wrong with the family honor," he responded. "Besides, I'd hurt you real bad."

That got some startled laughter from those watching the interaction, which was almost everyone in the mess hall. Aemona bristled. "One way to find out, brat," she hissed angrily, beginning to charge up. Warriors at nearby tables casually picked up their drinks and moved a safe distance away. Not again, thought Konny in dismay. How far away do I have to get before I don't get demerits for letting her smoke the half-breed...?

"Do I have to fill out paperwork for the wall?" the hybrid queried.

Aemona glowered at him. "What are you blathering about?"

"The wall," Gohan repeated, patiently, as if to an idiot. "Do I have to fill out paperwork for it?"

"Brat, you hit me hard enough to send me through one of the walls, I'll fill out the paperwork myself. If you were more Saiyan and less alien, you would realize how magnanimous an offer that was, freak."

The adult stirred slightly, his visage sobering from one of absent good nature into something more ... Saiyan. His offspring said, calmly, "Oh, I wasn't going to hit you through the wall." Konny saw a startling clear flash across the boy's eyes. The wall behind Aemona imploded, much to the surprise of those sitting along it, and those in the adjoining gymnasium. Hacking coughs followed the rumble of the wall's collapse as dust thickly filled the room. The boy held out a hand. Screaming in surprise, Aemona lifted from the ground. Uttering sharp yips of frustration as she visibly struggled, the warrior was pushed by an unseen force past the jagged edges into the next room. She was dumped ingloriously on her backside amidst the rubble. Open-mouthed faces wagged back and forth between the shattered wall and the hybrid, incredulously viewing scouter readings insufficient for what had just occurred.

The boy dropped his hand. "Since it's so clearly beyond you, I'll do the paperwork," Gohan said.

________________________________________________________

"You're a mess," Chishan greeted his spouse.

Konny glared at him as she stalked toward the bathing chamber. "There was a fracas in the dining hall," she snapped.

"So?"

"So a wall got knocked down and I got covered."

She had dust and flecks of material from the wall in her hair. She hated that. It was one of the reasons she opted for the on-world forces when it was time for her to choose her career path; after a few tournaments she realized that the off-world troopers would be constantly tugging things far more sticky than building materials out of their hair.

Tagging behind her, Chishan leaned a shoulder against one smooth wall, watching without expression as she shrugged out of her armor and stepped under streaming hot water.

"You want to talk about something or what?" she finally demanded in irritation. "If not, go away and let me bathe in peace."

"I had a run-in with the Queen's little shadow. Kakarott's kid?"

Konny ventured another glance over her wet shoulder, but her mate did not seem damaged by his encounter. Which was more than I can say, she thought, scowling as she gingerly peeled something that had turned slimy with the hot water out of her thick hair. "So?"

"I think we may miss out on more than we gain when we ship the children off," said Chishan.

Konny snorted, leaning her head forward and letting the force of the water take even more building goo out of her plastered spikes. "I'll remind you of how adorable you think offspring are the next time some high-class brat gets away from its parents and levels a continent." That hybrid brat, she thought, could level more than a continent. The new Prince might be very, very powerful ... more powerful than any pure-blood Saiyan. The idle idea, oddly disturbing, brought her head up. She received a full-face blast of hot water and spat, sputtering.

"Actually, the last one that did that is currently under my command," Chishan was saying, oblivious to his wife's ill mood. "I understand his mother and his older brother almost killed him before he was brought under control. Shame. Kami knows it would save me a heap of trouble now. He's always just this side of insubordinate."

"A true Saiyan should always be this side of insubordinate."

"That would make the Queen the most Saiyan of us all, then," grinned Chishan.

Konny did not return the grin.