Chapter 8

When Goku saw his son emerge from the Room of Space and Time, he didn't bother looking him over too closely. He just held out his arms and let Gohan run into them. "Oy, your hair—! Your mom is going to kill me!"

"I combed it," the boy protested, his voice muffled against Goku's neck.

"There's just so much of it." Goku ran his hands over his son's back; Gohan was a good two or three inches taller, and the little body was solid. He finally pulled back, holding Gohan at arms length. Gohan was wearing a miniature orange gi just like his. The dark, wild hair framed his face and streamed half-way down his back, giving him a strange, disorienting resemblance to his supposed uncle Radditz. There were slight angles to the jaw, where baby fat had been worked off and not replaced. "Oh, Gohan, you're so big now."

"I missed you so much," gulped Gohan.

Goku hugged the boy again, gathering handfuls of the thick hair and pulling it aside in disbelief. Chi-chi always kept Gohan's hair short and trim, insisting he would study better if it didn't get in the way. She would have a fit—

Looking down at his son's back as Gohan locked against his chest, Goku suddenly felt something in his blood curdle. The gi was not "just" like his... "Turn around," he said. "Let me look at you."

Laughing like it was a game, Gohan spread out his arms and spun fast, the hair flying. Beneath the flinging strands, Goku could just make out the symbol on the back of the gi. His son was wearing the brand of the Demon King.

"Problem, Goku?" drawled Piccolo with a grin that showed all of his sharp teeth.

"Gohan, stop," said Goku softly. Giggling, Gohan beamed at him. Goku took his son by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. Gohan stared back, his expression a cross between joy and ecstasy.

"I learned so much, Daddy," he said. "I have ki and everything now!"

He did, at that; a pure, powerful ki that carried no taint of evil. Gohan had not been corrupted by his year with the Demon King. Goku exhaled softly, looking over at Krillin and nodding in thanks. Krillin returned a lopsided grin. "You won't believe what he can do now," his old friend said. "Piccolo's training was stunning. A little hard to watch sometimes; but stunning."

"I think I might be surprised at what you can do now," said Goku. He looked at Piccolo and added, "Thank you for training my son. I can tell you did a good job."

Piccolo snorted. "It was a pain, but the kid did survive." Gohan ran back to his sensei and grabbed one of his hands. Goku tensed for a second, but Piccolo looked down and, although his expression did not change, Goku sensed something in his arch enemy he never expected to sense. "He's an okay kid. Sometimes," Piccolo said, carelessly.

"I—" Goku stared at Piccolo. "You—"

"Never seen a turban before?" Piccolo drawled.

After a minute, Goku said, "Kami-sama said you were to meet on the main platform."

Gohan turned to look at his father, his eyes suddenly shadowed with concern. "It's weird in there, Daddy. Be careful."

"I've been in it before," Goku assured him. "Go on. What Kami-sama has to say is important, and there isn't as much time as we thought."

"Great," muttered Piccolo. "We didn't have enough before." He strode down the hall, Gohan trotting to keep up with him as he shot worried glances at his father. Krillin gave Goku a 'V' sign as he followed.

Mr. Popo stood by the door, having made new adjustments to the timepieces for Goku's stay. Goku looked at the rotund black figure, wondering if what he felt from Piccolo was real. "Mr. Popo, there isn't a Demon King any more."

"I think that assessment is a little too optimistic. We will see flashes of him from time to time," said Mr. Popo as he slowly opened the ponderous door. "But there are some things that collapse in the face of love."

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Her dark eyes glared out from the screen. "I've done something you're going to be beyond angry about," she said with that edge-of-control voice Saiyans used when they wanted to blow things up but knew they probably shouldn't. "So I'm not even going to tell you what."

Oh-oh. In the midst of pulling on his chest plate, Zarbon stared at Sashoki's image and promptly perched on the edge of the bed, folding his hands between his knees.

"Suffice it to say that I have more info from Chikyuu. They definitely have Radditz, but he isn't exactly what I'd call alive. I won't let you," she said, grimly, "see the video. This place is bizarre, Zarbon. It's beyond dangerous. I know you can't abort the mission, but be on your guard and watch your back. Look after the Prince, but look after yourself first. Got it? I'll be back in about a month."

Zarbon stared at the screen, his jaw slack. "They have—" he started. "Won't let me—?"

Then he twisted his hands into his as-yet-unbraided green locks, threw back his head, and uttered a low guttural noise no Saiyan had ever heard from him. "Mammals," he spat. "Gods and demons, do they have no imagination? Why the hell do you think not seeing it is better for me than seeing it? Do you," he hissed at the unresponsive communications screen, "have any clue what's running through my mind now? Oh, of course not; you're Saiyan! You don't bother using what little monkey brains you have!" Reaching behind him, he grabbed a pillow and threw it with force at the screen. "What the hell am I doing involved with a mammal?" Zarbon moaned.

Why he was working himself into such a state over a mammal was a question not asked.

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"Hi, there," Mrs. Briefs said brightly. "How are you today?" She leaned over the patient, looking at him with vivid blue eyes crinkled at the edges in a permanent smile. "I must say, you're looking much better."

The alien stared at her, nothing in his gaze indicating comprehension.

Mrs. Briefs made a "tsking" noise, looking at all the machines and tubes. "It looks like they still have you on that horrible liquid diet. Well, I brought something special for you." She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "My husband said you mentioned bon-bons? Well, voila!" She whisked a napkin off a plate she was carrying. "Bon-bons!" She lifted one of the chocolate rounds and held it to his mouth. "This might make you sicker than ever, but if your system is anything like that darling Goku's, you'll be able to handle it."

The young man inhaled through his nose slightly, then opened his mouth and bit down, taking about half the bon-bon into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. His brows went up. He snapped up the rest, barely missing her fingers. Mrs. Briefs laughed. "Ah, good; you like that! Well, it's not the healthiest stuff in the world, but when you're this ill, who cares?" She sat on the edge of the bed and fed him the entire plate, breaking each one in half and scolding him when he swallowed some without chewing first.

Great, thought Bulma, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. We're about to be invaded by a horde of evil intergalactic real estate agents and my mom sits feeding candy to the enemy. We deserve to be doomed.

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Although it had been several hours, Nappa was still feeling disoriented. He had been pulled out of a sound sleep when the Saiyan space ship engulfed his scouter craft, expecting at least another day's worth of rest. Vegeta impatiently dragged him off to the Imperial quarters, slapped down one of those strange hot alien drinks the Prince had developed a taste for (it was good, but Nappa would never admit as much), and once again warned the Commander that, whatever was waiting for them on Chikyuu, he, Vegeta, was in charge of this mission and NOTHING was to happen without his approval. Nappa nodded his big, shiny head in agreement, poured himself another drink and began to quiz the Prince on the various planets he had purged during this mission, the handful of former infants he had rescued. Vegeta was happy to discuss his successes, and the two spend some time wrapped up in talk of battles and new Saiyan territories.

The tones indicating someone was at the entrance sounded. Nappa looked up, expecting the computer to announce who it was; to his surprise, the door simply slid back and the alien, Zarbon, strode in without so much as a by-your-leave. Nappa slammed his mug down on the table. "You," he snapped at Zarbon, "will wait for the Prince before—!"

"Nappa, don't even start. He has clearance," said Vegeta in annoyance.

Nappa blinked. This thing had clearance to just wander in and out of the Prince's private quarters? He looked at Vegeta, faintly shocked. He had never put much stock in the rumors, but every now and again he wondered...

And he wondered some more when Vegeta looked at the creature, raised a hand and said in a tone clearly meant to be calming, "Zarbon, whatever it is, stop and count to ten."

Nappa regarded Zarbon, frowning. The alien seemed less — fancy, he supposed — than usual. Its long hair was tied simply at its neck, and it was wearing a black battlesuit without any of the capes or vests or jewelry or long gloves that it generally accessorized with. It didn't look at all fey for a change, just big and muscular and dangerous. Well, dangerous to anyone who wasn't Saiyan, of course...

"I all ready have," snarled Zarbon at the Prince. "I'm up to one hundred and going strong."

"Vegeta, why do you let this thing talk to you like that?" asked Nappa, smiling savagely. "We could just put it out an airlock and see how long it takes to implode."

The alien stared at him, unshielded contempt in its bizarrely colored eyes. "A complete sentence," marveled Zarbon. "Congratulations. Maybe you'd like to train with Vegeta for a while, Commander. He has such a gentle touch when he's annoyed. Someone with your stunning ki might last, oh, three seconds."

"Stop it," said Vegeta, cutting across Nappa's retort, his tone brooking no argument. "Now," he added when it looked like Zarbon might keep going anyway. "What the hell has set you off?"

Why the hell do you care? thought Nappa. This thing has a dangerous effect on you, my Prince. Just ki fry it and eat it and have done with it.

"More news from Chikyuu. Our intelligence is clearly inadequate for this planet. I want to do a reconnaissance mission."

"You want to—? Zarbon, while I'm sure your incomprehensible concern would touch Radditz deeply, I'm not about to hold up the mission because you want to go rescue a low-ranking warrior."

Said Zarbon, coldly, "My concern is for the mission. I stopped by navigation to see how quickly they can get a pod there. As it happens, they can shoot me there a couple of minutes faster because Earth no longer has a moon to loop around. It did have one during the last long range scan from Wakusei. The planet is preparing for us, Vegeta. We need to know what's going on."

"Ah." Vegeta's expression was suddenly interested. "That's rather clever, if a bit drastic. I have never heard of a planet doing that before. But then, we have been getting indications there might be something truly extraordinary about this one, haven't we? Something worth my time..." Looking down, he smiled slightly. "I will permit it."

Nodding curtly, the alien headed for the door.

Vegeta raised his eyes without moving his head, slyly. "When do we leave?"

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He always had difficulties in the Room of Space and Time, finding the oppressive whiteness crushed something in his spirit. But he had been a child then, Goku reminded himself, and he was an adult now, with a child of his own. He could handle it.

He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself. He would just go through the routine of exercising first, the stretches and push-ups and sit-ups that would prepare him for the grueling sets of kantas. There were weights in one of the rooms; he could weight train every other day. A solid year of nothing but exercise should ...

He was not alone. Impossibly, he sensed something with him. He popped his eyes open.

It looked like nothing so much as a rather large, rotund, bipedal catfish with long, thin feelers over its sunglass-covered eyes. And it was flanked by what was, unquestionably, a small ape and a large cricket. A large floating cricket.

Great, thought Goku. In here for under a minute and already I'm losing it.

Then his stomach growled. He crossed both hands over it, trying not to think about how much he liked the way Chi-chi prepared fresh catfish...

The — catfish? — moved a finger to his lips (catfish had lips? catfish had fingers?) and chuckled. "We had to break all kind of rules to do this, Goku, and get special dispensation from Emna besides. He finally agreed I could train you, but just for one day. We didn't mention that the day would be while you were here, in the Room of Space and Time. So—" the being beamed at him, "let's get started. You're a tough, strong warrior, Goku. But do you think you're strong enough...to make me laugh?"

It turned out not to be that hard. Gohan's joke about the handkerchief that liked to dance was enough.

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Yamcha handed the homing device and the Dragon radar to Kami-sama and stepped back next to Tenshin. Kami-sama passed the radar to Mr. Popo, and stood holding the homing device thoughtfully. "This might be useful," he said. "Perhaps we could use it to direct the Saiyans where lives would be less likely to be endangered."

Krillin said, "Radditz's original landing spot was on an isolated ranch in North America."

Kami-sama nodded. "A good idea. There's also a landing crater there; that will allay their suspicions." He gave the device to Tenshin with instructions to place it inside the crater.

"Are we even going to try to talk to them?" asked Tenshin as he took it.

"Speak to them as you wish, Tenshin-Han, but do not be disappointed when they reply with violence," replied Kami-sama. "Saiyans do not open dialogues unless there is something they want. Unfortunately, all they want from us is the planet." He looked around at the four warriors standing in a semi-circle in front of him, at Gohan on the edge of Heaven's platform, at Piccolo floating just outside the boundary with his arms crossed and his customary scowl in place. They were worthy fighters and would not like his next pronouncement. "The powers we are going to be facing are very great. We must not engage them in open, all-out combat, not until we measure their strength. Hit-and-run tactics will be most effective, at least until Goku comes out of the Room of Space and Time. After that; well, we'll see..."

As expected Yamcha, Tenshin-Han and Chaozu all objected to the less-than-honorable form of combat. But Krillin and Gohan both looked over their shoulders at the caped, levitating figure. Piccolo lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug and they did not add their voices to the protest. "I don't care about these weaklings, but the two runts and I are a team," Piccolo told Kami-sama. He looked at the petite Chaozu, quirked an antennae up, and added, "I suppose I should specify which two runts..."

"We've trained together," Krillin said to Kami-sama, more diplomatically. "We might be more effective if we fight the Saiyans together."

"Chaozu and I have also trained together," Tenshin reminded the deity.

Yamcha folded his arms and proclaimed, a little crossly, "I'm fine by myself."

Kami-sama smiled at that, a little sadly, and wondered if he should mention to the young man that his occasional attacks of childish petulance were one of the problems in his relationship with Bulma. But there were other problems there that he was not about to address in front of Gohan, so he let it pass. "It will be a few hours yet," he said. "Go where you wish to mentally prepare yourself, but leave yourself open to contact from me. You will know where to go when the time comes."

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Zarbon and Nappa both howled, with startling congruence: "You can't go on a reconnaissance mission!" The two paused and gaped at each other, as if amazed that they agreed on something.

Vegeta congratulated himself on a rare occurrence; the easily-induced surprise on Nappa's meaty face was reflected perfectly on Zarbon's flawless features. His smile widened. "Boys," he chided them. "You two, of all people, know better than to tell me I can't do something." He added to Zarbon, "I won't have you destroying everything interesting on this planet interesting before I get there, and I don't want the troops tramping all over it before I get a chance to ... play a bit."

"But, Vegeta...!"

"But, Nappa...!" Vegeta mocked, now grinning savagely. "Don't even, Commander. If you're so concerned for me, meet us on the hanger deck in an hour and come along. But with or without you, Nappa, I plan to check out Chikyuu myself."

"Right," muttered Nappa, scowling. "One hour."

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He looked back before he left the Prince's quarters to see Zarbon, in the midst of still trying to talk Vegeta out of going, lightly touch the young man on the shoulder with just the tips of long blue fingers. Vegeta gave an almost imperceptible twitch of his arm and Zarbon's hand fell away although the speech did not pause. Frowning, Nappa turned away, disturbed anew at the alien's familiarity with the Prince.