Chapter 11

The place Zarbon assigned them was far from a hole in the wall. Goku thought the suite, roughly the size of their entire house on Earth, far more luxurious than anything he imagined Vejiitasei's warriors living in. He turned out to be correct. Radditz was happy to inform him that his posh quarters had nothing to do with Goku's standing as the friend of the Queen or the brother of the Queen's captain, but Chi-chi's status as the daughter of Earth's Ox King.

Chi-chi laughed. It was a nice sound. Goku wished she did that more often. He also wished he got the joke.

"We're in here because Zarbon thinks I'm royalty," Chi-chi explained when she caught his expression. "Somehow he picked up that my father is the ruler of a small country and he's drawn some erroneous conclusions." She grinned. "I wonder who we kicked out."

Goku glanced around the rooms appraisingly. The Ox King did live in a big place, bigger than this, even; but then, the Ox King was the single biggest human Goku had ever met. He said as much to Chi-chi. His wife gave him a wry smile. "You don't know what I left behind to marry you, do you?"

He tried to think back to their wedding. It had been a confusing time. There was the hassle with her mom's wedding dress that nearly killed them all, her house (the really big house the Ox King still lived in) was all-but-destroyed in a fire, and ghosts and nether-world entities and would-be Emperors lurked everywhere they went. It would have been easy for Chi-chi to leave something behind, he realized, in all the ruckus. Easier still for him to not realize something was missing. Abashed, he offered to go looking for it upon their return to Earth.

Chi-chi's mouth gave that amused quirk again. "Oh, no, you won't." She touched his cheek, gently. "I like what I got instead," she told him, her eyes shining. "I love what I got instead."

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Although Bulma began to slowly improve with the attention of the Earth medics, her pregnancy was still considered so high-risk they insisted she remain in one place for a time. The Sons' early days on Vejiitasei were spent in the relative isolation of the Southern Palace. It was a good place for the Earthlings to start to acclimate to Vejiitasei and the brusque warriors who made up the majority of its residents. Chi-chi attended Bulma, keeping an eagle eye on the contemptuous Saiyan guards and bullying the medical personnel. Gohan studied compulsively, although he also spent a lot of time in stare downs with Bulma's guards. The little boy was becoming increasingly fidgety and irritable, so much so that an alarmed Zarbon began to take the child on small tours around the palace and the adjoining grounds to try and burn off some of his nervous energy.

Goku just attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible. It was surprisingly easy for him to do so. Saiyans, male and female, tended toward similar facial features with high cheekbones and dark angular eyes. The spiky black hair, while it might flare into shaggy foot-long haloes about their heads, only rarely went much beyond their shoulders. Many of the males exhibited the exaggerated widow's peak. There were even a few with abbreviated versions of Vegeta's upswept locks. The only people with really long hair at the palace were Chi-chi, Radditz and Chishan. Goku spent a lot time trying to figure out which of the guards he was related to besides Radditz. Radditz told him, scornfully, that all Eastern peasants looked the same and he was no more related to anyone else in the building than he was to the vegetation outside. Still, every third guard bore enough of a resemblance that Goku was half convinced one or both of his parents responsible for most of the Saiyan population.

He didn't like thinking about his parents.

Goku tried being nice to Vegeta when they crossed paths, although the King made that difficult. Even on Earth, Vegeta always treated him with amused contempt. Here on Vejiitasei, Vegeta was even more insufferable than before. Perhaps his attitude stemmed from the increase in ki, which was so startling that, despite Gohan's bold statement, Goku was not sure either of them could flatten Vegeta. He found himself reviewing his training practices, wondering what he could do to multiply his own fighting strength. Before long he became irritated that he even cared. It's the Saiyan in you, he reminded himself. It doesn't matter which of you is strongest, does it? He's here, not on Earth. Anyway, the treaty means he isn't even a threat to Earth anymore, right? It doesn't matter.

Yet there was some part of him that still protested.

One morning, about four days after their arrival, Goku awoke abruptly to find his son by the bed, determinedly tugging on the sheets. "Wha—?" he murmured, rolling over to look into the dark eyes that were so like Chi-chi's. Gohan was visibly disturbed, his irises the size of saucers, dark blemishes on his fair skin chronicling a lack of sleep. "What's wrong?" demanded Goku in alarm.

His voice hushed and thin with fright, "I keep hearing voices in my head," the little boy said.

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While Radditz was used to working odd hours during his on-planet stints with the Palace Guard, he was also used to regular shifts. When you were off, you were off unless the planet was under attack. The same could not be said for life as an officer. For the third time since the arrival of his wretched Earth-based relatives Radditz was rudely awakened by the insistent beeping from the personal comm center. Bleary-eyed he glared at the intrusive contraption. There is no privacy in this position. Hell, I might as well have stayed in the off-world forces! "What now?" he bit out.

Tamane's voice came from the speakers, uncertain. "Sir, um...the Earthlings..."

"Haven't we gone over this before? The King says they have the run of the Palace. I don't need to know if Chi-chi is picking flowers in the garden for the Queen's room. I don't need to know if Kakarott is wandering around looking for a midnight snack. I don't need to know if the brat is playing hide-and-seek in the armory with Zarbon. And I doubt if I need to know anything the valueless losers are doing now!"

"Sir, we aren't sure what they're doing. We think they're using ki—"

"'Think?' You woke me up because you 'think' they're using ki?"

"Nothing registers on the scouters, but it looks like—"

"Tamane, we had a meeting about 'ki' and 'Earthlings.' Did you forget to take notes? Their energy is on some sort of wavelength that doesn't register properly on our equipment. The techs are working on it. Wake one of them up."

"Sir—" Tamane persisted.

Radditz gritted his teeth. Well, I'm wide awake now, anyway. "What are they doing this time?"

A long silence. "You've got to see this," Tamane finally uttered, his tone disbelieving.

Grumbling, Radditz rose, nearly tripping over Chishan's lightly snoring form stretched out on the floor next to the bed. Radditz glared at him. The King's Captain could snooze through bloody anything. Since the Palace was over-run with an unusual number of guards and guests, the King's Liaison decreed that 'the' Captain's quarters would have to house both Captains. Zarbon also incensed Nappa by declaring the Commander, whose primary responsibilities dealt with the off-world forces, non-essential personnel. Nappa's quarters went over to Kakarott's brood; the Commander returned to the capitol in a huff. Chishan raised no objection to his father's absence or the sleeping arrangements, although he balked at actually sharing 'the' mattress. Probably afraid Zarbon is under the covers somewhere. Radditz scowled at the stray thought. Stop that. Strapping on his armor, he stalked toward the site of the latest Earthling crisis.

Kakarott and the little hybrid were in the well-manicured gardens behind the Palace's white-washed facade, floating over the rough-stoned pavement with crossed legs neatly tucked under their bodies. Kakarott had one hand stretched in front of him. Gohan's small palm rested flat against it, his eyes screwed closed, his face taut, as if he were concentrating very, very hard.

His lieutenants were watching the two with ill-concealed scorn through the open second story windows. "Hovering out in the open," Tamane remarked as Radditz stopped next to him. "Now there's a useful skill to teach the brat."

"The glow's a nice touch," said Negin, dryly. "Might as well shout: 'Look, here I am!'"

Radditz, however, recognized a variation on one of the skills Zarbon had taught to Vegeta during the long-ago initial training sessions on this very continent. They're meditating, he thought, or Kakarott's trying to teach the brat some special meditation technique. The brat's strong enough he needs to do that? Yeow. "I doubt it's a battle skill," he said.

"Then what's the point?"

Explaining the concept of self-awareness to Saiyans was useless. Kami knew Zarbon spent years trying to force him to deal with it. Radditz settled for shrugging. "Who cares? The real question here is which one of you thought this little light display so dangerous I needed to wake up for it."

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Far over head, Bardock watched the show his son and grandson were putting on, his head cocked to one side, his expression analytical. Well, isn't this interesting. No wonder they can control their power levels so well. Perhaps even conceal them, if necessary.

His occasional forays near the palace went unremarked, possibly even unnoticed since a palace full of Elites weren't going to concern themselves with one hovering third class warrior. Riiki's approach, however, would likely cause a ruckus.

Radditz, he commanded.

There was a long stretch of non-responsive silence. Bardock repeated his son's name, sharply.

What are you doing here? Radditz's voice spat between his ears. Is she here, too?

Bardock smiled wanly. Riiki's high ki meant she was someone with a distinct energy signature that blazed like a beacon where-ever she went on Vejiitasei. Anyone with a scouter and a flicker of curiosity could find out where she was with the push of a button. Undoubtedly every Guard in the southern hemisphere not only knew their former Captain was in the area, they knew within feet her exact location. We're on leave, remember? Attempting to get to know our Earth-bound relatives a bit. I need permission for Riiki to come to the palace, Radditz.

More silence.

She won't go into the palace, Bardock promised. There was a huff of indignation at that, which Bardock took as 'she'd better not.' Just to the gardens, he insisted, working hard to keep from pleading, where Kakarott and his offspring are now.

You had your time with them. Don't blame me if you failed to utilize it.

Grinding his teeth, Bardock forced himself to do something agonizingly un-Saiyan. Please.

There was a triumphant chuckle. Was that so painful? demanded Radditz. Was it? Oh, I hope it was. Give me ten minutes to alert the perimeter guards, then she can come.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Is that better?"

Gohan's face was screwed up, the pink tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on building the mental walls needed to block stray psychic transmissions he didn't want to receive. "That's hard. How do you do that all the time?"

"I don't know," Goku admitted. "I think I always knew how to do it. It's not something you really need where we come from, though; if anyone has anything to say, they just speak up."

"They say lots of stuff here," responded Gohan. "Half of it I don't understand. The other half is mean."

The shadows were still in the young boy's eyes. Goku wondered how to cheer him up, a little distressed as he realized he was unsure of what would cajole his son into a better mood. What does Piccolo do when he gets upset? "Let's train for a while."

Gohan glanced up over Goku's shoulder, grimaced, and unfolded his legs to the ground. "Not now," he said shortly.

"But training's such a good thing for young Saiyans to do," purred a throaty voice from overhead. Chills chased down Goku's spine. It was not just knowing who had uttered the comment — the rough tones were easy to recognize — but the fact they got this close without him noticing. He was overloaded with ki signatures, finding it impossible to keep track of all the different ones on this planet. "You need to train long and hard to be Saiyan warrior, boy."

Goku carefully set his feet against the pavement, taking a calming breath before facing the just-landing Saiyans he found difficult to acknowledge as his parents. Riiki ignored him, her mocking eyes centering on Gohan. Gohan stepped out from behind his father, looking angry and self-possessed and dangerous in a way that made Goku nervous. "I am not going to be a warrior."

"Of course you are," replied the woman, dismissively. "All Saiyans are warriors." Her gaze brushed briefly against Goku's; there was something calculating in her regard. "All Saiyans with tails, anyway," she amended with bored scorn. "Why should you avoid your heritage, brat?"

"Because," the little boy said, mutinously, "I'm going to be a podiatrist."

"A what?" queried Riiki blankly.

"It has something to do with feet," offered Goku, helpfully. He glanced sideways at his son, uncertainly. "Right?"

"Feet?" repeated Riiki.

"It's a type of medical specialist, a foot doctor," said Gohan. His voice took on a lofty, contemptuous tone, echoing Piccolo at his most scornful. "I wouldn't expect you to know what that is. You think babies come from tanks."

Riiki's angular eyes widened to rhomboids. So did Bardock's, but the look he gave his grandson was not one of incredulous disgust. Even without the green tinge that crept into his father's dark aura, Goku recognized envy when he saw it.

"What do you want?" demanded Gohan.

"Nothing to do with foot doctors," snorted Riiki.

Bardock asked, "Is there something you want?"

It was a good question, one Goku immediately wished he had thought to ask of his son. Gohan's attack of attitude short-circuited. The little boy lowered his eyes, folding his hands in front of this body and looking down at them intently. "Aren't there any kids around? Zarbon plays with me when he can, but he's really busy."

"There's probably a dozen high-born brats on the planet his age, but they won't be interested in 'playing' with the hybrid," said Riiki over her shoulder in Bardock's general direction. "Take him to the camps. Perhaps some prodigy there figured out the recall command a few years early."

Bardock pointed out, "His mother is high-born, apparently. We could ask Zarbon to request some minor lordling's offspring come and stay for a while as a companion."

Riiki snorted. "She's not Saiyan. Whatever rank she holds on her worthless planet doesn't count here. No noble would risk their offspring around aliens, anyway. The camps, Bardock."

"He doesn't have clearance to go anywhere." There was a stubborn note in Bardock's voice, one that distantly echoed the stubborn note Gohan occasionally got in his voice. Goku began to swivel his head back and forth between his erstwhile parents. There was concern mixed with other just-burgeoning emotions filtering into Bardock's aura. Riiki's was just the blood red of impending violence. She doesn't want Gohan to see this, he thought, then, see what? he wondered.

Riiki was in mid-retort when Goku focused on the conversation again. "With his power level, who cares where the brat goes? Clearance or not, he's no threat. Not even to you."

There was a very pointed edge to the comment. Bardock replied quietly after a minute, "Being nearly invisible has its advantages." His tone indicated an oft-repeated statement.

"Power is meant to shown," retorted Riiki, her tone indicating an oft-repeated response.

Bardock held up a hand as if to say, 'enough,' his hooded eyes darting briefly toward Goku. Wondering what Riiki was planning, "What are these 'camps?'" Goku asked.

"It's where the recovered infants are sent once they're retrieved," Riiki said, impatiently.

"What do they do there?"

Bardock said, laconically, "Learn to be Saiyan."

Chi-chi had talked about sending Gohan to a summer camp, Goku recalled, before this whole Vejiitasei thing came up. "You want to go to camp?" Goku asked Gohan.

The little boy mumbled to his hands. "I've never seen any other kids with tails."

Goku asked other questions, where the camps were, how long it would take to get there, when would Bardock bring Gohan back, knowing Chi-chi would skin him alive if she found out he let Gohan go off without gathering the information. Riiki interrupted Bardock's replies impatiently. "Bardock, take the brat where-ever he wants. I'm going to get to know my son a little better."

Bardock's gaze was piercing. He stepped close to her as he looked up into her face, saying something quietly using words Goku didn't understand. Riiki's mouth curled up slightly at the edges, yet there was nothing amused about the cast of her face. "You Easterners are far too sentimental," she replied, some faint emotion making her words harsh. "Get out of here."

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Mr. Bardock — Gohan couldn't bring himself to call the man 'Granddad' — was quiet, almost somber as he sped away from the scene. Gohan kept up easily. Mr. Bardock said they would be back before the suns set, about ten hours. They weren't heading west, though, and he told Daddy the camps where the other kids stayed were on the Western Continent. Although there was no hint of deceit in the man's aura, Gohan knew better than to go blindly off with a stranger. "That's not west," he informed the adult.

"Very good," said Mr. Bardock, mildly sarcastic. "The nearest public shuttles are south of here."

The shuttle that brought them to the palace had been fast, but the Saiyans forgot to put windows in it. "I want to see stuff," protested Gohan.

"You want to fly to the Western Continent? Eh, I suppose it won't take too long." Mr. Bardock banked, changing to a more north-westerly course.

Gohan pulled up to his shoulder, glancing over at the strong-featured face. Gohan knew that Mom thought he looked a lot like Dad, but that was just because she couldn't see auras. There was nothing remotely like Dad in Mr. Bardock's aura. "What are you upset about?"

Mr. Bardock turned his head, brows slanted down. "How did you—?" He took a breath, relaxing. "Nothing, probably. I'm mostly angry that I didn't see this coming. Southerners," he grumbled under his breath. "Brains are wasted on them."

"What?"

"Riiki wants to test Kakarott," Mr. Bardock replied. "One of them is going to get hurt. I just hope it stops there."

Gohan had taken lots of tests, but none that were actually painful. When he considered the strangeness in the woman's aura, however, he began to have an inkling of what Mr. Bardock might mean. "You don't have to hurt people to figure them out," he informed Mr. Bardock. "You don't have to fight people at all."

"What if 'people' are trying to hurt you?" queried the man with a sardonic twist to his mouth. He reminded Gohan of Mr. Piccolo for just a second.

"You talk to them. If that doesn't work, you stop them."

There was a strange intentness in the dark eyes that studied him. "Is everyone on Earth like you?"

Gohan thought again of Mr. Piccolo. "No. Some people just fight anyway. There are bad people around although," he assured the man, "they have good points, too. No one is all bad."

The adult's mouth twisted again, but without amusement this time. "We'll see if you still think that when it's time for you to leave Vejiitasei."

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Kakarott raised one hand to the back of his head. He seemed to adopt that uncertain posture a lot. He stared at her with eyes that were positively huge, undercutting the resemblance to Bardock, ruining the Saiyan glare he should have been directing at her. Riiki grimaced in disgust. Radditz said her youngest spawn was brain-damaged. She believed it.

"Is there a reason you wanted to get me by myself?" Kakarott queried.

"It must be twenty-five years since you went into the tank. I haven't seen you once in all the time since. Should I need a reason other than that?"

That lowered the brows, brought out the glare. Good. His expression somber, Kakarott dropped his hand, arms hanging loosely by his side, posture altering subtly to imbue him with an air of alertness. "You want something," he stated, his voice firm and cool where it had been unsure before. "What is it?"

"I was a match for the old King, but not the current one. I wouldn't last half a second against the current one. You wouldn't last a tenth of a second at this level. Which means," she snarled at her son, "you must be concealing your power. Are you, brat?"

Kakarott said nothing. The steady stare was strangely unsettling.

"Do they spar on that pathetic planet that houses you?"

Kakarott sighed. "A fight between us is pointless."

She grinned fiercely. "Did I mention fighting?" She went into a battle stance, knees deeply flexed, one arm over head. Sighing softly again, Kakarott mimicked the position, but made no attempt to initiate an attack. Pathetic, thought Riiki again. She tapped at him to start, lightly striking her balled-up fists against his solid upper arms, next aiming toward his face. He blocked with ease, but did not counter. She spun in a crouch, aiming for his ankles. He levitated a foot off the ground, watching her quizzically. Reaching up, she snared a calf, slamming him back down. She was rewarded with the tiniest of off-balance staggers. His femurs should have snapped like twigs. Riiki angrily shot up, leaned over to snarl in her son's face. "Stop holding back, brat. Hit me. Like you mean it."

That steady stare again. He was beginning to unnerve her with his refusal to be taunted into an unwary strike. She found herself wondering if Zarbon had somehow gotten hold of this one, too. "I should have gone with the brat to the camps," she spat. "I could have watched the hybrid freak get torn apart by real Saiyans."

Finally, a bare flick of irritation. "Don't insult my son."

"You don't care who insults mine."

"You had nothing to do with who I am," he said quietly. "I'm not your son."

She lunged at that, throwing all of her weight and strength and resentment and disappointment into the blow.

Kakarott sidestepped.

More accurately, Kakarott disappeared. Riiki found herself hopping forward on one foot, waving her arms to keep her balance. "Friggin'motherlesstaillesssonovaEasternerbastard!"

"Why are you saying those things?" Kakarott asked plaintively, off to her side. "You don't mean it."

"Don't tell me what I do and don't mean!" hissed Riiki. She turned her head, impaling the tailless creature with her most merciless stare. "Or is that what you like, what you need? Is that what that powerless Earth woman does for you, Kakarott?"

"Don't," said Kakarott.

"Were you looking for a mommy all those endless years?" taunted Riiki. "Someone to feed you and clothe you and tell you what a good boy you were? I saw how the pathetic creature babied the hybrid on the shuttle, Kakarott. It's made him weak. She's made you even weaker—"

Everything around her warped. Riiki plowed into the ground, lungs refusing to expand when reflexes forced her to attempt a breath. He broke my nose, she thought, hazily. She squinted through dark shadows that she knew were from the inside of her head. And my cheek. And at least dislocated my jaw. Went through the ki shield like it didn't exist. I didn't even see him do it. He is strong enough to succeed me. Shame about the height thing, but things are changing. Maybe that will change, too...She managed to pull one corner of her mouth up in a self-mocking smirk as Kakarott loomed over her. This is it, she thought in satisfaction. Bardock, goodbye...

There was a long moment while Kakarott looked towards the royal compound. Turning back, he held out a hand to...help her up?

From far away, After talking to the little hybrid, I had a feeling you were safer than you wanted to be, Bardock's amused comment floated back to her.

Shut up. Scorning the proffered hand, she staggered to her feet, glaring at him through eyes that wouldn't fully open. "What the hell is your problem?" she snarled. "You had me, Kakarott!"

"Sorry," Goku said, not sounding either apologetic or sincere. "Guess you didn't see that fast enough to block it. I hit you lots harder than I should have. You're tons weaker than people I'm used to sparring with."

"Oh, tons," came a sardonic comment from overhead. Riiki tried to focus on the blurry figure before realizing who it had to be. Her humiliation was complete.

The newcomer utterly ignored her. "Looking to play?" queried King Vegeta. The monarch landed softly. "I could arrange for you to play at a higher level, Kakarott."

"Bulma wouldn't like that," said Goku, his voice firm.

The King's head went to the side. "I think," he said, conversationally, "that I would prefer that you never mention my mate's name again, Kakarott."

The Earth-Saiyan replied, coolly, "We don't always get what we want, Vegeta."

For some reason, the King looked straight at her. Riiki found her shoulders going back, automatically standing rigidly straight even though portions of her body were strongly inclined to fold into a heap. Vegeta's mouth twisted. "No," he said, "I suppose we don't." He turned his attention back to Kakarott. "You are once again fortunate, Kakarott. Normally nothing would keep me from battling you, but right now Bulma's well-being is my primary concern. She keeps reminding me how covered by the treaty you are. Where's the brat? I don't suppose he feels like going a couple of rounds, does he?"

Riiki said, carefully, "He's with Squad Commander Bardock, Sire. With his power level, I didn't think it necessary to disturb anyone for clearance. If there is fault here—"

Vegeta gave her another level stare. Riiki shut up.

"Gohan's seen everything around here," Goku told the King. "Bardock was going to show him around some more. Is that a problem?" he asked, anxiously. "I kinda wanted to go, too, but not if there's going to be trouble about it."

"Oh, far be it for me to deprive a family so long separated of some true quality time together," drawled Vegeta, a particularly unpleasant note in his voice. "Feel free to explore the planet with your low-class parents and your half-human spawn, Kakarott. You aren't needed here anyway."

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The brat was a good flyer. Out of consideration for the hybrid's tender years Bardock stayed well below the sound barrier, but Gohan's ease with speed made him wonder if his half-human grandson was strong enough to take the physical buffeting associated with sonic booms. Are all children this powerful this young? Maybe we shouldn't be sending them away."Who has been training you?"

The boy considered his response carefully. When Gohan replied, he opted to speak of a different sort of training than Bardock meant. "Mom tutors me. I go to school on Earth, too, but I'm way ahead of everyone so I have to be in a special class."

The appropriate Saiyan response would have been a caustic comment on the relative stupidity of human children if someone as low-class as Gohan was 'ahead' of them. Instead, "Your mother seems to have done well for you," said Bardock, neutrally. "Why do you want to be a doctor of — feet, wasn't it?"

"They have regular hours," said Gohan. "They don't have to run off for emergencies an' stuff. I'd like to have regular hours when I'm grown up."

Kakarott handles 'emergencies,' does he? Perhaps he's a covert agent rather than traditional military...? The thought brought an involuntary smile. As hard as it was to imagine any Saiyan as an undercover operative, it stretched his mind to its fertile limits picturing Kakarott in such a role.

He was amusing himself by running a mental movie of Kakarott sneaking on tip-toe around the palace, slinking around corners as he tracked Vegeta for unnamed nefarious purposes, when he realized Gohan was no longer keeping pace with him. Crossly thinking the boy should have said something if he was going too fast for him, and then smirking when he realized no true Saiyan would have admitted such a thing, he turned back. Gohan was a distant, still speck. Bardock began to feel slight traces of apprehension when he got close enough to observe the child. The boy's skin was ashen, stressing the un-Saiyan hue of his skin. Is he air-sick? That would be a problem... Bardock began to cast about for a quick landing spot. Gohan, however, remained hovering in one place, eyes closed, face beginning to fold into taut lines that made the brat look far older.

"I'm not going," the little boy announced. "Bad things are happening there."

— bad things? Bad — things? Crossing his arms, Bardock floated for a moment, again studying his grandchild as if trying to classify him. "What are you babbling about?" he queried. "We're almost to the coast now. The camps are just an islet away. We'll be there in half-an-hour. Let's go."

"I don't have to go there."

The fickle brat was being perverse. Bardock scowled at the hybrid, deciding that sending offspring away until they got through this stubborn stage was a good idea after all. "You don't have to—? We've started there, we're going there. If you need to throw up, do it and let's go."

"I don't have to," Gohan repeated.

Rolling his eyes, Bardock played devil's advocate. "You don't have to study to become a doctor? You don't have to train to become a warrior? You don't have to do things you committed to doing? There's no honor among Earthlings?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what, brat?"

"Say things to get me to do something I don't want to do. My sensei's really good at that, the best. Lots better than you are," Gohan added in contempt. The defiant child who first faced him when he landed at the Southern Palace was back. "I'm not going. You can't make me."

What was with the brat? Bardock cupped one hand over his scouter's earpiece, calling up the schedule for the camps, grimacing when he saw large blocks of time carved out for target practice. It was popular with the Saiyan public, who came in droves for glimpses of their young relatives in action. It was not for the squeamish — and everything he had heard and witnessed suggested Earthlings were very, very squeamish. And somehow sensitive enough to pick up what's happening there before we get there...? How could he do that? Can all Earthlings do that?

Bardock looked into the determined face. Riiki would have fought with the brat — 'fought' being the operative word — forcing him to the camp. But as he saw some twitch across the features that reminded him of her, Bardock knew his sentimental streak was about to betray him once again. "Eh, no matter," he told this grandson, his voice indifferent. "The brats there are probably too stuck up to play with you, anyway. There's a cold water lake with a nice waterfall not far from here. Let's go for a swim."

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Chi-chi was only mildly annoyed when she found Gohan's assignments for the day untouched. Alarm didn't hit until she tracked down Zarbon and discovered he had no more idea than she did about Gohan's current location. Zarbon viewed the portents of an imminent temper-tantrum with apprehension, hastily tapping on his scouter to see what information it had to offer. "Radditz is in one of the conference rooms overlooking the gardens," he told her. "Let's see what he knows." On the way there Zarbon desperately tried to distract her with the history of the Palace; who built it, who defended it during the War, how the House of Misei was created here when the victorious King of the Saiyans granted amnesty to the infant offspring of his condemned sister. Chi-chi's long-legged stomp of a stride as they gained on Radditz's location indicated a supreme lack of interest in being distracted by anything.

The Queen's Captain was stationed in front of wide-opened windows, flanked by two guards wearing the silver-blue shoulder pads characteristic of Bulma's personal troops. Zarbon began with polite phrases. Chi-chi cut across him; with her son missing, courtesy was the last thing she cared about. "Do you know where Gohan is?" she demanded of Goku's older brother.

Radditz turned away from the window, positioning himself in front of it with a stance that seemed calculated to keep her from looking past him. Even the light was blocked by his massive shoulders. "Why the hell should I even care where the brat is?" he demanded with studied indifference.

The Earth woman walked over to the Captain, tilting her head back to regard him, her face composed and thoughtful. She reached up and tugged gently at the hair framing the Captain's face. Contemptuously, the Captain responded by lowering his head. Chi-chi still had to stand on tip-toe to whisper something in Radditz's ear.

Radditz's eyes widened.

Across the room, Zarbon suddenly — convulsed. One hand flattened over his mouth. The broad shoulders shook with irregular tremors.

Going back down on flat feet, Chi-chi fixed her brother-in-law with a straight-edged, self-possessed gaze.

Reluctantly, scowling, the Captain gave a slow nod.

Zarbon was leaning with most of his weight against the wall, his free hand clenched and pounding against the marble coating, his face still shielded.

Chi-chi unhurriedly walked between the two Queen's lieutenants, gazing out the window at what-ever was happening in the garden. There was a slight curve to her mouth when she turned away; her countenance had lightened. Chi-chi strolled back to the King's liaison, ignoring whatever fit had overtaken him. "All this palace history is very educational, of course, but I'm not the one in school. Maybe you can give this tour to Gohan later?"

There was a compulsive jerk from Zarbon, apparently an affirmation.

"Thank you. What I'd really like to see, if you have the time, are the kitchens. Feeding so many Saiyans at once; they must really be impressive, Zarbon."

Zarbon made a gasping noise that the Earth woman clearly took for assent. Before following her out of the room, Zarbon said, voice unsteady, "That must be the single most painful thing I ever heard of being done to a male."

"Shut up," said Radditz, agreeably. He turned his back and glared grimly out the window. "Damn it all, the fight's over. And it looked like she got creamed, too. I always miss the good stuff."

There was another smothered chortle from Zarbon as he left the room.

After a pause, "Don't ask," growled Radditz out of the side of his mouth.

"I wasn't going to," Tamane assured him. Negin gave a disappointed grunt.

"From now on," Radditz instructed, curtly, "we don't call the brat 'the brat.' We call the brat 'Gohan.'"

"Yes, sir," said Tamane.

________________________________________________________

It was well into the moonless night when Bardock tapped down in front of the small, rectangular dwelling on the Eastern Continent they shared when they were both on-planet. Riiki met him at the door with her customary scowl. "Enjoy your time with the Earth spawn?"

"Yes," replied Bardock, unapologetic. "He has a sharp mind. I don't get to interact with sharp minds very often." He regarded his wife's battered visage sardonically. "I see you enjoyed your day as well. Are you going to need a tank?"

Riiki glowered at him—hard to do effectively with a bruised, wincing face.

"Just asking. You should have come with Gohan and me. Far more entertaining. Less pain involved."

Riiki eyed him in mistrust. "You're not going to get all weird on me again, are you?" she demanded. "Like when we retrieved Radditz and you wanted to keep him with us instead of sending him off to one of the camps? You have that sappy look on your face."

"Gohan doesn't need us. He has perfectly good parents," was Bardock's response. Riiki stared at him, bewildered. Grinning slightly, Bardock brushed by her. Completely bemused, she followed him through the outer chambers into an inner one she rarely visited, watching from the door as he settled in front of the computer and began to tap out commands against the touchpad.

"You're going to ruin your eyes with all that fine print," she finally said. It was as close as she could get to admitting curiosity.

"I was just going over some of the Super-Saiyan notes. The most common legends have it that the last Super-Saiyan could only achieve that state in his ozuru form, but there are some interesting variations, ones that the Earth-Saiyans reminded me of. This one, for instance."

Treading gingerly into the room as if it held unseen traps, Riiki glanced at the screen, then cast her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, right. So you think because our son has been deprived of the source of his true power, he might have a shot at being the next Super-Saiyan? Don't be asinine. The bloodline isn't there, anyway."

"There aren't that many of us," Bardock reminded her, "and the lack of Saiyan females forms a sort of bottleneck, anyway. Assuming that genetics are involved, the likelihood is that we're all reasonably closely related—"

He was about to go off on one of his unintelligible spiels. "Bardock. Shut. Up."

"And," her husband continued, blithely, "I've been thinking there may be something in the Earthling heritage as well. Gohan can do ... things. Things the rest of us can't do."

Riiki watched as Bardock snapped his fingers under a sudden stray thought and tapped out the phrase 'hybrid vigor.' She tried peering over his shoulder, but the new information scrolling across the screen was beyond her comprehension of heritable traits. She settled for the usual Saiyan response to matters beyond comprehension. She shrugged. "Random genetics. Feh. The royal house had it right when they started engineering offspring. When I think of how strong the Earth-Saiyans are, and what we could have produced if the sentimentality were sliced out so they were true Saiyans..." She wrinkled her nose.

"I thought that what you liked about us off-world types was our lack of self-deceit," said Bardock, dryly. "You could try a little of that yourself, woman. I suppose you're just too Southern for honesty. Although one of your Chieftain's sons is close to the truth, eh? Maybe self-deceit is just a deficiency of Elites. A genetic deficiency."

She flushed, the rush of blood turning her fading bruises unusual colors, and turned her head away. "Feh," she muttered again.

Grinning, Bardock reached up from his seat to take one of her strong hands in his. He stroked his callused thumb against her palm, then raised her fingers against his mouth, saying words that, while they still had the power to shock her after all these years, still gave her that secret thrill of the forbidden as well. Words he had first screamed out in open court when the last King almost killed her — She rested her free hand against his coarse hair and threaded her fingers through it, tugging his head back, scowling down into his smiling face. "I see where our offspring get this from," she told him. "You're a sentimental fool."

"And aren't you glad of it," he murmured.

________________________________________________________

Gohan touched down where he had left on his abortive trip, in the gardens behind the palace. He was breathing hard, not from physical exertion, but from the strain of holding all those alien thoughts at bay. All those evil alien thoughts...

Daddy met him there. "Your mom's looking for you. I waved at her through the window so she thinks you're with me, but you know she always finds things like that out."

Gohan nodded glumly. Dad looked up into the just-darkening sky, frowning slightly. "He sent you back by yourself?"

"He was worried about—" Gohan stopped. What did he call Riiki? Anyone less like a grandmother he couldn't imagine, and somehow "Miss Riiki" just didn't work. "Yes."

"Your mom isn't going to like that."

"We don't have to tell her," Gohan told his father. That earned a stern stare from Goku, reminding Gohan that the reason Mom always found stuff out was because Daddy always told her. Dad didn't seem to be able to help himself. Not that he was any better, thought Gohan in resignation; despite Mr. Piccolo's training, somehow he always told Mom the truth no matter how much easier lying would be. Sighing, "He knew I would be okay. I told him I could focus on where you were, so I wouldn't get lost."

"Be careful who you say things like that to."

"He did give me a funny look."

"Did you meet any other kids?"

"No," was the flat response. Gohan looked at the white, tall palace that housed Vegeta, Bulma, the baby, all those violent Saiyans he was fighting to keep out of his head. "This is all wrong," said Gohan, grimly. "We should stop it."

________________________________________________________

Goku sucked on the inside of one cheek as he stared down at the earnest boy. It was so clear-cut for Gohan. It had been clear-cut for him as well, once upon a time. Before the Saiyans came and everything got mixed up. "Kami tells me we are stopping it," said Goku, his own uncertainty undercutting what was meant to be a reassuring statement. "If everything works out the way he thinks it will, anyway."

"How do we stop it if we don't do anything?"

That was a good question. It was a question he had asked, many times. "Kami thinks," said Goku slowly as he tried to piece together Kami's responses, "that if we do anything there will just be a big fight, lots of people will get killed and nothing will really change."

"I think," the little boy responded, his eyes shadowed, "that lots of people are dying right now, Daddy. Kami is wrong if he thinks that's okay."

Goku winced. "Gohan," he said, helplessly, "we have to trust in Kami on this, okay? He knows things we don't. He sees things we don't. The 'stopping' part isn't for warriors, he says. It's Bulma's job. Our job is to protect Earth, just like Mr. Piccolo has always told you."

"This is what Mr. Piccolo would turn home into," said Gohan. He turned his big eyes up to his father. "I don't want that," he said.

"Then you make sure he knows that when we get back," Goku told him. Gohan's shoulders slumped, his eyes dimmed with things he should not have felt, strained with the effort of keeping out all those strange thoughts out of his mind. Goku gently ran fingers through the boy's hair, so much softer than his own, so much coarser than Chi-chi's. "I'm tired of fighting," said Goku. He smiled at the little boy. "Let's play."