Epilogue 1: Vejiitasei

With the Queen at the spaceport on the other side of the Palace, Vegeta was briefly in charge of watching the baby. Zarbon presented himself within seconds of the inevitable call. He had been expecting it. Vegeta held the screaming, squirming Heir out to his liaison, barely grasping the baby's sides with his fingertips as he tried to get the child as far away from himself as possible. "That woman has robots for everything else. Why can't she get a robot for this?"

"Vegeta, it's a baby, not a sack of flour. You're supposed to support his head."

"He's wet and he smells," growled Vegeta. "I am NOT dealing with him until he's dry."

Grinning, Zarbon took the complaining child. "C'mon, Vegeta. You are going to learn how to change a diaper, and that's that."

"I don't see why I have to learn to do it when I can watch you do it," Vegeta complained. Nonetheless he followed Zarbon into the bathchamber, where he folded his arms and offered sardonic commentary as Zarbon efficiently cleaned up the baby.

"Oh, stop it," said Zarbon finally, presenting Vegeta with a newly cleaned and powdered baby. "Here's Trunks. Hold him the right way this time, or Bulma will have your head."

Vegeta gave him a scornful glare even as he efficiently tucked the baby against his hip, one broad hand supporting the baby's head in the prescribed manner. The fretful child immediately quieted. "He always calms right down for you," noted Zarbon in admiration.

"Feh," said the King, looking pleased none-the-less. "Bulma says it's because I'm warmer than she is. The brat just goes to sleep. Let's get him into his prison before he starts screaming again."

"Crib, Vegeta. She calls it a 'crib.'"

"Whatever," grunted the King. "And," he threw over his shoulder as he strode toward the Queen's quarters with the baby, "his name is not Trunks. Stop calling him that."

"I like Trunks," Zarbon mockingly protested.

The King ignored the comment, gently lowering the Heir onto the padded mattress. The baby began to fret again, fitfully kicking his tiny feet. "Stop it. Go back to sleep," Vegeta said. The baby blinked its blue eyes, crossing them as if to bring his father into focus. Sighing, the King stripped off a glove and rubbed the baby's tummy. "Not one word," he groused at Zarbon.

Grinning hugely, Zarbon said mildly, "I was just going to mention that the gravity chambers designed by the Queen are in place. There's one in the training quarters here, and others being installed in the various palaces. The one in the Southern Palace is ready to go. Bulma thought you might want to utilize them."

"I am not," said Vegeta coldly, even as he gently stroked his son, "going to play with toys she designed for that pathetic Kakarott. I can't believe Bulma left me alone with the brat just so she could 'see' the Earthlings off. Can't they see well enough to get to their ship without her?"

"I was surprised," Zarbon admitted, "that you let them go so ... easily."

"Disappointed you didn't have to use all those so-clever back-up plans to distract me?" drawled the King, drawing his hand back from the snoozing baby and regarding his son with a critical gaze.

"Not in the least." Zarbon spoke with relieved sincerity. "Yet I am still surprised."

The King shrugged. "I had Kakarott's measure before I left Chikyuu, Zarbon. He might give you a tumble or two before you defeat him, but he is as nothing to me. The brat, I would say, is at your level , perhaps a bit more. When I was on Chikyuu, he was a challenge to me, as you used to be, Zarbon. That was then. The brat may be fun to play with when he 'ripens a bit,' as Kakarott once said. For now there are none to challenge me in this sector of the galaxy."

We'll see if you still think that when the baby starts teething, thought Zarbon. He tipped a glance down at the King. Vegeta was watching his son sleep, a clinical expression stamped across his features. Smiling softly, Zarbon gave into an impulse that he had been fighting for several weeks, since the birth of the babe; he slid his arms around Vegeta's shoulders and gave the monarch a brief hug. "Vegeta," he murmured softly, "you did good."

Vegeta did not pull away, although he did not make any move to return the embrace, either. "You are, of course, courting death," he commented finally.

Zarbon dared one last squeeze before dropping his arms and stepping well away from the King. "I do that a lot, don't I?" he remarked, his tone facetious. "Ah, well. Some things are worth death."

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There had been lots of crying and hugging and promising that they would come back. Which surprised Gohan, really; he had the feeling that his mom only sporadically enjoyed her trip to Vejiitasei. The last few weeks with the baby had mellowed Mom. She even let him go stay overnight with Mr. Bardock and Riiki, although she sternly told him that he was not to so much as shadow box with either of them, and if they insisted on sparring he was to come home immediately. Neither insisted. Instead Riiki took him swimming and fishing, and Bardock took him into the city to meet the chieftain, a slender woman with a great deal of presence who gave him a brief, scornful glance and commented that she didn't think he was warrior material. Gohan was glad to get away from her.

A shadow fell over him as he stood at the window, watching the planet recede. Gohan did not glance up. He could sense who it was. "We didn't get into any real fights," the boy noted with amazement. "The whole time we were there, we managed not to fight."

His father's big hands covered his shoulders. "We're stronger than that," Dad said, a note in his voice Gohan didn't recognize, that surprised him so much he twisted around to peer up at his parent uncertainly, thinking that Daddy sounded grown-up for a second. Daddy grinned down at him, almost sheepishly. "We don't have to fight to prove how strong we are."

"No," agreed Gohan. "There's different types of strength," he told his father, a little surprised when Daddy nodded agreement.

He was less surprised when Daddy glanced around surreptitiously and offered a sly whisper behind the back of his hand. "Your mom says she's worn out and is going to take a nap. Want to spar for a couple of hours?"

Grinning, Gohan turned away from Vejiitasei. Over his shoulder through the viewport, the distant planet gave one star-like twinkle before vanishing from view entirely.

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The boarding parties had been forced to wait while some sort of ceremony went on that marked the departure of the Queen's guests. The Earthlings gone, the soldiers were finally allowed into the shuttle port. The two of them stood together on the disembarking platform with the other off-world troops, watching the shuttle approach that would take them to their first assignment.

They did not speak. But Kimchee stood very close to him, under his arm, her hands resting against his body, one on his back, one curved around his side. The lower classes did not have all those prescriptions against public touching the upper classes did. It was just one more thing Youkan was beginning to appreciate about the lower classes.

She glanced up at him. The swirling landing lights caught the glint of the single dangling earring, outlined the jagged contours of her beautiful full hair, night-black with red glints when the light caught it just right. That was what he first noticed about her on that fateful hunting trip three years earlier; what the light did when it tangled in her hair. "Who is that?" he demanded of his brother. Shiruko looked, snorted, snapped "Some low class peasant, obviously," and strode off in search of more interesting game. "And my half-sister," added Chishan, dryly. "We're going to kill each other some day, though, so don't expect me to introduce you." So he had introduced himself, stammering like some third-class brat just back from his initial mission not yet sure how to act around people. Despite his initial gracelessness, Kimchee tolerated his company during the hunt. More than tolerated, really, Youkan recalled with a reminiscent grin.

The hand on his back moved, patting lightly. Okay?

He watched the shuttle settle, the ponderous door swing down. "I'm fine," he replied. "You're sure about this? The Commander was very unhappy about letting you go."

Kimchee gave the mental equivalent of a snort. We all want him dead for the dishonor he brought to our mothers, she told him. Me, Chishan--all of us. He knows it, curse him. None of us has the power to do so. He knows that, too. I've heard, though, that sometimes the off-world troops come back...stronger. I never paid much attention to that before. Who cares if some third class warrior makes it to second class when he shouldn't? Radditz, though, came back an Elite. Won't it be interesting to see what an Elite comes back as? She tilted her head back, grinning at his somber expression. "Lighten up, milord," she said out loud, mockingly. The hand on his back stroked up, down. "This will be more fun than anyone in your line has had in centuries."

Smirking, he hugged her back, gently. Then they separated, going to stand with their different squads as the off-world troops began to board the shuttle.