Chapter 13

Sighing, Zarbon diligently attempted to rephrase previous statements. "Gohan, you can't go blowing walls down in the mess hall just because someone is being rude to you"

"Why not?" The little boy was in one of his stubborn moods, his mouth pursed into a pout as he stared down into a crumb-filled plate. Zarbon had to repress a grin. The rebellious expression puffed out Gohan's cheeks giving him a cherubic cast at obvious odds with his state of mind. "That's what a Saiyan would do, isn't it?"

Zarbon redoubled his efforts to fight off his amusement, keeping his tone stern and his eyes steady as he crouched by the chair of the Earth child. "It was a little too Saiyan, Gohan. You defeated a warrior of first class, a Palace Guard no less, without raising a hand."

"I raised a hand. I didn't hit her with it, but I raised a hand."

Zarbon did smile at that. He couldn't help it; it was hard to condemn Gohan for something he would have done (far more fatally, perhaps) himself. Besides, Gohan was adorable when he was being self-righteous. If the new Heir is half this precocious, we're going to have our hands full. "Be that as it may, what you've done is made yourself a target. Every first-class warrior on the planet is going to try to come after you now. Once you punt a significant number of them through walls, the young Elites looking to make a name for themselves will come."

Gohan looked mutinous. "So?"

"So it's all I can do to keep Vegeta away from you now," Zarbon continued patiently. "Start flinging Elites around and he'll have a legitimate excuse to challenge you himself, no matter what the treaty or Bulma says." That too-adorable pout deepened, making Gohan approach small furry mammal levels of cuteness. Zarbon regarded Gohan ruefully, then glanced around the ruins of the mess hall. There were still warriors present, dusting off tables to chow down amidst the debris, keeping their distance yet watching — and listening — with avid interest. Gohan and Goku had simply seated themselves after the confrontation and, served with alacrity by the slaves stationed here, consumed copious amounts of food. Fortunately Lieutenant Negin had been in the hall and prevented a major brawl when a dozen first-class warriors charged the backs of the Earth-Saiyans. The Queen's guests ate on, oblivious, while the Queen's Guard took their attackers out and then put in a call for Zarbon.

I'm getting nowhere with this little circular conversation. Zarbon put his head to one side briefly, pondering whether or not Gohan was actually yielding to his Saiyan heritage or just going through one of those 'stages' youth of all species endured. He looked more Saiyan these days, his hair over the last few weeks growing out enough to stand up in irregular spikes. Sighing, Zarbon glanced over Gohan's shoulder toward Goku. He was surprised to see the Earth-Saiyan with his head up, paying close attention to the conversation, instead of being completely involved in the last of his food. The drawn down brows made it appear as if Goku was possibly ... thinking.

Zarbon did not have a high opinion of Goku's mental dexterity. Thought in someone he considered barely capable of it was a situation to be regarded with alarm.

"Maybe we can go away for a while," Radditz's brother suggested.

"Go away where?" demanded Zarbon, suddenly feeling like he was dealing with two headstrong hatchlings.

Goku shrugged. "Just...away. Anyone who wants to challenge Gohan will have to come here, right? We just won't be here." Zarbon's expression was not heartening. Propping his chin against his fist, "Vegeta," Goku pointed out, "said we could. He said Gohan and I could go anywhere we wanted."

There was a fractional wince from Zarbon at that. Goku was right, however; after that day on the Southern Continent when Goku swatted Riiki and Bardock had disappeared for nearly twelve hours with Gohan, Vegeta had entered an order that Goku and Gohan could travel freely. So far the Earth-Saiyans had not availed themselves of their carte blanche. Zarbon found he had no inclination to encourage them. "I don't need you two hop-scotching around the planet causing problems."

"Zarbon, what does your scouter read me as?"

"Something clearly inadequate," said Zarbon dryly.

"What?"

"100. Which is absurd."

"Which is common," pointed out Goku. "How are all these people going to find Gohan if that's all that shows up on their scouters?"

That was a surprisingly astute comment. Could I have underestimated him? Zarbon wondered briefly. He regarded Goku with a trace of suspicion. Goku grinned at him, munching mindlessly on the last of his meal. Of course not. This is just one of those idiot savant flashes he has.

"I'd like to see things," said Gohan, supporting his father. "I got a good look at a lake and some mountains when I was with Mr. Bardock, but all I've seen since then has been the inside of this place."

"I was really hoping to discover what the planet was like, away from all the people," agreed Goku. "Would it really be so much trouble if Gohan and me made some day-trips?"

After brief consideration, Zarbon decided that it probably wouldn't. Anyone who wanted to get to Gohan would have to hang around the city or the Palace's public rooms hoping for a chance encounter; if Gohan wasn't here, then there could be no encounter.

Somehow, Goku understood his resistance was fading. He shoveled in another mouthful of food and spoke around it. "Don't worry, I'll clear it with Chi-chi."

Zarbon, who had by now had several months to observe interactions between members of the Son family, gave him a look that was openly skeptical.

Goku grinned, that wide, sweet smile that seemed so strange set against the Saiyan features. "Believe it or not, I know how to talk to her when it's really, really important."

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Chi-chi was not amenable to her son going off into what she saw as the untamed dangers of Vejiitasei, but instead of promptly accepting her refusal Goku persisted. "We can vanish in the general populace." That drew more vocal protests from Chi-chi. "I don't mean we'll go live in the city square," Goku hastily assured her. "I mean, we're so 'low-class' we're non-traceable. We can take advantage of that to go explore during the daytime. We'll come back to the palace at night."

"What if you're on the other side of the planet when it's night here?"

"Mom," interjected Gohan. "We can make a camp."

Goku latched onto that idea. "You did think Gohan should go to camp, right? Maybe we could go to visit the other kids —"

Gohan turned his head away. "I don't want to go near Saiyan kids," he said, coldly.

"Then we can make our own camp, once in a while. We just want see the planet. Is that such a bad thing?"

"I won't have Gohan missing his lessons over this."

"Gohan has to be years ahead of everyone by now. Please."

'Please' from Goku was hard to resist. Her husband rarely persisted to the point of 'please.' Besides, Gohan was years ahead of everyone, Chi-chi reminded herself with pride. Perhaps a little vacation would refocus Gohan on his studies.

"If you can't make it back in time and decide to stay out overnight, you let me know," Chi-chi told her boys sternly.

Recognizing victory, Goku let out a whoop and grabbed her in a bear hug.

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The King was in his offices, which was in and of itself a bad sign, thought Zarbon as he hurried to answer Vegeta's curt summons. The alien feared that Vegeta had somehow heard about Gohan's demolition work in the warriors' mess hall, although Zarbon wasn't sure how Vegeta could have heard, since the day-to-day running of the palace was not something Vegeta tolerated being briefed on. He was further alarmed when he trotted into the King's rarely-used official suite to find Vegeta seated at the computer, scowling fiercely at something on the screen. What would make him consult a computer? Have we been invaded?

Vegeta assuaged his fears by barking out, "Zarbon, this damned report of yours makes no sense. Or are you going to blame my dense Saiyan skull for that?"

Zarbon presented his most innocent look. "Would I dare do that?"

Vegeta exhaled sharply, one corner of his lips twitching up before he sternly flattened his mouth into a straight line and glared at his former trainer. Zarbon walked around to the back of the King's chair to see which report he was perusing. The Super-Saiyan one. Of course. "Consider the source material I was given to work with. Squad Commander Bardock is probably the most organized of the lot of you, but even he couldn't make heads or — tails — of the different legends. Did you expect a mere alien to decipher them?"

"How am I supposed to figure out anything from this mess?" demanded Vegeta testily. "There's no constant thread in all these stories. There's this nonsense about reflected sunlight, the legend of the warrior of gold, and this one!" An imperial finger jabbed at the screen." If you think I'm going to maim myself—!"

"Maybe there's more than one way of getting there," said Zarbon, holding onto his patience by the thinnest of threads. Or maybe there's no such thing as a 'Super-Saiyan...' "Why don't you stop assuming the Heir is going to kill you as soon as she or he is past the toddler stage and just go back to assuming you're destined to be the Super-Saiyan? If that's the case, it'll happen when destiny decrees it will happen."

Vegeta snorted.

Resting an elbow against the back of the monarch's chair, Zarbon tilted his head to the side. This was as close as Vegeta had come in a long time to doing official work. At least it was easier to keep him away from Bulma these days. Instead of shadowing Bulma on her daily rounds, the King was more likely to spend hours working out with the ki-reflecting robots she designed. Zarbon hated to think his little Vegeta was so crass, but the bigger Bulma became with the Heir, the more Vegeta appeared to avoid her. "You must be looking for a distraction, to call me in over something like this," he prodded, dryly. "Bulma too hormonal at the moment?"

Vegeta's arms tucked against his chest, and he looked away. Zarbon gazed at him thoughtfully. Even after years of studying every small nuance for the slightest hint of meaning in the King's gestures, Zarbon still had to resort to guesses sometimes. He guessed now. "Not Bulma?"

"Yes and no," grumbled the King. "It's the damned brat."

Mammals. They have the most inefficient reproduction system. "Keeping you awake by turning somersaults all night, is it?"

"It's...aware."

"It's what?"

Vegeta hunched a shoulder. "Or whatever you want to call it. For a long time it was just...ki. The last few nights, though, it's been broadcasting emotions. Although what else would I expect from that woman's spawn?" Vegeta queried of himself. "She's just a blue-haired mass of emotions herself. Humph."

Zarbon only rarely envied the Saiyans their peculiar telepathic skills; in fact, the thought of someone inside his head was completely repulsive. Pre-birth contact with one's offspring, though, had to be a special experience. "But—Vegeta, that's wonderful! That must be the most amazing—"

Vegeta turned his head, glaring. Zarbon shut up. "What it is," the King growled at him, "is bloody uncomfortable. Bulma can't sleep because the damned thing is squirming all night, and when she gets grumpy it gets grumpy, and then I get a double dose of human emotions dumped all over me."

"Maybe you should try making sure Bulma's happy," responded Zarbon, a little sternly.

"I am," said Vegeta with even more marked irritation. "I let her go off with that damned Chishan again, didn't I? Machines; feh."

"She's nesting," Zarbon remarked, absently.

"She's what?!" roared Vegeta.

Zarbon gave one puzzled blink before nearly collapsing with laughter. "No; no; Vegeta, I don't mean she's building a nest, especially not with Chishan! I mean ... well, I don't know how it works with human pregnancies, but there comes a point in my —" Zarbon belatedly recalled Vegeta's command to never mention the breeding habits of his species again — "er ... in many species where the one about to give birth just instinctively starts preparing for the birth. Bulma's robots do everything around the suite, Bulma's engineers wouldn't let her do any of the work on the new Heir's room, and she's searching for an outlet. Since he's too in awe of her to stop her, pestering Chishan when he's trying to work on his contraptions provides that."

"Right when I think this whole 'birth' thing can't get any weirder—!"

"Well, while you're here, why don't you have a look at that border proposal from the Eastern sector of the Empire?"

"Oh, I have a better idea, Zarbon. Why don't we go have a sparring session? Just for old times sake," the King added with an unpleasant smirk.

Why would I expect him to do anything that actually pertained to running the Empire? Mentally resigning himself to an extended stay in a regeneration tank, Zarbon arranged to meet the King in half an hour.

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Radditz was in the King's outer offices, wearing a scowl. Not that unusual, but there were degrees to Saiyan scowls, and this, Zarbon noted, was a scowl. "What?" sighed Zarbon.

"Why is she always dodging me?" Radditz demanded.

Sometimes I hate this job, and sometimes I really hate this job. Zarbon pinched the bridge of his nose, just for a second, and prepared to switch gears for what seemed like the ump-teenth time that day. "Lose Bulma again, did you? She's with Chishan."

"I know where she is, baka," snapped Radditz indignantly. Zarbon winced. I just can't keep from trampling all over Saiyan pride today. "What I don't understand is why she's actively avoiding me. I'm supposed to be in charge of her protection, not Chishan. Besides, I've been researching this whole 'pregnancy' thing. About all I can figure out is that she should not be traipsing around the grounds at this stage."

"Ye gods, first I find Vegeta in front of a computer, and now you're researching the history of birth in Saiyan society? It must be the end of the universe!"

"Very funny. There isn't that much information available on Vejiitasei. Mostly I'm pumping Bra for details."

"I hope you're recording what you discover. Future generations may need this information."

Radditz glared.

"You're being much too serious today," complained Zarbon. "I don't suppose you found out anything about the last birth in the House of Vejiitasei? Was that a thousand years ago, too, like everything else that ever happened on the planet?"

"As near as I can tell, there has never been a 'birth' in the Royal line. Even back then they had birthing tanks," Radditz informed Zarbon. "That was just when the offspring started being engineered instead of merely conceived. If you want a history lesson, we can stroll down to the Hall of Rulers and I'll tell you about each one of them and their offspring."

"I've heard about each one of them. Several times. Several versions. Why doesn't anybody bother to write things down around here?"

Radditz shrugged. "Then everyone would tell the same stories. What fun is that?" After a sly, sidelong glance at Zarbon, the Queen's Captain started laughing.

"What?"

"Just wondering," chuckled Radditz, "what the stories about you will be in a couple of centuries. Now that would be worth a time trip, eh? Can you imagine what they'll say?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I think I'll start keeping a meant-for-public-consumption diary."

That brought one of those semi-amused, semi-scornful Saiyan snorts from the other man. "What Saiyan will bother reading it?"

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Only half-awake, and trying very hard not to become fully awake, Shiruko put the pillow over his head to shut out the insistent beeping that was disturbing him. It persisted. Grumbling, he dragged himself out of bed and padded toward the communication center. "It's not usual for you to be calling now," he noted on an irritated yawn.

The one addressed responded with a careless shrug. "It's daylight hours here, Shiruko, although since there is no local light-giving star perhaps what I should say is that it is working hours here. My duties are restricted as of late, though. Lord Freeza has developed an aversion to looking at Saiyans. Yuzun is keeping me well out of the way until our master's temper cools, but I get bored. So. Entertain me."

Yawning again, Shiruko sleepily scowled at the screen, his wide, sensitive eyes narrowed against the light filtering from the monitor. In the midst of grunting out something cutting, he paused, staring, his expression arrested and somewhat more awake. "Spot on my nose?" queried his elder sibling. "Maybe you should clean your screen more often."

Slow chuckles began to work out of Shiruko's throat.

"You were supposed to entertain me, not the other way around," snapped his brother. "What's the joke?"

"Just considering that the blood line may not be as pure as I thought."

"I beg your pardon," said the other after a stark stare.

"You what?" Shiruko howled. "You've been in that namby-pamby court of Freeza's for too long! There's a touch of resemblance between you and some low-class no-name I recently met. It's not an unusual look for Eastern peasants. I just never really noticed it in you before. Must be the hair," he determined after a critical examination. "I wonder which of our grand-sires  smuggled the extra genetic material in."

"I had no clue you were so interested in ancient history," drawled the other after another long pause. "Hanging around Zarbon too much, Shiruko? Not that that would be a bad thing. His kind have a way of — expanding horizons."

"Eh, what line is one hundred percent pure after a few dozen decades?" shrugged Shiruko. "Soon even the royal line will be—" He cut himself off, eyeing the monitor warily.

"You forget which of us is living in the 'backwards' Empire," was the dry comment. "We've heard, of course. Or is it just more than you can bring yourself to say?"

Both, thought Shiruko, his mood souring. Which made it as good a time as any to report something else his ambitious sibling would be very loathe to hear. "There's other birthing news. Mother's just popped another offspring into the tank."

A rare, startled expression crossed his brother's usually-composed face. "At their age?"

"There's uncertainty about the succession, remember?" Shiruko reminded him, sardonically. "Are you alive, if you are which House are you going to challenge for, am I going to be a King's Guard forever instead of killing Father myself, et cetera. This one has 'insurance' written all over it. At least it is female. High born females are rare. It'll be good for brokering marriage deals if nothing else."

"She might be 'good' for ruling the House of Misei," responded the elder acerbically. "The first of that house was female."

"Oh, if you're counting her as the beginning of our line, then the first of our house was executed for treason."

"If there's anything I've learned in fighting in Freeza's forces, it's that treason just depends on the which side gets the last word."

Shiruko was not interested in the malleability of historical viewpoints. "At least they aren't giving in to this 'birth' fad. There was a bonding epidemic when the Queen first arrived here; now there's females announcing that if the Queen can do this, they can, too. The Minister of Finance is almost hysterical over the lost time. He's bluer than Zarbon after every meeting with the King. Negin — someone else you don't know, he's a lieutenant in the Queen's Guard — anyway, his mate is doing it. Not that he seems to care about the time she's losing for it. He just shrugs and says that Northern women do it that way, sometimes. Northerners. They are much too taciturn to be true Saiyan."

"Everyone other than the Southerners are much too something to be true Saiyans, eh?" replied his brother in a bored I've-heard-this-before tone.

"Oh, did I fail in my duty to provide entertainment for my elder?" Shiruko's voice was pure malice. "I'm ever, ever so sorry," he added in a mincing tone that demonstrated his low opinion of any Saiyan who apologized.

"Brat," murmured Freeza's bodyguard with something approaching affection.

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Goku had often wondered why he wanted to make the trip to Vejiitasei, especially in the last few months when it appeared that the gray-marbled walls of the palace were all he was going to see of the planet of his birth. He did not at any time experience regret over his long journey to this strange world, because 'regret' had no place in his psyche. At the same time, he was aware of a lack of completeness, of a longing to get away, without ever being entirely clear on where 'away' might be.

Gohan's odd confrontation with the Palace Guard gave Goku the key to answers that he was not aware he was seeking. He found nothing in common with the inhabitants of this world, no cord that tied him to his parents or brother. During the trips away from the capitol, away from the cities, away from the Saiyans, however, Goku discovered what pulled at him before he came to this distant world. Vejiitasei itself called to him.

There was some sort of primal connection with the land, to the animals. Goku found it was especially strong here, at the southern-most tip of the Southern continent. It was an arid, barren place, covered by large stretches of barely-vegetated sand and stark stands of tall, thick, twisted trees with tiny little leaves and very thick thorns. He and Gohan would stay under those trees some nights, staring up through the black branches into the nearly-starless black sky, watching the pinpricks of triangular lights that indicated the location of the big-eyed, small bodied primates that inhabited this limited environment. Gohan called them 'cousins' to the Saiyans; Goku hunkered down further into the hollow he made for sleeping, wondering if no place on Vejiitasei was safe from his relatives.

Not that Goku minded the furry little things, they made for good company (and, he thought as he eyed them, they might do for a quick snack). It was the Saiyans themselves he felt no kinship for. They didn't laugh, except cruelly, and it wasn't really laughter. He felt a brief melancholy at the terrible waste of it all, then shrugged it away. Melancholy, like regret, was not an emotion that could stay with him other than fleetingly.

Turning his head, Goku could just make out the profile of his sleeping, slightly-drooling son. They had used the scouter (well, Gohan had used the scouter) Zarbon provided them with to call Chi-chi, letting her know they were staying out again tonight. Chi-chi's grumbles stopped just short of protest. For the most part, Goku made an earnest effort to get Gohan back to the palace when it was night at Vejiitasei's capitol. When they arrived, Gohan would insist on looking in on Bulma before he went to bed, much to Vegeta's irritation. Goku knew that Chi-chi found herself in rare concordance with the King of the Saiyans, although her unhappiness had a different root. She hated that she only saw her son at night. Yet as she tucked him in, brushing his wild bangs back from his sleeping face, she admitted to her husband that, for the first time since they arrived on Vejiitasei, the little boy looked ... peaceful. There was something in the countryside that soothed him, she decided.

Goku did not tell her what their son confided to him, that away from the cities and the cluster of Saiyans flashing psychic messages back and forth, Gohan was finding it much, much easier to close out the 'voices' in his head. The respite from the psychic bombardment made it easier for Gohan to maintain his mental barriers when he returned to the capitol. It was like exercising, Goku decided; sometimes taking a break for a couple of days allowed one to come back and train stronger than ever.

His own barriers were not breached. He thought he sensed Bardock ... seeking him, once or twice. He was able to close out the Squad Commander with ease. He was not about to let his 'parents' spoil his time with Gohan.

Yes, that not-fight with Aemona had been a very good thing for all of them. It had given him the first real quality time he had with his son since before the Saiyans came to Earth, before Gohan's long training by Piccolo. Goku closed his eyes, lazily considering the positive results until sleep claimed him.

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Gohan sat up slowly, moving carefully as he watched his father. Daddy was snoring, which he usually did when he was deeply asleep. The problem was, for all that Mom grumbled he slept like the dead, Daddy was never that deeply asleep. Not when it came to danger. If he for one second felt that Gohan was in any trouble, Daddy would be on his feet, charged up and ready to confront whatever threatened his son.

Gohan did not feel threatened. Not anymore. If anything bad were going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It would have happened that first moment on Vejiitasei, when he sneaked onto the landing platform before his parents were ready, determined to protect them from any tricks the Saiyans might have prepared.

Quietly, Gohan got to his feet. Daddy snored on. Gohan rose a little off the ground, hovering more than flying, alert as his father snorted once, relaxing as Daddy hiccuped back into a regular snoring pattern. Almost as if blown by a soft breeze, the little boy drifted, out from the shelter offered by those strange, twisting trees Daddy liked so much, away from the silent little primates sitting on the edges of branches, blinking their bright triangular eyes open and closed as if they were sending coded signals out over the barren landscape. Gohan floated on the breath of a non-existent wind, until he came upon the large stones set in the ground. "Standing stones," Daddy had called them, although he was not really able to explain what he meant by that. It was not, Gohan could tell, a natural formation. The place was ill-kempt, with several of the stones askew, some lying flat on the ground. Gohan gently touched down on one of the prone stones, tilting his head up to the black sky, as if intensely studying the faint constellations.

When he finally spoke into the dark night, it was conversationally.

"I know who you are. I know who you have to be."