Chapter 6

A quick pace around the outer chambers and the private inner chambers revealed no sign of Bulma. For a moment the King paused, trying to get a mental fix on her. There was a faint sensation of nearness, then a flash of a grayed-out screen that, for a moment, he took for some sort of human static. Then he snorted. One of her infernal computers. 'Static' from his wife would at least imply a primitive form of mental defenses; humans somehow survived with disturbingly open minds. Another reason Bulma was ever in more danger than she realized. Without the mind barriers even Saiyan infants instinctively knew to erect and maintain, his Earth mate was susceptible to a psychic assault. Fortunately no Saiyan possessed that level of psi skill or power; unfortunately Vejiitasei's capitol was awash with alien species, some of whom did.

Sighing, Vegeta threw his cape across the bed and dropped the royal pendant carelessly on one of the new, numerous flat surfaces that Bulma couldn't seem to function without. Those obnoxious robots of hers would tidy up after him. Bulma's aversion to slaves extended to the domestic ones that performed all the menial tasks around the palace. Rather than endure her endless harping on the subject, he got rid of them. Personally, Vegeta thought Bulma hadn't thought this whole emancipation thing through properly. What did she expect him to do with a horde of suddenly superfluous slaves, anyway? He started to have them shipped to the Western continent to be used as targets in one of the camps for recovered infants centered there, but Zarbon interfered, reminding him that Bulma would likely object to that as well. They were finally sent to several off-planet garrisons, who hopefully needed domestic slaves for something other than blowing up. And if not — well, Bulma would never hear about it, anyway.

He went through the door that led toward several chambers of the former harem, now the much-restyled Queen's quarters. Bulma's suite of rooms was far more extensive than his. The alien designers who put it together, used to working for the spartan comforts of Saiyan warriors, could not imagine the Earth woman needed so much space. By the time the emergency back-up gravity machines, the three workrooms, the banks of Saiyan and Chikyuu computers, the drafting machines and the massive closet were in place, the aliens were willing to concede that the outlandish plans of the King had some basis in reality.

He found her as he expected to, at the computer. And, as he had several times in the last two weeks, asleep, the keyboard shoved aside, her head pillowed on her folded arms. Scowling, he looked over her head at the diagrams on the screen, making some of the human symbols out with difficulty. Another re-design of the gravity harness. If it was so safe, why was she constantly modifying it?

Vegeta gently touched a finger to her shoulder, meaning to see if she was deeply asleep or only dozing, then froze.

There it was again.

He spun around, looking with darting, wary glances in every corner and dark crevice. Nothing. But just for a moment, that strange ki ... echo ... tripped his seventh sense. He couldn't explain it, exactly; it was an impression, a shadow, a wisp of sensation that fled as quickly as it came. In stray moments right before he fell asleep, some part of his mind wondered if his father's ghost hadn't recently returned to his old rooms in the Imperial wing.

Bah, the King thought. Even if it has, what harm could a specter do?

In a way, it could be argued that he carried his father's spirit within him. That moment of connection the instant before his father's death instilled faint, dream-like impressions of memories that were not his, that could unexpectedly overtake his mind. Earlier that day he experienced one of those weird shadowy overlays of recollection when he found himself staring down at Kakarott's mother; a rush of peculiar sensations that took a moment to shunt aside. It had been alarming in the beginning, but fortunately these episodes were happening less and less, as if the time that passed since he killed the late King were also slowly erasing the psychic imprint his father left on his mind. Although that instant of emotion in the arena had been — intense...

"Vegeta?"

Dozing, then; not asleep. "What?" he asked, turning back to Bulma. His mate was pale with that tired mien again, her chin propped against her palm, the blue eyes half-hidden behind drooping lids. "Woman, you look awful."

"You are so good for my morale," she said, dryly.

"I did not say that was any different from how you usually look," he retorted.

For a moment, the eyes opened fully and Bulma glared at him. Then she grinned and the sleepy expression settled back on her face. "Zarbon didn't go for it, huh? Told you. He's got more of a sense of what's proper than you do, Vegeta. I haven't been here long, but I gather that having non-Saiyans in high-ranking positions is not proper."

Vegeta grunted.

"Of course, if you were that articulate during the meeting, it's little wonder you weren't able to persuade him."

And if either of you had any sort of psychic receptors, he thought in irritation, you wouldn't always need words. It could be worse, I suppose; you could be totally mind-blind, like Zarbon is. Although then I would just have left you on Chikyuu and spent the rest of my life slinking around the palace with my tail between my legs like Bardock's pathetic brat. He scowled at the Earth garments she was (barely) wearing. Which, given how much trouble you are to look after, might not have been such a bad thing. "I hope you weren't parading through the halls like that."

Bulma peeked down at herself, her expression skeptical. "You have a problem with tube-tops now? Considering that the standard Guard uniform consists of black briefs and little else, Vegeta, bare shoulders are not going to cause an outbreak of prudish indignation."

Her husband snorted. "Maybe I'm just trying to save the Guards from terminal nosebleeds."

She smiled again. She was beginning to look a little more awake. "Hard as it is to believe, every now and again you do manage to growl out the right thing," she told her husband. Vegeta felt the color pooling across his face, 'hmph'd', and looked away. There was a chuckle, but when she spoke, she had returned to an earlier matter. "You did have a back-up plan for Zarbon?"

"He will be the official liaison between myself and the court. It is, ironically, a higher ranked position, since it means he will have direct access to me at all times. But it is also one that is much less public. Really, it's not that different from what he does for me now."

"Well, just try not to be too upset if Zarbon turns this down, too," Bulma told him. "You know he has your best interests at heart."

"Oh, he will not walk away from this appointment as well," said Vegeta in obvious amusement, a disturbing spark of anticipation in his eyes. "I will make sure of that." He grinned down at his wife, the anticipatory sparkle increasing in intensity. "It is not the only change about to occur around here," he informed her.

Bulma looked startled and a little scared.

"We're doing some reshuffling of the guards again. Chishan is about to be promoted."

"Oh, great," she snapped, even thought something about her relaxing body posture suggested an element of relief as well. "The one person on the planet I can talk to. Thanks heaps, Vegeta."

Vegeta eyed her in faint suspicion, wondering what she was nervous about, then decided it probably had something to do with the damn slaves — and he didn't want to go another round on that tired subject. Besides, she didn't appear alert enough for a good argument. He could still pay her back for whatever it was she was about to do to make his life uncomfortable, though. "An old friend of yours will be taking his place," the King promised her, maliciously.

"I don't have any... No. You didn't. Radditz? Vegeta! You assigned Radditz to me? You know he gets me all edgy. He's ... I dunno, wild or something."

"And he's different from your dear Chishan how, precisely? He also carries the rut gene," Vegeta reminded her. "All males who carry it, and all females who are recessive for it, have the 'wild' hair."

Bulma glanced pointedly at the unruly flare atop her husband's head, but did not mention it. "What am I going to talk to him about?" she wondered in irritation.

"Your mother?"

Bulma shuddered with revulsion, then grimaced. "Actually, I do pass messages from her to him. Radditz just glares at me and grunts. He does call her back, however. I can't imagine what they have to say to each other, although it's not as if he's inarticulate. He was downright poetic when he was threatening to kill Gohan." She shuddered again. "I'll get you for this," she grumbled.

At least he won't bond to you, thought Vegeta, and Chishan is halfway there all ready. Without any mental shields, you have no way to rebuff him, woman. Or any of the other guards I've reassigned for looking at you too...warmly. And Zarbon wonders why I won't let you out of my sight. Feh. Every corner holds unimplemented traps for you, my little human; I have to keep you from unintentionally tripping any of them. He let his tail uncurl from his waist, touching it to her shoulder, stroking it up and down her arm. She mock-scowled and made a grab for it; he let her catch it, beginning to smirk. "Looks like you did get me," he marveled. "That was fast."

Bulma got to her feet and leaned into him. He twined the tail around her hips, letting it drift down one of her thighs. But she sighed and said, "Vegeta, it's been such a long day. I'm really tired. We can cuddle for a while, but I'm not up for much else."

Feeling his concern for her rekindle, he didn't even bother to scorn the 'cuddle' comment; whatever the King of the Saiyans might be, 'cuddly' was not it. He lifted her carefully in his arms and, ignoring her giggling protests that she could walk just fine, carried her back to their bed chamber.

And, just for an instant as she settled her head against his shoulder, he felt it again. Go to hell, he silently snarled at whatever it was. Leave us alone.

_________________________________________________________

It was, of course, not as easy as packing Gohan's books. Dr. Briefs became compulsive about every little detail on the almost-completed spherical vessel scheduled to be the second Earth ship to make the journey to Vejiitasei. It was impossible to keep his preparations from the ever-watchful media. Within forty-eight hours of her decision Chi-chi found it necessary to move her small family to the Capsule Corporation grounds to avoid the swarm of paparazzi.

Goku, at least, was not difficult to convince. After one startled look he announced he needed to talk to Kami, disappeared from her sight, then popped back minutes later with cheerful acquiesce. "Sounds like fun!" Gohan, however, was deathly afraid of going, apparently convinced that Vegeta had unnamed, unrealized dire plots revolving around him. He dragged around like a boy under a death sentence, looking so pathetic Chi-chi periodically reconsidered her decision. But then she would catch some whiff of an unexpected breeze or think she saw something white fluttering in the blue sky over the Capsule Corporation, and her determination to give her son a respite from his 'mentor' renewed.

When it became clear that, left to himself, Dr. Briefs would spend months fine-tuning every extraneous circuit, Chi-chi called Bulma. "Six weeks is a long time for transit. Is the warp technology beyond you, Dad?" Bulma asked her father, oozing sympathy. "It's such a shame I'm not there to help you."

Dr. Briefs was a little indignant, as Bulma knew he would be. "That's a whole two weeks faster than you got there, young lady."

"Well, the supply shuttles are down to three weeks now. Why so long with this?"

"I should be able to shave still more time off with the supply shuttles," Dr. Briefs said, momentarily distracted. "Theoretically with the warp technology we got from the Saiyans I can probably work it down to days instead of weeks. But then, you don't have to worry about things like maintaining atmospheric pressure or making sure the oxygen-CO2 ratios are constant on the robot shuttles." He gave her one of those surprisingly-shrewd looks. "You got some reason for wanting your friends there ASAP, Bulma?"

Bulma turned her head away.

"I suppose," said her father, "this has nothing to do with all those other folks Chi-chi is bringing along."

Bulma did not answer.

"Well," said Dr. Briefs after a minute, "they can probably live without the stereophonic surround sound. If they don't object to plain ol' stereo speakers for the next few weeks, I can have them off the ground in twenty-four hours."

Bulma beamed at him. "I knew you could do it," she said.

Mrs. Briefs unexpectedly became — parental. She badgered Chi-chi about her reasons for going. She badgered Bulma about her reasons for asking Chi-chi to go. "The Mom-radar," Bulma told Chi-chi when they got a moment to talk. "I guess it's gone off, big time. I wonder if I'll develop a Mom-radar?"

"Believe me, it comes with the territory," Chi-chi said, dryly. "In fact, I'd say it's already gone off and that's why you want us there. Your dad's finally finished everything up. He's very hyped about all the improvements. I guess we're going to get there in half the time it took you. Of course, he has to let us take off first, and I'm not prepared to believe he's going to let us do that until it actually happens."

"Is that the only space-ready craft he's got?"

"I think so."

Bulma chortled in triumph. "Ha! Dad never could get the hang of assembly line production. Excellent. You take off in the only ship on Earth capable of getting to Vejiitasei, and then I tell my parents."

Of course, there were other people who had to be told as well. And some of them were not especially thrilled at the thought of visiting Earthlings.

"They are not 'alien parasites,' they are my friends!" snapped Bulma, stamping one foot. "I don't care what sort of problem you have with Saiyans visiting Earth, that doesn't mean I can't have my friends visit me here!"

"That smelly old man isn't coming, is he?"

"Dad? Um, no. Goku will be, though," she offered, brightly. "Maybe you can use him to help you train for a while."

"A 'trainer' is redundant at my level, but I could use someone to spar with," mused Vegeta. "Kakarott is of no interest as a fighter, but there are untapped resources in Kakarott's brat. I'll make him my sparring partner."

"That's crazy," protested Bulma. "He's just a boy. You can't do that."

"He's a Saiyan, woman, and I am King of the Saiyans," he told her with that imperious voice he used when he was in full-fledged 'I'm-ruler-of-the-universe' mode. "The brat will do what I tell him."

"According to the treaty with Earth, his father is a fully-recognized Earth citizen," Bulma sharply reminded him. "You have no claim to either of them, Vegeta."

Vegeta started to reply heatedly, paused, regarded her for a narrow-eyed moment, then exhibited one of those dangerous sharp-toothed smirks. "We'll see what the brat himself thinks when he gets to Vejiitasei, woman."

Bulma gazed at her husband with a twinge of concern. It seemed to her he was backing down way too easily the last few days. She decided not to question her good luck.

_________________________________________________________

In the medical facility, a broad, tall figure stood impatiently in front of one of the tanks as the liquid within seethed with different colors. Looking up at him uncertainly, the tech announced she was ready to begin the draining procedure. Her reply was a glare from under drawn brows. Mentally cursing all Elites, the tech began to push buttons.

Within the tank, golden eyes slowly creased open. Blue-tinted fingers found the breath mask and carefully pulled it off. A muscular form stood gracefully, the head cocking to the side as the tank's occupant caught sight of the waiting figure. The door to the tank slid away. The figure stepped out. Looking up again, the tech held her breath in for a moment. She knew using the masculine pronoun around the creature was just a convention, but there was no question, in this form at least, it was a pronoun that most Saiyan females would not object to...

But it walked into the extended arms of the Saiyan male for a comforting embrace and, grimacing, she turned her eyes back to her equipment. That was a waste on so many levels she just didn't even want to think about it. What of it? It's not like there isn't a planet full of males to pick from. Non-tainted ones at that. She dismissed the scene from her thoughts.

On the platform just outside the elevated tank, "We have to stop meeting like this," Zarbon told Radditz.

"Annoyed the King again, did you? Tsk."

Despite the stern words, Radditz was having trouble keeping the grin off. He was trying to be appropriately stoic, but the corners of his mouth would twitch up, be forced down, and twitch up again. Stepping back, Zarbon noted a few changes in his friend's wardrobe. Radditz had exchanged the black and tan armor of the Palace Guard for the pure black of the King's Guard. The red arm strap that once marked his First Class status was replaced as well by the black only Elites wore. The thigh band that proclaimed his military standing, though, was altogether lacking. Curious, thought Zarbon. "I see you got the word," he said.

"Me? What about you?" was Radditz's response. "Finally an official rank, eh?"

Zarbon's brows arched up. "What are you babbling about?"

"The new appointments were just posted in the Guards' barracks," Radditz told him. "'King's Liaison—Zarbon.' Not that it was any surprise. Well, except that half the Guards were afraid you might be the next Captain."

"That monkey-tailed pig-headed little runt," Zarbon stated flatly. "That back-stabbing spoiled-brat mammal. That sneaky wired-haired piece of—"

Radditz regarded him wryly, glancing around at the studiously-indifferent techs as he made a gesture suggesting a more moderate tone. "Treason is not becoming in one of the King's new officers, Zarbon."

Zarbon briefly altered his voice to a sibilant reptilian-like hissing that, while it was not especially softer, would be more difficult for most Saiyans to understand. "I told him his liaison had to be a Saiyan!"

Radditz lifted his shoulders, disinterested. "Zarbon, you'll mostly be dealing with aliens. And nobles, who as far as the rest of us are concerned might as well be aliens. It's the one position he could have given you that wouldn't have caused a ruckus. Lots of grumbling, sure. But we're Saiyans. We're always grumbling about something."

"Did Vegeta tell you?"

"Why would the King tell me anything, Zarbon?" Radditz asked, quizzically. "In any case, I haven't seen him. I had a notation by my name to report to you. Most of the new King's Guards didn't have that much. In fact, they weren't even called 'King's' Guards, just 'Guards.' We did get a new Captain. Chishan is staggering around with a dazed look on his face. He's suddenly gone from a junior officer to one of the most powerful positions on the planet, equivalent to Nappa, the Ministers, the four Chieftains. Those who weren't thinking you would be awarded the post were betting on Lord Shiruko."

"Shiruko's too overt in his dislike of aliens. Normally an advantage, of course, but not when the King is married to one."

"He's going to be the Chieftain of the Southern Tribes, anyway," shrugged Radditz. "Waste of an appointment." The amused spark came back into the black eyes. "I had some trouble figuring out where you were to report to. I was a little surprised to find you in the tank. It's been, what, at least three or four weeks since the King last put you in one?"

"Vegeta's way of paying me back for being a touch too attentive to Bulma. And of keeping me out of the way while he pulled this little trick off!" Sighing, tossing his damp hair back, Zarbon marched over to the table where his gear was laid out. "He did offer me the Captaincy, and I said 'no,'" he informed Radditz as he tugged on a battle suit and reached for his chest plate. "I suggest you do not annoy him by doing the same thing. You couldn't survive what he hit me with."

"Good try, baka," grinned the Saiyan, "but I've all ready seen the appointment lists, remember? Chishan's Captain."

"Of the King's Guard. Vegeta decided Bulma needed a Guard of her own. And a Captain of her own."

"Zarbon; hmph. That's so weak it isn't even close to funny."

Turning back as he finished adjusting his armor, Zarbon presented his most serious face. Slowly Radditz's jaw swung down. Zarbon burst out laughing, but Radditz was abruptly not finding any part of the situation amusing. "But...but... Does that mean I'm the same rank as Chishan? That's insane! I don't have the seniority, the ki, the experience as an Elite, let alone as a King's Guard! I wasn't even an officer before the tournament! How could I possibly be...?"

"You've publicly stated, several times, that you have a life debt to members of Bulma's family," Zarbon reminded him. "That qualifies you. As for how your Captaincy ranks against Chishan's...frankly, I'm not sure. You won't have nearly the same duties, though. Chishan will have to oversee all the King's Guard, which right now includes a couple hundred Elites, almost every last one on the planet. You get your pick of twenty to be Queen's Guards."

Radditz boggled anew. "I pick...?"

"Well, I can help, if you like. In my role as official liaison officer, of course."

Radditz spent another moment staring blankly. Then a slow smirk curved his mouth. "Heh. This could be fun. Let's go get that list of Elite Guards."

_________________________________________________________

Less than a week after Chi-chi's initial conversation with Bulma, a band of intrepid explorers stood on a boarding platform next to a white, spherical craft that, at first glance, seemed to be just another of the Capsule Corporation's many domed buildings.

They were a mixed lot.

There were several executives, going to relieve those who had initially accompanied Bulma when she went to Vejiitasei. They would oversee the final stages of the Capsule Corporation's expansion project on the other planet.

There were a handful of civilians, all involved in health fields, part of a hastily-organized scientific exchange program interested in examining alien medical technology and how it might be applied to the denizens of Earth.

And there were the three the media had so intensely focused on over the last few days, the 'human interest' part of the story: the Son family. The reigning world champion, Goku, was returning to his planet of origin, taking his wife and his young son with him. He had not been very communicative during the press conference. The only question that got any sort of a response was when someone asked how he felt missing his chance to defend his title. "Is it time for the tournament again?" he asked his wife, wide-eyed. "Wow. Time flies, huh?"

Chi-chi held center court during the conference, speaking of the wonderful educational opportunity this was for her son, of the broadening effect travel had on young minds, of the increased rapport between the Saiyans and their Earth allies she hoped would result from the trip. The boy refused to say anything, barely lifting his eyes from the table. When some of the reporters, beginning to pick up on the child's discomfort, started to press him, Chi-chi announced she had a treat: video from Bulma Briefs' coronation as the Queen of the Saiyan Empire, only recently transcribed from signals sent from Vejiitasei's capitol. The tapes were available to the media at the Capsule Corporation's front office. The Sons were briefly forgotten as each member of the press raced for copies, then suddenly remembered as launch time approached.

On the slowly raising platform, Chi-chi patted at her son's slicked-down hair as the cameras whirred, then straightened her husband's askew tie. Smiling brightly, she waved at the press as the platform clicked into the base of the craft, hiding all the adventurers from sight.

High over the Capsule Corporation, too far for the telephoto lenses to pick up even if the media had known which part of the sky to focus on, two figures hovered, watching silently as the area around the craft was cleared, as the countdown commenced, as the ponderous vehicle lifted off with a minimum of fiery exhaust and hurtled past them, ripping through the atmosphere, disappearing with a star-like flicker of light. After a moment, "You okay?" Krillin asked Piccolo.

Piccolo grunted. "It'll be good for the kid," he said. "Hell, it might even awaken his warrior's instincts. Hard to believe the only thing he gets from the Saiyan genes is the tail."

Krillin grinned at the Demon King, obviously suspecting Piccolo was more affected than he let on. "You old softie."

Without even a pause, Piccolo backhanded him, sending the little monk hurtling toward the distant planet. "Let his guard down again," he said in disgust. "Idiot." Sighing, he followed Krillin's spiraling ki trail toward Earth's surface.

_________________________________________________________

The Queen's Guards were going to be heavy on Northerners. Zarbon was concerned Vejiitasei's other regions might feel slighted, but Radditz pointed out the Northern tribes had taken to the new Queen very quickly. Several of the chieftains, apparently spontaneously, swore allegiance to the Queen at her coronation; the Chieftain of all the Northern tribes followed suit in a brief ceremony shortly thereafter. "It would be an insult to the Northerners if we didn't put more of them than anyone else," Radditz told Zarbon. "More importantly, they're honor-bound to her all ready."

"What was that all about? I was half-afraid it was an assassination attempt when they all popped up, but Vegeta didn't seem that surprised. And, given how over-protective of her he is..."

"Baka. Didn't you notice? She was wearing their colors."

"So if she wore green and black instead of sky blue with that sash thing, Nira would have been kneeling in the Warrior's Temple swearing eternal fealty instead?"

"Did you pay any attention to 'that sash thing?'"

"Well, yes. It didn't go with her dress very well. Although it does match the tapestries she draped all over her throne."

Radditz rolled his eyes. "You are so totally ignorant sometimes. There's more to Vejiitasei than just the Southern tribes, y'know. Bulma has been making a point of using native artisans, Zarbon. And the only batch of Saiyans that actually produce anything tangible are the Northerners, so she has unconsciously been surrounding herself with the marks of the Northern Continent. Bulma likely didn't realize it, but she earned the Northerners' undying loyalty when she wore the sash during her coronation. She also royally teed off the Southerners, but they're a temperamental lot anyway."

"And you Easterners are so rational and even-tempered."

Radditz gave one of those savage smirks. "Easterners are downright mellow when compared to the rest of Vejiitasei, Zarbon." Then his face morphed into an annoyed expression. "Which unfortunately reminds me. My chieftain has ordered me to make a request of you. And I suppose until everything's straightened out and we figured out what rank I actually am, I have to honor her commands. For a little while longer, anyway."