big thank you to my betas, meganechan and over8000.

and Mal! so glad you're liking my fic. yes, its not happy but its written from happiness? hm.. well, more cliffhanger. also glad you like my Bulma. nobody wants my bulma as an enemy.. so lets just be glad shes good...

-DBZ:

A small blue moon sparkled in his hands like a half-formed idea, but little more than that. Vegeta stared at it intently and felt it tug at him, a prickling sensation that started at his tail, coursed up his spine and went to his head. Yet it was too weak to cause the transformation, even up close like this.

If only he had more power…

With a sigh he extinguished the ball and diverted his attention to the bare black horizon, and deliberately away from the party in full swing at his back. What a shame. If this little planet ever had a moon, then it had been destroyed. Although, in all honesty, a moon for this world would have been like a gem for a rotting corpse. What a wasteland! Dark, cold, little vegetation, not even a decent landmark. No wonder these poor creatures were waiting for anything— even Saiyans— to get them off this dirt-hole of a planet.

Of course, the lot of them were in for a rude awakening. Saiyans were no one's hero. And judging by the sounds that filtered from the raucous celebration, it would be up to the prince to clear up this little misunderstanding himself.

Unless Vegeta could find or create something to generate Blutz waves. Then at least Raditz would no longer hesitate to attack, as his Oozaru was still as wild and untamed as the day he was born. Usually a negative, this time the madness would be an advantage. Vegeta knew the twins, as second-class, were also susceptible enough to the blood-rage not to care once they changed to Oozaru. They'd kill the lot of these so-called lesser Saiyans right and fast.

If only there had been a moon... Vegeta wondered if perhaps he could teach the new technique to Nappa; the older Saiyan might have the sheer power to make the artificial moon strong enough. But Nappa really was a simpleton and even with his strength, Vegeta doubted it would be enough. It seemed they'd have to cut down these furballs the hard way.

It was a shame really. An artificial moon that could transform Saiyans to Oozaru was something that would revolutionise purging… or would have revolutionized it, had there still been a Saiyan populace to use such a technique. It could have changed the balance of power, could have toppled the Ice-jins, could have finally rendered to Saiyans Lord and master of the galaxy. If only they had managed to cling to life long enough for their Prince to perfect such a technique.

Vegeta was so engrossed in his thoughts that he only heard footsteps when they were right behind him. With a growl, he jumped up from his rock and rounded on the intruder. It was that girl again, Dandelion, the one that had given him the flowers. The flowers he had subversively left on another rock. At least she had not brought more of the stupid things. Her entire demeanor set something off inside of him; some feeling he could not name but would rather not experience again. Her large pointy ears twitched as she wrung her hands in an expression of guilt, sleek black fur shining in the starlight. "My apologies. I had not meant to offend."

With a huff, Vegeta lowered his clenched fists and resumed his seated position on the dusty rock. He turned away deliberately, for she could not possibly pose a threat to him. Nothing on this bare rock could, really. Yet, this pit-stop of a purge mission had him at wits' end. His Saiyans did not want to fight; hell, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to fight either. Well, that wasn't true. He might enjoy hitting someone right now if they'd only fight back. It was a way to vent frustrations, though a honorless way. Slaughtering creatures that fed you and welcomed you just seemed... Wrong.

This left Vegeta and his squad in quite a bind. Even without a purge list that would have them working every hour of every day for decades, PTO administration knew where they were and they had a schedule to meet. They had run purges late before, but right now it didn't look like they'd be leaving ever again without a forceful pickup.

'Do you have any idea what happens to Saiyans that refuse their purge?' Nion had asked. Truthfully, Vegeta did not have a clue, but it could not be good. When Frieza eventually came looking for them… well, he'd rather not be found partying with the creatures they were supposed to be killing.

Of course, the idea of Frieza setting foot on this over-sized monolith had a certain allure. It made for a different plan entirely, one that would require a moon as well. A stupid idea with just eight Saiyans. Yet with eight Oozaru, and if they could manage to get Frieza alone? All they would need was a bit of teamwork and a decent ambush. A decent plan...

No; that trail of thought was dangerous. Chances of the lizard ever setting foot on this rock were slim anyway. Hell, Frieza would first send some goons to retrieve them. And even if Vegeta and his Saiyans somehow managed to defeat the teams sent after them and posed an actual threat to the PTO, the planet could always be destroyed from space. Destroyed, like Vegeta-sei… but not by meteors. By... Vegeta shook his head. No. Don't even think that.

"You have not joined in the festivities." The girl's words were soft; it was a statement of fact, not a question. So Vegeta just grunted the affirmative. Of course he had refrained; partying was the last thing on his mind. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. Perhaps he should just give in, relinquish his command, and let Frieza have his way. But then, what would become of his Saiyans? The only one who possessed the skills to lead was Raditz, and the others would not accept a Low Class leader. Working under some alien commander would not be better for their survival rates either.

As for himself, well, Vegeta supposed Frieza would probably keep him safe. Yet even if his pride allowed it, it would obviously mean he would be used in some father-son power play. No, Vegeta would rather stay off King Cold's radar altogether. Sure, Frieza might think of Saiyans as mere 'monkeys', but its father regarded them more like vermin. The only reason that monster had not simply stepped on him and extinguished the Saiyan prince was likely because King Cold was afraid to get its boots dirty.

Of course, pride was very much the issue here. He was the Saiyan prince, damnit. Yes, likely the last one. The end of a lineage. Yet that made the idea —to throw away the memory of his people, to throw away his name— even worse. To let the last prince be reduced to die on nothing but a tyrant's whim.. The very idea filled him with rage.

So his only option was to get on with it and kill these creatures. Yet the girl next to him really was... nice... and the way she blinked her big, lush eyelashes at him made it difficult for the prince to get on with it. "Are our arrangements not to your liking? Have we somehow offended our savior?"

Savior. Vegeta snarled. "Stop calling me that."

Dandelion cowered back, curtsying down. "We have offended you! I knew it!"

"No…" Vegeta reigned in his temper with a rare feeling of guilt. "No, the party is great. It's just the timing that's off."

She straightened and then tilted her head to the side, her long ears flattening down. "Timing? When else would we feast but at your arrival?"

With a mirthless laugh, Vegeta asked. "How about after you've been saved?"

"There's no need for any of this in paradise." Dandelion paused, gaze running furtively back to the sound of the party, then returning to him as she stepped closer. "May I?"

Vegeta looked up in confusion; the silence between them stretched out. Far in the distance, he could hear the party music and the the boisterous laughs of his men. Vegeta could imagine them eating and sparring and joking. They'd been at it for three days now. Three whole days! Vegeta had seen them at it, and every time he had turned away in disgust.

Sometimes he'd catch Raditz's eye; the older teen looked worried and confused. Which was bad, because Raditz usually knew what to do. Or Nion would come up and start spouting out proverbs again, but with little conviction behind his words... and usually with a slab of meat clutched in his hand. It was obvious none of his men had any answers; they looked to Vegeta to provide clarity.

And yet he could not find it within himself to take action.

Dandelion took his silence as consent and plopped down on Vegeta's rock. She dug around in her pouch, then presented the boy with snacks once more. Meaty little buns, with the most delicious scent. "These are made from Raka, our best animal. She was mine. We slaughtered her for the celebration, for you..."

Vegeta swallowed heavily, because that shouldn't matter. It rubbed him the wrong way though, the natives killing their best animals. Did they even have any left? Were they this sure he'd provide them with salvation? Ridiculous. But he really should just accept the offering. After all, past experience told him that little would be salvageable after a purge. This wonderful feast would be scattered, trampled, covered with mud and blood when their targets finally ran. The food would end up mingled with rotten bodies and putrid insides, bowels emptied in the throes of death...

The buns smelled so good, and she looked so sad. And she was so pretty. Not like a Saiyan woman, or at least nothing like Kura. So actually Vegeta really shouldn't think she was pretty at all. Still, she was just so much more... Female. Kura, the only woman on his team of Saiyans, was as callous and hard as his men. This girl was soft and sensitive, and he knew that should make her seem alien and weird to Saiyan eyes. Yet he was not revolted at all.

With a sigh Vegeta gave in, took one of the sweet buns and bit into it. It was good, really good — although that might have been his hunger talking. When he made an appreciative sound and took two more, Dandelion's face split in the most radiating smile, and he did not regret humoring her. It was so odd; looking at her made him feel... Good. Happy, even.

That was the most disturbing of all. Vegeta had always found all aliens to be equally disgusting. Then again he really could not say that he preferred the company of Saiyans... Saiyans were smelly, hairy, and lacking in personal hygiene. Not to mention the god-damn shedding... Everyone said so, and he knew it to be true. Vegeta likely was the only decently cultured Saiyan that had ever existed.

Did Dandelion shed? He could not imagine her making a mess. Her clean and well groomed fur shone with a bluish hue. She had a small, sharp nose, and her chest made the most graceful arc from her from her neck to the base of her tail. She was beautiful; she even sounded beautiful as she squealed and fidgeted next to him. When she brought her face level to his, Vegeta noticed that her sharp teeth were clean and white and her breath fresh with a hint of sweetness to it.

"I am so excited." Dandelion said with a smile. Her ears rose up and displayed the soft pink skin inside. "That the time is upon us. That paradise is upon us."

Spell broken, Vegeta groaned. Trying to keep his voice level, if only not to scare her again, he said, "I wish you'd stop saying that. We Saiyans are strong, true... but as for saving you…"

She cocked her head to one side, blue sparkling eyes as big as saucers. "The prince himself doubts?"

He looked away with a long sigh. How to explain to this… girl? "We were sent to this planet, but we were not sent here to... save you…"

One look back at Dandelion made him avert his gaze again, because the amount of trust displayed there had no place on the face of someone he was going to kill. Vegeta listened to her voice and almost cringed. "But you will do so, because you are Saiyan. The Saiyan Prince. You were promised to us, and we have waited a thousand years."

"Look here, girl." Vegeta tried for anger, but it somehow fell short. "Your people have it wrong. Saiyans are warriors, true. And powerful. But we really don't go around the galaxy saving anyone."

Dandelion nodded, her eyes glazed over, deep in thought. "You doubt yourself. But we know you will save us in the end." She smiled at him again, scooted closer still so their knees nearly touched. She whispered conspiratorially: "Will you accept my help?"

Help? What in Cold's name made her think she could help? Vegeta's thoughts cut off sharply as she moved in even closer. He noticed her lips, so much like Saiyan lips, and yet so different. Her face was smooth, her breath soft, too soft for a Saiyan's. She moved closer still, head tilting to the side, lips inches apart… Vegeta swallowed, confused but unable to move.

Then, he felt the pain. He screamed, cursed. "Bitch, what did you do?"

Vegeta jumped up, staggering a little. His back was on fire, it burned and throbbed. He skidded back and fell into a defensive crouch. With one hand, he felt at his back, under his armor. His hand came back red with blood.

Dandelion slowly rose to her feet; she held up a thin, short blade that gleamed with an eerie light. Her smile, however, was near ecstatic. "I am helping."