I am having such a bad day. It felt really good to sit down and write for a few hours. Good therapy. There's a typo or a wrong word in there, somewhere. I saw it while spell-checking, but missed it, and haven't been able to find it since. So if you find it let me know and I'll change it ASAP.
Vegeta marched behind Frieza in silence, moving in and out of shadows overhead. The ship was bigger than he imagined; it could have gone on forever for all he knew, and he was already growing tired of all the walking. There must have been a quicker way to get around, though Frieza was probably putting him through the long trek just to prove a point.
"I still don't understand why I'm here," he said at last, trying to keep his voice neutral. The outside of the ship was about as dumb-looking as Frieza was, but although he hated to admit it, so far he was impressed with what he'd seen inside.
Frieza answered without stopping or looking back. "Because your father foolishly tried to deceive me."
Vegeta's mind reeled. Why hadn't he been told what was going on? His father never kept things from him. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, Saiyajin!" Frieza's tail swung angrily. "Your father sent a fleet of men to my base while I was away, intending a takeover. His efforts, however, failed." He chuckled, a deep, vulgar sound that made Vegeta's skin crawl. He knew now to what Frieza referred.
Several days ago, a fleet of men had been dispensed to lead another invasion. Only three returned, two dying later due to serious injuries. It was unheard of- it was even common for children to return when they were through with the mission. His father, high atop his throne and looking grave, put talk of the incident to rest immediately. It was off limits, and anyone found talking about it would face dire consequences. It had seemed strange at the time, since rarely that many men perished in a single mission, but Vegeta, unknowingly having information withheld, wasn't concerned. A bad turn of events was all it was, a fluke.
But the pieces of the puzzle fit exactly, his father's deceit staring him in the face as plain as day.
Vegeta tried to come up with an intelligible response, but could not, and so he remained silent, his chin tucked to his chest, eyes narrowed.
Frieza, sensing his chagrin, said very casually, "Not a very smart move on his part, but then again, your father isn't a very smart man to begin with, is he?"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Vegeta's head shot up, his expression grim. A part of him knew Frieza was baiting him just to rile him up, but he couldn't stop the words from coming. "You take that back!" he shouted. "You take that back right now!"
"Or what?" Frieza came to a halt, his back to the young prince. He turned, slowly, an ugly grin spreading wide across his face.
Vegeta could feel his face beginning to redden, his muscles becoming tight and his body trembling in anger. Even his ears were beginning to go red.
Frieza threw his head back and laughed again, and then shot his hand out without warning, slapping Vegeta soundly across the face. His laughter came to an abrupt stop, replaced with his usual gravelly voice. "There's more in store for you if you don't learn to control that temper of yours, Vegeta. Now be a good boy and shut that mouth of yours."
All Vegeta could do to keep the stinging pulsation in his cheek at bay was to press his hand down over it and follow quietly, staring vehemently at the back of his captors skull. He wanted so baldly to blast the freak into oblivion. He was angry; angry with his father for lying to him, especially for just handing him over as if it were no big deal. He, the Prince of his race, should not have to serve as collateral.
"Don't misunderstand me," Frieza began in a softer manner. "I want you to enjoy your time here. You are my guest." he paused. "You'll be a great fighter, Vegeta, I can sense it. You could be of great value to me someday."
Several minutes later, they came upon a large metal door. It opened in two halves that slipped up into the ceiling, and Frieza walked in, going directly to his throne. Vegeta followed reluctantly. There was a funny looking hoovering chariot of sorts, and people everywhere manning their stations, paying no mind to the child on board.
"Ah, Lord Frieza," a blue-skinned man with long green hair greeted, bending at the waist. "I take it everything went as planned?"
"Exactly as planned, Zarbon."
Zarbon walked -no, glided- toward Vegeta, tall and thin and not very threatening looking at all. In fact, he seemed rather tame, with a strong jaw and thin nose. He wore his long hair in a braid, complete with earrings and a bejeweled forehead. Vegeta did his best to contain his laughter. Frieza's men were nothing like his fathers; large and thick and deadly looking.
"This must be the prince," Zarbon spoke as though Vegeta weren't right in front of him.
"I am Prince Vegeta," Vegeta informed him with a nod. "Prince of all Saiyajins."
Zarbon smiled broadly. "Arrogant little brat."
"Isn't he just?" Frieza agreed. "I love it. It will be most entertaining to watch him break."
Vegeta stared at nothing as they spoke, pretending to listen. He did not care what they had to say about him.
One of Frieza's men delivered him with a tall glass of dark liquid, and he summoned a henchman as he sipped at the glass. A short, pudgy pink man with blue lips and feminine eyes rushed up and bowed, a difficult feat considering his size.
"Yes, Lord Frieza?" the man inquired, still on one knee.
"Dodoria," Frieza began, swirling the glass slightly, "I have a job for you."
Dodoria blinked and nodded. "Of course."
"The boy. Take him to get settled in. Keep him out of trouble and see to it that he's fed. I'll give you further instructions later on."
Dodoria looked uncertainly to the young boy, his mouth nearly dropping open. "But sir-"
Frieza was having none of that. He leaned forward in his throne, shouting so fiercely that spittle flew at the bowing man. "Do as I say, Dodoria, if you know what's good for you!"
"Yes, sir," Dodoria answered quietly, his eyes dropping away. He stayed for a few more seconds and struggled to his feet, lumbering toward Vegeta, who wondered why Frieza should keep such an out of shape man employed. Surely, he couldn't be of much use in battle.
A hand fell on Vegeta's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced back to see Dodoria there, and scowled deeply until he took the hint and released him.
"This way." He swung his hand toward the opening door, and the two of them began down the hall again.
Dodoria waddled alongside him silently, his thick shoulder pads swinging with each step. Vegeta wondered what kind of strength he might hold. Frieza wouldn't keep him around, otherwise. Zarbon, though his appearance was laughable, seemed to be hiding something. Perhaps he was underestimating Dodoria, he thought as they neared another large metal plated door.
The young Sayajin prince blinked several times in surprise as he was lead into the ship's mess hall. Frieza's men populated the area. They appeared oafish and inexperienced compared to his father's followers; some sat in large groups while others sat alone, sipping steaming cups of coffee or armed with crosswords or books.
"This is unacceptable," he announced, speaking very articulately. He scanned his surroundings, nearly cringing when it hit him. Too many unfamiliar smells. It was revolting. "I will require a private dwelling in which to take my meals." Never in his entire life had he eaten in the presence of the lowly henchmen. It was unheard of.
A group of men in close proximity broke out into a chorus of laughter. They appeared to be pointing in his direction, but he paid them no mind.
"Sit down," Dodoria demanded.
Vegeta opened his mouth to chastise the man for speaking to him in such a way when he was grabbed by the hair and hoisted into the air. He cried out and wriggled around until he was released, dropping down into a chair ten times too big.
"I said, sit down, runt!"
The young prince rubbed at his tender scalp, his gaze cold and dangerous. How could he be expected to eat among the commoners? It wasn't right. He closed his eyes and tried to block their invidious stares, waiting to be served.
"You! Quit standing around and get the kid something to eat."
Seconds later, he heard a plate being slid before him. He opened his eyes and scowled, his gaze shooting immediately to the server.
"Surely you must be joking," he said simply.
The plate was so small it was practically insulting, and the amount of meat on his plate wasn't even fit for a toddler. There were strange-colored...things, on his plate as well, things he he'd never seen before.
The idiot who had served him stood by the tableside, arms folded until Dodoria dismissed him.
Vegeta growled. "Just what is this...thing, right here?"
"That is a vegetable," Dodoria replied. "Eat it."
Startled, Vegeta replied, "I most certainly will not. It is oddly colored and smells bad. Take it back at once."
"This isn't your planet, kid. Your words don't have any weight here. Now shut up and eat."
Angered at being spoken to in such a way, Vegeta swiped at the plate with his hand. "I refuse!" he shouted as the plate shattered.
Several others winced at the sudden loud noise, and turned to see what all the fuss was about. Some insignificant of Frieza stepped forward, presenting Dodoria with a new plate.
Dodoria slid the plate in front of Vegeta.
"You're nothing but a clown!" Vegeta growled lowly in his throat. "A pink clown! I'll see to it that I have your head for this!"
It was no use, the man wasn't listening to him any longer, and the crowd was beginning to lose interest.
He pushed the plate away and stood on his chair with some difficulty. "When I tell my father-"
Dodoria, a knowing sort of smirk that left Vegeta unsettled inside.
"Father. Right. Well, kid," he said, patting his stomach, "You can either eat what's on your plate, or don't eat at all." he shrugged. "You can starve for all I care, you filthy little monkey."
Vegeta hopped down from the chair and calmly walked up behind the man. "I refuse!" he shouted again, pulling and tugging at his armor and kicking at the back of the mans legs. He let go of a handful of armor and began forming a ball of energy when he felt a powerful kick that sent him sailing across the room and into a wall. He wobbly lifted his head and watched as Dodoria approached.
"Not hungry? Fine." He felt a muscular hand close around the length of his tail, causing him to cry out. "Time for bed, then."
He spent his first night on Frieza's ship in a medium sized room, alone, listening to the groaning of the ship as it idled in space. He fought sleep by keeping himself active, bouncing up and down on the bed in a trance, shooting ki blasts at what little furniture the room had. Sleep claimed him several hours later, on the cold floor, with the ruins of his quarters around him.