Chapter 32

"Your little Chikyuu scientist does some impressive work." The King had that sly note in his voice again, which when combined with the faint scorn on the word 'scientist' made the overall comment especially snide. The closer the ship got to Vejiitasei, the more innuendo the King managed to pack into otherwise innocuous comments. Vegeta locked his emotions down and away, refusing to be goaded. His father would pay for the impudence of his tone soon enough. "If the ship keeps on at this pace, you might actually make it in time for the celebration."

Vegeta frowned, glancing at the corner of the screen that showed the date. "Which one? There seem to be so many." And will I have to preside over all of them? When will I have any time left to fight? If there isn't a Minister of Stupid Holidays, I'm going to create one so he can handle all of these asinine celebrations!

"The one marking the alliance with the Arcosians, brat. Without whom the first Saiyan battle fleet would not have been possible, and you would have remained on Vejiitasei where you belong."

"The Arcosians rebelled and were destroyed half a millennium ago," said Vegeta in irritation. "Why the hell do we still have a holiday for them?"

"Oh, it's a minor one on the calendar normally, but this is the Millennium of the compact. There would have still been a Saiyan Empire without the treacherous creatures, of course, but they started us on our way and we do owe the wretched beasts something. And it serves as a reminder to the Associate Worlds both that we honor our allies and," the King gave a sharp-toothed grin through his neatly-trimmed beard, "we utterly destroy those who turn on us. I did not remind you before because I did not think you would get here until months past the celebration. The amount of speed the Earthlings have been able to coax out of the ship is remarkable. It looks as if you will get here by the tail end of the holiday, perhaps even a little earlier. This alone was reason enough to spare the race. I suppose you came up with one or two other reasons, eh? I look forward," the King said, smirking, "to meeting some of those reasons. Whenever the Earth delegation gets its gravitation act together, of course."

Vegeta gazed down at his clenched fist, faintly surprised that his tight grip had drawn blood even through the glove. The date on the screen burned into his mind's eye. Two weeks, he thought. Two weeks until I make you pay for daring to insult my wife, however obliquely... "I'm sure it will be quite the show," he said softly. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

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"I swear, the time has just been dragging lately," Zarbon said. Sashoki eyed his image with a concern she would never be able to express. There were faint signs of stress showing around his eyes, in the tight set of his mouth. If he's fallen out of favor with Vegeta, he's in big trouble—and so am I. "I keep looking at the chronometer, wondering what's taking so long, when in fact we're at a record-breaking pace," he continued. "When I set foot on Vejiitasei tomorrow, I'm not even going to believe I'm really back. I hate these long missions."

"If I were you, I'd just fly around the rim of the system for a few more days," Sashoki said.

Zarbon's eyes rounded. He seemed — Sashoki frowned at the screen — disturbed. "Why do you say that? What's wrong?"

"Don't you have calendars on that ship? It's the anniversary of the alliance with the Arcosians, which was when the Empire went galactic. Not any big deal, normally, but this one has some extra zeroes behind it, so a few months back—about the time you guys landed on Wakusei, I think—the King decreed it is a big deal this time and everyone's partying. There's no space anywhere. You have to kill someone just to walk a few feet. Zarbon? You okay?"

Zarbon had one hand to his head, massaging a point between his brows. He was usually one step away from being upset or angry when he did that. "I'm fine, Sash." There was a weary note to his voice. "I suppose everyone who's anyone is in the capitol?"

"Oh, we're crawling with dignitaries from all worlds, reps from other governments, chieftains. You getting one of your headaches?"

"I should be so lucky. I can't believe Vegeta didn't tell me about this."

"Eh, you know him. He avoids stuff like that. I don't think I've seen the Prince at a public ceremony since he came of age. He'll probably disappear into the continental center until it all dies down."

"I daresay," murmured Zarbon. "Sashoki, I hate to cut this short, but I really have to go do something. Right now." He dropped his hand, and suddenly smiled at her, ruefully. "I am looking forward to seeing you. Gods, it's been ages."

Sashoki shrugged. "You're seeing me now, baka."

He seemed on the verge of saying something else. His mouth took on a wry twist. "So I am. Not much point in hurrying home then, is there? I guess I'll just see you when we trip across each other."

They said their farewells, but Zarbon would not set a time to meet, insisting that Vegeta's schedule was frantic their first day back and he had no idea when he would be free. Sashoki stared at the blank screen for several minutes after he signed off, her heavy brows pulled together. Something was bothering her lover, something he was not willing to share with her. Probably doesn't want to worry me, she thought, scornfully. Baka. As if anything would worry a Saiyan for long! I'm so open to you; why won't you share your mind with me? Why do you always insist on words, Zarbon? Then she flashed back to that grim moment when Zarbon insisted he knew all along that Radditz was alive, and decided that she had her answer.

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"We do not abort," said Vegeta

Zarbon came within half-a-second of screeching Are you crazy?! He took a cleansing breath, cleared his mind, and said, calmly, "We don't know who is going to be there, Vegeta."

After a pause, Vegeta said softly, "You are suggesting that someone stronger than I will be present? There is no one stronger in the Empire, Zarbon."

"No one that we know of, Vegeta. That aside; there are going to be reps from other Empires there. As much as I know you don't like hearing this, there are individuals stronger than you from elsewhere in the Universe. Some of them may be on Vejiitasei."

"They would interfere because...?"

"Maybe just because they like to fight," replied Zarbon, a touch acerbically. "As a Saiyan, you can appreciate that, surely."

Vegeta smiled slightly in acknowledgement but said, "You're nervous because you've just discovered this and haven't thought it all out yet. I've had several days to ponder the situation. First of all, and with the exception of his Heir and his Heir's trainer, it's unlikely my father would permit anyone stronger than himself on the planet. Plus there is an advantage to this you haven't considered, Zarbon. The tribal chieftains will be present."

"I confess, I see no advantage in that."

"Don't you? They will have to choose on the spot. They do not leave the city alive unless they swear fealty to me. No chance to waver or to try to negotiate conditions. No chance for treachery. Swear or die. Very direct and simple. Very Saiyan, Zarbon." Vegeta lifted an eyebrow at him. "You approve."

"I see potential pitfalls everywhere, but — the basic strategy is sound. Oy, why am I fretting? Between the two of us, we can take down half the Ginyu Squad."

"You may not interfere," said Vegeta, flatly. He held up a hand, effectively cutting off Zarbon's protest. "This is between my father and myself. You may consider yourself privileged to witness the exchange of power. But, no matter what, you may not interfere. No matter what, Zarbon."

Zarbon stared at the Prince, feeling...helpless. Yet for all the impact this would have on the Empire, this was essentially a personal affair, even a matter of honor. Intervention from another warrior was unthinkable. No matter what sacrifice that warrior might be willing to make for one of the participants... He grimaced and nodded agreement.

"There is an irony here you do not appreciate," said Vegeta after a narrow-eyed pause.

"The start of the alliance with the long-vanquished Arcosians; I know..."

Vegeta smiled, one of those singularly unpleasant, mocking smirks. "Baka. Do you know who forged the alliance between the Saiyan tribes and the Arcosians?"

"I assume a king named Vegeta."

"Very good," Vegeta sarcastically approved. "In this case it was the Vegeta, Zarbon. Or, I should say, the one I am about to remind everyone of. The last wedded King of Vejiitasei."

"Oh, crud," said Zarbon with an unusual lack of elegance. "No, I didn't realize it was that Vegeta. I'm afraid all the Vegetas through the millennia just run together in my head."

"I'll have to get someone to write down the lists since memorizing them is apparently beyond you. Relax, Zarbon; the resemblance to my distant grand-sire's situation is fleeting at best. It was the interference of his queen in the battle of succession between the King and the Heir that led to a split in the House of Vejiitasei. My queen will likely be so engrossed in some wretched mathematical mystery on her computer that, far from leaping to my defense, she won't even notice for days that a change in the throne has occurred. Once everyone calms down, they'll discover my mate is no warrior and that there is no real correlation."

"Oh, they'll be calm enough until," Zarbon reminded him, "they find out humans and Saiyans can interbreed, and realize you don't mean to utilize the royal gene banks."

"By which time I will have their oaths, won't I? There will not be any serious confrontations, Zarbon. I never expected any over this. A squabble here and there, perhaps replacing a few dozen minor chieftains and one or two major ones. While I might have enjoyed the struggle, it would delay the arrival of my wife. That I will not have. No, this holiday puts everyone in a single place, and that suits my plans. You worry too much, Zarbon."

One of us has to, Zarbon thought crossly, but he looked at the determination and anticipation in the young Prince's face and objected no more.

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When Vegeta flatly said he wished no member of the King's Guards to meet him, and with Nappa still in the regeneration tank, the Captain was left with little choice as the ship entered Vejiitasei's atmosphere but to contact Radditz. Almost beside himself with excitement and pride, Radditz pulled out the closest thing to dress armor he had with him and raced to the disembarkment area, waiting at attention for Vegeta. When he finally appeared, the young Prince completely ignored him. Vegeta was wearing his own dress armor, but something seemed different about it. It took a moment for Radditz to realize that the heavy cloak with the Imperial colors had been replaced by one of Zarbon's thin, white ones—knee-length on Zarbon, on Vegeta, it went almost to the floor. Zarbon, in his usual position just behind Vegeta, gave Radditz a slight smile but seemed preoccupied. When Radditz fell into step next to him, however, Zarbon raised one thin green brow and queried, "Going somewhere, warrior?"

Vegeta glanced over his shoulder and braked to a halt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You must have an Elite accompany you into the King's presence, my Prince," said Radditz.

"Have you checked your scouter lately?" queried the Prince, heavy sarcasm in his voice. "Zarbon is Elite level and beyond, warrior."

"A Saiyan Elite," replied Radditz, his tone respectful, his face impassive.

There was a small sound from Zarbon that sounded almost—protesting. Vegeta looked across at his aide, eyes narrowing. Then the cruel Saiyan smile pressed against his mouth.

"Well, why not?" he said quietly. "I would be loathe, on this day of all days, to do anything my father would consider unfitted to the Heir. Come, Radditz."

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Daizu was almost out of the ship when he recollected he had one last chore to complete before he was free to participate in the festivities. Growling and grumbling, he went back to the infirmary and the single patient that awaited him there. Technically, the Commander could have been let out weeks ago, but Nappa had evidently gotten on the Prince's nerves and the orders were not to release the Commander before planetfall. Daizu regarded the big, shadowy, muscular form within the tank in irritation. Then, sighing, he began to tap in the codes that would release adrenaline, that would bring the Commander's slow heart rate back to normal, that would waken him from the artificially-induced coma.

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The three of them stepped onto the gold carpet in the large, rectangular throne-room. For a moment Zarbon was thrown back in time, remembering that long-ago day when he followed Vegeta and Nappa into the same room, and came close to blasting the King to hell after the monarch flung the little Prince against the broad doors. Back then he had regarded Vegeta as nothing more than a slightly-obnoxious challenge; containing himself had not been that difficult. So much had changed.

And on that day there had been none but Saiyans present, and only a few of those. Today the room was packed with dignitaries from all over the planet—all over the Empire. Zarbon wished he had that strange mental capability of the Saiyans so he could once more suggest to Vegeta that now was not the time.

As if Vegeta ever listened to him, or anyone else...

Disregarding protocol, Zarbon followed Vegeta as the Prince strode along the gold carpet. He felt a tug on his cape, but ignored Radditz's reminder that only the Prince and the Royal Guards could closely approach the King. After a bare hesitation, Radditz followed him along the carpet. Zarbon stopped several yards behind Vegeta when the Prince went into the traditional obeisance required of the Heir — down on one knee, hands folded across his thigh — that Vegeta usually had to be prodded to remember. Over the Prince's bowed head, Zarbon saw the King's brows arch. "We should send you on missions more often," the King remarked, irony in his voice. "It apparently has taught you manners. Get up, brat."

Vegeta stood at attention, shoulders back, hands taut at his side. His sire propped his chin against one fist, amusement gathering in the dark eyes. "I worried that your little dalliance on Chikyuu might delay you indefinitely, brat. But the Earth female served you well, didn't she? Increasing the capacity of the spacecraft, I mean, of course. I can hardly wait to see your little scientist, brat. Or even the other Earth females you're so diligently altering the outer Palaces for."

There were polite titters as some of the watching dignitaries acknowledged the King's sally. Zarbon looked at the young Saiyan standing ramrod straight in front of the dais and thought the King could not have possibly picked a better way to ensure an excruciating death.

There was a gentle glow of gathering energy around Vegeta's clenched hands. A soft noise came from Radditz as his scouter began to register the increase in power. Zarbon heard it in a few other places; a gentle murmuring, like a quiet breeze, spreading along the edges of the throne-room. Then Vegeta spoke, the words formal and cool, in the Southern dialect. The smirk faded from the King's face. Vegeta spoke again, in the lilting tongue of the Northern tribes. The King stared at him. Vegeta continued speaking, in the harsh syllables of the Western and the Eastern continents. The King was on his feet, dark thunderclouds gathering across his visage. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "This is not the time nor the place—!"

Vegeta spoke in Standard, the words of ritual challenge. "Father. You are old and unsuited to rule. I am young and strong, fit to lead warriors. Prepare to die." His gaze turned hard. "And for daring to speak of my wife and bonded mate, prepare to die very, very painfully."

Oh, Vegeta, thought Zarbon, distressed. You didn't need to add that part. They don't need to know... But he kept his arms folded, mindful that this was a ritual he could not alter, that he was only a witness to the first moments of the next King.

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Nappa did not wait for the tank to fully drain. Ki flared from him before his eyes opened; the tank shattered, and Daizu found himself facing a naked, angry Elite. It was a situation he had been in before, since some individuals awoke from the regenerative process confused and aggressive. He spoke in a sharp, even voice. "Calm down, Commander. You just got out of the tank. Don't put yourself back in."

"Baka!" spit Nappa. "Where are we? What's the date?"

"We've just landed on Vejiitasei, sir. The Prince ordered you to be revived then."

Nappa swore. Impressively. "Where's Vegeta?"

"I'm not sure, Commander. There's some sort of big shin-ding at the main palace, a reception or something, but I don't know if—"

"He would dare?!" gasped Nappa. "He would, the brat! He has no respect for the way things are done. Dammit, there are aliens everywhere right now; this is not for their eyes! I've got to stop him, at least make him issue the formal challenge—" Tugging on the bare minimum of clothing, Nappa sprinted out of the infirmary.

Daizu stood gape-mouthed. Challenge? Who is the Prince challenging? Who would be stupid enough to make the Prince want to challenge him? What's going on?

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The King looked down at the grim young man, battle-hardened in a way no Heir had been in the last millennium. He looked behind him, at the blue-tinged alien who watched with an unemotional face, at Bardock's stunned, open-mouthed, newly-Elite offspring. He does look like his dam, that one... Then the King dragged his thoughts ruthlessly to the present. This was his end, and he meant to experience it fully.

So—a thousand years of custom and genetic engineering, gone... I always knew, my son, that things would be very, very different with you.

Damn it. This is so unfair. I give you to Vejiitasei; but I miss all the excitement. There is no justice in the Universe, eh? Ah, well; it was a good life. It will be a good death.

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The King started to laugh, which of all the reactions was the last one Vegeta expected.

Laughing, the King stood up and stripped off his cloak. "So—apparently more than a dalliance, eh?" He tossed the cloak over the great stone throne, carelessly.

Laughing, he removed the necklace from his throat and dropped it on the cloak. "And I did say to do whatever you had to do to get the Chikyuu technology, didn't I? What a stunningly obedient son you are, after all; to go so far as bonding! Well, you'll have to tell me everything about my new daughter-in-law." The elder Vegeta faced the Crown Prince, his lips wide with the Saiyan battle grin, the black eyes, so like his own, glittering. "But you have to talk fast, brat. After all, you have such little time left."

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Radditz experienced a moment of complete temporal displacement where it felt like he was reliving a nightmare that he did not, in fact, experience. But it must have been like this when his mother made her announcement; the shocked faces with edging anger, the furious King standing on the dais glowering down at the defiant penitent. He had a strange flash where for a moment everything that happened half-a-century earlier overlaid what was happening now, and as clearly as if he did witness the event he saw it play out in an instant; his mother lying at the King's feet, her throat and face ripped open, Bardock screaming, being restrained by members of his own squad as he pleaded with the King not to kill the woman he—

No one was screaming here. It was very still. Even the outworlders, who did not entirely comprehend what was happening, were silent.

There was a curious clarity to his mind; it was working so efficiently it was as if he was operating on pure instinct. One stray synapse decided he had stumbled across that elusive 'center' Zarbon was always nagging him about. Radditz banished all conscious thought. He was a Palace Guard, and his King was in danger. He took a determined step toward the tableau beginning to form at and around the dais. Then something pressed with painful force against his neck, and darkness encased him.

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He was too late.

Nappa slowed to a walk. There was a deathly emptiness in the corridors leading up to the throne room; no guards at checkpoints, no warriors in the halls. When he stepped through the gaping wide doors of the room himself, he saw why.

Vegeta stood in the middle of the throne room, arms folded, chin lowered, fierce black eyes staring straight at him. The bodies of his father's Elite Guards lay around him in a near perfect circle; he had taken them all out with one blast. The outworld dignitaries cowered back against the walls. Some of the remaining Saiyans were beginning to step toward or away from Vegeta, although it was impossible to say what any of them intended to do. He caught a glimpse of Chieftain Miso, his beefy face suffused with anger and shock and confusion, and another of Zarbon, cool blue features impassive, Radditz crumbled at his feet.

There was no sign of the old King.

Nappa, his lips taut with deep, angry lines bracketing his mouth, knelt on one knee and placed his fist on the ground, lowering his head in submission. There were shuffling noises around him as others followed. "The King," he said.

"The King!" they all cried with one voice.