Even though dialectic chaos was exploding everywhere around him, Goku's sector of the ship had remained fairly quiet. As Merken had planned, every garrison in the region was running like chickens with their heads cut off; all of their attention either being spent on stopping Spiesen's renegade ship or Putzen's strike force. With Frieza's troops both disorganized and panicked, certain sectors of the ship were left unguarded and completely vulnerable. It wasn't a coincidence that Goku was unknowingly being guided through the ship via these unguarded spheres of influence.
Breathing rapidly, Goku braced himself against a metal wall, crawling along its side until he reached a hairpin turn. Doing as he was instructed, the orange-adorned warrior poked his face away from wall and down the vacant passage. Satisfied by the emptiness of the adjoining passageway, Goku pulled his head out of the opposite hallway. "There's nobody there."
"Excellent," stated Merken through the transceiver that was stuck in Goku's ear. "Tread carefully into the hallway. Stay alert and keep to the edge of the wall: you don't want you getting caught by some hapless rookie."
Adjusting his ear piece, the spiky haired man on the other end of the line followed the orders that he had been instructed to do. Snaking around the wall, he cautiously paced from one end of the passage to the other. Right as he was nearing the end of the corridor, the palm-tree haired man heard voices coming towards him from the hallway perpendicular to him.
Easing himself away from the wall, Goku laterally moved to the other wall that bordered the corridor before kneeling down on the ground. Waiting patiently, the saiyan kept himself crunched down in the shadow of the wall as the voices came into view crossing the hall before fading out of view almost as quickly.
"Good Goku," congratulated Merken, letting the praise sink in for a minute. "Now swing a left and walk down that hall. You will eventually reach a massive room—try not to be scared shitless when you see what you've walked into."
Unfortunately, for as well planned as their raid was, there was one hurdle that Merken couldn't avoid. Although Frieza's forces were dangerous thinned, there was no hangar bay that Goku could access without crossing at least one hot zone of activity. After hours of time alone in his pod scouting routes, the child warrior had discovered one particular route that he believed successfully minimized the possibility of a full blown engagement between his care package and Frieza's henchman. With a healthy amount of luck, Merken believed he could navigate Goku around the chokepoint with no incident.
It was almost time. Up until now, guiding Goku across one abandoned hallway to another abandoned hall had been easy. It was supposed to be; practically nobody of importance was there. No, the real challenge began now. Goku didn't know it, but he was charging headlong into a tiger's den.
Obediently carrying out Merken's orders, Goku swung out of his hiding spot and advanced swiftly through the corridor, approaching the entrance into the massive auditorium the farther he walked down the pathway. Stealthily entering the massive room, the palm treed hair man could only gawk at what he saw.
Thousands of men lined the chamber. Grouped and ordered in tight formations, bodies tense and rigid from standing still for a long awaited command. Goku may not have been the best judge of character throughout his life, but it was obvious to him that these warriors were bad news. Bloodlust practically came off of them in waves, radiating throughout the room like a suffocating miasma. Fortunately for him though, each of these bloodthirsty souls were too singularly focus to notice him enter their realm.
Taking cover under a piece of scaffolding, Goku dropped out of sight, waiting for the disembodied voice to tell him what to do. He may've had a tremendous amount of experience in combat back on Earth, but sneaking around was something he was always dreadfully bad at. Escaping from this place would require some finesse.
"I know what you're thinking, Goku," responded the voice, acknowledging Goku's plight frankly to the older saiyan. "But by no means is this undertaking impossible. If you adhere to my commands precisely, then you should be able to get out of this pit without any incident."
"Okay," muttered Goku, keeping his voice muffled and head down low so as not to attract attention. One wrong move now could spell his doom. "What should I do now?"
"Hold it," advised Merken, warning the hyperactive saiyan to reign in his horses and remain in place. "These idiots will disperse on their own pretty soon. Watch and see."
Goku pointed his head towards the center of the room, astonished to see that there was another figure standing up front addressing the crowd. Unlike the other lackeys in the room, this distinguishable alien had an air of heightened self-importance about him. Like his life was far more valuable than any and all of his comrades that were serving under him.
Yet Goku could also feel that this warrior could back up his feelings of cocksureness. Up until then, Goku had never met a being with a higher power level then this monster. Yes, he could sense radically higher power levels in the vicinity, but all of them were merely shadows without names. Nameless beacons without identities that Goku could pinpoint. No, there was only one warrior here who was real and he was staring him straight in his face. Everything else was surreal. `Who is this guy!'
"His name is Cui," mentioned Merken, as if he was reading Goku's mind. "He's one of Frieza's highest ranking lieutenants. Beware though: the guy is a first class suck up—pest extraordinaire if you ask me, but that may just be me. Nevertheless, he is to be avoided at all cost. Not only does he hate saiyan's with a vehemence unmatched by all except Frieza, but we are also in a 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' predicament if he somehow spots you. If we kill him, an internal investigation will happen and I won't be able to defend you from that. If we let him live, then the weasel will cry and bitch to Frieza about us like a spoiled child."
Goku's slid his head back under the scaffolding and chuckled a bit too himself, making sure to keep the noise quiet and on the down low. This didn't look good. How in the name of Kami was he to escape unseen from this? "Damn. How are we going to get out of here without being spotted?"
"Leave that to me. Await my commands and be prepared. We may not have much time to react at all." Shifting away from Goku, Merken toggled back to the ship's automated defense system and requested an infrared scan of the hot spot and the adjoining halls. His eyes subtly started to glower when he saw nothing was coming in or out of the room. And Cui appeared to be nowhere even close to stopping his address. If a distraction was going to happen, he'd need to be the one to create it.
Wrapping his left hand around the entirety of his face, Merken crunched his eyes tightly shut and began to brainstorm a quick way to guide Goku out of the room. Cursing softly to himself, the child soldier couldn't even think of a single thing to help his far older charge. Oh damn this shit!
And then an idea straight from liege lord of hell stormed through his mind, demanding to be acknowledged by the boy's subconscious. A sliver of a smirk ran up the boy's face, exhilarated by his rapid thinking and quick problem solving. His plan was a risky one and there was no room for error whatsoever, but if the plan worked like he thought it would, he would deserve no less than an Oscar nomination for his screenwriting.
Deploying one of the ship's automatic turrets, the boy ordered the turret to start firing on the front of Cui's crowd. Comprehending its orders perfectly, the machine burst fired on the stunned army, shredding through at least two solid rows of soldiers before advancing closer to the podium that Cui was standing on. Not hesitating for even an instant, the turret began to fire on the purple skinned alien.
Reacting without thinking, Cui erected a barrier around himself, causing the bullets heading towards him to just bounce off the shield harmlessly. Incensed by the abrupt interruption, the asexual alien lowered the barrier enveloping himself and fired a low intensity ki blast at the dysfunctional turret. The blast collided into the turret, silencing the foul piece of machinery forever. The only tangible trace of its existence that remained was a long line of smoke that was produced from the explosion.
Goku, on the hand, knew exactly what was going on. After having watched Merken ambush at least six patrols with that insufferable weapon, the Earth-raised warrior had become somewhat used to the distasteful din of machine gun fire.
Out of nowhere, Merken's voice started to roar within his ear, stunning the saiyan in the process. Clutching his ear and massaging his outer lope, the older saiyan waited for his other cohort to abuse his ear drum again.
"Are you there?" barked out the voice impolitely, which was somewhat unusual for it. Prior to then, the disembodied voice in his ear always had held a civil, almost amused tone. Like it was unfazed by anything he was being put up against; like what he was dealing with was inconsequential. At that moment though, the voice was almost as panicked as he was.
"Yes," muttered the older saiyan, trying to get up slowly once he thought the coast was clear. Of course, it was at that moment when Cui's blast struck the turret, sending a massive tremor through the room, knocking Goku back flat on his butt.
A tense peace broke out over the room. The smoke that had once filled the room was slowly advancing forward, receding in volume every step of the way. Eventually the smoke had gotten far enough away that Goku could clearly see the balcony that was sitting on the other side of the chamber.
"You see that balcony?" grilled the voice, clearly indicating that this wasn't a question that he could screw up on. Whatever the voice had been planning, it was clear he had just lollygagged into its most pivotal phase.
"Yes," affirmed the saiyan, gazing at the other balcony from his perch and more than a bit concerned at what the voice was thinking. Was the voice thinking along the same lines as what he was thinking?
"Good." Unlike how he had been talking to the Earth-raised saiyan in his latest series of inquiry, Merken's tone then returned to its former tone of address: calm and bemused. "Look at smoke. Now back to the balcony. Look at the soldiers directly below you. Now back to the balcony. Look at the smoke. Wait! There is no smoke! Jump now motherfucker before it's too late!"
Moving purely on instinct, Goku catapulted himself towards the balcony on the other side of the room. Miraculously, even though the smoke was barely thin wisps in comparison to the impermeable cloud of gray it once was, the saiyan was able to jump to the other side neither seen nor heard. Somehow, despite the odds, he had been accomplished what many could not: escape an entire army without anybody even knowing he was there.
Or so he had thought.
Eras can and went with the ticking of the clock, chiming on from time immortal to that fateful day. One must never underestimate the cruel hand or fate, nor should anyone doubt the haste in which fate acts. Moments—that's all it really took for life as I knew it to end.
For millennia's Zoon was an unchanging orb that burned brightly in the night sky, frolicking throughout space without the omnipresent eye of fate foretelling her inevitable doom. She knew not what I know now. A once proud race of warriors had been exterminated, except for me: their king.
Somewhere deep down this wasn't unexpected. The zoonians race were a very ambitious species of sentient life—never content to let their existence just run its course. Always we were challenging ourselves to break down the barriers that chained our forefathers to the ground. Progress was as legendary as strength, and there were very few things that were as valuable to a zoonian as strength. After all, how did I become king without the strength I wielded? Soon enough, our inquisitiveness would have became our downfall. I just never figured it would happen so soon. Granted it didn't cause my downfall, so I guess my rambling really doesn't mean much.
Taking up the mantle of Zoon was by far the hardest endeavor I set myself up to do, but the time in my life I look to with the most fondness. There was never a time where I was so happy, so in command. Many great battles were won during this time, and eventually what I so wanted became mine. Zoon was my kingdom to treasure.
Settling down had been a very hard thing for me to do. Leading in times of peace was a skill I was always woefully bad at. Judicial and legislative responsibilities were something I always resented, and grew to abhor as time went on. Action in my dull, dreary life was needed. Imperialistic fervor slowly began to overtake me, compelling me to take action like the glory seeking general I was.
Planet after planet fell to my wrath, and before long my exploits started to receive some universal fame. And expanding my kingdom's boundaries also lent me some additional knowledge of the world I was entering. It was by the information given to me by my dear scouts that I learned of the Cold Family.
I never had the opportunity to meet any member of the Cold Family when I was ruling Zoon. From what I had heard, they were ruthless planet brokers that reveled in genocide and cruelty of the most gruesome kind. They were tough, take-no nonsense rulers that held their subjects under an iron curtain and an even harsher fist. In other words, they were leaders that were to be admired; rulers that I set out to emulate.
Respect though was a two-way street. Frieza and his family never even gave me the time of day. It mattered not that I tried to establish a partnership between our two empires, or that I wanted an audience with him myself. My approaches were dismissed without even a hint of consideration.
Anger courses through veins when I think about that cowardly man. Did he not understand who I was? What I was capable of doing? 530,000? Every substantial report ever uttered about Frieza pinpointed that measly number to be his maximum power level. Compared to me, that was utter child's play. He had a lot of gall to refuse my requests.
Nobody ignores me. Nobody. If Frieza wanted to ignore me now, then the fool was going to pay the consequences for his passive betrayal. He was going to understand what pissing me off really entailed.
Dust particles blew past my exoskeleton, sliding down my elongated skull like a very flat slide as I walked through Frieza's ship. Part of me was wondering why a ship would have an air current, but I chose not to dwell on that fact for very long. Frieza was an arcosian after all; the bastard probably liked the cold judging by the biome of his home planet.
Thinking of Arcos reminded me of my home, or the lack thereof. Looking back on those days, I can only imagine what Zoon would've become. By then, the Zoonian army was truly immense. Every planet in the galaxy that Zoon occupied was somehow connected to my army—either by annual tribute or by the conscription of their entire male population. Don't make any mistakes: Zoon was more than ready to war with Frieza if things went that far south.
Lashing back at Frieza's army of goons was surprisingly easy. Although in terms of pure size we were sorely bested, most of Frieza's army couldn't take a piss without some kind of assistance. Slicing through most of Frieza's rabble was simply far easier than I had originally planned.
Yet these simple, almost unimportant memories just reinforce my utter disdain for Frieza and for everything under his touch. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Although I've known that maxim for most of my life, only now do I feel that I truly understand it.
I knew Frieza was eventually going to try and get retribution against me. It was what I wanted after all. It was all so simple: he would storm out against me, proclaim my inferiority to him and then I'd humiliate him like the fool he was. His humiliation would have been complete. Only now do I realize what a fool I had been.
Frieza wasn't any warrior, he was a coward. A coward without any sense of dignity or shame for what he does. It matters not to him how he strikes at a person nor how despicable or shameful his tactics may have been. As long as it creates a bleeding heart, he's all too happy to comply.
The corridor I was walking through got progressively narrower and narrower the farther I advanced. As I progressed forward through the hall, a small streak of light beckoning me forward, closer and closer into the abyss of the ship. An innumerable number of bodies lined the walls around me, warning me of the danger that I was encroaching on. Every former shade I passed tried to talk to me; pleading with me not to take up such a foolish action. Fighting against such forces was foolish they said. But these corpses weren't me. There were grave penalties for not facing your demons.
I was conducting business when it happened. Insurgents were occupying one of the planets at the fringes of my empire, threatening to spread like a plague across all of my territory. Brigade after brigade were sent to suppress these rebels, but time and time again they were sent back in body bags. Morale was at an all-time low in that sector; many started to wonder if I could truly contain the revolt? Some planets even mutinied against me. Fools. They forced my hand. Nobody questioned my authority.
After being forced into action, I made short work of those insurgents. None of them ever figured that the situation was going to escalate to the degree it had. They begged and pleaded with me to spare their lives. According to them, all they wanted was self-determination or some other equally stupid rubbish. I laughed as I exterminated them like the rats they were. For good measure, I also took the liberty to blow up their planet. I wanted no trace of their existence left.
Transport back to Zoon was very routine. Nothing out of the ordinary really happened, no sudden or unexpected excitement really spiced anything up. It was all so very droll.
And then I saw the remains of my former home planet. What was once the capital of a vast intergalactic empire had been reduced to a pile of dust and gas particles floating aimlessly away from the Zoon's former orbit. It was all over in an instant, and so did my dreams of empire.
Who could have done this? Deep down, it was pretty obvious; there was no doubt whatsoever. Denial though, plagued my mind. I didn't want to believe what I was seeing or who I knew did this. Only one logical choice sprang out in my mind, one I could not ignore forever. There was one and only one person responsible for this: Frieza.
Given time, I resigned myself to this knowledge. The denial eventually seeped out of my bones, leaving me caked with anger. Red hot rage tore through my soul, engulfing me in an inferno that came close to burning my very mortal soul. There were no words to describe my anger, my utter vehemence. Hate was nowhere near enough of an epithet to describe the emotions that stormed through me. At those moments, I would have gladly sold my soul to enact my revenge.
Time and space lost all meaning the days succeeding the loss of my home planet. Days flowed into other days like a river of fine wine winding its way through a valley of seamless vineyards. Yet though each day was more and more monotonous, my brooding fury only was starting to truly fester.
While I was drifting throughout space in my ship, outlets for my frustration began to pop up everywhere. Without even knowing it at the time, I had wandered into Frieza's sector of the universe. Seeing the insignia for Frieza's empire on some random planet for the first time made me explode.
In one cataclysmic bout of unadulterated rage, I completely ravaged the unfortunate planet I was on. No stone was left unturned and there was no sanctuary from my wraith. One by one, I hunted down every single inhabitant of the unnamed planet like the prey they were deep down.
My debauchery though wasn't absolutely pointless; something did come out of it. Confronting their king was very informative. The hapless fool gave away everything he knew before I gutted him. Granted, most of what he knew amounted to nothing but there was one little piecemeal particle of intel that was truly interesting: Frieza's flagship.
According to the dethroned ruler, Frieza resided on what was easily the largest vessel in recorded history. If his claims were even half-way true, the mechanical monstrosity was easily the size of a medium-sized planet, housing billions if not trillions of men. Although I had doubts about the true scale of Frieza's enterprise, there was no doubt that he was telling the truth. Detecting lies were another one of my special skills; nobody was able to deceive me for very long.
Having already outlived his usefulness, I dispatched the disgraced ruler and fired a blast straight into the planet's core, ensuring the planet's demise. Upon getting back to my ship, I gracefully observed the barren rock explode and fracture into one million pieces.
A sliver of a smile slid up from the corner of my mouth, my yellow lips arching upwards before I started to howl with delight. History was going to repeat itself soon; only Frieza would be helpless king and his pride and joy would be his ship. Everything would fall to me in the end. That's simply the way of the world.
Light poured through the corridor, becoming brighter and more intense the deeper inside I trekked. Nothing was going to stop me now; not when I had spent day after day looking for my prey. I had waited in agony long enough for this. Today was going to be a marvelous day for me and my lost followers. Today on was the day where the universe learned the wraith of the being that they had unleashed on themselves. Today was judgment of Frieza and all of his followers. Today was the day I ascended from being a mere mortal to a legend. Today was the day I would dine on Frieza's rancid carcass.
The light that blinded me eased up, letting me walk freely out of the corridor into the cold, barren room. In the center of the room I eyed a trio of warriors standing peacefully amongst a throng of dead henchmen. Suddenly the man on the far left raised his hand and smiled at me condescendingly, like I wasn't worthy of being in front of him. I leveled his smug grin with a scowl of my own; nobody lived once they disrespected me.
My name is Pui Pui and soon the world shall pay for its transgressions against me.
Taking a step back, Gohan awkwardly eased himself into one of his father's training stances. Although he never understood the point of all the funky positions and poses, the boy still tried to replicate his father to the best of his ability. In all his life, Gohan had never known a more skilled and fluid fighter than his father. Hopefully his father's spirit would guide him through this trial and tribulation.
Baden's right eyebrow involuntarily boosted itself from his brow line. Like his brother Traje, Gohan didn't look to be the type to take any initiative, albeit the reasons why were totally different. Whatever the case, he was going to have his work cut out for him if he was going to reform his new pupil in a prompt manner. His footwork was awkward, his body position and overall center of balance looked to be very cumbersome and it was clear that his focus and concentration was inadequate for a life and death battle. Yep, quite a bit a work was needed.
"Ready?" warned Baden, making sure that his mentee was fully prepared to spar. Where he was from, the first spar upon being given a promotion was a humbling fight. Most soldiers who got to the "next level" were often either feeling like they were on cloud nine or—even worse—they thought that they were hot shit. By consequence these souls made mistakes that—at times—took the lives of their more powerful and experienced squad mates.
Because of this consistently repeated paradigm, a military tribunal ordered that every newly promoted soldier must fight their new squad leader on their first day on the job. Oftentimes, this spar would end with the flunky getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by his superior. The logic behind the law was pretty simple: by humiliating the hot-shit rookie on his first day, he'd learn that the world he was entering was far more dangerous than the world he had just left. Of course, this tactic hadn't always worked in the past. Some personalities just couldn't get a clue, but Baden suspected that Gohan wasn't one of those deluded souls.
Back at the training ground, Gohan was shaking like a leaf. He wasn't at all prepared to fight, but he didn't have a good excuse not to. Excuses probably weren't gonna cut it anymore. Not in this world at least. "Yes."
"Then we can begin," stated Baden, raising his power level just slightly past its reserve levels.
Muscles clenched and fist tightened, Gohan charged the older boy with his hand enclosed, coiled and ready to strike. Upon getting within body length of his target, the inexperienced boy flung his fist at the other saiyan.
In an instant, Baden dematerialized away from Gohan incoming punch and reappeared on the other side of the room with the coyest smirk on his face. The kid's dumbfounded expression was just too much. "Hey, I'm right here."
Gohan swiftly turned around when he heard Baden's voice coming from a distant part of the room, only to find to his disappointment that his teacher had vanished into thin air yet again. Feeling his senses heighten involuntarily, the confused five year old tried to frantically find his foe that was hiding from him. He tried looking left, looking right and looking above to no avail. Yet he didn't look in the most obvious spot: behind him.
In a matter of seconds, the boy felt something lightly press itself against his back. Assuming the worst, the young boy ducked for cover, dropping down into a prone position to avoid a direct attack to his blindside. After almost ten seconds of nothing happening, the half-saiyan rolled onto his back to get a better view of his assailant.
Baden hadn't moved a single muscle since coming up from behind Gohan, not even his eyelids. A coy, off-kilter grin was just plastered on his face. At that moment, Baden didn't even resemble the fierce warrior he met in the king's dining room.
"Remember orders and commands kid." Sighing dramatically, the older saiyan rolled his head elliptically, stretching his neck for a quick second while muttering to himself. "Sorry about that. I've had some kind of pinched nerve in my neck that's been giving me issues lately. Long voyages in a cramped space pod don't treat me all that well."
After slowly picking himself off the cold stone floor, Gohan couldn't help but lift his brow up to his bangs. This Baden character was a really strange bird; he was better than Vegeta though, but that wasn't saying all that much.
"Anyways," muttered Baden, beginning to ramble for a quick second regardless of Gohan's actual will to listen. "I guess I should call this your first lesson. Listen to your orders and follow them well. It may seem obvious, but you don't know how many discard their orders the minute they are uttered. Understand this Gohan: neither I nor my associates want to get you killed. Although you may find this very hard to believe, and I don't blame you for not believing me, but you are more valuable to me than you could imagine. We don't want you dying on us and we mention these orders so that they keep you alive. You just need to trust us enough to carry out our orders."
"Okay," murmured Gohan, his voice still slightly skeptical of Baden's motives. Everything still sounded too good to be true, and it probably was if history was going to repeat itself. If there was anything he had learned while suffering in space, Gohan had learned one thing: nobody did anything for free.
An uncomfortable peace settled over the training ground. Gohan was expecting to get hit and Baden was waiting for Gohan to attack. After a couple of minutes, Baden was done dealing with the inactivity that had settled over the two fighters. If Gohan wasn't gonna attack then he would. "Dodge."
Vanishing into thin air yet again, the pre-teen raced across the room and rematerialized right behind Gohan again, driving an elbow into the younger boy's clavicle.
Collapsing like a bundle of sticks onto the ground, Gohan laid flat on the ground for half-a-minute before promptly picking himself off the ground. Although he looked very cross, he appeared to fine in any case. "That wasn't fair. You said you wouldn't fight back!"
Snorting amusedly, the older saiyan raised his left palm into the air like he was taking an oath on a stack of Bibles. "Deception is one of the greatest weapons in any fighter's arsenal Gohan. Learning how to properly distract and deceive an enemy in battle is a skill that's far more valuable than any fighting style or energy beam you'll ever learn."
Narrowing his eyes at his self-appointed teacher, Gohan bared his baby teeth at the other saiyan. That was the second time he had heard somebody talk about deception like it was viable tactic. Forthrightness didn't seem to be acknowledged at all—not in this world it seemed. Honesty and honor were virtues that just kept on being dragged through the mud at all times; they weren't even given a passing level of respect.
Maybe he had been ingrained with too much integrity for his own good, but Gohan knew he couldn't let himself cheat or deceive anybody—no matter how evil or crooked they were. Fighting fire with fire just didn't seem right to him. All an eye for an eye did was make the world go blind. Countering deception with deception just made the truth of the matter even harder to find, and in his mind fighting for the truth was all one needed to win. He would not cave to the world on this.
"No!" shouted the little boy, his voice wavering slightly but keeping the same intense tone that was running roughshod in his mind. "You can abuse me, force me to kill but neither you nor Frieza can change me!"
The raw amount of energy racing through Gohan's voice truly shocked Baden. He never suspected talking about something as trivial as battlefield deception would elicit such a passionate response. Reacting as he usually did, the older male lifted his brow questioningly and chuckled softly to himself. `Poor kid is as pure-hearted as I thought. Life is gonna be tough for him if he keeps that viewpoint, but I doubt he'd want it any other way.'
Crossing his arms across his chest, Baden licked his lips like a predator about to snag their prey. "Change you? Whoever said I was going to do that? No, you are going to change on your own kid. Nobody can be forced into subverting their will kid—nobody. Anybody saying otherwise is belaboring a point that was false to begin with. Morality's death gets blamed on a lot of things kid, but they are all rubbish. You and you alone choose the path you follow. The only real question is whether you have what it takes to weather the treacherous higher road."
Detaching his left hand from his right forearm, the pre-teen began to stroke the bottom side of his chin soothingly. "Are you ready for this to become serious Gohan? Coddling you isn't doing you any favors, not here. Come at me, and show me the value I saw in you!"
A trail of sweat ran down the demi-saiyan's temple, staining the inside of his uniform with the secretion. Alarm raced through his body and locked his muscles into place, trapping him in a state of stationary shock. Baden's raw, predatory eyes narrowed in on him menacingly, undercutting his will to fight against the older boy. If Baden chose to kill him, he would be powerless to stop him.
Snarling out of shear frustration, Baden dematerialized and swept Gohan's feet out from underneath him before plucking the unfortunate half-saiyan out of the air by his ankle, leaving the poor boy hanging in mid-air.
"Fight back, Gohan! You don't need to learn how to kill, but fighting is an entirely different matter. Only one type of rule matters out here: the rule of the sword. Ram yours straight down my throat!" His ultimatum given, Baden tugged his arm back and hurled Gohan well over twenty feet into the air.
Spinning and revolving uncontrollably in the air, Gohan slowly felt himself reach the apex of his ascent within seconds of being launched upwards like a ragdoll. Vertigo overcame the boy as he descended back to Uyyasid, his mind disoriented and his body stalled. And then, like so many times before, something just clicked.
Unconsciously righting himself in mid-air at the right moment; the boy back-flipped onto the stone floor of the room, his legs making contact in such a way that it would've shattered bones provided that he wasn't a saiyan.
Raw power started to burst forth from within his frail, humanoid body. The volatile power enveloped him, slamming into the chamber's walls and breaking apart the masonry directly beneath his feet. Howling in pain, the boy felt more and more power pour out of his body like a ruptured artery. The almost interminable well of energy just kept on flowing out of him, burning brightly around him without his conscious control or consent. Unlike on Earth or Meteora, the energy flooding out of him was simply too much; his coils couldn't withstand it for much longer unless they were enlarged.
His eyes, once innocent and vivacious, were dangerously glazed and unfocused. There wasn't a single body part that didn't throb. There wasn't a single vein that wasn't helplessly locked up, powerless to accommodate the blood that was undulating throughout his body mercilessly. Inch by inch, more and more Ki flowed through his veins, straining his normally calm ki pathways far past their operative limit. Similar in principle to a growth spurt, the Ki—without a proper method of dispersal—began to press itself against the walls of his veins, coercing the vessel to stretch itself against its will.
Fortunately for the pain-besieged boy, the all-encompassing displeasure was over almost before it had begun. Succumbing to the pressure of his unruly ki, the boy's coils quickly expanded past their former capacity, allowing his spiked levels of energy to flow without obstacles.
Yet by then it was too late. Unaccustomed to pain of that magnitude, the calm rational side of Gohan's brain forced itself to shut down. By the time the pain had finally receded, only the raw animalistic side of the boy was left to relish the power that was left behind.
Baring his baby teeth at the older saiyan, the brat leapt at his tormentor, seeking to bury his fist in the other boy's face.
Reacting instantly, the older boy leapt out of Gohan's line of sight, sailing out of Gohan's warpath before contact could be made. Lifting a throwing knife out of the satchel tied to his waist, Baden gripped the weapon by its handle and flung the projectile precisely into the flat of his charge's foot.
Roaring in pain, the demi-saiyan grabbed the dagger and dislodged it from the top of his foot. Without hesitating, the enraged fighter flung the weapon back at the predicted place of Baden's descend before charging towards the same location.
Blocking the projectile with his metal greaves, Baden pivoted on the heel of his left foot to narrowly dodge Gohan's ambushing form. Thinking quickly, the far more powerful saiyan seized control of his mentee's right bicep and pulled on the muscle, using the torque of the maneuver to straighten Gohan's posture before burying a crippling punch to the boy's solar plexus. Croaking pitiful, the boy faded into unconsciousness—left to dangle in Baden's merciless grip.
Dropping the boy back onto the ground, Baden gripped the smaller child by his armpits before fling him onto his shoulder. Leaving the training ground, something within Baden was telling him that today was a euphoric success.
Meeting Gohan was definitely an interesting experience. During his life, Baden had met many different types of saiyans. He had known some saiyans to be lazy clods, others to be crude and vulgar and most to be complete psychopaths. Gohan though fit a profile that up until then Baden had never truly seen before: the pacifist.
Although he didn't hold Gohan's view in contempt, Baden did know that he was going to have to at least partially break his charge of his viewpoint. Life under the Cold Family was dehumanizing—there wasn't any way of avoiding that. Keeping steadfast to complete pacifism was simply idiotic, however noble the conviction laying behind the ideology was. Certain people needed to die for the rest of the world to go on living—thing didn't get much simpler than that. For his dreams to become fulfilled, he'd need Gohan too.
Rebel rousing was often a tricky business. Societal judgment of a revolt was very unpredictable at best, downright manic at worse. Oftentimes, only one piece of criterion mattered in determining the success of a revolution: whoever won in the end. Legacies were made and tarnished by the end result of revolutions; nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of the conflict. If there was one thing Baden cared about, it was his legacy—because it wasn't his that he was guarding anyway.
Regardless of Gohan's pacifism though, the day was a success. Although Gohan was far from being a competent fighter, potential was clearly there. Despite his lack of a fluid fighting style, the boy did have a natural fighter's intuition and could clearly be a viable asset if his talents were refined. Hopefully the kid would be a fast learner; he would need to be.
Slowly shuffling down the vacant halls of the Susaylonian palace, Baden eventually reached Gohan's make-shift room. Entering the bedchamber, the pre-teen approached the bed and laid his student down on the plush mattress. Smiling softly to himself, Baden left the room, letting Gohan get his beauty sleep. He'd need every wink of it; things were just going to get significantly tougher from here on out.
And that was a sentiment that Baden knew more about than anything.
Military insurrections were one of Frieza's most displeasing type of events. Along with bad haircuts, they represented one of the vilest insults anybody could ever hurl at him. Simply saying it was a mistake to challenge his authority was a grave understatement, and any fool who ever knew Frieza was aware of this. He was god damn it! He ought to be revered as one. What made him any different than the grim reaper: the arbitrator of true fate? His will alone could sentence entire galaxies to rubble if he so chose, of which he often did because he wanted too. Had any mythological deity done that throughout history? Thought so! Yet the deluded reverence he so wanted constantly eluded him.
"Lord Frieza," addressed Zarbon, dropping down into a kneeling posture, hiding his face from his uncaring lord. "We have a predicament over in Unit 731 that requires your urgent attention."
"What is this predicament?" asked Frieza apathetically, not caring in the slightest for the plight of his pitiful henchman. Able henchmen were like light bulbs; they could easily be found and replaced at a moment's notice. Their deaths wouldn't be mourned.
"There was some commotion and then something decided to slaughter all of 731 without hesitating," muttered Zarbon, hoping Frieza wouldn't hear him clearly enough to send him into the killzone. Anybody could slaughter some lackey's; that he wasn't all that concerned about. It was the tale of the tape that truly frightened him.
Upon being sent the pictures of the massacre, Zarbon found on closer inspection one very peculiar spot. Looking closely at the center of the room, the effeminate alien saw a depression in the floor that looked to be clearly melted through.
Ki attacks did not liquefy metal. Yes, obliterating metal was easily doable but melting metal required elemental control. Fire elementals oftentimes weren't some flunkies that could be snuffed out easily. They were usually elite killers—fighters of a higher caliber. Most likely, there were only a handful of people on the ship that could suppress this revolt successfully. Zarbon was not one of them.
"Really, Zarbon?" questioned Frieza, looking away while swirling another glass of red wine with his left hand. "Unit 731 has been completely destroyed?"
Smugly smirking, the tyrant ran his right index finger over the ridges on the side of nose; stroking the underside of his chin with his thumb in the meantime. "What have you done to retaliate against this breach in courtesy?"
Sweating bullets internally, Zarbon tried to think fast. He wasn't going to tell Frieza what he actually knew. Giving away what he had learned would've been tantamount to volunteering for his own death. Deflecting criticism and suspicion had always been one of his strong suites—hopefully it would carry through now. "Appropriate reinforcements have already been sent to the crime scene. They should be more than enough to suppress this revolt."
Sliding his index finger down his face, Frieza coyly grinned at his right-hand man. Relishing the opportunity to watch the sycophant squirm around unpleasantly, escalating the tension between them for no reason whatsoever. Unlike most rulers, Frieza adored his personal collection of flatterers. Sure they had tongues of silver and couldn't be trusted, but what harm were they? Zarbon followed his orders to a T and treated him like a consecrated object. That was all he really wanted.
"And who are these reinforcements Zarbon?" inquired the tyrant, boring holes into his head lackey's head. He had no intention of removing the effeminate alien from his side, but that didn't mean he wouldn't play around with the idea. Especially if this threat turned out to be more imminent than what he had originally thought.
Keeping his posture still and his body stiff and expressionless, the cyan-skinned alien responded to his master's address. "Units thirty five and one-hundred-and-two in their entirety my lord. By averages they are stronger than the late Unit 731 was. I find that they should be more than sufficient for such a menial task."
Lifting his right index finger into the air, Frieza snorted at his head man, expertly playing off Zarbon's insecurities. "There's one problem with that response, Zarbon? Why aren't you on it?"
"Me?" blurted out the green alien, genuinely surprised by Frieza's insistence on him partaking in this particular expedition. Granted, Frieza was prone to sending him into dangerous purges from time to time—everybody did dangerous purges every now and then. Nobody could become fat and complacent when living in under the fearsome might of the Planet Trade Organization. Your life was entirely dependent on your usefulness. Once that was lost, you were discarded like used toilet paper. But this was different; Frieza knew nothing about this mission. What was compelling him into sending him onto this mission? "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to send me onto this mission?"
A thick sheet of snobbish anger rose through Frieza's veins. Although he could control himself quite competently on the outside, inwardly he was steaming. Zarbon of all people should've known that counter interrogating him was not going to be the answer to his problems. Wait that was it!
Devilishly sneering at his cowardly subordinate, Frieza kept himself subdued enough to not reveal his true intention. "You'll be joining Unit thirty two and one-hundred-and-two in their pursuit of these insurgents. Bring them back to me alive; I want to enjoy their pleads for mercy myself."
Zarbon's skin almost instantly bleached itself white, a small sliver of fear shone through his eyes to his master's delight. "Master please don't do—"
Suddenly a hail of gunfire broke through the room, shattering the window that separated the terrible duo from the vast vacuum of space. Hundreds of mini-projectiles entered the room unimpeded, crashing into every surface imaginable with the exception of a stunned Frieza and his equally floored enforcer.
Then came the shot that changed the world. In the vast realm of space, one warrior fired a razor thin beam straight at the room. Within an instant the beam passed through Frieza and collided into Zarbon, beheading the sycophant before he ever saw the shot coming. His head rolled off his shoulders and his body collapsed into a heap; dead before it ever hit ground.
Frieza swiftly turned around to see his fallen comrade slouched down in a dead heap. This little rebellion had gone on long enough and had cost him enough as it was. He was just going to have to settle it himself.
And that was exactly what he was thinking when he leapt into space—ready to meet the challenge of his intrepid foe.
Space travel was always a drag. Wasteful at best, downright insufferable at worse, there was nothing fulfilling or productive about that it. Merely mentioning the cramped confines of his pod could make Raditz shudder in horror. If it was in his power, he would never set foot in one again.
Although space travel with Turles was infinitely more accommodating, the long-haired saiyan always felt antsier than a hyperactive kid on the mother of all sugar highs when he was compelled to stay on a ship for any indefinite length of time. At least here though he didn't have to activate stasis to prevent himself from falling into a violent psychosis, which would've been undesirable considering that one wrong impulse could have resulted in him tearing up his own ship. Dying out in space wasn't on his to-do list. With Turles he could at least train or find something to do outside of sleeping or thinking. He wasn't much of a contemplator; he was a fighter: nothing else and nothing more.
Eventually the blue skies of Earth reappeared on the bridge of the ship, shining radiantly below the crew of space fighters. It was strange seeing a planet for a second time; it practically never happened in the past. Outside of any planet Frieza happened to be on, Raditz knew that Nappa and Vegeta always made sure that every planet they purged was completely destroyed if their orders dictated them to take such an action. Now that he thought about it, wasn't he supposed to have purged the Earth when it became clear that Kakarot failed to do so? Not like it mattered anymore: he didn't work for Vegeta or Frieza any longer.
Descending into the planet's atmosphere, the long-haired saiyan was astonished to see that they had landed in the same bloody field where he had abducted Gohan.
Son Gohan. That name didn't bring back fond memories at all. When Raditz dwelled on his nephew's name, all he could see was his pathetic whining and intolerable crying. How any saiyan, no matter how young, could make that much of a racket so effortlessly perturbed him. Nobody should be that dependent.
Setting foot on the grassy plain, Raditz sighed at his surroundings. Apparently nothing had happened since he had left, which disappointed him greatly. Somewhere deep down, the pristine nature of his surroundings did nothing but disgust him. His brother, his contemptible brother, was the defender of this mudball. Shameful wasn't enough of an explicative to describe Raditz's humiliation.
"Lovely planet," stated Turles matter of factly, his tone implying a sort of utilitarian purpose. "Healthy soil, vast quantities of water and a decent mixture of sunlight and shade. What a perfect place for the Tree of Might! Anybody object to me planting another Tree of Might on this planet?"
"Whatever," muttered Raditz, not caring about what Turles did with the Tree of Might. He could plant that tree under his mother's grave, provided one actually existed, and he wouldn't have had much of a problem. At least Turles would do what his brother was supposed to do.
"Okay. It's settled then," retorted the head saiyan, a sliver of a smirk crawling up his face. Even if Raditz's daft younger brother wasn't found, he could at least get something useful out of this little detour. Planets this fertile were beyond rare, and a biological organism like the Tree of Might would just lap a place like this up. "Once we flush out Raditz's wayward brother, we'll unleash the Tree of Might on this world. Split up and find this bastard. Report back to me when you find him."
"Aiye, sir," saluted Diaz, Rasin, Lakasei and Amond in synchronized succession, blasting off into the sky in separate directions to scour the land in hopes of finding the rogue saiyan.
Powering up slightly, Turles ascended into the air, scowling at Raditz from above. "Follow me. Kakarot will be too powerful for my run-of-the-mill grunts to handle. I'd rather find him before my men do and you are the only one who knows anything about him."
Shrugging his shoulders, Raditz elevated himself into the air as well. "I don't know how much help I can be. There's only place I know he's been to for a fact."
"Then lead me there. Stop stalling," barked Turles, getting a little fed up with Raditz's never-ending stream of excuses.
"Okay," consented the long-haired saiyan, turning on his green scouter so he could track his contemptible brother. "There's nobody here. My scouter is picking up nothing."
"Oh how could you have guessed that," sarcastically replied Turles, sneering at his compatriot. "Your brother knows how to conceal his power-level; only a fool relies on those readings that much."
Gasping a bit, Raditz was dumbfounded by Turles's statement. "People can hide from a scouter? How is that even possible?"
Rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, the leader of the pirate gang replied to his hopelessly ignorant squad mate. He was starting to doubt the competency of his new running mate. Raditz was always the runt of the litter though, even back before the destruction of Planet Vegeta. "Any fool with a bit of practice can learn how to hide their power levels at will."
"Oh." Feeling like an idiot, Raditz decided to silence himself lest he become even more of a joke than he had been before. What was that maxim about voicing an ignorant opinion? Better to keep your mouth closed and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. Yeah that sounded right, but Raditz knew that he wasn't an idiot. Ignorant at times perhaps, but certainly no fool. "Are you ready to leave?"
Clearing out of Raditz's path smoothly, Turles motioned the saiyan to lead the way. "Say the word and we'll head out."
Failing to hesitate, the long haired saiyan blasted off into the planet's atmosphere, accelerating at a breakneck pace. Sailing through the clouds directly behind him leisurely was Turles, whom was apathetically staring over the ever-changing surroundings.
Passing over the sea, the duo felt the salty winds of the ocean buffet them from all angles, entering their nostrils and crawling through their mouths. As the salt sucked away water from his body, Turles grew increasingly more parched while passing over the never-ending sea of water beneath him. Yet he was no fool; salt water would only exacerbate his dehydrated condition. Perhaps it would've been prudent to have hooked himself up to some intravenous fluids before disembarkation, but there was no point in thinking along those lines now? What's done is done.
In many ways, the universe was a lot like an ocean and intergalactic piracy was similar to the pirates of the high seas. Pirate really weren't that different. Galactic or planetary, it didn't really matter. Both had ships, circumvented vast, immeasurable vacuums in the hopes of finding a tiny parcel of land that could be considered valuable. And most often, those strips of land were usually about as useful as the flab of skin under their elbows.
Flying furiously over the briny deep, Turles was feeling himself grow increasingly more anxious about following Raditz's lead. Saiyan or not, the man was still something of an enigma. Who knew what he was thinking or planning? He could be leading him straight into a trap for all he knew. Vegeta could just be over the horizon; his infuriating smirk on full display—body primed and ready for combat. Of course, if such a thing happened, Vegeta would easily be killed and so would Raditz. Deep down, Turles knew he was strongest saiyan alive. Nobody else came even close, especially now that he had the Tree of Might.
Surviving Planet Vegeta's destruction was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. As a third-class runt in the saiyan army, he had been given no respect or any opportunity to become stronger. Although every saiyan was extremely prideful, Turles's pride was legendary even back then. No commander could ever tame it, and no beating ever impeded it. King Vegeta tried everything in the book to restrict his insatiable pride until he chose the coward's way out. Instead of dealing with him head-on, he chose to simply deny him the opportunity to grow stronger, thoroughly content to have him languish in obscurity for the rest of his days.
It was during that period of inactivity that Turles began to despise the King Vegeta and all his kin. Like a festering infection, his vehemence grew more and more profound as the years ticked by. Even more infuriating was how the king kept on harping on and on about honor and dignity like they were words that he lived by. The scoundrel!
But his hatred of the royals didn't impact his feelings about the saiyan race. In his mind, the saiyans were an army of lions led by a sheep. The true glory and prestige that the saiyan race so desired wouldn't be forthcoming until the Vegeta's were given their pink slip. Yet as the months faded into years, Turles slowly was beginning to doubt that he would ever be freed from the spineless grip of King Vegeta.
Frieza's wanton destruction of Planet Vegeta couldn't have came at a better time. While the tyrant was busy destroying his home planet, he was putting the finishing touches on one successful, off-the-books purge. As the disgraced saiyan was about to come home, his scouter started to beep erratically. Clicking on the insufferable piece of machinery, the disgraced saiyan was surprised to see that the transmission coming in was an emergency SOS.
The content of the message stunned Turles into silence. It read: "Planet Vegeta has been destroyed; the last remnants of saiyan race are being herded into slavery. Escape while you still can."
Taking the note seriously, Turles abandoned the rest of his purge and procured a space ship amongst the rubble of the planet he had purged. Using what little knowledge of the overall universe he had, the genocidal pirate ordered the ship to send him to a planet in the Northern Quadrant of the universe with a weak general population. Doing as it was supposed to, the ship compiled the necessary data and formulated a landing spot that was suitable to Turles's specifications. From there onwards, everything was simply uninteresting history.
Yet even after almost twenty-five years, Turles had not forgotten that day nor had he forgotten the person who had warned him. Without that person, he would probably be rotting under Frieza's pesky thumb. Words could not express the gratitude he felt about avoiding that fate, even if he didn't acknowledge his feelings up front. Back then, he promised himself that he would find a way to repay his debt to the person whom saved him. Someway, somehow, he would find a way to redeem the efforts of his fellow comrade.
Now, he could consider that debt paid in due.
The identity of the person whom saved him was never the problem; it was always about how to get close to him. Frieza kept him under lock and key for the most part, trapped and sequestered in such a way that he could never get close without exposing his identity. Up until he had procured the Tree of Might, he simply couldn't take such a risk. Things were different now; he could afford to take risks now that he never could in the past. Plans were already in the works to free him when he just showed up on Argos unannounced.
It was really hard to believe at first that Raditz of all people was the person to warn him at first, yet the evidence was pretty unmistakable. It was his voice after all on the intercom. Even back in the day the boy was cowardly by saiyan standards, a disgrace to his humble birth and parentage. Still the runt had managed to survive when so many before him had failed miserably.
"Turles. We're here!" yelled out Raditz over the deafening air current. Turles could barely hear his compadre, but he did get the message nonetheless. They were finally hitting the homestretch.
On the faintest edges of the horizon was a small dot of land; barely a speck when compared to the vast network of water encircling it. Closing in on the speck, Turles wasn't surprised to see a small, harmless looking white island grace his vision. Chuckling mirthlessly, the genocidal pirate commented dryly on the sight. "Is that where this Kakarot lives?"
"Perhaps," muttered Raditz, descending a bit to prepare for a gentle landing onto the humble isle. "This is where he was the last time I met him."
Smoothly landing on the sandy surface of the island, Raditz barely could contain his shock when he saw the metamorphosis that had taken place since he had last left. Unlike Goku though, the depraved man smirked at his ruinous surrounding.
Kame's house hadn't fared well after the epic clash between Goku and Piccolo. Rotting body parts dotted most of the landscape; corpses were falling victim to nature's most unnerving and squeamish process: decomposition. The stench from the sight was positively nauseating.
Raditz may not have known Kakarot for very long, but he recognized many of the slain souls that littered the ground. The bitchy blue-haired women was lying face first into the ground; a cord or rope wrapped around her ankle that was slowly shriveling away into sinewy threads. The two insolent human warriors were hanging limply from a post and the old man had been clearly disemboweled.
Huffing mutely, Turles averted his eyes from the scene and addressed Raditz. "You have any clues on who did this?"
Keeping his eyes glued to the scene, Raditz barely registered Turles's comment. Once the message had been processed by his mind, the long-haired saiyan shrugged his shoulders. "Probably Kakarot. I did tell him to kill one-hundred Earthlings if he ever wanted to see his son again. Shame his son was more valuable than he was; maybe then their deaths wouldn't have been in vain.
Suddenly a booming voice resonated through the small island, alerting the two saiyans to its menacing presence. "I'm afraid I can't let Goku take credit for these killings. Those rights rest solely on one person and that person is me!"
MAJOR EDIT: Due to the fact that two people have misinterpreted the relationship between Pui Pui's emergence and Zarbon's death, I feel compelled to step in a clear the misunderstanding. Pui Pui did NOT kill Zarbon. Pui Pui was on the ship (as proved by the dust particles paragraph) while the shot that killed Zarbon came from outer space. Therefore, the assertion that Pui Pui killed Zarbon is illogical. I apologize for the confusion that has surrounded this.
Hello all. I'm hopeful that you enjoyed this chapter of Cognitive Dissonance. I put a lot of effort into this chapter, and I can't wait to hear any of your opinions on it. Oh, to my silent viewers, I would really appreciate it if you said something. Any and all feedback you can give is appreciated and considered to the best of my ability.
Now, for Pui Pui: I know I'm breaking one of the cardinal sins of narrative writing, but Pui Pui will no longer be told in the first person point of view. The reason why I choose to introduce him in first-person was that I felt it was more of an intimate way of getting to know him before you perhaps knew it was him, although I also recognize I gave some pretty blatant clues to his identity (the zoonian—who else is zoonian in DBZ?).
Review Replies:
Kazuma Bushi:
I hope you enjoyed the Raditz part of this chapter. Vegeta will be referenced next chapter. Regardless, I'm glad that you enjoyed Declaration.
Supersaiyaninfinitygohan:
Thanks for the kind words. The reason why Baden and the king stopped so suddenly was because they realized that they were taking things too far. It was in neither of their best interests to kill each other at that point. As for the other point, I was running out of ideas by then. XD
VLS:
Elemental ki becomes extremely important later on. Just I won't put too much time into for now though. Glad you enjoyed the chapter.
Ky111:
Glad you enjoyed things. And yes, Merken will be one hell of a pain in the ass in the future.
Full Power:
Hope you enjoyed your Raditz fix. XD. Glad you enjoyed the chapter.
Super Vegetarott:
I put more effort into editing this chapter; if you find things that are wrong, know that I didn't half-ass editing this time around.
FinalFlashX:
Baden is the catalyst of the action. Outside of Gohan, he's probably the most important character in the story. Don't worry though, he has more than a few ugly traits. They just will take some time to flesh out. Other than that, I'm flattered that you think so highly of me.
Pointer 39: Glad you enjoyed. I think you'll be surprised by Goku as the story progress.
Power9987:
Glad to hear back from you; your critiques are always a treat. That was a hilarious error though about the cervical fluid. XD. Anyways, I hope this chapter meets your tastes; even if they are probably a bit dark.
That's all folks. Stay tuned for next time! Things get really good.
Important Narrative Announcement:
I apologize for the late announcement, but something has came to my attention that needs to be nipped in the bud. Pui Pui during this chapter was in the space ship approaching three cloaked fighters. These fighters WEREN'T Frieza or any of his goons. Due to the fact that at least two people have misinterpreted that scene, I fell compelled to step in and clarify.
Zarbon was killed by a rifle shot that was fired from outer space. Because of the context clues that are given in Pui Pui's 1st person narrative, he can be inferred to be within the confines of Frieza's starship, rendering him incapable of firing that shot. I will reveal the real culprit next chapter. I apologize for this rather strange misinterpretation.