Credit where Credit is due:

Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.

Phrases and words used in this chapter:

br'at - child

ge'tahu - allies

ja'ta -father

ji'tach - fighting team / unit

posh'ri - a specific kind of Saiyan alcohol

Panbuken was the first to leave the festivities. He arose from his seat, a moving mountain of flesh, most of it pure muscle. Those who thought he was out of shape were sadly mistaken. The rotund man drained the remnants of his drink, then raised a hand in farewell. "See you tomorrow for assignment, ge'tahu."

Soon after, Topato ran a dirty cloth over the top of his head and face to mop the sweat off. His pale skin looked ashen and blotchy in the harsh lighting. "Think I'm done for the night, too." He tail bumped with Toma, Fasha and Bardock, then stumbled out the door and into the humid night.

Toma, always the least drunk out of the squad (that was not saying much), excused himself and wandered up front for a piss, the next round, and something to mix in with all that alcohol.

After twenty minutes or so … although no one was counting … Toma had not returned. Bardock wondered if the man had fallen in and they needed to rescue him, but then he saw Toma chumming it up with others in the back, and the Captain returned to his mug. Now, only he and Fasha remained and both were plastered and unstable. Bardock was either a happy drunk, or an angry drunk. Right now, it was the latter as he continued to bitch about Gine to the person who wished to hear it least.

"Shouldn't have slept with her, Dock. I told you she was only going to mess things up. But you never listen." Fasha rested her chin in the palm of one hand.

"I know it was a stupid idea, thanks for pointing that out. Again."

"Glad to help. She was trying to manipulate you, Dock. You know that, right?" Fasha pointed out, and waved her mug in his direction. "I mean, come on. Bitch can't fight, so she had to get something over you. And everyone knows pussy goes a long way with you, Captain."

Bardock did not take offense to her statement. Why object to something that was true? But it angered him that Gine seemed to have an upper hand, and he did not understand why or how it had happened. He thought for a moment.

"It's like she drugged me or something, Fasha. I mean, what the hell! She's just another female, and it's not like I don't have my choice. Right? Right. It's like I just couldn't stop it. She cried and ... psshht … that was it." Bardock waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture and sloshed posh'ri over his forearm and became more livid as he ranted. "She just wanted to tie me down, tame me, make me responsible! I never wanted a kid or anything like that. I ain't no one's daddy. It's bad for business. Fucks with our numbers. Besides, no woman's gonna control me like that. Hell no. Well, now she's gone. Good fucking riddance." He drained the last of his posh'ri then slammed the glass down.

The baby comment went right over Fasha's head. "Think about it, Dock. If she had you by the balls, then she controlled you, controlled the squad. Even if - when - she fucked up, you gave her a pass. That bitch was clever. But not too clever. I figured it out. Saved your ass, Dock. You should be grateful. You owe me. And by the way, I'd never do that to you."

Fasha gave him a meaningful glance. Bardock did not reply, he continued to mull over his dilemma. After waiting for a few minutes, Fasha grumbled in displeasure. She bared her teeth in a wide smile, leaned into Bardock's personal space and squeezed his thigh with one hand.

"So Dock, what the hell? You don't sleep with crew, huh? A nice lie. Is it that you didn't want me, or is it because her jaja has connections?" She raised an eyebrow. Bardock could be quite dense sometimes.

Just then, Toma wandered back. Fasha glared at him, but the tall male did not take the hint. He placed the next round on the table, then filled his glass and settled back onto his stool.

"What took you so long," Bardock asked. Through his haze, he began to think that Fasha was hitting on him, and he was not sure how he felt about it.

"Saw some ge'tahu from Makka's crew. Get this: they told me that Zarby already set them up for a week in advance. Oh, and there's some weird rumors about teams going out and never coming back. Three in a month. Command's got their tails in a twist about it. Some even think it's a conspiracy." Toma wagged one eyebrow, and tapped his temple to show what he thought about that.

"You never know," Bardock mused. "There's some strange shit out there still left over from the War." Then he reflected he was far too drunk to get philosophical, and trailed off.

"Fascinating," Fasha said, and leaned over towards Toma, cocked her head towards the crowd. "Why don't you go back and visit them some more?"

"The hell, Fasha. You trying to get rid of me?" Toma growled.

Fasha just coughed, then took a sip of her booze. "You interrupted Dock and I having a conversation."

"That true, Dock?" Toma's nostrils flared, and the muscles on his neck bunched up as he clenched his teeth.

Bardock opened his mouth to reply, only to have Fasha cut him off again.

"Dock was just trying to justify how fucking Gine was a good strategic move. Politics and all of that. Sleeping his way to the top. Right, Captain?" Fasha always knew how to say the worst thing at the worst possible time … because she thrived on conflict.

"Fuck off, Fasha. It's not like that at all." Bardock snarled, but without his usual fire. His words started to slur together, and he knew that if he got in a physical altercation that he was likely to lose. Maybe it was the booze talking, again, and maybe Gine walking away from him really hit home. He wanted to stop the odd hollow feeling in his chest that cropped up whenever he thought about Gine. "I don't need her to make connections, and I don't need her for anything else."

"That's right, Dock. What's so damn good about her? What did she have that I didn't? If you'll fuck her ..." Fasha waved her tail, twined it around his thigh and rubbed, then gave him that smirk. Even Bardock, drunk as he was, could not miss the message.

"You wanna go, Fasha? Let's go."

She laughed. "Can you even get it up right now? You probably can't."

"I can get it up." Bardock boasted, offended by her suggestion that he was compromised.

Toma slapped his palms down on the table, a sudden move that drew their attention. His features were grim, his tail twitched and his body language indicated his conflict. Everyone knew he had an unrequited 'thing' for the feisty female and that she refused to even consider it, much to Toma's growing frustration. He and Bardock had gotten into a few fist fights over the subject already."I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Shut up, Toma!" Bardock and Fasha yelled simultaneously.

Toma stood up, a dark look on his tanned face as he glared at the both of them. His tail began to lash in an angry arc as he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He took a step closer to Bardock so that he was within striking range.

"Something you wanna tell me?" Bardock's look was dagger sharp.

Without another word, Toma grabbed hold of Bardock's breastplate, yanked him forward and struck him in the face. Bardock felt his lip split. He howled in anger and lashed out. Soon, the two males were rolling on the floor, punching each other, Luckily, both were too drunk to do more than smack each other around and ruin the furniture.

Saiyans love a good fight, and soon a crowd gathered to watch the festivities, cheering one or both on. Fasha observed with a smile on her face, but did nothing to help or hinder.

"Damn it, Bardock - break it up," Chiv howled as he rushed over. The bartender jumped into the fray, and received a blackened eye and a split lip for his troubles, but finally managed to pry the two apart. "I just fixed this place! I swear to gods, Dock … I should ban you and your squad."

"Let me go," Bardock snarled as he tried to maneuver out of the headlock Chiv had placed him in. His reactions were dulled from the drink, and he could not seem to free himself. He grunted in frustration.

"Either you two settle down, or you're out of here. Don't test me," the burly man warned. If pushed too far, Chiv could fight with the best of them, After securing a promise from Bardock to 'behave himself', the bartender released his childhood friend, "Now go sit down and finish your posh'ri."

Toma stood and wiped the blood from his face, panting from exertion and heat. No one had won, and Fasha did not seem impressed. He hissed in derision, conflicted. Perhaps Fasha wasn't worth the effort, after all, and he did not feel like getting banned from his favorite drinking spot.

"You're an asshole," he said, not sure whether he was addressing Bardock or Fasha, then turned on one heel and walked away to join his other friends.

"Okay then." Bardock folded his arms and watched Toma stalk off, he already was starting to forget what the fight was about. Then he turned his attention back to Fasha, who still had that pointed grin plastered on her face. What the hell had he been talking to her about? It was important … or at least he thought it was. Then he remembered: Fasha had challenged his status as a player, and that would not stand.

"Let's go, Fasha,"

"Your place or mine?" Fasha smirked, and rubbed up against him, her skin slick from sweat. "That's if you think you can handle me."

"Mine. Let's go." They departed without a word to Chiv or anyone else, and left Toma to pick up the tab.

Bardock lived nearby, a ten minute walk away. He was too drunk to fly straight, and so was Fasha. Together they stumbled back to his small private apartment, one of the perks of rank. He was so plastered that he miskeyed the combo several times before the door slid open.

Once inside, Fasha growled deep in her throat and grabbed him by the front of his breastplate and pushed him up against a wall. Bardock snickered at her efforts as she began to chew on his ear. Her fingers fumbled with the straps of his blue and green breastplate until she removed it and tossed it to the ground, already littered with debris, then began to work on his pants. Bardock grinned like the drunken idiot he was as he watched but made no move to assist her.

Once they were mostly nude, he pulled the female into his arms and kissed her forcefully. They began to make out as they stumbled towards his bed, tripping over various objects scattered about on the apartment floor. Dock never was a good housekeeper, and every time Gine had been over, she had spent hours picking up his mess. It never made much of a difference.

"This is just sex, Fasha," he warned. "I don't want any clingy crap from you afterwards, or any brats ... none of that shit." He slurred his words.

"What makes you think I want anything else, Dock? Now just shut up!" Fasha growled.

Bardock awoke the next day because his scouter kept shrieking. His mouth tasted like an ashtray, his head pounded, and every part of him hurt. He moaned in agony. Who made that tapa sun so bright? He rolled over to silence the scouter's shrill howl, and rolled into his partner. At first in his blighted stupor, he thought it was Gine ... then he remembered that he was pissed at her.

Had he finally fired her? He hoped to gods that he had not just canned Gine, then went home with her and fucked, but it was likely.

The curved female next to him had wide hips, a short tail, and light cream colored skin. Her thick black hair was cut into a shaggy bob: longer in the front and almost sheared in the back. Her sides rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep. He could see the fresh bite marks covering her neck and shoulders from the previous night.

Oh shit … Fasha. I don't remember bringing her home. At least it's not Gine, but this is going to complicate the hell out of things.

Still the scouter howled for his attention. Bardock rolled out of bed, grabbed the damn thing, stuck it over his ear and yelled. "What the hell? This better be good."

"Morning, Dock." Toma spoke in clipped tones. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd been yelling. "You planning on showing up? Skallon's threatening to tail tip you if you're any later."

"Why? What the hell time is it," he muttered, then fumbled around the room to look for his chronometer. At last, he found it on the floor, among the clutter. Bardock looked at it through squinted eyes and groaned. He was late. Very late. And that was bad; he was running behind for his own team assessment. "Son of a bitch," he hollered. "We'll be there ASAP. Distract 'em, Toma. Good man!"

He turned back to the bed where Fasha had turned on her back and snored with her mouth open. The blanket had fallen and one well rounded breast hung out, creamy white with a rosy nipple. Bardock resisted the urge to tweak it with his fingers when he went over and kicked the bed to shake his second in command awake.

"Fasha!"

"Wha ..." She waved one hand at him, tried to push him away. "Shh. Not so loud, Dock."

"Get up. We're late for the fucking meeting," he yelled as he scrambled around the tiny apartment and looked for his clothing, strewn all over from the night before. He found his pants in the small kitchen sink, his breastplate near the door, his boots on opposite ends. The hell? What did we do last night?"

He went into the minuscule bathroom and stared at his reflection. He looked like crap. He ran his hands through his wild hair, and stared at the scratches that covered his chest and stomach. Well, the armor would cover that. He ran a cleaner over his teeth, tines through his hair and smelled himself. "Damn. No time for a shower. You up yet?"

Fasha stumbled around, collected her items, stared at Bardock through swollen eyes. Now on the other side of their drinking binge, neither wanted to discuss last night, and luckily time was short. As Fasha pulled on her boots, Bardock pulled on his dented armor. He headed for the door and almost shoved Fasha out in front of him.

"Trying to get rid of me already," she snarled. Her armor did not disguise the marks on her light flesh.

"Let's just not, Fasha … We're on our way." Bardock spoke into the scouter mike, then took to the air, followed by Fasha.

They sped over Sector 5 barracks towards the Command Center to the North. As he flew, Bardock looked down upon his home. He had grown up here, forced to make his own way at a young age. He had never known his father , and he had few memories of his mother. Mostly what he remembered was that the woman could not be bothered by him; had dumped him off on the steps of one of the orphanages, then walked away and never came back. Bardock had to fight for everything he had, and it made him strong and aggressive. One of his few hobbies was tinkering: he loved puzzles and mechanics, and often took things apart just to see how they worked. His scouter was a common target.

When he was 12, he joined the Saiyan army to find a better life, and he met Toma. They went through basic training together. At the least, there was more food and structure, and Bardock could put his anger to good use. When war between the Saiyans and Tuffles broke out four years later, Bardock volunteered to go to the front lines, where he earned notice from Command early on for his keen observational and reasoning skills. His talents became useful when the Tuffles wielded their terrifying weapons and the Saiyans needed to figure out ways to combat them.

Bardock lost track of the times he saw comrades die from unknown weapons and technology, and the constant exposure to death made him numb to most things. Saiyan losses were devastating, especially early on before they learned and adapted to Tuffle attacks. During that time, he met his future teammates Fasha and Topato, Panbukin came latest. It was during the War that the five of them started to forge their ji'tach. It gave Bardock a sense of purpose and belonging that he had never experienced before, and his natural leadership and strategic abilities gained them attention, even earned them a position on the strike teams. Bardock rose through the ranks, from Private to Lieutenant to Captain, and he was given his own team, to whom he devoted himself.

When the War ended ten years later, Bardock stayed in the army. He knew no other life, and really ... what else was there? The War had cost tens of thousands of Saiyans their lives, devastated their cites and infrastructure, and driven them to the brink of extinction. But they had survived. Bardock had survived. And the Saiyan people began to rebuild using the tools of their former enemies.

Now two years later, Bardock and crew worked for another master. The Planetary Trade Organization, under Lord Frieza's rule, had swept in and snatched up the pieces. They had offered the Saiyans money, status, and a sense of purpose. The opportunities in the PTO for advancement were unparalleled, and most survivors had jumped at the chance. But now that they had accepted, Lord Frieza had done an about face, placed massive military forces on their world, and annexed them when everyone was not paying attention.

Bardock did what he always did, no matter who was in charge: he worked and fought hard. The faces of authority changed, but Bardock had stopped paying attention to their names. As long as they paid him and stayed out of his way ... it was all good. He tried to ignore the rumors that they were nothing more than slaves, pawns of the Cold Empire. As long as he could fight, he was happy.

Command resided in an old fortress left over from before the War: a building carved out of a mountain, one of many scattered in the wastelands where the Saiyans had lived since migrating to Planet Plant, now renamed Vegetasai, in honor of their victory. Attack Pods constantly dotted the blood red sky; coming and going, the lifeblood of the PTO, doing Frieza's dirty work. Vehicles moved resources and troops day and night.

When Bardock landed in the courtyard, he saw General Nappa, once Grand Master of War, training the newest class of youths in the scathing heat. The giant man nodded at him and rumbled a greeting.

"Skallon's looking for you, Bardock. I'd get your ass in there now. His tail's on fire he's so pissed." Nappa's eyes scanned the adolescents as they did their calisthenics. "You, Kori, cut the chatter or you're on mess duty," he snapped, and the young female immediately quieted.

Bardock laughed. He remembered his training years ago under General Gren, a ball-busting female who had taken no shit from anyone. He wondered where she was now ... then decided perhaps he did not want to know.

When they entered the complex, the temperature dropped. Inside of the stone walls, it was always cooler, and Bardock breathed a sigh of relief. When outside during the hot season, it felt like he was swimming through water. Bardock found it hard to breathe and it made the normally volatile Saiyan even more bad tempered. He walked straight to the General's office and ignored the smirks from his fellow soldiers, the murmurs behind his back. What's all this about; does the entire base know something I don't? He shrugged. Nothing could be done about it. Fasha fell in step with him, and exchanged a glance with him.

"I don't like it," the short haired female said. "I hope we're not being reassigned."

"Yeah, me too." Bardock suspected it had everything to do with Gine.

As he entered the cool office, he saw Panbukin, Toma, and Topato waiting for him, standing at attention. Toma glared at him, but said nothing.

He strode up to Skallon's desk, placed his right hand against his heart and gave a perfunctory bow, then stood. "Captain First class Bardock reporting for duty, sir."

"Glad to see you find the time to join us, Captain." Skallon did not rise, nor did he return the salute.

General Skallon was a stocky barrel chested man who had lost both an eye and several fingers during the War. He was well into his seventies and was just hitting his prime. Not only had he survived the Tuffle War but he had thrived. Skallon had political connections that went all the way to the throne, and into the PTO hierarchy as well. He was a war hero, a brilliant strategist, and absolutely ruthless. In short, he was the wrong man to piss off. One word from the General, and Bardock would spend the rest of his military days scrubbing latrines, in spite of Bardock's stellar record.

"At ease, Captain." Skallon glanced down at his tablet, then motioned to Bardock.

Well, at least that's a good sign. He relaxed his stiff posture, stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his back and took in a steadying breath through his nostrils. He resisted the urge to look at Fasha or the rest of his ji'tach for clues.

Skallon cleared his throat, then fixed Bardock with his piercing stare. That look often intimidated the younger soldiers and got them talking. "Let's bypass the pleasantries and just get to it, Captain. Command is impressed with your latest mission on Sorbal. You've also managed to gain a lot of attention these past two years."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't interrupt me, soldier," Skallon growled and scratched at his beard. "You set a new record, or so General Zarbon tells me. Your team's performance has been exemplary, for the most part. Most of the reports that cross my desk talk about team cohesiveness. Your ji'tach tells me you are the best command officer they have ever worked with."

Here it comes. Bardock steeled himself for the upcoming reprimand.

"Other officers also claim that you are a talented officer who can motivate his men. I have to wonder about this claim, Captain. I really do. I have to wonder, if you and your team have such an excellent reputation, why did you see fit to remove a soldier whom I placed with you personally? I asked you to work with her, improve her performance, and you have failed."

Bardock bristled at the accusation that he had purposely defied Skallon, even though it was true that he wanted to remove her from the team. It was because Gine was a hindrance. He knew it, Skallon knew it, hell the entire galaxy knew it ... it had nothing to do with his leadership abilities.

Skallon stood, his arms folded, his hair a wild twist of strands that he had beaten into submission, perhaps through force of will. "I don't like the thought that you're undermining my authority. Private Gine tells me that it was her choice to resign, that you did not pressure her into it. Now, I don't know why she feels the need to cover for you, but it stops here."

"She's not covering for me, General, she chose to leave the team." Bardock snapped and stepped up so that he and Skallon were face to face. Backing down from the powerful General would not earn Bardock any respect, only get him labelled as a coward. Like most Saiyans, Skallon respected strength. "And I earned the right to lead my ji'tach. Are you going to demote me because I couldn't make Private Gine fight?"

"I would like to, Captain, but your team sings your praises, and so do some of my peers. I'm not taking your rank, but I am going to put your team performance under assessment until I am sure you deserve your command. If you cannot bring one private up to par, then I am not sure you deserve your command. I have reason to believe that you are not willing to handle all of your responsibilities and duties. And until I have seen that you are capable of that, I am putting Lieutenant Fasha in temporary command until further notice."

Fasha's jaw dropped, and the team broke out in a riot of commotion and protests. If he had not seen her reaction, Bardock would have sworn she was in on it.

"What! You can't do that," he protested.

"I can do what I want, Captain. Just like you seem to think. Lieutenant Fasha, report to Major Daekon for your next assignment. Captain, you will remain here for a moment. Dismissed."

Fasha's expression went blank as she saluted, then turned on one heel and walked away, her tail wrapped around her waist. The rest of the squad followed, and no one looked over their shoulder. The door shut with an audible click.

Once they were alone, Skallon and Bardock stared at each other, two alpha males trying to psych the other out.

"This is about Gine, isn't it?" Bardock gave in first, and kicked himself for it. "You're stripping me of command because I couldn't rehabilitate her. She can't fight, General; she was compromising the safety of my soldiers. You know it, and she knew it. The next battle we went into might have been our last, and I'm not going to throw my team's lives away."

"You idiot." Skallon spoke softly, so that Bardock had to lean in closer. "You haven't been trying to 'rehabilitate' her. You've been fucking with her, Bardock, literally. And now you're dodging your duties."

Once again, Bardock was struck speechless. He had heard that Skallon was cold, did not care for his blood outside of political connections, but even he thought this was beyond manipulative.

When Bardock started, Skallon sneered and bared all of his yellowed teeth in a fierce display. "You think that I don't know? She's pregnant, again, and I'll be damned if I pay for another useless br'at because she can't pick a mate who sticks around."

And there it was. General Skallon did not care a whit for his offspring. He only cared about his image and his career.

"So Captain … are you going to take responsibility for what's yours, or do I have to beat you to within an inch of your life? Not to mention I will strip you of rank and make sure that you will never get another assignment for the rest of your life. I don't care if you never speak to her again, just that you step up and fix the mess you caused." Skallon paused, leaned back in his chair, and waited for Bardock to respond.

Bardock, who usually knew just what to say, was at a loss. He just spluttered, then realized he sounded like an idiot and shut his mouth before he said something idiotic that would get him into further trouble.

When Skallon realized that Bardock was not going to answer, he continued on. "I'm a reasonable man. I'll give you time to think it over, say a day or two. When your ji'tach is done on assignment, I'll expect your answer then. Dismissed."

Face burning bright red, Bardock stomped out of the office. He was humiliated, stripped down to second, his free will taken away. He was beyond pissed … Skallon had no right to make that choice for him.

Usually, males were not required to own up to their progeny, and females did not expect them to. The population was so small that all females were expected to bear children, and there were far more men than women. Females were in charge of raising their br'atu as they saw fit, received recognition for it, but also bore the burden of cost. If a male chose to claim paternity, he earned the right of recognition and input into the child's upbringing, but it also meant that he could be financially liable. Males who had large families were often rewarded by the Throne with position, prestige, property in an effort to boost numbers. So, fatherhood had its benefits ... and downfalls. Most men did not want to take the time, even though infants were raised in natal pods for the first one to two years of their lives.

So Bardock did not have to be personally involved for a few years, but he had never wanted to be a parent. He was afraid that it would ruin his career and subconsciously afraid that he would screw the job up, like his own parents had done with him. Also, Gine was not his first choice for a partner. She was soft, weak, and lacking in warrior spirit. In fact, she was the last female he would have chosen to reproduce with. And it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Damn. Bardock would have to speak with her soon.

Fasha caught up to him. Her face was pale, but with small red blotches on her cheeks. She looked unhappy, not at all like someone who had been given her own command. "Bardock, I swear I had nothing to do with it. You've got to believe me."

Bardock held up one hand to forestall the protest. "Not now, Fasha. Not here."

He fled the building with his head down and his gaze averted; his tail cut an angry swath behind him and his Ki a white aura. He could barely contain his fury. All he wanted to do was kill something, and right now if Fasha pushed it, he might take out his anger on her. She knew enough to stay out of his way, just followed behind along with the rest of the ji'tach … his ji'tach … in silence.

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Thanks to all who have taken the time to read, favorite, follow, and of course review. Please let me know what you think about this chapter, and the story in general. If you like it, let me know. If you don't, also let me know!

Extra thanks to my beta readers for their invaluable help and suggestions.

Rose1991: Thanks for commenting! I hope that this different take on Bardock and Raditz' relationship will be to your liking. The term 'father', in my eyes, is about more than blood. And you're correct in your assessment, although it's not going to be an easy thing for Bardock to settle into any sort of domestic relationships.

Vegebulluv: Glad you liked the flashback - I had always wondered where that scar came from, and I think it makes things more difficult for him when he looks in the mirror every day and can see a reminder of his own failure. He has a long way to go to come to terms with feelings that are quite foreign for most Saiyans.