Raditz strode out onto the space station with his crew, their armor battered and hair matted with mud and blood. Still, they'd managed to complete their mission without sustaining any serious injuries, which was a coup in and of itself.
"I'm starving!" the woman walking beside him said. "Let's hope they have something decent in the mess hall today."
Raditz snorted. "Not likely, at least not for us."
They were headed for the chambers reserved for low-level fighters on the Planet Trade Organization's stations, where they could shower and get some sleep before their next assignment.
"I call lower bunk!" one of the crew members called out, crashing heavily onto the thin mattress.
"Alright guys," their leader began. Cabe was about 5'8", average height for a Saiyan, and well into his forties. Raditz had been on his crew for ten years and in that time he had changed a lot; a broad-shouldered, muscular man with a hard face had replaced the skinny, baby-faced 16-year-old who had first joined.
"You've got three hours to rest before we head over to mess and then get our instructions for the next mission. I'm gonna take a shower," he gestured to the nearby bathroom door with a thumb. "You guys can rock-paper-scissors for who goes next."
Just as he was turning around to leave, the door swung open, slamming hard into the wall.
"General Nappa!" Cabe's eyes widened in shock at this unprecedented visit. Quickly he gave the general a low bow, then stood firmly to attention. The other crew members, Raditz included, were all on one knee.
"At ease, kiddos."
General Nappa was a close confidante of the king and rumored to be the strongest Saiyan after the king and his heir. He was now well into his seventies, but his Saiyan genes meant that he was still at the prime of his power and strength. Despite his status and strength, he was a fairly friendly, cheerful man off the battlefield, but if you crossed him, he wouldn't hesitate to snap your neck. As far as any of them knew, he never visited the third-class quarters.
Slapping Cabe heartily on the back, Nappa said, "I'm looking for Bardock's boy."
Raditz felt himself blush. This was not the first time he was referred to as "Bardock's boy" instead of by his actual name. That was the price of being related to a man who was basically a living legend among the third-class Saiyans. Still, he would never have imagined someone like Nappa would know his father by name.
"Raditz?" Cabe said, pointing at him. Raditz peeked up cautiously.
Nappa gestured to him with a broad, calloused hand. "You're coming with me, boy." Raditz stood slowly, approaching the general with no little amount of trepidation. What could a man like Nappa possibly want with him?
Nappa turned on his heel and walked right out as suddenly and swiftly as he came in. Raditz followed, turning to Cabe as he left, eyebrows darting up desperately as he silently begged his leader to save him. Cabe could only shrug, mouthing a silent "sorry," at his young charge.
"You know," Nappa said as he led Raditz down the hall and past the low-level soldiers' rooms, "your father was the youngest Saiyan to ever lead his own crew."
"Yes, I know," Raditz replied. He was walking a few steps behind Nappa out of respect for the older man. "If I can be frank, I'm surprised you know of my father."
"I make it my business to know," the general said. "You know who held that record before your father?"
"Who?"
Nappa turned to look back at the young man and pointed a thumb at himself. "You're looking at him kid. 'Course that was a long time ago now, and it's been a while since I've had my own crew," he said, turning away with the air of one content to hand over the torch to the next generation. "Actually, your father was the one who suggested you for this job."
Raditz was more confused than ever. His father had actually recommended him to the General Nappa? His father knew General Nappa? "What job is this, exactly?"
"All in good time, kid."
The two continued along the hall, turning into an unfamiliar corridor that was clearly reserved for the bigger, nicer rooms. Finally, Nappa stopped at a door and knocked.
"Enter," a commanding voice came from inside.
Nappa opened the door much more slowly and gently than he had Raditz's dorm room, making his way to the center of the room and standing at attention. "Your highness."
Raditz stood behind him, stunned. This was Prince Vegeta's room.
Prince Vegeta. The Saiyan king's firstborn son and heir to the throne of the planet. Raditz knew, of course, that the prince was in Frieza's army, receiving "special training" from the galaxy's overlord, whatever that entailed. But Raditz had never imagined that he shared the same space as the prince, or that he would ever be brought into his presence. He was just a low-level soldier, a third-class Saiyan and, although he was a good fighter, he had yet to achieve anything of note. There were thousands of others just like him. Why was he here?
Prince Vegeta turned towards him, pulling his armor over his head and running his eyes slowly over the young man. Raditz had remembered himself just in time and was kneeling behind Nappa. Frowning slightly, Vegeta placed a scouter, that device that allowed soldiers to communicate with one another and assess each other's power levels, over one eye and trained it at Raditz. The device instantly beeped, and Vegeta snorted in disappointment at what he saw.
"His power level is 1000," Vegeta said, addressing Nappa. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Well prince, that's quite good for a third-class," Nappa reasoned. "You can't compare him to yourself."
"Certainly not."
"I'm sure he'll do very well for this task. He comes highly recommended, and I believe he has a lot of potential."
"Yes well, from what you told me about his father, I was expecting more. It doesn't matter," Vegeta said, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't care for any of this."
"So you find him acceptable?" Nappa asked.
"Yes, fine," Vegeta replied, clearly irritated by the conversation. "How old is he, anyway?"
Nappa turned back to Raditz. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-six," Raditz replied, trying to hide his annoyance at the prince's utter dismissal of him. 1000 was very good for a third-class Saiyan of his experience, and frankly if he wanted to be torn down he'd go hang out with his father and uncle.
"He's twenty-six, prince," Nappa repeated.
"Yes, yes. That's just fine."
"Alright Raditz, see here, what we're doing is…"
"Wait!" Vegeta interrupted the general suddenly, his air of indifference dissipating. "Don't tell him anything just yet. We have to discuss this, and frankly I'd rather tell him this information at home." He paused a moment, then still addressing Nappa, asked, "When will he be planet-side?"
Nappa turned to Raditz expectantly.
"Three weeks," Raditz replied.
"Three weeks," Nappa repeated.
"Fine," the prince said. He moved over to the nightstand sitting in the corner of the room and took something small from the drawer. Striding to where Raditz was still kneeling, he stretched out a gloved hand, opening it to reveal what looked like a small coin.
Raditz looked up at Nappa questioningly. The older man nodded, and Raditz hesitantly reached out and took the coin from his prince's hand.
"That coin," Nappa explained, "carries the insignia of the royal house on one side and the stamp of the prince on the other. If you bring it to the castle, they'll let you in to see him. But you have to have it with you, so don't lose it, okay?"
"You want me to come to the castle?" Raditz said, bewildered.
Nappa shrugged. "That's the best place to discuss this."
"He can come to the palace on the 24th," Vegeta was putting on a red cape over his armor, and turned to give Nappa a pointed look that was clearly very familiar to the general.
"You're dismissed," Nappa informed Raditz.
Slowly, the confused young man stood up and stumbled to the door. "Um…"
"Go down the hall, take a left and keep walking," Nappa said.
"Yes. Thank you."
"Don't lose that coin!" Nappa called out behind him.
And so Raditz found himself out in an unfamiliar hallway, a coin clutched tightly in his fist and sense of foreboding seeping into his brain.
What the hell was that all about?
With Raditz gone, Nappa turned his full attention to the prince, his royal charge. He'd been Prince Vegeta's personal guardian since the boy was first sent to train under Lord Frieza, the head of the PTO and ruler of the galaxy, at the age of eight. Prince Vegeta was 24 years old now, and Nappa liked to think he could read the boy's mood like the back of his hand.
It wasn't hard, since his most common mood was pissed off.
Sure enough, the Prince's brow was deeply furrowed, a vein throbbing dangerously in his temple. "This is ridiculous, Nappa."
"Calm yourself, prince. You don't want to go into Frieza's court so obviously upset."
"It's an insult!" the young man fumed. "To suggest that we're somehow not good enough…"
"You can't let him get to you," Nappa counselled. "Don't let him get under your skin like this."
Vegeta took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. With a huff he gave up and marched towards the door, cape flying behind him. "Come Nappa. We don't want to be late for Lord Frieza."
"Prince Vegeta."
"Prince Zarbon," Vegeta returned to the man sitting, legs crossed, on a luxurious couch in front of him.
Zarbon was much like Vegeta. Second in line to the throne of his planet, Lacerta, Zarbon too had been sent by the royal family to receive special training under Lord Frieza. Now in his early 40s, Zarbon was one of the strongest fighters in Frieza's army, far surpassing Prince Vegeta himself. With his pale green skin and long, braided hair, the Lacertan prince was known to very vain, and he exuded an easy grace and confident demeanor.
Sitting next to him on the couch while they waited to be admitted into Frieza's presence, Vegeta couldn't help the stab of jealousy that always plagued him whenever he crossed Zarbon's path. When he'd first arrived on the ship as a child, Zarbon had been charged with his instruction, and the older royal had never ceased to point out just how unrefined Vegeta was compared to himself. "One would more easily believe that you were the prince's bodyguard than the prince himself," Zarbon would mock.
Fortunately, the two were not left alone for long. Soon after Vegeta and Nappa arrived, they were called into Frieza's presence.
Inside the Arcosian lord's private quarters was a long dining table heavy with an array of delicacies from across the galaxy. Frieza himself sat the head of the table, a wine glass in one hand and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Frieza had a strange fascination with royalty. He himself had taken over ruling the galaxy from his father, King Cold, and was therefore a prince in his own right. Yet he took a perverse pleasure in personally subjugating the sons and daughters of his strongest allies. Vegeta and Zarbon were just two of his royal acquisitions; there had been others before and there would certainly be others after.
Every week Frieza held these elaborate dinners for his most high-ranking fighters. At his left sat Dodoria, his right-hand man. Dodoria was a huge, pink creature with ungainly spikes protruding from his head and shoulders. He looked like a rock and was about as dumb as one, but he was unshakingly loyal to Frieza and was a formidable fighter to boot. Next to him sat Captain Ginyu, the leader of Frieza's most elite warrior crew, the Ginyu Force, along with its other members.
As princes, Zarbon and Vegeta, along with Nappa in his position as royal guardian, were given the privilege of sitting directly to Frieza's right. Or at least, they were, but today there were two strangers seated in the chairs normally occupied by the two royals.
"Ah, Vegeta, Zarbon. Let me introduce you to our newest allies." Frieza's smirk made Vegeta's stomach turn – anything that pleased the Arcosian that much was bound to be bad news.
"This is the Princess Amara of the Planet Hotsu," Frieza said, gesturing towards the young girl in the seat that was usually Zarbon's. The princess couldn't have been much older than ten, with a thick head of deep sea-blue hair tied up in heavy pigtails, skin the color of wet sand and big, golden eyes. Vegeta couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She was a pretty girl, and clearly had been bartered off to Frieza as part of the agreement he'd struck. The apprehension in her eyes was unmistakable.
"And this," Frieza continued, "is her guardian, Tonsa."
Tonsa was a much more imposing presence than the little princess. She sat next to her young charge, tall and proud, her dark face fixed in an intense gaze, green eyes focused on the wall across from her. Her matching green-black hair was tied up high on her head.
Vegeta, Nappa, and Zarbon bowed low in greeting the two women before taking their seats.
"I was just telling the little princess that she mustn't be embarrassed at having a guardian with her on the ship. After all, our dear Prince Vegeta, strong Saiyan warrior that he is, can't go anywhere without his Nappa," Frieza said mockingly, his gaze meeting Vegeta's across the table.
The prince burned at the comment, could see the Ginyu force exchange smirks at his expense.
"It is my honor and privilege to serve the prince wherever he goes," Nappa piped up dutifully.
"Indeed." Frieza returned his attention to the princess at his side. "Of course the Hotsus don't train their royals nearly as well as you Saiyans do, but that will change with Princess Amara gracing us with her presence." He gave her a pointed look.
"Yes, Lord Frieza," she replied quietly.
"Good," Frieza looked enormously pleased with himself. "Now, we mustn't let this good food go to waste."
The evening passed as usual, with Ginyu bragging about his team's latest accomplishments, Zarbon dispensing diplomatic flattery right and left, Dodoria grunting in agreement with everything Frieza said, and Vegeta sitting in sullen silence. He had to admit though, he was intrigued by this new addition to their group. All he knew about Planet Hotsu was that it was very far away and it was dark there almost all the time. What power its people had, and why Frieza had taken such an interest in the planet to the point where he'd taken on their princess, Vegeta could only guess.
As it would happen, he would find out soon enough.