FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Nine - Foreboding Destiny
Floating ten kilometers above the earth and cloaked from mortal eyes, lies an immense alien structure, its origins unknown. The partial ellipse of its shape and the hint of topiary on its surface give the deliberate impression of unthreatening tranquility those rare few chosen to lay eyes upon it. There is great wisdom to be found here, and true knowledge. Housed within the alabaster palace is a repository of chambers where time-limes intersect, where dimensional barriers fray at the seams and where nightmares and dreams are revealed.
It is not a place to venture for those who do not have the ki to withstand the depths of divination from its wizened host. The powerful occupant had been called many things over the course of his extended life span; God, being the most common. His province is far more humbling than what such an auspicious calling would suggest. He was not omnipotent. In fact his aged frame was bent with the weight of centuries and he knew that he would not live to see another. An intuitive and powerful creature he was not omnipresent either. His station in life was surprisingly simple. He was the watchdog of wishes, the caretaker of dreams...
He was Kami; The true origin of the mystic Dragonballs.
Piccolo did not want to come here. It troubled him beyond words to view the Lookout and be reminded how the sight of it related to him personally. Unfortunately, to refuse the orders of the ancient Namek was virtually an impossibility since they were one in the same being. For all intents and purposes, Kami was the paternal equivalent of a father to Piccolo. Like his friendship with Gohan and his growing tolerance of the other Z fighters, some part of the younger Namek wanted the elders' approval because he had been held in contempt for far too long. Despite himself, he wanted to do the right thing. By listening to Kami and bringing Vegeta here, he was headed in the right direction towards redemption.
Vegeta was showing signs of coming around and Piccolo unceremoniously dumped him on the palace steps as he went searching for the wise patriarch. He had to grumble under his breath that the old bastard had the foresight to order him around but not the wits to meet him personally. He looked to the doors of the palace but did not have the courage to just brazenly enter the immense structure. He went around to the back of the palace calling for the older Namek with voice and mind.
Piccolo caught up to him as he was leaving his small garden and paced nervously along side of him as the Elder made his excruciatingly slow way around to the front of the building. When Kami rounded the corner, he saw Vegeta sitting up and wiping the blood from his battered face with the sleeve of his jacket. He glowered at Piccolo disapprovingly. "You did not tell me that you had to beat him into submission to get him here."
Piccolo shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"
The elder Namek shook his head in distaste at the other alien's actions. "You've done quite enough. Stay here," he barked, and went over to where the Saiyan was seated.
"Vegeta," Kami greeted cordially.
Vegeta's dark eyes narrowed in agitation before he deliberately spat out a mouthful of blood on the polished marble floor of the Lookout. In the background Piccolo made a strangled squawk at the Saiyan's belligerence but Kami only observed the act with veiled nonchalance, refusing to be baited by such obvious tactics.
"Walk with me," the Elder said.
"Ask me nicely," Vegeta snarled back.
"Vegeta-" Piccolo tensened with outrage until Kami raised a calm hand in his direction. He smiled pleasantly when he looked back to Vegeta and actually gave a respectful little bow.
"Please, young prince."
It was the correct thing to say. Getting to his feet, the Saiyan obediently went to his side and allowed himself to be led in an aimless walk around the sparse grounds. At first there was only silence between the alien pair. Weighing his words carefully before he spoke, Kami watched as Vegeta cast a probing glance around his surroundings, eyeing everything and cataloging what he saw for future reference. It was that meditative quiescence of his calm manner that prompted Kami to ask, "Your boyhood was not that of a typical Saiyan youth, was it Vegeta?"
Vegeta snapped his head around quickly. "What does my childhood have to do with any of this?"
"Please. Oblige me."
Grumbling, he admitted, "I was first-born Prince to the House of Vegeta of the Saiyajin Royalty Elite. Being such, my upbringing was different than that of a lower-caste Saiyan."
"In what way?"
"What's this all about?"
"I am only curious. Tell me more."
"I was being groomed for the throne," Vegeta finally said after a long pause. "I was forbidden to associate with those my own age who would later become warriors. I could fight with the best of them but I had to learn things a commoner wouldn't need."
"Like what, for example?" Kami asked curiously.
"You're really pushing it," the Saiyan told him menacingly. He received only that disarming, benevolent smile in response. "When I wasn't in training to fight and control my power, I had to study useless subjects like math, history, philosophy..." He gave an irritated shake of the head. "By the time I was eight I was bored out of my mind."
"Then you were sent off to Frieza in exchange for your world. You did everything that creature told you to but he killed your father and destroyed your planet anyway," Kami said in a saddened tone of voice. "You were never intended to become a soldier, Vegeta, but fate dealt you a very cruel blow."
"No shit," he retorted sourly in agreement.
"Tell me," the Elder continued with that infuriating calmness in his manner. "Did you continue your studies while you were in Frieza's employ?"
"I had an obligation to honor my father and my heritage."
"So the answer is; yes."
Reluctantly, Vegeta nodded. "I'll ask you one last time...What the hell is this about?" His patience was ticking down with each probing question and the both of them knew it.
"You have a surprisingly reflective and insightful nature," Kami concluded after a long, meditative silence. "It is evident in your manner and speech and clearly a result of your unique upbringing. Any other Saiyan, excluding Gokou of course, would have attacked me by now."
"I haven't yet decided against that, old man," the Saiyan assured him in a dangerous tone of voice.
Kami's smile broadened despite the harsh words. "I have something very special to show you."
"Oh goody," Vegeta muttered under his breath but he followed the old Namek anyway.
Blinking in disbelief, Piccolo watched the strange pair enter the immaculate palace, Kami actually stepping aside to let the small Saiyan in first. It was a privilege that had never been offered to him and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the young Namek had to grapple with the bitter emotion of jealousy.
"What lies beyond this door is a very special room," Kami told him when they had reached the end of one of a seemingly infinite number of twisting corridors. They had taken so many different turns down so many identical hallways that Vegeta hoped the old Namek wouldn't kick off or he'd never find his way back outside. "I would not invite any other Saiyan here, Vegeta. I recognize a rare trait in you and I believe that you alone can comprehend what I am about to show you where no other of your brethren, were they alive, would understand. I doubt even Gokou could fathom what lies beyond this door."
"There's a shocker," Vegeta said without surprise. "Are we just going to stand here and admire the damn door or are you actually going to open it?"
Inclining his head, Kami closed his arthritic fingers around the doorknob and carefully opened the door. "Enter at will, young prince," he said affably.
Casting him a mistrustful glare, Vegeta walked inside of the darkened room a couple of feet and then halted as he considered his surroundings. Coming up along side of him, Kami asked, "What do you think?"
"It's a funhouse hall of mirrors. Big deal," the Saiyan retorted, clearly unimpressed. All around him and as far back in the room his sharp eyes could see were mirrors of all shapes and sizes that stared blankly back at him. The air was musty and stale, reeking of ancient dust and tarnished metal. No one had been in this room for a very long time, Vegeta figured. The tension went out of his compact form at the desolate sight of empty glass and his despair returned. He resented this detour of riddles that was keeping him from his task; He had Dragonballs to hunt for and a deathwish to make. He would find nothing here and turned to leave.
"Wait one moment, Vegeta," the Elder said patiently. He placed a firm hand on Vegeta's arm that contained a surprising amount of strength. "Please look around first before you resume your quest."
Vegeta shrugged off the alien's grip with an expression of disgust, noting how the Elder had cleverly moved between him and the door. He debated an attack and decided to humor the senile old goat instead and walked further into the room, muttering to himself. It didn't take him long before he noticed that his presence wasn't reflected on any of the smooth surfaces. Wandering over to one that was taller than he was, Vegeta stared at it for a moment and hesitantly touched the dusty surface. An image appeared and he jumped back in alarm, watching as the shape took on a more discernable form.
"Do you recognize him, Vegeta?" Kami asked quietly.
"It's my father," he answered but he was frowning at the image in a thoughtful way.
"Look more closely," the Elder prompted.
As he examined the likeness before him, Vegeta crossed his arms and watched as the person on the other side of the smooth surface did the exact same thing. The tall Saiyan was dressed in the regal battle-dress befitting Royalty but the style was different, looking streamlined and very modern. On the left-hand side of the man's chestplate was the Royal Crest of the House of Vegeta.
Moving in closer, Vegeta examined the Saiyan's face thoroughly and, more importantly, his eyes. "It's me," he concluded, taking a step back. He cocked his head to one side and his counterpart mimicked the gesture, blinking when he did. "Me, as King."
"Welcome to the Room of What Was, What Will Be and What Should Have Been," Kami said from behind. "In a perfect, unfractured timeline, this would be you; Today."
"I'm...taller," Vegeta observed with annoyance. His supposed likeness towered a full foot and a half over him and he found that more than a little disconcerting. "Why would I be taller?"
At length, the Namek told him in a regretful tone, "Your hatred of Frieza and your grief over the loss of your world stunted your growth during your formative years. Don't you...remember?"
"I didn't-" Vegeta opened his mouth to respond when the mirror to his left rippled in concord to his thoughts. He saw himself as a small boy, probably no more than eleven or twelve, practicing fiercely. Nappa was beside him, his lips moving soundlessly but Vegeta's memories filled that void and he knew what his former bodyguard was saying. The older Saiyan was imploring him to eat but he wasn't hungry, focusing all of his will on his training awaiting the day when he would get revenge on what Frieza had done to him and his people. A Saiyan youth entering puberty required a colossal amount of food to maintain his ki and growing body. During those awful years, Vegeta had perhaps eaten a quarter of what his starving body required and by the time he had finally snapped out of his grief the damage to his system had been irreparable. He hadn't grown much more and it had taken a long time for his muscles to fill out despite his harsh training. Not for the first time, Vegeta was thinking that all of that training had been an utter waste of time and effort and his face darkened at the thought. In response to his sudden brooding, the image on the mirror faded to an ominous black.
Kami held his breath as he waited for the inevitable Saiyan tantrum that would destroy this delicate room and its irreplaceable treasures. Instead, Vegeta took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror as he resumed his inspection. He had made his peace with his size long ago and learned to use it to his advantage. It was amazing how many worlds associated small size with weakness. In fact, Radditz and Nappa used to make wagers on how long he would put up with the short jokes before he finally annihilated the population. A smile flickered across his face at the thought of his two cohorts and he faltered in his course as the mirror closest to him came to life.
He, Nappa and Radditz were surveying a recent act of destruction, standing in the scattered remains of people and debris all reduced to one unidentifiable charred mass. Radditz was braying laughter over something Nappa had said and gave the Vegeta in the mirror a slap on the back that made him stumble forwards several steps. He came back and punched the unruly-haired warrior directly in the crotch as hard as he could then he and Nappa were standing over the contorted giant laughing so hard they could barely stand.
Good times...Vegeta thought sadly and dropped his eyes. Radditz was dead by Piccolo's hand, Nappa by his own. He was the only one left now, Kakarott didn't even count; Super-Saiyan or not. The younger man was too damaged by this miserable world to be salvageable. He was a Saiyan by birthright only. That left no one for Vegeta to turn to. At least in Hell he would be reunited with friends and enemies alike and he wanted that company very, very much.
As if catching that stray thought, Kami remarked gently, "Piccolo informed me of your earlier distress. You thought that your being wished back with the others was an error."
"Wasn't it?" he asked dully.
"Look up, Vegeta."
"Shit. I'm going to get whiplash in this stupid room," he sputtered but did as he was instructed. Directly above him was a white line that stretched on in a vertical slash towards the center of the room.
"That line represents the course of your life," Kami told him, reaching up. One talon touched that ribbon of light and suddenly a second line broke off from the original and transformed into a blood red slash, running along beside it. "The red line is the result of your involvement with Frieza."
"Not voluntarily," the Saiyan told him bitterly.
"If it had been, it would have remained one path instead of two," Kami assured him. "The instant you were handed over to Frieza, the course of your destiny was altered, running concurrent and waiting for the opportunity to rejoin the original."
Walking along underneath of it, Vegeta followed the line until it came to an abrupt end. "What happened to it?"
His voice almost a whisper, the Namek said, "That's where you died by Frieza's hand."
Vegeta's face tightened at the reminder. Beside him, a mirror rippled with color and he found himself witnessing his deathbed confessional to Gokou, speaking through a mouthful of blood, his eyes bright with remorseful tears. He turned away from the terrible scene with a livid hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the picture away. He still woke up some mornings thinking he was suffocating as he clawed his way out of a grave full of loose dirt. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't dwell on the torture Frieza had subjected him to during those final moments on Namek; one hundred blows into his back at the blink of an eye, his spine shattering like glass, internal organs ruptured. The tyrant had done him a service shooting him through the heart and speeding his sure slow death. Why couldn't anyone have just LEFT him that way, damn it?!
"The wish that resurrected you back with the others was deliberate in its wording. There was no error. You were intended to return."
"Why?" He didn't appear relieved by the news, quite the opposite.
"There are several reasons," Kami said as he reached up and touched the end of the red line. At that exact point below it, the original ribbon of white resumed its course as it split apart into more than two dozen different colored lines that ran alongside of the original.
"Whoa," Vegeta confessed in a small voice.
Translating what was above them, Kami explained, "Once you were wished back, your destiny resumed its predestined course. Not only that but it is now directly interwoven into the lives of those that you've associated with on this world."
"Kakarott..."
"The green line represents Gokou, yes. He's here. As are Piccolo, Krillin, Gohan, Yamcha, Tien... The orange line is Bulma Briefs."
Vegeta audibly swallowed at the mention of the woman's name and his wandering thoughts were betrayed by the mirror beside them. Both aliens witnessed his tender kiss with her in the drafting department. "Knock it off!" Vegeta snapped to the mirror and the scene faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
Kami observed his distress with amusement. "You care for this woman. It is the only line among this entire collection that is closest to your own."
"Several reasons I got wished back," Vegeta reminded him in a desperate attempt to change the subject. "What's another?"
"Of course. Here is what would have happened if you had been excluded from the wish and remained dead." Kami painfully stretched himself up again and this time at his touch, Vegeta's personal line ended beside the red one where Frieza had killed him. The rest still ran along the ceiling but their length had been drastically shortened. All of them ended at the same point.
"They all...died?"
"Them. The Earth. All life as we know it. Deceased."
Staring up at the Elder Namek in confusion, Vegeta backed up to the start of his original lifeline and counted his steps carefully until he reached the end. Kami watched him with interest as he performed some quick mental calculations and finally said, "Three years from now. You're talking about the arrival of the androids that purple-haired punk warned us about."
Kami had to betray a smile at the Saiyan's ingenuity. He was pleased that his initial decision to permit Vegeta into this fragile chamber had not been in vain after all. Able to rein in his thoughts with impressive self-control, Vegeta was also puzzling out the Destiny Grid with very little assistance. "Very good. Yes, the android threat is the catalyst that brings about the Earth's destruction."
"And my staying dead causes that to happen? Huh. I always figured it'd be the other way around," Vegeta remarked. He actually appeared to be amused by the whole affair. "My presence will actually change how it all turns out?"
"Directly or indirectly, yes," Kami sighed. Above them the lines faded as the effort on the Elder's reserves forced him into dropping it. "I cannot tell for sure. The future is like a mirror's reflection; it can be clearly seen or distorted, even broken. And sometimes, it's very rare, but sometimes the image will turn in on itself, fracturing under the stress and creating an alternate path-"
"-a paradox," Vegeta cut in. "You're talking about the creation of a parallel dimension."
"Precisely," Kami said with wide-eyed shock.
Catching the look, Vegeta sneered at him. "Why does everyone give me that god-damned irritating look of surprise whenever I say or do something rational? I'm not some war-club swinging barbarian, you know."
"I'm very sorry, Vegeta. I meant no insult," the Elder told him sincerely.
Vegeta waved his apology away. He was looking up at the ceiling again and walked a short distance away, his face lighting up with concern. "It ended right around here..."
Alarm settled into the pit of Kami's stomach when he realized what the Saiyan was in the process of doing. "I believe we are done here-"
"-Not yet we're not." Vegeta followed his footsteps on the dusty floor back to where his line had originally started and traced his steps, walking past the flustered Namek until he came to another abrupt stop. "The lines of the others had continued on but mine ended around here," Vegeta mused. He cast Kami a shrouded glare and the old Namek felt his body grow cold at the variety of emotions visible in the small Saiyan's eyes, none of them good. In a cold voice, he stated, "Eight years from now, maybe ten. I'm going to die again anyway, aren't I?"
Very deliberately, the elderly Namek could only say, "The future is not written in stone, Vegeta. I-I cannot say for sure one way or the other. I'm-"
Ignoring him, Vegeta was looking into the nearest mirror with only intense concentration in his dark eyes. As if through a fog an apparition appeared before him and he caught a vague glimpse of himself; battered and bloody, his clothes torn. There was a strange design etched onto his forehead-
-His hair was blond.
"What the HELL?!" Vegeta barked in shock, watching helplessly as the vague image dissipated like smoke. He had been a Super-Saiyan! With a cry of rage he brought both fists down on the glass when the reflection refused to reappear.
Kami had watched the scene in complete disbelief, unable to suppress a shiver. Somehow, Vegeta had willed a future vision of himself to appear. It was a skill that not even the seasoned Namek could boast very often and the Saiyan had done it effortlessly. "Vegeta-"
"Goddamn it, come BACK!"
"VEGETA!" Kami bellowed. He suddenly wanted very badly to be out of this room. "It is time that we left."
Turning on him with bared teeth, the outrage was plain on the Saiyan's face as he demanded, "What the fuck was that?! CALL IT BACK!"
"I can't," Kami said in a tired voice. He went to the door and waited, leaning heavily on his cane. Trying not to show his impatience when Vegeta showed absolutely no signs of cooperating with his request, the Namek called out to him, "You have found out the truth to your query with a depth no other man would ever understand. Isn't that enough for one day?"
Staring fixedly at the mirror, Vegeta ignored him as he willed the ghostly apparition to come back, his entire body shuddering with the effort. He saw nothing, not so much as a distant ripple. His concentration had shattered the instant he had caught sight of his hair in those blond spikes. He was still left too shaken to organize whatever mental connection it was that had originally summoned the vision. With an errant finger he stroked the glass in a gesture that was almost a caress. "I...I was a Super-Saiyan." He had to say the words out loud to believe them. "That-that was really me..."
"Vegeta."
He growled at the soft voice and resented it intruding on his thoughts. Glancing over at the Elder, he looked back to the mirror before reluctantly stepping away and joining the relieved Namek out in the corridor.
He visibly flinched when the door behind him slammed shut on its own.
Using his cane for support, Kami took his time as the pair retraced their steps back towards the entrance of the palace. He made numerous attempts at conversation with Vegeta to draw the smaller alien out of his shell and evaluate his mood. The Room of What Was, What Will Be and What Should Have Been was disquieting to even one as old and experienced as he but he could not even begin to comprehend the reaction of such personal revelations to an uninitiated. Despite his efforts, Vegeta had fallen completely silent and said absolutely nothing. With his heightened sensitivity and insight, Kami could almost hear the Saiyan's mind as his thoughts ground together at a relentless pace. It was obvious from his tense manner that the brief moment of civility was over between them. Reluctantly the gentle old Namek fell into a pensive silence.
When they rounded the last corner and the palace doors came into sight Vegeta quickened his pace, almost jogging in his haste to be out of the building.
Falling behind, Kami called after him; "Think on these matters carefully, young prince. Do not do anything rash. Remember that this world needs you!"
The only response he got was a ki blast that blew open the front doors. Without hesitation Vegeta sheathed himself in his blue aura of energy and blasted out of the palace entrance, almost bowling over Piccolo who had been hovering uneasy outside of the doors.
"Vegeta!" he called but the Saiyan was already out of earshot. With tremendous speed he made a graceful arc as he returned planet-side and disappeared past the Lookouts horizon.
Relying heavily on his cane, Kami slowly made his way over to his younger duplicate, his wrinkled emerald features betraying no emotion.
"Should I go after him?" Piccolo asked, wondering what could make the brash Saiyan flee the premises as swiftly as he had.
"No."
The pair watched the blue contrail of energy left in Vegeta's wake scatter to the wind and dissipate until the sky was clear once more. Eventually Piccolo turned to evaluate the other mans face and, when he got no reaction, prompted, "Well? How did things go?"
"I'm not sure," came the enigmatic response.
"What did you say to him?"
"Many things."
His heavy brows drawing together in displeasure, Piccolo realized, "You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"
"No."
Piccolo slapped his hands to his sides in frustration and angrily stalked a short distance away. He never got along with the senior alien on the best of times and generally went out of his way to avoid him. The main reason of that was because he knew that he was just a part that had been cast away as if it was viewed as undesirable; much like a wart or a boil. Before, as little as two years ago, he had never given a damn what people had thought of him until he had abducted Gohan for training. Damned if the little bugger hadn't wormed his annoying ass into his dark heart in a few short months. Following that he had learned the brutal truth of his celestial origins from Vegeta, of all people. In all it had been quite an eye-opener for him. To know he had once been looked at with such utter condemnation from his creator now preyed on his newly developed conscience. Still, it was somewhat reassuring to now have a kinship with this benevolent creature who could offer him some guidance and support whenever he needed it with no questions asked. It was a tie to his alien heritage and to his people he could look forward to.
He suddenly came to a sudden halt and the breath went out of him as if he had been sucker-punched. All of those relieved thoughts carried a bitter reality that was only now becoming obvious to him. All of those things, few though they were...
It was more than Vegeta had.
"Is everything going to be alright now?" he dared to ask.
For the first time, Kami's amiable demeanor faded, granting a glimpse of the alien's true concern and worry. "...I can only hope so."
Piccolo, ever the pessimist did not like the sound of that one bit. "What about the Dragonballs? What do we do if he continues looking for them?"
Wordlessly, his tense features never changing, Kami reached into the many folds of his robe and came up with a circular object clenched in one gnarled hand.
Piccolo eyed the Dragonball radar in complete surprise. "He just gave it to you?"
"No."
When a more elaborate answer was not forthcoming, the younger Namek eyed the Elder shrewdly and then released a bark of laughter. "Why you sly old pickpocket! I never would have thought you capable of such an act."
Betraying a slight smile, Kami returned the object to a hidden pocket and continued to stare off into the bright azure sky. "Of course not," he said at last. "After all, I only passed along my most undesirable attributes to you. Wisdom was not one of them."
Snarling at the deliberate barb, Piccolo decided his presence was no longer welcome and decided to take his leave of the gloating Namek. He took to the air and sped a quick course back to the Son household.
Kami watched him go and stayed in his place. Before long, Mr. Popo appeared from one of the chambers of the deceptively huge palace. Wordlessly, he took his place beside his lifelong friend and mentor, his pleasant dark face never changing as he waited for the elderly Namek to speak first.
After a very long time, Kami released a sigh that seemed to come from the cellar of his soul. He turned to his dearest companion and confessed in a weary tone, "These young ones are going to be the death of me."
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Chapter Ten: How will Vegeta react to the revelations that Kami has shown him? Will he attempt to continue his search for the Dragonballs or will he accept what he's learned? Things aren't looking good for the mercurial Saiyan...
Chapter Nine - Foreboding Destiny
Floating ten kilometers above the earth and cloaked from mortal eyes, lies an immense alien structure, its origins unknown. The partial ellipse of its shape and the hint of topiary on its surface give the deliberate impression of unthreatening tranquility those rare few chosen to lay eyes upon it. There is great wisdom to be found here, and true knowledge. Housed within the alabaster palace is a repository of chambers where time-limes intersect, where dimensional barriers fray at the seams and where nightmares and dreams are revealed.
It is not a place to venture for those who do not have the ki to withstand the depths of divination from its wizened host. The powerful occupant had been called many things over the course of his extended life span; God, being the most common. His province is far more humbling than what such an auspicious calling would suggest. He was not omnipotent. In fact his aged frame was bent with the weight of centuries and he knew that he would not live to see another. An intuitive and powerful creature he was not omnipresent either. His station in life was surprisingly simple. He was the watchdog of wishes, the caretaker of dreams...
He was Kami; The true origin of the mystic Dragonballs.
Piccolo did not want to come here. It troubled him beyond words to view the Lookout and be reminded how the sight of it related to him personally. Unfortunately, to refuse the orders of the ancient Namek was virtually an impossibility since they were one in the same being. For all intents and purposes, Kami was the paternal equivalent of a father to Piccolo. Like his friendship with Gohan and his growing tolerance of the other Z fighters, some part of the younger Namek wanted the elders' approval because he had been held in contempt for far too long. Despite himself, he wanted to do the right thing. By listening to Kami and bringing Vegeta here, he was headed in the right direction towards redemption.
Vegeta was showing signs of coming around and Piccolo unceremoniously dumped him on the palace steps as he went searching for the wise patriarch. He had to grumble under his breath that the old bastard had the foresight to order him around but not the wits to meet him personally. He looked to the doors of the palace but did not have the courage to just brazenly enter the immense structure. He went around to the back of the palace calling for the older Namek with voice and mind.
Piccolo caught up to him as he was leaving his small garden and paced nervously along side of him as the Elder made his excruciatingly slow way around to the front of the building. When Kami rounded the corner, he saw Vegeta sitting up and wiping the blood from his battered face with the sleeve of his jacket. He glowered at Piccolo disapprovingly. "You did not tell me that you had to beat him into submission to get him here."
Piccolo shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"
The elder Namek shook his head in distaste at the other alien's actions. "You've done quite enough. Stay here," he barked, and went over to where the Saiyan was seated.
"Vegeta," Kami greeted cordially.
Vegeta's dark eyes narrowed in agitation before he deliberately spat out a mouthful of blood on the polished marble floor of the Lookout. In the background Piccolo made a strangled squawk at the Saiyan's belligerence but Kami only observed the act with veiled nonchalance, refusing to be baited by such obvious tactics.
"Walk with me," the Elder said.
"Ask me nicely," Vegeta snarled back.
"Vegeta-" Piccolo tensened with outrage until Kami raised a calm hand in his direction. He smiled pleasantly when he looked back to Vegeta and actually gave a respectful little bow.
"Please, young prince."
It was the correct thing to say. Getting to his feet, the Saiyan obediently went to his side and allowed himself to be led in an aimless walk around the sparse grounds. At first there was only silence between the alien pair. Weighing his words carefully before he spoke, Kami watched as Vegeta cast a probing glance around his surroundings, eyeing everything and cataloging what he saw for future reference. It was that meditative quiescence of his calm manner that prompted Kami to ask, "Your boyhood was not that of a typical Saiyan youth, was it Vegeta?"
Vegeta snapped his head around quickly. "What does my childhood have to do with any of this?"
"Please. Oblige me."
Grumbling, he admitted, "I was first-born Prince to the House of Vegeta of the Saiyajin Royalty Elite. Being such, my upbringing was different than that of a lower-caste Saiyan."
"In what way?"
"What's this all about?"
"I am only curious. Tell me more."
"I was being groomed for the throne," Vegeta finally said after a long pause. "I was forbidden to associate with those my own age who would later become warriors. I could fight with the best of them but I had to learn things a commoner wouldn't need."
"Like what, for example?" Kami asked curiously.
"You're really pushing it," the Saiyan told him menacingly. He received only that disarming, benevolent smile in response. "When I wasn't in training to fight and control my power, I had to study useless subjects like math, history, philosophy..." He gave an irritated shake of the head. "By the time I was eight I was bored out of my mind."
"Then you were sent off to Frieza in exchange for your world. You did everything that creature told you to but he killed your father and destroyed your planet anyway," Kami said in a saddened tone of voice. "You were never intended to become a soldier, Vegeta, but fate dealt you a very cruel blow."
"No shit," he retorted sourly in agreement.
"Tell me," the Elder continued with that infuriating calmness in his manner. "Did you continue your studies while you were in Frieza's employ?"
"I had an obligation to honor my father and my heritage."
"So the answer is; yes."
Reluctantly, Vegeta nodded. "I'll ask you one last time...What the hell is this about?" His patience was ticking down with each probing question and the both of them knew it.
"You have a surprisingly reflective and insightful nature," Kami concluded after a long, meditative silence. "It is evident in your manner and speech and clearly a result of your unique upbringing. Any other Saiyan, excluding Gokou of course, would have attacked me by now."
"I haven't yet decided against that, old man," the Saiyan assured him in a dangerous tone of voice.
Kami's smile broadened despite the harsh words. "I have something very special to show you."
"Oh goody," Vegeta muttered under his breath but he followed the old Namek anyway.
Blinking in disbelief, Piccolo watched the strange pair enter the immaculate palace, Kami actually stepping aside to let the small Saiyan in first. It was a privilege that had never been offered to him and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the young Namek had to grapple with the bitter emotion of jealousy.
"What lies beyond this door is a very special room," Kami told him when they had reached the end of one of a seemingly infinite number of twisting corridors. They had taken so many different turns down so many identical hallways that Vegeta hoped the old Namek wouldn't kick off or he'd never find his way back outside. "I would not invite any other Saiyan here, Vegeta. I recognize a rare trait in you and I believe that you alone can comprehend what I am about to show you where no other of your brethren, were they alive, would understand. I doubt even Gokou could fathom what lies beyond this door."
"There's a shocker," Vegeta said without surprise. "Are we just going to stand here and admire the damn door or are you actually going to open it?"
Inclining his head, Kami closed his arthritic fingers around the doorknob and carefully opened the door. "Enter at will, young prince," he said affably.
Casting him a mistrustful glare, Vegeta walked inside of the darkened room a couple of feet and then halted as he considered his surroundings. Coming up along side of him, Kami asked, "What do you think?"
"It's a funhouse hall of mirrors. Big deal," the Saiyan retorted, clearly unimpressed. All around him and as far back in the room his sharp eyes could see were mirrors of all shapes and sizes that stared blankly back at him. The air was musty and stale, reeking of ancient dust and tarnished metal. No one had been in this room for a very long time, Vegeta figured. The tension went out of his compact form at the desolate sight of empty glass and his despair returned. He resented this detour of riddles that was keeping him from his task; He had Dragonballs to hunt for and a deathwish to make. He would find nothing here and turned to leave.
"Wait one moment, Vegeta," the Elder said patiently. He placed a firm hand on Vegeta's arm that contained a surprising amount of strength. "Please look around first before you resume your quest."
Vegeta shrugged off the alien's grip with an expression of disgust, noting how the Elder had cleverly moved between him and the door. He debated an attack and decided to humor the senile old goat instead and walked further into the room, muttering to himself. It didn't take him long before he noticed that his presence wasn't reflected on any of the smooth surfaces. Wandering over to one that was taller than he was, Vegeta stared at it for a moment and hesitantly touched the dusty surface. An image appeared and he jumped back in alarm, watching as the shape took on a more discernable form.
"Do you recognize him, Vegeta?" Kami asked quietly.
"It's my father," he answered but he was frowning at the image in a thoughtful way.
"Look more closely," the Elder prompted.
As he examined the likeness before him, Vegeta crossed his arms and watched as the person on the other side of the smooth surface did the exact same thing. The tall Saiyan was dressed in the regal battle-dress befitting Royalty but the style was different, looking streamlined and very modern. On the left-hand side of the man's chestplate was the Royal Crest of the House of Vegeta.
Moving in closer, Vegeta examined the Saiyan's face thoroughly and, more importantly, his eyes. "It's me," he concluded, taking a step back. He cocked his head to one side and his counterpart mimicked the gesture, blinking when he did. "Me, as King."
"Welcome to the Room of What Was, What Will Be and What Should Have Been," Kami said from behind. "In a perfect, unfractured timeline, this would be you; Today."
"I'm...taller," Vegeta observed with annoyance. His supposed likeness towered a full foot and a half over him and he found that more than a little disconcerting. "Why would I be taller?"
At length, the Namek told him in a regretful tone, "Your hatred of Frieza and your grief over the loss of your world stunted your growth during your formative years. Don't you...remember?"
"I didn't-" Vegeta opened his mouth to respond when the mirror to his left rippled in concord to his thoughts. He saw himself as a small boy, probably no more than eleven or twelve, practicing fiercely. Nappa was beside him, his lips moving soundlessly but Vegeta's memories filled that void and he knew what his former bodyguard was saying. The older Saiyan was imploring him to eat but he wasn't hungry, focusing all of his will on his training awaiting the day when he would get revenge on what Frieza had done to him and his people. A Saiyan youth entering puberty required a colossal amount of food to maintain his ki and growing body. During those awful years, Vegeta had perhaps eaten a quarter of what his starving body required and by the time he had finally snapped out of his grief the damage to his system had been irreparable. He hadn't grown much more and it had taken a long time for his muscles to fill out despite his harsh training. Not for the first time, Vegeta was thinking that all of that training had been an utter waste of time and effort and his face darkened at the thought. In response to his sudden brooding, the image on the mirror faded to an ominous black.
Kami held his breath as he waited for the inevitable Saiyan tantrum that would destroy this delicate room and its irreplaceable treasures. Instead, Vegeta took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror as he resumed his inspection. He had made his peace with his size long ago and learned to use it to his advantage. It was amazing how many worlds associated small size with weakness. In fact, Radditz and Nappa used to make wagers on how long he would put up with the short jokes before he finally annihilated the population. A smile flickered across his face at the thought of his two cohorts and he faltered in his course as the mirror closest to him came to life.
He, Nappa and Radditz were surveying a recent act of destruction, standing in the scattered remains of people and debris all reduced to one unidentifiable charred mass. Radditz was braying laughter over something Nappa had said and gave the Vegeta in the mirror a slap on the back that made him stumble forwards several steps. He came back and punched the unruly-haired warrior directly in the crotch as hard as he could then he and Nappa were standing over the contorted giant laughing so hard they could barely stand.
Good times...Vegeta thought sadly and dropped his eyes. Radditz was dead by Piccolo's hand, Nappa by his own. He was the only one left now, Kakarott didn't even count; Super-Saiyan or not. The younger man was too damaged by this miserable world to be salvageable. He was a Saiyan by birthright only. That left no one for Vegeta to turn to. At least in Hell he would be reunited with friends and enemies alike and he wanted that company very, very much.
As if catching that stray thought, Kami remarked gently, "Piccolo informed me of your earlier distress. You thought that your being wished back with the others was an error."
"Wasn't it?" he asked dully.
"Look up, Vegeta."
"Shit. I'm going to get whiplash in this stupid room," he sputtered but did as he was instructed. Directly above him was a white line that stretched on in a vertical slash towards the center of the room.
"That line represents the course of your life," Kami told him, reaching up. One talon touched that ribbon of light and suddenly a second line broke off from the original and transformed into a blood red slash, running along beside it. "The red line is the result of your involvement with Frieza."
"Not voluntarily," the Saiyan told him bitterly.
"If it had been, it would have remained one path instead of two," Kami assured him. "The instant you were handed over to Frieza, the course of your destiny was altered, running concurrent and waiting for the opportunity to rejoin the original."
Walking along underneath of it, Vegeta followed the line until it came to an abrupt end. "What happened to it?"
His voice almost a whisper, the Namek said, "That's where you died by Frieza's hand."
Vegeta's face tightened at the reminder. Beside him, a mirror rippled with color and he found himself witnessing his deathbed confessional to Gokou, speaking through a mouthful of blood, his eyes bright with remorseful tears. He turned away from the terrible scene with a livid hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the picture away. He still woke up some mornings thinking he was suffocating as he clawed his way out of a grave full of loose dirt. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't dwell on the torture Frieza had subjected him to during those final moments on Namek; one hundred blows into his back at the blink of an eye, his spine shattering like glass, internal organs ruptured. The tyrant had done him a service shooting him through the heart and speeding his sure slow death. Why couldn't anyone have just LEFT him that way, damn it?!
"The wish that resurrected you back with the others was deliberate in its wording. There was no error. You were intended to return."
"Why?" He didn't appear relieved by the news, quite the opposite.
"There are several reasons," Kami said as he reached up and touched the end of the red line. At that exact point below it, the original ribbon of white resumed its course as it split apart into more than two dozen different colored lines that ran alongside of the original.
"Whoa," Vegeta confessed in a small voice.
Translating what was above them, Kami explained, "Once you were wished back, your destiny resumed its predestined course. Not only that but it is now directly interwoven into the lives of those that you've associated with on this world."
"Kakarott..."
"The green line represents Gokou, yes. He's here. As are Piccolo, Krillin, Gohan, Yamcha, Tien... The orange line is Bulma Briefs."
Vegeta audibly swallowed at the mention of the woman's name and his wandering thoughts were betrayed by the mirror beside them. Both aliens witnessed his tender kiss with her in the drafting department. "Knock it off!" Vegeta snapped to the mirror and the scene faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
Kami observed his distress with amusement. "You care for this woman. It is the only line among this entire collection that is closest to your own."
"Several reasons I got wished back," Vegeta reminded him in a desperate attempt to change the subject. "What's another?"
"Of course. Here is what would have happened if you had been excluded from the wish and remained dead." Kami painfully stretched himself up again and this time at his touch, Vegeta's personal line ended beside the red one where Frieza had killed him. The rest still ran along the ceiling but their length had been drastically shortened. All of them ended at the same point.
"They all...died?"
"Them. The Earth. All life as we know it. Deceased."
Staring up at the Elder Namek in confusion, Vegeta backed up to the start of his original lifeline and counted his steps carefully until he reached the end. Kami watched him with interest as he performed some quick mental calculations and finally said, "Three years from now. You're talking about the arrival of the androids that purple-haired punk warned us about."
Kami had to betray a smile at the Saiyan's ingenuity. He was pleased that his initial decision to permit Vegeta into this fragile chamber had not been in vain after all. Able to rein in his thoughts with impressive self-control, Vegeta was also puzzling out the Destiny Grid with very little assistance. "Very good. Yes, the android threat is the catalyst that brings about the Earth's destruction."
"And my staying dead causes that to happen? Huh. I always figured it'd be the other way around," Vegeta remarked. He actually appeared to be amused by the whole affair. "My presence will actually change how it all turns out?"
"Directly or indirectly, yes," Kami sighed. Above them the lines faded as the effort on the Elder's reserves forced him into dropping it. "I cannot tell for sure. The future is like a mirror's reflection; it can be clearly seen or distorted, even broken. And sometimes, it's very rare, but sometimes the image will turn in on itself, fracturing under the stress and creating an alternate path-"
"-a paradox," Vegeta cut in. "You're talking about the creation of a parallel dimension."
"Precisely," Kami said with wide-eyed shock.
Catching the look, Vegeta sneered at him. "Why does everyone give me that god-damned irritating look of surprise whenever I say or do something rational? I'm not some war-club swinging barbarian, you know."
"I'm very sorry, Vegeta. I meant no insult," the Elder told him sincerely.
Vegeta waved his apology away. He was looking up at the ceiling again and walked a short distance away, his face lighting up with concern. "It ended right around here..."
Alarm settled into the pit of Kami's stomach when he realized what the Saiyan was in the process of doing. "I believe we are done here-"
"-Not yet we're not." Vegeta followed his footsteps on the dusty floor back to where his line had originally started and traced his steps, walking past the flustered Namek until he came to another abrupt stop. "The lines of the others had continued on but mine ended around here," Vegeta mused. He cast Kami a shrouded glare and the old Namek felt his body grow cold at the variety of emotions visible in the small Saiyan's eyes, none of them good. In a cold voice, he stated, "Eight years from now, maybe ten. I'm going to die again anyway, aren't I?"
Very deliberately, the elderly Namek could only say, "The future is not written in stone, Vegeta. I-I cannot say for sure one way or the other. I'm-"
Ignoring him, Vegeta was looking into the nearest mirror with only intense concentration in his dark eyes. As if through a fog an apparition appeared before him and he caught a vague glimpse of himself; battered and bloody, his clothes torn. There was a strange design etched onto his forehead-
-His hair was blond.
"What the HELL?!" Vegeta barked in shock, watching helplessly as the vague image dissipated like smoke. He had been a Super-Saiyan! With a cry of rage he brought both fists down on the glass when the reflection refused to reappear.
Kami had watched the scene in complete disbelief, unable to suppress a shiver. Somehow, Vegeta had willed a future vision of himself to appear. It was a skill that not even the seasoned Namek could boast very often and the Saiyan had done it effortlessly. "Vegeta-"
"Goddamn it, come BACK!"
"VEGETA!" Kami bellowed. He suddenly wanted very badly to be out of this room. "It is time that we left."
Turning on him with bared teeth, the outrage was plain on the Saiyan's face as he demanded, "What the fuck was that?! CALL IT BACK!"
"I can't," Kami said in a tired voice. He went to the door and waited, leaning heavily on his cane. Trying not to show his impatience when Vegeta showed absolutely no signs of cooperating with his request, the Namek called out to him, "You have found out the truth to your query with a depth no other man would ever understand. Isn't that enough for one day?"
Staring fixedly at the mirror, Vegeta ignored him as he willed the ghostly apparition to come back, his entire body shuddering with the effort. He saw nothing, not so much as a distant ripple. His concentration had shattered the instant he had caught sight of his hair in those blond spikes. He was still left too shaken to organize whatever mental connection it was that had originally summoned the vision. With an errant finger he stroked the glass in a gesture that was almost a caress. "I...I was a Super-Saiyan." He had to say the words out loud to believe them. "That-that was really me..."
"Vegeta."
He growled at the soft voice and resented it intruding on his thoughts. Glancing over at the Elder, he looked back to the mirror before reluctantly stepping away and joining the relieved Namek out in the corridor.
He visibly flinched when the door behind him slammed shut on its own.
Using his cane for support, Kami took his time as the pair retraced their steps back towards the entrance of the palace. He made numerous attempts at conversation with Vegeta to draw the smaller alien out of his shell and evaluate his mood. The Room of What Was, What Will Be and What Should Have Been was disquieting to even one as old and experienced as he but he could not even begin to comprehend the reaction of such personal revelations to an uninitiated. Despite his efforts, Vegeta had fallen completely silent and said absolutely nothing. With his heightened sensitivity and insight, Kami could almost hear the Saiyan's mind as his thoughts ground together at a relentless pace. It was obvious from his tense manner that the brief moment of civility was over between them. Reluctantly the gentle old Namek fell into a pensive silence.
When they rounded the last corner and the palace doors came into sight Vegeta quickened his pace, almost jogging in his haste to be out of the building.
Falling behind, Kami called after him; "Think on these matters carefully, young prince. Do not do anything rash. Remember that this world needs you!"
The only response he got was a ki blast that blew open the front doors. Without hesitation Vegeta sheathed himself in his blue aura of energy and blasted out of the palace entrance, almost bowling over Piccolo who had been hovering uneasy outside of the doors.
"Vegeta!" he called but the Saiyan was already out of earshot. With tremendous speed he made a graceful arc as he returned planet-side and disappeared past the Lookouts horizon.
Relying heavily on his cane, Kami slowly made his way over to his younger duplicate, his wrinkled emerald features betraying no emotion.
"Should I go after him?" Piccolo asked, wondering what could make the brash Saiyan flee the premises as swiftly as he had.
"No."
The pair watched the blue contrail of energy left in Vegeta's wake scatter to the wind and dissipate until the sky was clear once more. Eventually Piccolo turned to evaluate the other mans face and, when he got no reaction, prompted, "Well? How did things go?"
"I'm not sure," came the enigmatic response.
"What did you say to him?"
"Many things."
His heavy brows drawing together in displeasure, Piccolo realized, "You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"
"No."
Piccolo slapped his hands to his sides in frustration and angrily stalked a short distance away. He never got along with the senior alien on the best of times and generally went out of his way to avoid him. The main reason of that was because he knew that he was just a part that had been cast away as if it was viewed as undesirable; much like a wart or a boil. Before, as little as two years ago, he had never given a damn what people had thought of him until he had abducted Gohan for training. Damned if the little bugger hadn't wormed his annoying ass into his dark heart in a few short months. Following that he had learned the brutal truth of his celestial origins from Vegeta, of all people. In all it had been quite an eye-opener for him. To know he had once been looked at with such utter condemnation from his creator now preyed on his newly developed conscience. Still, it was somewhat reassuring to now have a kinship with this benevolent creature who could offer him some guidance and support whenever he needed it with no questions asked. It was a tie to his alien heritage and to his people he could look forward to.
He suddenly came to a sudden halt and the breath went out of him as if he had been sucker-punched. All of those relieved thoughts carried a bitter reality that was only now becoming obvious to him. All of those things, few though they were...
It was more than Vegeta had.
"Is everything going to be alright now?" he dared to ask.
For the first time, Kami's amiable demeanor faded, granting a glimpse of the alien's true concern and worry. "...I can only hope so."
Piccolo, ever the pessimist did not like the sound of that one bit. "What about the Dragonballs? What do we do if he continues looking for them?"
Wordlessly, his tense features never changing, Kami reached into the many folds of his robe and came up with a circular object clenched in one gnarled hand.
Piccolo eyed the Dragonball radar in complete surprise. "He just gave it to you?"
"No."
When a more elaborate answer was not forthcoming, the younger Namek eyed the Elder shrewdly and then released a bark of laughter. "Why you sly old pickpocket! I never would have thought you capable of such an act."
Betraying a slight smile, Kami returned the object to a hidden pocket and continued to stare off into the bright azure sky. "Of course not," he said at last. "After all, I only passed along my most undesirable attributes to you. Wisdom was not one of them."
Snarling at the deliberate barb, Piccolo decided his presence was no longer welcome and decided to take his leave of the gloating Namek. He took to the air and sped a quick course back to the Son household.
Kami watched him go and stayed in his place. Before long, Mr. Popo appeared from one of the chambers of the deceptively huge palace. Wordlessly, he took his place beside his lifelong friend and mentor, his pleasant dark face never changing as he waited for the elderly Namek to speak first.
After a very long time, Kami released a sigh that seemed to come from the cellar of his soul. He turned to his dearest companion and confessed in a weary tone, "These young ones are going to be the death of me."
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Chapter Ten: How will Vegeta react to the revelations that Kami has shown him? Will he attempt to continue his search for the Dragonballs or will he accept what he's learned? Things aren't looking good for the mercurial Saiyan...
