Credit where credit is due: the Saiyan language is used with permission from Megakat. And thanks to my betas Firestorm1991 and TheAsh0.
Words used in this chapter:
ge'tah - an individual
ji'tach - a Saiyan fighting team (plural)
Th'di - a word that means 'dish' but also refers to Raditz' special stir fry
ve'ho - prince
When Vegeta regained consciousness, he came to lying prone on a medical bed covered by a light slip up to his chest, a set of wires still attached to his forehead. He felt warm, comfortable and calm, the after effects from the Medical Machine itself and the relaxers that Doctor Berra had given him before he went into the healing tank. Although it was not necessary to sedate patients beforehand, Vegeta's severe claustrophobia meant that Doctor Berra always opted to do so, for his safety and her own as well. Being knocked out also meant that the Berra could break and reset his arm before he took a dip in the tank. It was a testament to Vegeta's trust in the good doctor that he allowed the woman to put him under like that. But in truth, when he arrived back at HomeBase he was so feverish and weak that he could not have stopped her.
He blinked a few times to clear his head, stretched out, and then sat up. Soon after, Doctor Berra showed up. She pushed the privacy curtain aside and came up next to his bedside, her ubiquitous tablet in one hand and a gentle smile on her face. Vegeta did not have any illusions that he received special treatment; Berra treated everyone with a kind yet professional manner. Although she did seem to have a bit of a soft spot for the Saiyans.
"Welcome back, Prince Vegeta. How are you feeling?" Berra greeted, then started to remove the wires with efficient grace.
Hn. Good question. The prince took a few seconds to take stock. The fever was gone, his head felt clear and his body no longer ached with a dull and insistent throb. He inspected his left arm; the twisted bones had been straightened out and he could move his fingers with ease. Next, he checked on his battered tail to find that many of the kinks that he had collected seemed to have been straightened out. He twitched the tip experimentally. Wait...someone touched his tail...without his permission? Last, he pulled the cover back to look at his leg. The only reminder of the wounds that had nearly ended him were three gashes on both sides. The skin was already white from scar tissue and it looked as if they had been there for months. The med tank did work wonders.
"Alright, I guess. Certainly better than last time," he said in a sardonic manner and allowed the corners of his mouth to twist up. "You didn't tell me you were going to touch my tail," he accused. He felt slightly violated by the invasion of his privacy.
Berra nodded. "Yes, I did. You were unconscious, and I figured that you wouldn't mind if I took some of the kinks out for you. The nerves were pinched and if I let it be, chances are good that you would have lost feeling in your tail or even worse - lost the ability to use it at all."
Vegeta blanched at that thought. He had been too focused on not starving to death and his slow descent into madness, and then worrying about his imminent death to fret about a few extra twists. Now, the thought of being unable to use his tail correctly was mortifying. Not only was it like an extra set of hands, but to lose one's tail was to lose the ability to speak to other Saiyans fully. Saiyans communicated with each other using a combination of vocals, body language, and tail postures. It would be similar to losing one's tongue. Sure, he could survive without it but there were some concepts that could not be expressed properly without a tail. So, Vegeta was begrudgingly grateful to the red-skinned doctor for being a bit more invasive than she needed to be and for going above and beyond. If it had been any other medic in the PTO, they would not have bothered. They also would not have understood the implications.
"Along with that," Berra continued, "you were quite a mess. The infection in your leg had set into your bones, and it was touch and go for a while. You were severely malnourished, infested with parasites from head to toe, and I lost track of the number of maggots I pulled from your skin." Vegeta flinched as if he could feel things crawling on him still, both on and under his flesh. "It's a good thing that you arrived here when you did. However, you are now pest free and ready for duty."
Vegeta rolled his eyes and huffed at the thought of once again having to deal with all the daily bullshit of the PTO: the insults and humiliation, the harassment from his superiors and disrespect from his inferiors, the cramped quarters, and the bad cafeteria food - which reminded him...
"I'm starving." He was pretty sure that he had dreamed of food while floating in the artificial womb of the Medical Tank and possibly during cryosleep as well, although that was supposed to be impossible. "I need something to eat. You say I'm malnourished?" A sly grin spread over his features. "What about those supplements that Nappa used to get for me?" Vegeta salivated at the thought of those rich and savory liquid meals, meant for fighting men and clearly for small Saiyan princes.
Berra tsked, and a quick look of displeasure came and went from her ageless features. A few years ago, she had prescribed supplements for Vegeta but they were not covered as a 'medical necessity'. With two growing boys under his watch, Nappa had been unable to afford them as more than a treat, not if they wished to eat on a regular basis. Not to mention paying for other needs like clothing, supplies, and other mundanities.
"Of course. Let me make a notation in your chart … yet again …" Berra spoke in a sardonic tone, and her lips twisted a bit. "Since you have lost so muscle mass and weight, I'll see if I can't get Headquarters to sign off on regular supplementation this time."
"It's because I'm Saiyan," Vegeta snarled. "They're afraid of me… of what I might become. So they want to keep me weak."
Doctor Berra did not disagree with his assessment. Was it because she knew about this plot to keep him down or just that she wanted to keep him calm? "Alright, Prince Vegeta, you're ready to go. Why don't you go ahead and get dressed while I hunt down a case of those supplements to send back with you." A pause while she scribbled on her datapad then she chuckled and gave Vegeta a conspiratorial grin. This time, she did not pat him on the shoulder or initiate physical contact, although he might not have minded it so much then. "The higher-ups aren't the only ones who know how to manipulate the system."
In spite of himself, he smiled in return. Then Berra walked away and closed the curtain behind her, leaving him by himself. The distant clicks and hums in the background were the only noises he could hear. Even though he knew that he was on HomeBase, his mind started to play tricks on him. The too familiar noises in Medical morphed into the ambient sounds that had surrounded him on Planet Flann and, for a moment, Vegeta started to think that he had not escaped at all but had dreamed the whole thing, and he was still there - trapped - alone. For a moment, his chest felt tight again and he had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to center himself. It took a minute before he stopped feeling lightheaded.
Tch. Don't be so damn jumpy - I'm in Medical. There's people talking, I'm sitting on a bed, not in the muck. I'm safe… right?
Vegeta sighed. If only berating himself worked better! He placed his feet on the floor and wiggled his toes. Everything seemed in working order so far, and he was relieved when his feet touched cold tile instead of loamy earth. He was clad only in basic issue skivvies but someone - likely Nappa - had brought a blue undersuit and boots for him to wear. His armor had been too trashed to bother saving; he would need to go to the armory and fill out the proper forms. Vegeta hoped that a new set would be considered a 'necessary expense' because gods knew that his bank account was likely drained dry. He would not put it past either Zarbon or Frieza to dock all of his pay for the last few months he had been missing.
As he tugged a new shirt over his head, Vegeta was horrified to see just how thin he had become. He could count all of his ribs with ease and there was nothing left except skin and bone. At the end, his body had been consuming itself. It was a terrifying prospect for a warrior who live on both muscle and wits, all of which he needed to survive.
I guess... I didn't realize how bad it got. How could I not have realized?
Just as he pulled on his new boots, the leather stiff, Berra returned. She handed him several packages of dried fruits and freeze-wrapped protein strips, a large bottle of water, and one tiny supplement. Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "That's it," he complained before he could stop the words. Damn, he would have to work on that, getting his filter back. One wrong word or look around here would be likely to get him on someone's shit list, or in a fight. Although some ass-kicking might be a great stress reliever, but only if it wasn't his own.
Berra, calm as always, ignored the comment. "I've dropped a case off with your guardian. He's ready for you in the waiting room when you're done." Berra stopped writing on her tablet then; it looked like she wished to say something further, stylus held up in the air. "Prince Vegeta…"
"Yes?"
"... if you have any problems, just let me know."
Prince and doctor met gazes, ebony eyes to coal black ones. What was she really trying to say to him? Was it just what she had told him before, that she was sympathetic to his plight, that she was an ally, that he could rely on her?
Right. LIke that ever accomplished anything before. Vegeta muttered a nonsyllabic answer, and then allowed his feet to take the route back to the waiting area. He had walked it so many times during his career - if it could be called that - in the Frieza Army that he could do it in his sleep.
The room was empty except for the two giant forms of Nappa and Raditz, squeezed into those little chairs that were not meant for fully armored Saiyans. It was kind of funny. They stood up as he walked in. If Vegeta did not know better, he would swear they were smiling … smiling in public! Good thing no one else was around to witness it.
"Ve'ho," Nappa called out, and took a few steps forward to meet the young prince. He held the promised case under one arm and clapped a meaty hand on Vegeta's shoulder. Normally Vegeta would scowl or even duck out of range, but the contact felt reassuring. He had been alone for way too long and at their core, Saiyans were pack animals. "Yer a sight for sore eyes! Good ta see ya up on your feet after that nasty infection." The old warrior appraised his charge with a critical eye and then frowned. "Aw, yer nothin' but skin and bones, Vegeta. Let's get ya home."
Home. The familiar odors of cooking food and old ale, his own bed, the broken yellow couch in which all of their scents co-mingled into a comforting blend, running water and a friggin' shower. By the gods… Vegeta wanted nothing more than to go back to that crappy little place and crawl into the lower bunk and sleep for days, but only after he ate until he burst of course. He finished off the supplement bottle in one gulp and tossed it aside, then started on the rest of the snacks.
"Yes, please," Vegeta said in a small voice, then caught himself. His face turned red. The isolation had really fucked with his psyche. Yes, he was glad to see his ji'tach. But damn, he was not a kit new from the Pod who did not know how to control his reactions. Vegeta cleared his throat and wrapped his tail around his waist so that he could not betray any further humiliating and weak emotions. "I want to go to the Shack," he ordered. Although he tried for his usual authoritative tone, no one was fooled.
"Sorry, Vegeta," Nappa drawled, "but our group account's depleted."
"What? How is that possible? What have you two ge'tahu been doing all this time?"
"Working, if you must know," Raditz grumbled. He folded his thick arms across his chest, and the tip of his tail twitched in irritation. "Pretty much nonstop since your - ahem - unscheduled hiatus. This is the first time we've been back to HomeBase in almost two months! If I have to sit in my Pod any more without a break, I swear I'm murdering someone."
"Look, we can talk more about it when we're back home," Nappa interrupted, in an attempt to diffuse a possible fight. "I've got some creds left in my personal account. I'll order some dumplings. Raditz can make th'di, and then he can groom ya - "
Raditz' jaw dropped, then he punched the other man in the bicep. "Way to volunteer me, Nappa!"
Instead of responding, Nappa leaned down and continued on as if the long-haired teen had not spoken. "Would ya like that, Vegeta?"
Vegeta frowned, and his glower could have stopped time. He felt like Nappa was placating him, trying to baby him. He huffed, looked to the side, and debated internally. Yet if he was being honest with himself, really honest, that sounded like the best thing in the galaxy right now.
"Let's just … go home."
A half an hour later, Vegeta sprawled out on the broken couch and stuffed his face full of greasy fried dumplings smothered in gyoza sauce while Raditz cooked. Delicious smells filled the entire small apartment. Food was something that he had started to dream about near the end of his solitary confinement. It had been torture, and now, It was like eating a literal piece of heaven. A shiver of pleasure ran through his emaciated frame, starting from the tip of his tail and through to the top of his head. Before, he had taken his meals for granted and now he knew better. He closed his eyes as he ate slowly - resisting the urge to bolt it all at once - but decided to savor each bite instead.
Once finished, the prince stared morosely at the empty tin as if it had committed a crime by being empty and then glanced over at his massive guardian. Nappa had claimed the beaten up lounging chair, placed his feet up on the low table, and held an ale in one mitt. The older Saiyan looked wilted and ground down.
"So, why is our account frozen?"
"It's not frozen, Vegeta, but used up. Without ya as part of the strike team, we had to take on smaller jobs. Ones that paid a hella lot less, and that meant we were travellin' constantly. When we weren't in our Pods, we were runnin' backup for the main army or bein' shuffled about. The other purge teams kept takin' all the good stuff 'cuz we couldn't compete. We were low on funds to start with. Then ya needed a lot of medical care, and Headquarters refused to cover it, and that took whatever credits we had left."
"I was on mission," Vegeta growled, a sinking feeling coming over him. "They're supposed to cover - Oh hell… they're pretending I went AWOL, aren't they? That fucking Zarbon," he hissed in a low voice, more to express his frustrations than anything else. For once, Raditz did not come to his mentor's defense. Which was good, because Vegeta was beyond tired of Zarbon's shit. He knew - he had to know - where Vegeta had gone, and he had refused to tell Nappa or Raditz. It smelled of setup.
"Yah, I know. There's a lotta fuckery that's been going on around here, Vegeta. Even before you disappeared." The balding warrior took a long pull from the bottle and an uncomfortable silence followed. Nappa kept his eyes fixed on the screen and watched one inane commercial after another.
Wait … was Nappa still angry at him? Was it his fault that he'd gotten fucked up on a dead end mission, and he just was too stubborn to die? No… Vegeta shook his head to clear the cobwebs that lurked in his mind. If they really did not want him back, they would not have bothered to spend their last credit sticks on him. Yet the last time he'd spoken with Nappa had not gone so well. Vegeta's memory was still foggy, but he remembered that they had fought so bitterly that Nappa had just left.
Nappa was definitely still pissed. Pissed at him for joining the fighting ring, which shouldn't have been a big damn deal. Pissed that Vegeta had gone behind his back, screwed up his underworld contact, and lost a valuable haul … thank you, Ginyu Force. But most likely, Nappa was most upset by their last explosive argument over the fate of the Saiyan race, and how Vegeta had not given a shit.
Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut? Vegeta did not like to take others into consideration very often, yet when he thought back on their last interaction and how Nappa had stormed off in a rage, the young Saiyan winced. Nappa might be a big doofus, but he was a loyal doofus. The man had literally been collecting the dead, memories of the Saiyan race for Vegeta, and he had been too busy with his tail in a twist to take a moment and actually listen. It was a rare moment of self-reflection for the prince, and he did not like what he saw. He really had been a jik'hi.
Vegeta licked his lips and side-eyed the giant Commander. "Nappa, about that last night…" he trailed off as he tried to figure out what to say next without losing face.
"Forget it, Vegeta. It's long gone now. They're long gone. I'm - well, I'm just glad yer all right." Nappa sighed. His shoulders slumped, and he rested his forearms on his knees, scratched at his balding scalp. He seemed … defeated.
Okay, then. No lecture about ji'tach, about my duties? You really must be tired, Nappa.
"Now that we're home and you're full, what the hell happened out there, Vegeta? You said there was another Saiyan." Nappa's eyebrows rose up, and his eyes seemed a touch more lively. "You sure?"
Vegeta sighed and curled in on himself a bit. He really did not want to talk about it. He was humiliated enough, but maybe he owed it to Nappa. A little bit. And maybe Nappa knew what Turles' deal was.
"Yes, Nappa. I'm sure. If the tail and the hair hadn't given it away, the bio would have." Vegeta folded his arms over his chest, feeling a bit defensive. "Frieza did it to me on purpose," he reiterated. "Sent me out blind. Sent me out to hunt my own." The familiar rise of anger did not come this time, just a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. "His name was Turles, some Low Class asshat with no respect whatsoever. You ever work with him?"
"Yeah, back in the day." Nappa's eyes grew distant as he wandered back in time in his head. "Turles was a troublemaker even then, always tryin' ta get away with whatever he could. Then one day he gave both the Saiyan Army and the PTO the tail and just fucked off into space. Kinda funny, but it pissed Twinkeltoes off hardcore, and he took it out on me as if it was my fault the ge'tah went rogue."
From the kitchenette, Raditz spoke up, excitement clear in his voice. "Turles? Over the top spiky hair and dark skin, kinda suave, Turles?"
"If by suave, you mean a giant douche bag, then yes." Vegeta scowled, then sat up from his sprawled position to stare over the top of the couch at Raditz. "What the hell, you know him too?"
"Yes, I know him. We grew up together, well - sort of. Sure, he's a little older than me but we were allies, you know, we ran in the same gangs. Are you absolutely sure? We can't be talking about the same Turles."
"Auugh!" Vegeta clenched his fists, irritated. He knew that his face had turned a lovely shade of red by now. "Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm sure? I can fucking read and my eyes work just fine!"
"Well," Raditz tapped a finger to his chin. His loose tail waved a lazy arc, then turned up at the tip in question. "What's the likelihood that you would run into a Saiyan… and a Saiyan I know? Then again...Turles did always brag about how he was going to get off Vegetasai and make a name for himself. He must have done it. Good on him."
"Yeah, well, fucker tried to kill me. Great allies you have, Raditz! If I find him again, I'm going to make him pay! He's on my list."
"Your... list…?"
Vegeta could practically hear Raditz rolling his eyes. "Yes, my list. Of all the assholes whom I'm going to get my revenge on! Did you not hear me? Is all that hair clogging up your ears?"
"Well excuuuuse me, apparently I didn't." Raditz sighed and turned his attention back to his cooking. He tossed in a spoonful of water and steam rose from the wok. "How did he look?"
Vegeta's mouth dropped open, and he just stared. "How did he look? Really? LIke a traitor!"
"Yeah, but did he look …" Raditz twirled the spoon in the air, "... all right?"
Vegeta's lips pulled back into a snarl. The content feeling from having a full stomach was starting to fade and was being replaced by a simmering annoyance. "What the hell is wrong with you, Raditz? I didn't take the time to see if he was eating correctly. I was busy trying not to die, thank you. Did you not get the point?"
"He's not so bad once you get to know him, ve'ho. We had each other's backs back on Vegetasai. Look, I'm sure he didn't realize who you were. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have tried to kill you. Huh. I wonder where he is now." Raditz's tail curled up as he looked off into the distance.
Oh, by Blood and Battle … "He knew who I was. I fucking told him, didn't matter. He insulted my honor - and stop trying to defend him!"
"You're my ally and I defend you Vegeta, even though you don't think so," Raditz smirked.
Vegeta paused, torn between lashing out at the older boy for the insult but then decided Raditz was not being spiteful. "Touché, Hairball. But don't push your luck."
"Okay, okay, ve'ho. Truce. What was he doing, anyway, that Frieza sicced you on him?"
"Tch." Vegeta really did not want to talk about Turles, but Raditz was not ready to let the subject go. "Piracy. I guess he bit the PTO one too many times. 'Resource Reallocation Specialist,' my tail."
"What? Oh my gods…" Raditz snorted, then just started to laugh. "He actually used that line? I came up with that forever ago as a joke, but he really liked it. I didn't actually think he'd use it, though."
"I don't care what he calls himself. He's a traitor and a coward, and that's that."
"Yeah, well, we can't all be Princes." Before Vegeta could get properly riled up, Raditz brought over a big bowl of steaming hot th'di on a tray, and placed it on his lap. "Food's done, ve'ho. Eat up before it gets cold."
Clouds of fragrant steam rose up, and Vegeta's mouth started to water even though he just ate. He could argue with Raditz later, but for now …"Yeah, well… I'm still gonna make him pay."
