Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or its related characters. All is the property of FUNamation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Toriyama Akira. I'm just borrowing them for some light-heated entertainment.

Water Sharing

Chapter Twenty-One: The Revolutionary Guard

Fasha sat in the hangar of her family's estate. She might be a Third Class soldier, but her family was Second Class and very well off, her mother having made a fortune on her campaigns during her youth. Her mother was none to thrilled when Fasha was born and her power level tested just below the minimum required for the Second Class. So from the moment of her birth, Fasha was a disappointment to her parent. Then when her squad leader went mad and the team broke up, she was given the opportunity to retest and maybe climb up to a higher Class, but she refused. This angered her mother to no end. But the thing that was the proverbial cherry on the disappointment cake was her choice in lover and the father of her illegitimate child.

Fasha came from an honorable family. Yet, she committed the most dishonorable act possible. That of conceiving and carrying to term a hansaiya child.

Wess was what the Earthlings called a 'grease-monkey'. A slang term for a mechanic. He worked on her family's vehicles. She first met him in the hangar, visiting her parents between missions. He was bent over the engine of a freight hauler. Another slave, a female maid, was attempting to banter with him, but the mechanic was ignoring her -to intent on his work. Fasha was tired from her mission and just wanted a cold shower and a hot bath. At first she walked right past him after securing her pod in its hangar cradle. Then she overheard a snippet of the one-sided conversation between him and the maid.

"You grease-monkey's! All you care about is engines and oil."

At first Fasha thought the little slave-girl was talking to her. After all, 'monkey' was a common racial slur for a Saiyan. She wheeled around to clock the girl for her insolence, but found that her attention was focused on the mechanic, not Fasha. She paused for a moment to observe.

The mechanic's head snapped up, almost hitting the raised hood of the machine he was working on. His eyes wide and worried. "Don't use that word here!" He snapped at the maid. "Our masters won't know what it means and will take offense."

It was he who then turned to Fasha first, forcing the maid to notice that they were not alone in the hangar. That one of their Saiyan masters was there and heard what she said. The girl when white as a sheet. Fasha had to smirk at that.

"She didn't mean anything by it, m'Lady." The mechanic assured her. "Its just a thing we say back on Earth. Like a nickname. Something people call people like me. Who work on machines. It wasn't an insult against you. I swear."

Fasha had to admit she was curious. "What's your name, slave?"

"My name? Well, I

They kept their relationship a secret -for obvious reasons. But after her son came out with bright green hair, it was hard to deny anymore. Fasha's mother was furious. She didn't ask for the identity of the human lover, she just ordered Fasha to kill every slave in the house with green hair, or else be disowned, denounced, and executed and her mother would kill them all and the unclean offspring herself. Wess knew he wasn't going to survive no matter what Fasha chose, so he told her to do it. Kill him. At least that way she wouldn't be disowned by her family or punished by her own people.

Fasha was a Saiyan warrior and so never cried. But she sobbed as she broke her lover's neck. Her mother watched and smiled when his limp body fell lifeless from her hands. Her mother was merciful enough not to make Fasha kill her own child. For what little comfort that was worth -which was none. But the Temple of Fire would not allow it to be given the proper rights within the temple property. So Fasha had to go elsewhere to give her child a proper Saiyan funeral. On the same day that Wess' father buried him in the slaves' cemetery, Fasha held a pyre on the edges of the slaves' camp.

That was how she met the hansaiya Prince.

Was it a chance meeting that day? Or was it fate? On the day she gave her child the Final Dispatch she would cross paths with another hansaiya child, one that could make it so that she or any other mother would never have to feel her pain again. Right on the edge of the pyre. Fasha was not usually one to believe in such nonsense. Destiny and fate. Kizmet and serendipity. Not even after Bardock went mad and began his crazy ravings -ravings that often became true- she still had her doubts.

But for the first time, she was beginning to believe. Bardock said that a hansaiya would either sit upon the Cairngrom Throne or else break it. Now Fasha met a hansaiya boy with the blood of royalty. A hansaiya that might have a claim to the throne. Perhaps ten years ago this would not have been anything of any greater significance than a scandal. Another high-profile hansaiya case for soldiers to gossip about over drinks and fires. But that was ten years ago. The number of warriors with non-Saiyan lovers had increased since then and was still increasing every day. More hansaiya were being conceived, aborted or birthed then killed.

Now the climate was perfect for a hansaiya to lay a claim to the throne. Now he would have the support he needed to make a play for the crown.

Borgos agreed with her. He told her he would make a detour to Gyu, the Archduke's home planet, while he was off on his current purge mission. Fasha was sure that was where the boy would be. It was the Archduke who came to the children's aid when she was ready to attack them. The Archduke was either the boy's father or else his caretaker. And if he was not the father but the caretaker, then that would make the boy the son of the current King. That was the only other Vegeta that could have sired the boy. The late King Vegeta would never have done such a thing. Fasha was sure he was either the son of the Archduke or the current King.

Ultimately, who the father was didn't matter. The important thing was that he was a hansaiya and he had royal blood. That was all that mattered. His royal blood gave him the claim to the throne he would need to stage a coup and his status as a hansaiya made him just the candidate Fasha and many others would want.

While Borgos was off-world verifying the validity of her claim of seeing a royal bastard, she could be bust setting the groundwork here in Salaad.

Fasha sat in her pod in its hangar cradle. Outside the rest of her mother's slaves went about the daily maintenance of of the hangar and vehicles. Ever since Wess, her mother only ever purchased female slaves. All those with green hair like Wess' were killed and all other male slaves were sold. The staff gave her a large amount of space. Even those who were not on staff when her scandal occurred knew of it and were afraid to go near her for fear of her mother's wrath. One would think she had a contagious disease instead of just being the mother of a half-breed bastard.

But she pushed that out of her mind. She was not sitting in her cramped pod just for the heck of it. She was searching the nets for hints of others such as herself. Other warriors who had either non-Saiyan lovers or hansaiya offspring who might be sympathetic to her cause. Such things were not spoken about in public, but there were always small dens on the nets where such people like herself could be found. Little pockets where they gathered to message and chat. Commiserate on their circumstances. It was one of these sites that Fasha was searching for. Because if she could get the word out that there was an alternative. That there was an heir to the throne out there that was hansaiya. Perhaps they could all meet in person and rally around their half-blood Prince.

G, uh, M? Two GM over um what did Mama call this? Practical Geometry? Or Applied Physics? Or was 'applied physics' hitting things to make them work and this was something else. Truth be told, Trunks was taught so many maths over the course of his sort life that he forgot which ones were called what.

"R" Mama prompted. She sat rather comfortably, reclining in a chair placed between the two boy's desks.

"Right!" Trunks nodded. "2GM over r!"

On her other side Goten looked up in great alarm. "Wha! You're making him do the math with the spelling in it! You're not gonna make me do the math with the spelling in it too, are you!?"

Bulma only smiled and patted the younger boy on the head. "Not anytime soon, Goten-chan." She assured him. "Lets see if you can sold this basic subtraction first. If you have six apples and someone takes away half of them, what will they have?"

"A broken arm." The boy answered.

"What? No." Bulma shook her head.

"They will if they try and take Chibi's apples." Trunks laughed, greatly amused by his friend's answer.

Mama turned a stern glance towards her son, a silent command to be silent and get back to his own lesson. "And how are you coming along in your work, Trunks? You've got the equation. Do you remember what it means?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Trunks turned his eyes back to his own paper, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. He knew this, or rather he should know the answer to this. He and Mama had gone over the lesson before leaving home. But Namek seemed so far away and long ago now. He barely remembered what the lesson was. Something about space ships and gravity and if you calculated wrong you could fall back down to the planet. Ah! That was it, because of the planet's gravity! "G is the gravitational constant, Mama."

"Okay." She nodded, offering an encouraging smile. "And the rest?"

"Well, uh" He once again scratched his head, this time chewing on his bottom lip while he tried to call up the correct answer from the recess of his more than considerable intellect. Sadly, the answer did not seem to want to present itself and so Trunks was more than pleased when his uncle interrupted the lesson. Knocking gently on the doorframe to announce his appearance.

"Sorry to interrupt." He said. "But I was curious aha you were teaching them."

"Basic math for this one." Bulma smiled and patted Goten on the head. Then turned her attention back to Trunks. "And this little devil is learning mathematical applications. Today we're picking back up with the escape velocity equation."

Uncle Tarble nodded as if in approval. "Those are important things for any space-fairing person to know, and to learn it so young is quite impressive!"

"My son is very smart." Bulma replied, sounding just on the boarders of confrontational. She didn't shout or yell at him anymore, not since they settled in, but Trunks knew that his Mama still didn't fully trust Uncle Tarble. This was evident by the fact that she still did not share water with him -or anyone in the house for that matter.

"I can see that." Tarble smiled back, choosing to ignore the confrontational tone and not take the bate to argue. "Have you given any thought to teaching him other things? The history of his father-race, perhaps? Or the basics of Saiyan culture?"

"No." Mama said as if this should have been obvious. "I don't see why he should need that."

Trunks kept his face down, pointed towards his desk, but his eyes traveled up to study his Mama and his Uncle. They were doing something that he had begun to notice they did from time to time. Where they would have one conversation that was seemingly mundane, but under neither it, without using actual words, would be talking about something else entirely. The question was, what were they really talking about besides his lessons?

"They would become useful in dealing with other members of the Saiyan race." Tarble replied.

Mama was silent for a moment longer than was usual for her. Perhaps considering Uncle Tarble's words. "I do not intend for him to meet any more Saiyans besides you, Tarble."

"Forgive me, Neesan, but what you intend and what might actually happen are two very different things. Wouldn't it be better if he were prepared for all possible occurrences, not just the ones you want to occur?"

Mama stood from her seat. She did not look at either of the hansaiya children as she said, "Finish your worksheets boys. I'll look over your papers later." To Tarble she said, "Teach them whatever you want. But don't think for a moment that means I'll let you place either of these boys in any more danger than they already are simply by being here. Trunks will not return to Vegeta-sei."

She strode out of the room.

Tarble knelt down next to Trunks' desk. "Well, nephew, how would you like to hear about the King With the Broken Sword?"

" He began.

"How's Borgos?" Fasha asked.

"Not bad, not bad." Toteppo supplied. "He sent me a wave not to long ago. Said he and his squad are on their way home from the mission. I told him to join us if he gets in before the meeting is over."

"Oh." She blinked in pleasant surprise. "He'll be back that soon? Good. That's good."

They lapsed into another silence. Crossing their arms over their chests and shuffling their feet.

"Well treason." That last word was said in a whisper.

"Right. Right." He agreed soberly."

Fasha lead him inside and kicked a couple of green recruits fresh outta bootcamp out of her booth. She sat down while Toteppo detoured to the bar to order their drinks. They sat in yet more awkward silence while they waited for the (alleged) kindreds Fasha found over the nets. Those who diverted from the norm of what was socially accepted and took mates of other races. It was dangerous for them to come out, she knew. Even to others who claimed to be the same. Fasha and Toteppo were both putting themselves in danger simply by calling the meeting. The others would be wise not to show up.

But at the same time, Saiyans did not back down from fear.

A smile tugged at Fasha's lips as that thought called up a memory of Wess. A pleasant memory, before she became pregnant and their affair was discovered. He was telling her about one of Earth's great folk-heroes, a man called 'John Wayne'. He said, 'Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway'. ('Saddling', Wess also had to explain, was when one equipped an animal with a makeshift seat with the intent to ride said animal -within the context, into battle.) Fasha had never heard of this 'John Wayne' before, but she liked his philosophy.

It was terrifying, the idea of committing high treason. Or supplanting one monarch with another. But, at the same time, it was something that had to be done. As Bardock said, 'Civilizations are built on the idea of "women and children first". Once a people forgets that, they are not far from destruction.' The monarchy, and the whole Saiyan race for that matter, was in a decline. She could see that now. They were not long from destruction. So, she was metaphorically 'saddling up'

Toteppo ran a finger around the rim of his tankard in bordom. "So" She cast her brain around for any memory she actually retained from her history lessons and lettered on the only one that seemed relevant to their current situation. "Do you know why interbreeding with other races has always been taboo?"

He blinked at her over his tankard. "But, wait, I thought the ban on interracial mating was only implemented within the last two or thee decades."

"The official law has, yes." She nodded. "But mating with other races has always been taboo. Ever since we gained independence from the Tuffles. Back when the revolution was still fresh, there were warriors who took Tuffle women as trophies. The children that were the products of those couplings resented their Saiyan parents and fought back against the monarchy. They were eventually put down, of course. But the parents of the instigators were stuck with the blame. Because of that, its always been scornful to take a non-Saiyan mate."

"Huh." He thought about that for a moment.

"That's also why all hansaiya and their parents are killed." Two newcomers appeared at the side of their table. A woman of middle age and average hight, the other younger, not even in his teens, not yet ready for bootcamp. Both wore cloaks of a dark color, hoods pulled over their faces. But the fabric was of good quality, the garments of fine craftsmanship. They were either from a wealthy House or else a higher Class. Looking at Fasha, the woman continued, "Are you 'Wesstern'?"

Fasha nodded. "I am."

The woman did not lower her hood all the way, but she did pull it away just enough for Fasha to meet her eyes. "I am 'Petit Oiseau'." -A name obviously as fake as Fasha's alias. She sat down across from Fasha. "And this is my son."

The say she said that piqued Toteppo's curiosity. He turned a more appraising gaze a the boy. Not yet in his teens. He would place the boy around the age of ten, maybe eleven. Close to the age of conscript, but still just a hair's breadth to young to actually be drafted. He kept his hood down, covering his face, but the cloak was of high quality and the armor he wore beneath it was of equally good quality and well kept. That indicated they were of a higher class than Toteppo. Second Class or higher.

"I'm glad you came." Fasha reached a hand over the table and took Petit Oiseau's hand. "Both of you." She nodded to the boy. Then, indicating Toteppo, Fasha continued. "This is my friend. He's like us."

"I see." Oiseau nodded to him. Then she turned her attention back to Fasha. Voice low. Almost a whisper. "Is what you said over the waves the true? Is there really a hansaiya-Vegeta?"

"There is." Fasha nodded. "Ive seen him. He has the tsurime eyes of House Vegeta but his coloring is not Saiyan. And"

Fasha paused. She and Toteppo never discussed an alias for him before the meeting began. She didn't know how to introduce him. Toteppo, also realizing this blurted out the first non-Saiyan name (that was not his late lover's name) he could think of. "Rumpelstiltskin."

The warrior relaxed. "I'm Red Lantern."

He sat down next to Fasha.

Slowly, others trickled in. All looking awkward and suspicious. Scrutinizing the other bar patrons before hesitantly sitting down at Fasha's booth. All using aliases to protect their real identities should any of them decide to double-cross the group and turn them all in. The authorities wouldn't know where to look for someone named 'Red Lantern', or 'Mr. Freeze'. Fasha had to smile at all the diverse names they came up with. Petit Oiseau, Red Lantern, Mr. Freeze, Impulse, Starfire and her daughter Nightstar, Chicago, Goliath, Macbeth, and Cyrano -to name a few. Once everyone who was coming arrived, Fasha returned to business.

"I'm glad you all could come." She said. "Most of you all know each other through the boards already, so I won't waste time on introductions. 'Benedict' regrets that he can't join us tonight, he owns a business here in town and can't get away. Aside from him and one other friend who's currently on a purge mission, everyone is here."

Those gathered around the small table looked at each other, silently counting their number and calculating their odds. It was far more people than any one of them expected, but still not enough to actually fight a revolution.

"We are all here because we have one thing in common." Fasha continued. "Regardless to Class, power level, or wealth, this one thing unites us and makes us the same. But the law says that this thing is unclean, taboo, an abomination and therefore illegal. But that can change! If we can force a change of King, then the law will change. The law will have to change with the person I have in mind as King. Friends, let me tell you what I know about the Hansaiya Prince."

And so she once again explained about her encounter with the two hansaiya boys and explained how one of them had the tsurime eyes of House Vegeta and that the Archduke came to collect them. After a pause, she added the detail of the Archduke dropping that cryptic hint that a hansaiya might sit on the Cairngrom Throne one day. That implied that he was also a supporter of a hansaiya succeeding the current King.

They had all the pieces to put together a proper revolutionary movement. They just needed to get together and get organized.

and so, because he united all the warring tribes, a broken sword became a symbol of power instead of an omen of weakness." Tarble concluded the story.

It wasn't so much a history lesson as it was 'story time'. The King With the Broken Sword was really more of a folk-tale than it was an actual historically accurate account. There was a time in Saiyan history where they were scattered and decided into different tribes. Those tribes constantly warred with one another. But as much as they hated each other, they hated the Tuffles more. The King With the Broken Sword was a legendary hero -not the Legendary, just a legendary warrior- who united the feuding tribes and lead them to winning their freedom from the Tuffles.

Those where the confirmed historical facts. All other details of the story, such as the mad soothsayer, the love-affair with a lower-Class female, and the supposed 'magical' properties of his sword (to spite the blade being broken) was all nothing more than romantic embellishment.

"So, what helped next?" Trunks and Goten prompted. Eyes wide. Faces pleading for more.

"Next?" Tarble echoed. "Well, that's the end of the story. The Tuffles were defeated and the Saiyans were free."

"But I want more" Tarble answered awkwardly. "Some of King Broken-Sword's warriors took Tuffles as mates."

Goten pirked up at that. "And they all lived happily ever after?"

"Uh, no… They created the first hansaiya. The first half-Saiyans." Tarble was forced to explain.

Recognition flashed behind Trunks' sky-blue eyes and he scowled in deeper thought. Goten on the other hand looked thoughtful but confused. He still did not fully understand the full significance of that statement. Then Trunks finished whatever train of thought he was running and asked, "Did they make trouble? The Tuffle-hansaiya?"

"Yes." Tarble confirmed. Glad that the boy was so smart and he didn't need to delve into to much detail of those decades following the Saiyan unification and independence.

"That's why they hate us now." He continued. "They think we're the same as those others from way, way back."

Tarble nodded. "Unfortunately, that's probably very true."

"Well, they're wrong!" Trunks said in a similar way to how any other child might have said, 'that's stupid!'

At that, Tarble smiled. "Well then, how would you like the opportunity to prove them wrong? Who knows, Trunks? You might just change the world…"

…

A month after that conversation, Tarble received a message from Borgos informing him of the rising support for change in the capital.

…