The city was very like an insect colony, a winding morass of tumbled masonry and irregular streets. It bore little resemblance to the measured grids and close-packed, spire-topped rectangular buildings that characterized Vejiitsei's cities. Mounded structures with multiple levels of entrances and exits were providing too much cover for the insectoids. Those that weren't using guerilla tactics against him were cowering in the edifices for shelter.

Not that shelter helped once Vegeta found them.

He had executed hundreds, perhaps hundreds of hundreds; he was not keeping a tally. He would dodge around corners and trip across pockets of the miserable creatures huddled together, and expunge them with barely a thought. The conventional weaponry some of them carried was as useless as throwing rocks — lasers and projectiles were as nothing compared to his power. Intermittent wisps of ki energy were noted in the back of his mind, telling him Saiyans were sometimes near his own location. Vegeta ignored this information. He was not here for companionship, and any Saiyan that needed saving wasn't worth saving.

The sporadic hazard came when he encountered one of the insectoids carrying its ki-piercing weapon. Then it became a battle of wits, fought through shattered buildings and in the laser-laced air. He had won all of those so far, although the creatures seemed to be catching on to him, even deliberately targeting him. The last one had looked at him defiantly through a scouter that did not shatter; clearly they were in contact with one another, and were beginning to get an idea about his power range. Perhaps too good an idea, as he was buffeted severely during the last contest. Cuts and scrapes covered him; the battle suit hung in tatters from his arms and legs, his chest hurt with every painful breath, and his leg was inclined to collapse under him at the most inappropriate times.

He never felt more alive.

And when, on the city's northern edge, he was confronted by three of the insectoids with giant mandibles, each brandishing an anti-ki weapon, Vegeta laughed with savage pleasure at the challenge, throwing his head back, feeling the cool white-blue rays bathe his face—

Startled, he looked over the heads of his enemies at a solid ball of light rising over the southern foothills. Something pierced straight to his brain; he thought at first the insectoids scored a direct hit, then he felt the bones in his face start to shift, the compiling and expansion of muscle across his chest. He opened his mouth to scream, heard a roar as the transformation took hold and he was suddenly staring at his attackers — they really did look like insects now — from fifty feet in the air.

He was giddy from the change, from the power he could feel curdling and swelling in every sinew of his body. He opened his mouth, feeling the burning in the back of his throat as he prepared to obliterate his enemies with the greatest burst of ki ever seen in creation...

Zarbon floated over him, hands on hips, his expression a subtle blending of weariness and annoyance. "Vegeta, settle down, you're going to blow up the entire planet. Not that I care, but at least let me get off it first."

Throwing his muzzle back, Vegeta ejected ki from his mouth, feeling it rip through the atmosphere to explode well away from the planet. He watched the flare light up the distant sky with satisfaction. He could destroy a planet with that, if he must.

Something impacted his chest. Stumbling, he glanced down. One of the insectoids had recovered from its astonishment enough to remember to shoot at him; the energy burst fractured his already-damaged chest-plate, buckling the ribs beneath. It would have obliterated him earlier; it might still obliterate even a transformed Saiyan of third class. But the Prince of Vejiitasei was no third class warrior...

Narrowing his eyes at the specks, Vegeta realized he could now take them out very easily. It was nothing more difficult than putting his foot down. Primitive, lacking the technical finesse Zarbon so loved — but, he thought in satisfaction a few seconds later, efficient. Very, very efficient.

_________________________________________________________

Picking one giant monkey out of a batch of 'em was more difficult than one might think, thought Zarbon sardonically, evading yet another ki blast. He was careful to stay behind and well above the main troupe rampaging through the city, but every now and again one of them would throw its head back and spit ki toward the sky for no particular reason, and Zarbon would have to take evasive action. They were bloody effective in this state, that was for sure. The blasts from those hideous weapons would hit them, they would roar in agony as chunks of flesh were blown away, and keep coming. No wonder Freeza wanted an alliance with them. Nothing can stand against them in this state. Nothing.

It took a while for him to be able to pick out differences between the beasts. With their wild black hair, olive skin and dark eyes, Saiyans looked enough alike in their non-transformed state; in simian form, they were virtual clones of one another. Fortunately their armor had stretched with their new bodies. He could pick out Bardock by the old-fashioned chest plate he wore; it lacked the shoulder-guards and left his upper torso unprotected. He could also discern the female squad member not because she was female, there was absolutely no way of telling that now, but because she had worn bright red leggings where most of the male soldiers were bare-legged, and there was a giant monkey with red leggings thrashing the eastern sector of the city. But how was he going to pick out Radditz when the Saiyan wore standard issue battle armor—?

Standing nose to nose with Bardock in the city's center was a massive were-monkey, snarling, one shoulder guard missing and the exposed fur tangled with dried blood from an earlier wound.

That's him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Zarbon positioned his body over Radditz's and dropped. Bardock, looking up, saw him falling out of the sky; the eyes narrowed, then the warrior turned away from his son with a parting growl. Zarbon landed on Radditz's shoulder, hoping he wasn't re-opening the Saiyan's wounds.

Trying to get his footing on the uncertain slope of Radditz's blood-matted, furry shoulder, Zarbon dodged as fingers the width of building columns brushed casually at him. "Hey, it's me!" he shouted under the big, pointed ear. "Mind if I hitch a ride?"

There was a ripple along the fur as some gigantic muscle twitched, and Zarbon had to grab handfuls to keep his place. Radditz turned his muzzle and rasped, "Don't yell, baka. Do you see these ears? I can hear you fine! Just don't mess with my balance." His voice was hollow, slightly echoing.

Zarbon muttered, "Sorry. Wasn't sure you could reason in this form."

"Screaming at me is not going to make me think."

"Oh, of course not. You are Saiyan." That sally was rewarded with a giant-monkey-sized snort. "Any sign of Vegeta at all?"

Radditz paused in mid-stomp. "Vegeta?"

"Yes, you over-grown idiot! The reason we came here!?"

"Hey, I was having fun. I forgot."

Zarbon closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and said calmly. "It's time to remember, Radditz. There's so much ki and whatnot flying around I can't tell who's who. I think he's around here, though; something broke my scouter."

The big head turned, and Radditz squinted down at him with one eye. "Maybe that was me, baka."

"Maybe," Zarbon returned, his tone non-committal. "Only if your ki is greater than 25,000 in this form, though."

"Not even close, although size makes up for a lot. Hang on."

There was a tensing of muscle, and Radditz leaped straight up, hovering over the city. Great, they can fly in this form, too. The great head turned this way and that, as Radditz studied several of his transformed Saiyan comrades. "There," he said after a minute, pointing.

Zarbon squinted. Radditz was indicating the horizon where the city merged into the dark, undeveloped countryside. Something big was moving around there, but it was too far away for him to see what it was, let alone if it was Vegeta. "How can you tell?"

Radditz replied matter-of-factly. "He wears a battle suit. It protects you from flying debris, but it pulls the hell out of the fur when we're like this. Most of us would rather take the cuts and bruises." The lip over the muzzle twitched, revealing sharp teeth as long as Zarbon's forearm. "I'll get us there. Hang on; anyone else is going to try and kill you!"

Radditz swooped down, angling toward the city's northern edge. Tucking his knees under him, Zarbon leaned forward and studied the distant blue speak Radditz identified as Vegeta.

Where some — most — of the other creatures were moving in violent abandon, giddy with a ki level they rarely felt, barely in control, Vegeta was precision itself. Absolute control. He was exhibiting an un-Saiyan-like composure he shouldn't possess, unless...

I should have known, thought Zarbon, detached. Not relaxation. Not clarity of thought. Destruction. Mayhem. Devastation. Violence. He needed violence to find his center.

Zarbon patted Radditz's big shoulder, absently, not sure the Saiyan could even feel his touch. "This is close enough. I have to go talk to him."

"He's likely to be...!"

"He's likely to blow me out of the sky, I know. But this thing is almost finished, Radditz, and I always finish what I start. It's a stupid, compulsive behavior, but there you have it." Stepping off the shoulder, Zarbon levitated until he was even with Radditz's glowing ruby eyes, and smiled softly. "I'm sorry," he said, gently, "that I'm not who you want me to be." Raising two fingers to his forehead in farewell, Zarbon sped toward the were-monkey in the torn blue battlesuit.

_________________________________________________________

Having felt the approaching kis of about a dozen transformed Saiyans, Vegeta decided to forego random destruction — that was what ground troops were for — and began to search for any area that might have been the base for the coordinated attacks against him. Off the northern edge of the sprawling city he discovered antennae and flat-dished equipment, signs of a communications outpost. Heaving ki energy from his body, he delicately extirpated the last organized threat to the Saiyan purge of the planet. Out of the seared ground poured hundreds of the insectoids; evidently he'd disrupted an underground base. He stomped and struck flat-handed blows until nothing moved — nothing, that was, except for one fluttering white thing that appeared out of nowhere and courted death by hanging in front of him. Vegeta opened his mouth, prepared to disintegrate the pest, when his seventh sense registered a very high ki level. Stepping back slightly so he wouldn't be looking at it cross-eyed, he focused in on the floating thing and saw a humanoid figure with its arms stretched out, a torn white cloak whipping behind it. Vegeta swallowed back the energy ball.

"Zarbon," he said.

_________________________________________________________

Vegeta looked like he had seen action and then some. His fur was twisted together in myriad spots all over his face and body where blood had freely flowed. Half his chest plate had been blown away, and both his shoulder guards were fractured. There was an ominous dark patch over one breast that Zarbon thought marked the most serious visible injury. But there was no indication that a destructive power buildup was taking place in the oversized body. Upon recognizing him, Vegeta simply folded his arms across his chest and stared down his long muzzle at his trainer, exhibiting a hauteur very nearly identical to that of the young Prince's non-transformed state.

Zarbon met his eyes—indeed, Vegeta's eyes filled his entire vision—and saw a cold calmness in the deep ruby depths. And he knew someplace in that strange night, facing enemies with decapitating ki-piercing weapons and with the life fluids of a thousand thousand entities and his own blood mixing on his matted fur, Vegeta had indeed discovered the center that granted him ultimate control over his awesome power.

"Vegeta," he acknowledged the one-word greeting, and mimicked the Prince's stance in mid-air; arms folded, feet spread wide. "Who are you?"

The flesh around the giant monkey's maw wrinkled and stretched into the simian equivalent of a smirk. Vegeta held out a hand, flesh-side up. Zarbon sank down until just the tip of his feet touched the Saiyan. There was that in the big, red eyes that made Zarbon think settling trustfully in the great palm was not a good idea.

"So," softly rumbled the voice from the massive throat, a timbre both like and unlike Vegeta's, "you want to know who I am, little Zarbon? I am empty, yet I am filled with a complete loneliness that seeks no abatement. I am blood and fire. I am evil, Zarbon. Relentless, rolling, remorseless evil. I am your death if you don't move!"

Zarbon shot up, flipping over the vomit of energy ejected from Vegeta's mouth, bracing his arm and aiming a high-powered ki blast at one of the red, glowing eyes. Vegeta was faster in this form than Zarbon thought; the head twisted, the blast burned fur and blistered skin, not hitting anything vulnerable. I'll have to transform, Zarbon thought, right as the flat of one great hand caught him and he tumbled toward the ground.

Fighting against screaming muscles for control, Zarbon wretched his body upright. He landed with a great crunching sound, sharp edges that cracked under his knee and his bracing hand, and waited, looking far up, for Vegeta to come after him. But Vegeta, as Bardock had earlier, just looked at him scornfully and strode away.

Zarbon finally exhaled, not knowing until that second he'd been holding his breath long enough for his lungs to be aching slightly. He lowered his head, staring blankly at his hand, gripping into the dirt.

No. Gripping into crushed insectoid remains. A great mass of them died here.

Zarbon's mouth twisted. He stood up, fastidiously brushing his fingers clean, hearing cracking noises as he moved, dismissing them as he looked around. The fighting was over here. Soon, it would be over everywhere. There was nothing for him to do except stay out of the Saiyans' way.

_________________________________________________________

After about an hour, the strange white-blue light faded. Looking up, Zarbon estimated another hour before the planet's rotation brought the yellow star into full view. He peered through the dust haze left by the battle and saw that the city was rubble. Nothing could even be identified as a building; everything had been toppled and trampled. The Saiyans were very thorough in their "purging."

"Yo, Zarbon."

Radditz, in his non-transformed state, hovered over him.

"How'd you find me?"

"Looked through the scouter for the two highest power levels on the planet, and went after the second of 'em."

Zarbon wrinkled his nose, feeling something close to pique. The little Prince had finally surpassed him, in this form, anyway. "You probably have the last one left."

Radditz shrugged. "Maybe. He's toward the east, now. Want to go find him?"

"Not especially, although I suppose I should."

Before Zarbon had done more than lift off the ground, a stern voice called Radditz's name. Looking down with a grimace, Radditz dropped. His father, blood-streaked, one thigh heavily bandaged where an anti-ki weapon had excised muscle, greeted him coldly. "I've just heard from your mother. She wanted you to know she was all right."

"Obviously. Otherwise you'd be on the ground mewling like a tail-less infant, wouldn't you?"

Bardock grinned, hard-eyed. "Wait until you bond, brat."

His lip curling in disgust, "I won't," said Radditz.

Bardock looked past him to the hovering Zarbon and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe, maybe not. Still, all the males of my line bond. Hell, half of 'em do it more than once. Shame if your only genetic liability came from your mother, eh?"

"One more reason," snarled Radditz, "you should never have been allowed to reproduce."

"An advantage to the off-world forces is that what I do off-world is nobody's business, brat. You may want to remember that," Bardock glanced at Zarbon again, "sometime soon."

Radditz's tail fluffed to about twice its normal volume. Hoping to head off another confrontation between the two, Zarbon interjected, "Nice trick with the ki ball, Bardock. You saved the whole mission."

Looking up at him, Bardock shrugged. "Well, once you realize the minimum moonlight required for transformation is a Buruz wave of at least 17,000 megaunits, it's just formulating the energy of the ki ball to mimic the wavelength—" There was an audible growl from Radditz. Bardock looked at his son with an unconcerned, amused scorn. "It's easy once you figure it out. Barely requires any 'thinking' at all."

Zarbon, feeling slightly ridiculous in his role of peacemaker, said, "Well, I'm impressed."

Bardock's head whipped around. He stared at the alien with narrowed eyes. "Stay away from me," he finally rasped. He turned to stalk away, swore when his injured leg buckled, and flew off in a streaming flare of ki energy.

Amused, "Something I said?" Zarbon asked of Radditz.

"Hmph."

"But, Radditz, your daddy doesn't like me ," mocked Zarbon with overplayed regret.

Mouth quirking, Radditz levitated to Zarbon's level and cocked his head, studying Zarbon deliberately. He reached out and twisted his fist into the armor's neckline, pulled the alien close, and snarled in Zarbon's face. "I think I can just tolerate you."

Zarbon slowly shook his head.

"I thought you always finished what you started, baka."

"I didn't start this. Someone else did. I'm not who you want, Radditz."

Radditz uncurled his fingers, releasing Zarbon, and crossed his arms. "You could be."

Zarbon sighed. Stubborn monkeys, they don't give up. "I don't think so. We'll talk if you want to, Radditz. But now's not good."

Radditz scowled at him, thunderously. "What's bad about it? We've both just survived a hellacious battle, and no one's paying any attention to us."

"Vegeta," Zarbon reminded him.

After a minute, Radditz grunted, "What a nuisance that royal runt is," and tapped the side of his scouter.

_________________________________________________________

They found the Prince standing in the midst of the rubble, his arms crossed, one booted foot atop a mound of what proved to be exoskeletons. They started to land, but Vegeta turned his head slightly and fixed his dark gaze on them. Something in his steady eyes froze both of them in mid-air. Smiling slightly, Vegeta charged up, the now-familiar blue aura crackling around him, and crooked a finger at Zarbon before shooting into the smoke-shrouded sky. Staring after the vanishing speck, Zarbon muttered, "What is this, a race?" and shrugged apologetically at Radditz before speeding off after the Prince.

High over the planet, Vegeta, laughing maniacally, held his arms out to his sides and spun as he flew. Pulling up suddenly, grinning in Zarbon's face, he flung an arm out. " Do you see this!? Do you see...? How can my father deny me this? This is what I was born for!" Floating toward Zarbon, Vegeta wrapped a hand around Zarbon's neck and lower jaw, still laughing, his eyes gleaming.

Wide-eyed, Zarbon stammered, "Umm...I feel I should mention that you're under age, we're from different social classes, there's that whole species thing, and another Saiyan has issues with me I really have to work out ..."

The Prince's eyes narrowed, then he threw back his head and howled with laughter. "Baka. Follow." He dropped, angling for a flattened area on one of the mountain peaks.

Zarbon hovered a minute, his mind slowly processing what he'd seen in Vegeta's gaze. The wildness was gone from the Prince's eyes. There was deep calmness, dark cruelty, turbulent laughter and exhilaration as he looked at the burning cities, the mounds of enemy corpses — but nothing bestial. The royal arrogance was backed by well-earned confidence. The power no longer controlled him; finally, Vegeta controlled his power.

He's barely Saiyan anymore, thought Zarbon, awed at the metamorphosis. He trailed the Prince down and landed next to him.

Vegeta picked up the charred remains of a weapon's barrel and displayed it to Zarbon. "Look. Even here, there was fighting. Ironic, isn't it? If they had just showed this to us, instead of using it against us, we might have spared them. We have been known to treat with worlds that have technology we can use."

"And you gave them the chance to discuss technology when...?"

"Ah." Vegeta smiled slightly. "There is that. And this;" he concentrated on the weapon, and the metal alloy vaporized in his hands, "is too dangerous to be allowed to exist." The smile grew sly as he glanced sideways at Zarbon. "Although it might have come in handy if Freeza ever came calling again."

Ignoring Vegeta's jibe, Zarbon looked over the landscape and said somberly, "An expensive planet."

"Yes," agreed Vegeta. "Lots of exploitable natural resources. It's worth a mint on the open market. That's for the traders to deal with, though."

Zarbon had been thinking in terms of Saiyan lives, but of course lives, Saiyan or otherwise, meant nothing to Vegeta. Studying the young Prince's profile, Zarbon ventured to ask, "Isn't this the second time you've had to purge the planet? Why don't your people harvest it yourselves, instead of selling it? You know who-ever settles it this time will eventually rise up against you, whether it's next week or a thousand generations from now."

Vegeta snorted. "What, Saiyans farm and mine?"

After almost pointing out that they had just eliminated a large, potentially valuable slave population, Zarbon reconsidered and murmured instead, "Of course. What was I thinking?"

"The day I care about your thought processes is the day I kill both of us. Speaking of which—there's the little matter of your refusal to fight full out against me." Vegeta smiled that deadly Saiyan smirk, his eyes gleaming again. "I'm ready for your transformed state, Zarbon. And if you live through the match, I'll take that oath of fealty you promised me."

Zarbon gave a slow blink, looking at Vegeta askance from the corners of his eyes. "What oath of fealty?"

""I will be your warrior, and you may command me'," repeated Vegeta, grinning.

Zarbon clapped a hand to his forehead. "Aiee, what was I thinking...?"

"That I did wonder about at the time. But you have to survive first, Zarbon. And since your survival isn't a high priority with me," that unholy gleam once more, which Zarbon suddenly recognized as blood-lust, "you probably won't."

_________________________________________________________

They did not sing many songs on Vejiitasei, but one was soon heard in the barracks and the pubs about the tournament battle between the transformed Zarbon and the Saiyan Heir. Those who beheld it and survived — for one of the reasons it was held as a great battle was that half of the spectators at the Great Arena were killed in the melee — felt they had witnessed the birth of the Foreseen One, the legendary Super-Saiyan. Zarbon, when he opened his eyes in the regeneration tank a couple of weeks later to see Radditz waiting for him on the other side, simply felt lucky to be alive. He left the tank, stretching still-sore muscles. He arced a thin brow when he was handed the standard battle armor of the Saiyan military — tsk, no style — but let Radditz help him strap on the chest plate before marching off to the throne room where, under the distrustful eyes of the King, he knelt before the Saiyan Prince, put his open palms over Vegeta's clenched fists, and became the first alien in three millennia to swear the oath of fealty in the service of Vejiitasei's royal family.

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Next: The Chikyuu Contaminant