Ch. 27
Radditz paused, the bit of food raised halfway to his mouth, his eyes focused far away and clouded.
What's wrong? Goku asked, setting down his own bowl amid the pile of dishes whose contents he had already consumed.
Radditz blinked rapidly, staring at Goku as if he had never seen him before.
ChiChi scowled and set her chopsticks down. He asked you what's wrong, she said sharply. Gohan, don't forget to use your napkin.
Radditz turned and stared at Gohan, watching the little boy as he dabbed gingerly at his mouth with the white napkin. Gohan noticed his uncle's stare and looked back up at him, his large eyes searching the warrior's weathered face. What is it, Uncle Radditz? the little boy asked gently.
The Prince, Radditz whispered, eyes glazing over once again. Something's wrong with the Prince.
Goku stood, knocking over his chair and earning a glare from ChiChi. Then let's go! he said, starting for the door. Gohan jumped down from his chair and began to scramble after him, tail bobbing to and fro behind him.
Radditz wrapped his own tail more tightly around his waist and stood, rushing to the door himself. No, I'll go alone, he said sternly, looking down at Gohan.
You don't have to, Goku protested. You might need help, he persisted, trying to move past Radditz and into the yard.
Radditz batted Goku aside. I said no! he snapped. I don't need you for this. Maybe if you were a real Saiyan...
Goku's dark eyes shimmered for a moment with pain. But, Radditz...
Shut up! Stay here, he insisted, nodding at ChiChi. Dinner was good, he commented, and stormed out of the door, taking flight immediately and disappearing to a speck within seconds.
Do you think everything's okay? Gohan asked, going over to his father and tugging on his pant leg.
Goku reached down and picked the boy up, pressing his cheek into the crown of soft hair. I hope so, Gohan, I hope so.
Zarbon's legs almost gave out from underneath him as he landed in the back yard, staggering over to where a door was, his skin burning with cuts and his head throbbing. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the screaming pain of his broken bones, his entire attention set on getting Vegeta through that door, getting him to a tank, making sure that...his thoughts were interrupted as a dark form landed on the grass in front of him, hands planted on hips. What in the hell are you doing with him? a sharp voice called out in the night.
Get out of my way, Radditz, Zarbon snapped, continuing his slow march forward. Stars blossomed in his vision as he was struck upside the head, gasping as his arms failed him and Vegeta rolled to the ground. Zarbon realized dimly that he was on the ground as well, the blades of grass irritating his blood-crusted nostrils. He grunted as he pulled his arms under him and stood slowly, listing to the side as he tried to find a position of balance that didn't blind him with pain. His energy was almost completely gone and only his desperation kept him upright. He tottered over to Vegeta's body and picked him up again, resuming his march towards the building.
Put him down! Radditz shouted.
I'm trying to help him, Zarbon hissed, his less-swollen eye narrowing.
There's no way I'm going to trust you, the Saiyan hissed, launching himself at Zarbon.
Zarbon felt anger lace his veins and he threw Vegeta as far up in the air as he possibly could, quickly dealing Radditz a blow to the neck. Radditz grunted and stumbled to the side, falling and momentarily paralyzed. Zarbon looked up and used the last bit of his ki to slow Vegeta's descent as he caught him gently, continuously trudging for the house. His eyes were trained on the glowing lights on the upper floors, where the family's private quarters were, silently urging someone to come out and help him. His muscles were torn and battered and he couldn't keep it up much longer. Then he stumbled forward, Vegeta spilling from his grasp and rolling across the ground, and the only thought in his head was the prayer that Vegeta's broken ribs weren't puncturing organs. Someone had shouldered him over from behind. He coughed a little blood and did his best to roll over, gazing hazily at Radditz, who had moved to stand over him. The Saiyan's incredible amount of black hair blew in the slight breeze, its wild mass obscuring Zarbon's view of the skies. He knew the spaceship had gone into orbit for the night, so there would be no help there. A groan of pain escaped him without permission and Radditz's face tightened. Zarbon flinched as Radditz reached down and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him upward until he was sitting before striking him across the face again. Wounds that had clotted were now broken open once again, fresh blood running from his nose over his lips and several cuts smearing blood on Radditz's open hand. Stop this, Radditz, Zarbon muttered. You're condemning Vegeta to death.
I would do anything to save my prince. If you say he is beyond help then I will avenge him by killing you! Radditz snarled, his grip on the back of Zarbon's neck tightening.
He's not beyond help, but maybe he will be if you waste your time taking out your aggression on me and don't let me help him! Zarbon snapped, choking on the blood in his throat at the last word.
Radditz scowled and released Zarbon, watching him bounce slightly as he hit the ground, and stood up straight. His mane began to rise slowly as he powered up, his body finally surrounded by a bright light as he hit his limit. Zarbon squinted against the light and sighed, waiting for the end.
Radditz, what is going on? a high voice shrilled from the direction of the house.
Zarbon watched Radditz's features drain of most of their anger and the glow of power disappeared almost immediately. he began, lifting his arms a little in an uncertain gesture.
Dear god, Bulma shrieked as she ran to them, gasping as she looked down at Zarbon and Vegeta. Did you do this, Radditz?
Radditz paled. No, of course not! he protested. They must have done it to each other.
I thought they were friends or something, a new male voice said, and Zarbon felt the grass beside him shift as someone kneeled there. A scarred face looked down at him, dark eyes concerned.
I think they are, Yamcha, Bulma replied, coming over to gaze down at Zarbon, her face twisted with distaste. But why would they do this?
Radditz's eyes were shooting daggers at Yamcha. I don't know, he admitted.
Well why are you standing around? Get Vegeta into a tank this instant! I don't want my technology deal to be ruined just because of some grudge match, Bulma ordered angrily.
Are you okay? Yamcha asked, his eyes moving over Zarbon's injuries.
Zarbon's brows lowered just a fraction in confusion. Why would this Earthling care? I might be eventually, Zarbon said, coughing.
Yamcha gave a low whistle. Man, I'm sorry, but you look like crap. Ruined a nice pair of pants, too, he said.
Zarbon laughed, honestly amused. Yes, I know, he sighed, watching Radditz pick up Vegeta out of the corner of his eye.
Listen, we have to get you inside too. Will you let me help you? I know sometimes you aliens seem to have this weird pride thing going on, Yamcha asked gently.
Zarbon laughed again, the sound turning into a cough as blood passed onto his lips from his throat. I'm not a Saiyan, he replied. I'll take what help I can get.
Yamcha said with a broad smile, and reached down, grabbing Zarbon underneath the armpits and hauling him up to standing. He extended one of Zarbon's arms and positioned himself underneath it, holding Zarbon up as they walked slowly towards the house.
So when were you healed? Zarbon asked. Last time I saw you you were lying in a bed trying to get Vegeta to blast the hell out of you.
Yamcha glanced over at him and laughed, shifting his grip when he saw Zarbon wince. Yeah, it's a bad habit of mine, he admitted. Bulma put me in a tank once one was free, and then I had to run some errands.
Zarbon smiled weakly and hung his head, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. You Earthlings are so odd, he whispered.
Don't doubt that, Yamcha snorted. You folks aren't exactly normal yourselves.
Zarbon tried to reply but was taken in a fit of coughing instead. Blood dribbled from his lips and ran onto his chin. Yamcha's face darkened in a concerned frown. We've got to get you taken care of fast, he said softly, a gentle glow of power surrounding them both, and they lifted off the ground, picking up speed as they got to the house.
Thank you, Zarbon said and quietly passed out.
He woke up to the woman's screeching, his eyes fluttering open slowly as he inwardly winced at the sound. What do you mean, you took it apart? she screamed, shaking a fist.
I thought your alien friends were done fighting, Dr. Brief's voice replied. I didn't think it'd hurt to do a little examination.
But you BROKE it, Dad! Bulma shrieked again, throwing her hands up in exasperation. They could die now!
Dr. Briefs stood up and set down the screwdriver he held in his hand, turning around and gazing at the tank he had started to disassemble. How was I supposed to know that they'd try to kill each other, Bulma? he asked softly, raising an eyebrow.
Bulma groaned and put a hand to her head. And you didn't pay attention when you were taking it apart?
Dr. Briefs shrugged. Guess not. Alien technology is just too fascinating.
Bulma said with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. If their asshole leader dies the technology agreement will fall through.
Yamcha offered, standing to the side and still supporting Zarbon. Why don't you put the little guy in the working tank now? He's hurt worse and you don't have a lot of time.
Bulma turned around and looked at Radditz, who was standing there cradling Vegeta's broken body in his arms. Putting a hand to her forehead she sighed. Yes, go ahead and put Vegeta in now. So what do we do about Zarbon?
Let him die, Radditz snarled.
Zarbon raised his head. he said weakly. What do you have against me? Are you still angry about what I did to you on Arlia?
Radditz's face contorted in anger. Not only that but you helped destroy Vejiitasei! he spat, eyes blazing.
Bulma paled and turned to stare at Zarbon. You're the one who almost killed Radditz? she gasped, putting her fingers to her mouth. You helped destroy their home planet?
Zarbon sighed, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Yes, I almost killed him, but it was just on orders. Nothing personal, you know how the warrior business goes. As for Vejiitasei, I had nothing to do with it other than I worked for the person who ordered it done, he replied, voice exhausted.
Bulma, let up on him, okay? Yamcha interjected. I think I can help this one out. Are you gonna make it for a little while? he asked Zarbon.
Zarbon replied, bowing his head as Yamcha lowered him gently into a chair.
Great. Sit tight. It's late, but I bet Goku's still up. He'll be able to help, Yamcha said, looking at Bulma.
She was rubbing her temples. Fine, whatever. Radditz, put Vegeta in the functioning tank. Radditz nodded and moved to do as she said, but her eyes followed Yamcha as he waved at her with a wink and darted out of the room.
Zarbon sighed and put his head back, feeling the flow of blood from his injuries slow down as clotting took place. Bulma angrily ushered her father from the room and stood, looking down at the pieces of the tank's circuitry lying on the ground. Her blue eyes rose to meet his, and he was able to read her fear there. She apparently wasn't afraid of Radditz in the least, and she didn't seem to be too afraid of Vegeta either. He fought the urge to smile at her and sighed, instead concentrating on staying alive.
I can help, Radditz said, suddenly very close behind her.
Bulma turned and found that he was only inches away, his dark eyes looking down at her, the hard edges of his expression softening. With what? she asked hopelessly.
With the tank, he replied, gesturing. My father was sort of a scientist, and one of my hobbies used to be repairing broken equipment for Freeza's Empire.
Bulma's eyes sparkled with interest. she said, voice excited. Can you fix it? Will you?
Radditz smiled. he said, kneeling and peering into the panel. You see, your father has taken out the fluid injection protocols, and this thing is what calculates the genetic structure of the patient. This goes here, he said, snapping a small piece into place, but some wiring is missing.
Bulma bent, staring into the panel with him. Wow, great, she breathed.
Zarbon scowled, the motion hurting as small cuts on his face were contorted. Shouldn't someone start Vegeta's tank? he interrupted. Technology eggheads were always so scatterbrained.
Bulma stood up straight and glanced at him, blushing. Oh, right, she said, dashing over to the tank and punching in some data. When she was done she placed a hand on the glass, watching as the tank began to fill with the blue liquid. Did he want you to kill him? she asked Zarbon softly.
Zarbon lowered his gaze, relaxing into the chair as far as his wounds would let him. he replied.
Bulma nodded and turned away, letting her fingers trail down the cool glass of the tank before her arm fell to her side. I see, she said. Thanks for your help, Radditz. I'll get you that wiring, she said, and quietly left the room.
Radditz straightened and watched her go, his hands paused in their motions. No problem, he muttered, staring at where she had been for long moments before resuming his work.
Hey, there, wake up, a voice said gently.
Zarbon let his eyes flutter open, startled for a moment as black eyes gazed down upon him. What was a Saiyan doing waiting on him? Then realization broke over him like a wave; it wasn't a Saiyan at all, but that scarred Earth man, Yamcha. What's happened? he muttered, unwilling to muster the strength it took to speak loudly.
The Earthling smiled uneasily, a little crease appearing between his brows and the skin tightening at the corners of his eyes. I went to try and get some senzu beans for you, but it turns out that they're all gone, he said, blushing. Sorry about that. I'm a little embarrassed.
Zarbon shook his head slightly, closing his eyes to indicate it was not a problem. How's the Prince?
Yamcha blinked, a shadow of a scowl passing over his face for just an instant. You mean Vegeta? He's still in the tank and probably will be for at least two more days, if Bulma's calculations are right, he replied. That Radditz guy's working on undoing the damage Dr. Briefs inflicted on the other machine, but it still might take a while to get you into a tank.
That's fine, Zarbon said, moving his golden gaze over the scarred face. So why are you here? This isn't your house, is it? Are you Bulma's mate?
Again a blush appeared on the man's cheeks and his dark eyes darted away. No, I'm not Bulma's husband and this isn't my house. She'd be taking care of you herself but she always mumbles some lame excuse and wanders off. I think she's afraid of you.
So you get her offal? Zarbon said, beginning to raise an eyebrow but stopping when he realized it hurt too much.
Yamcha shrugged. I guess. That's the way it's always been. But I don't really mind. Heck, you're not the one that's tried to kill me time and time again, and besides, you seem to have good fashion sense, although I don't think I would have worn those shoes with the cargoes.
Zarbon barked a bitter laugh. I really liked those pants. Mrs. Briefs picked out the shoes, though. You know, though, that if it came to it I would have to kill you on Vegeta's orders.
Yamcha's face fell and he sighed. Yeah, I know. But I know that you'd just be doing your job, as is honorable. It would be Vegeta that would have to shoulder the consequences.
Zarbon tried to smile. I don't think you have to worry, so long as you keep your mouth shut and stay out of his way. Killing you would endanger the technology swap, after all.
So it would, Yamcha replied, mouth pressing into a tight smile and his eyes wandering away. Zarbon watched as the Earthling's gaze went out into the hallway, where Bulma's shape flickered past followed by the hulking mass of Radditz. Yamcha's face became taught and his eyes hard, his jaw setting itself more tightly. Zarbon sighed inwardly, hoping that Yamcha wouldn't anger Radditz as well. Sure, he thought Bulma was pretty too, but he didn't think she was anything worth risking solar safety over. Things could only get worse.
Well, I don't want to keep you, Zarbon interjected, interrupting Yamcha's thoughts.
Eh? Oh, no problem. Is there anything I can get you? the Earthling replied, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.
Replace my pants, Zarbon said with a chuckle, watching Yamcha's face break out in a charming grin. No, honestly, do you people have any good painkillers?
Yamcha's face became solemn once again. Sure, right away, he replied, and began to walk from the room.
Zarbon muttered after him, closing his eyes once again.
They must have been some painkillers, considering he didn't even wake up until he was actually lifted into the air. He blinked awake in confusion, turning his head to the side weakly and trying to focus his eyes. The pills Yamcha had been giving him were working like a charm, and he was having trouble pushing his thoughts past the clouds that seemed to have formed in his head. Where are we going? he managed to croak, squinting to try and identify who carried him.
The tank, a deep voice growled, and he realized with surprise that it was Vegeta's voice.
You're healed? Zarbon asked, turning his head and honing in on two dark splotches in the Saiyan's face that he figured would be the eyes.
Vegeta replied sharply. I'm fine. And you?
Zarbon heard himself giggle, the sound seeming far away as his head began to fog up again. The Earthlings put me on some grand painkillers, he chortled.
Vegeta shifted Zarbon's weight in his arms. Very well, so long as they don't make you ill.
Zarbon giggled again. Vegeta, I'm half dead. Being ill is the least of my worries.
A sigh wafted from the Saiyan and Zarbon felt the younger man's shoulders move with the action. I know, Vegeta said quietly. When you're better we'll train, right?
Of course, Zarbon asserted. I have lots of pointers to give you. You're strong now, but you could be even stronger.
I know that too, Vegeta growled, and Zarbon heard something whir as he was gently set down and leaned against something smooth. Now what do you want from me?
Zarbon felt a smile twist his dry, cracked lips. Try on those outfits, he said weakly. He coughed faintly and heard Vegeta's sigh as the door to the tank closed and the fluid sloshed around his hands. Was he wearing his clothes? He didn't want them to be even more ruined and began to shift his weight, but before he knew it the mouthpiece inserted itself and his head lolled to the side as he drifted off to sleep again.
He was stopped in the hall by a soft clearing of a throat. He hadn't noticed the faint signature of body heat in the corridor until then, and he turned around abruptly, silently berating himself for being so careless. It did not do to be preoccupied and lax when on an alien planet. Then he caught the smell of the observer- that light, clean scent of the woman laced slightly with the tang of tension and fear. The corner of his mouth curved upward as those emotional aromas reached his nostrils. She had every reason to fear him, reasons he would hopefully get a chance to make realities. What do you want? he said smoothly, bringing up a hand and examining the seams of his glove.
What was that about? she asked, stepping out into the light, her arms crossed over her breasts.
He forgot for a moment to answer her. She was wearing the shortest garment he had ever seen, a satiny, shiny affair that bared her to only a couple of inches below her groin and belted at the waist. The heat in her smell had a ripeness to it that he couldn't describe or comprehend, and for a moment he was speechless and confused. Why was he getting all these strange scent signals from her? Then he looked up and caught her sky blue eyes, shadowed in the dim light, and hatred filled him again, erasing his momentary lapse. None of your business, he growled, letting his eyes slide away.
She scowled, her lower lip jutting out just the tiniest bit like an overripe piece of fruit. I think it is, she countered sharply. You might be a pain in the ass, but you're a potentially profitable pain in the ass, and if you die I would lose so many opportunities. After all, no one else is likely to realize the full potential of your half-developed technology, so I'd like to get it done right now while you're still breathing. Besides, that Zarbon guy is the only one who seems to have the faintest idea of what is going on on this planet, and if you were to lose him you'd be up the creek without a paddle.
He blinked at her, confused again. What was this creek and paddle business? His etched scowl deepened as her impertinence finally struck him. You had better focus on taking care of yourself. Anger me and your little friends won't be able to protect you.
He heard he swallow and the sharp scent of fear emanated from her more strongly, but he watched her set her jaw and scowl back at him. I don't care, Vegeta. I don't need anyone to protect me. Anger me, little prince, and you don't get your scouters.
His back stiffened and his stomach twisted as he realized she was right. He really couldn't just haul off and start destroying things until he had her technology figured out. Speaking of which, he really should speak to Radditz about it. The other Saiyan had been working on it, after all. What surprises me, woman, is that anyone would think a noisy beast like you worth protecting, he sneered, lips parting in a jeer.
Her big blue eyes blinked rapidly and the smell of fear was replaced by rage. He watched with interest as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, visibly forcing her shoulders to relax as she composed her features. All I want to know, Vegeta, is why you fought him. I thought you two were important to one another, and if you care about a person violence is the absolute last thing you want to inflict upon them. Listen, I don't know much about real Saiyans. Goku's the closest thing we've had to it, and I'm sure you can admit that he's not typical of your race by any means. Why do you keep getting into these horrible fights? Do you have some sort of death wish?
He felt a shudder wrack his body as she spoke aloud his deepest belief- that he would die, and soon. It was the same sort of hopelessness he had felt as a boy, when Radditz and Nappa had been shipped off by Freeza and he was left to fend off Freeza's experiments all by himself. Why do you care? he snarled, leaning toward her and letting his rage build.
She blinked at him again, her face suddenly twisting into a smile as she shrugged. You know what, I don't care, she said, and turned on her heel to stalk down the hall.
He merely watched her go, waiting until the last vestiges of her light scent were gone from the hallway and the sight of her white legs finally dimmed from view. He had thought himself rid of the curse of her eyes in his head when he arrived on Earth, yet the image continued to haunt him. Now it seemed as if she had found yet another way into his head. His face crumpled in a scowl and he moved off down the hall, feeling a deep need for fresh air after being cooped up in a tank for several days.
As he walked out the kitchen door he was struck by the brightness of the night, the stars providing plenty of silvery light for him tomake his way into the yard without having to strain his superior nighttime vision. A glance at the constellations made him smile and he turned his head to comment to Zarbon, only to have blank silence meet his ears. He looked up at the stars again and realized how accustomed he had become to having the alien at his side, and now that alien was in a tank because of him. Not that Zarbon didn't deserve it, but then again it had been Zarbon that had beaten him. He had sorely underestimated Zarbon, and even if he hadn't, and had killed his aide, it would have been a great loss. He was coming to understand through this whole damnable technology swap with that harpy of a human woman that Zarbon's skills were indispensable. He sighed and took a step; no matter what else happened, no matter how much he accomplished utilizing Zarbon's skills, nothing could take away the sense that he would die when the time came to fight Freeza. Not that it mattered, since that was his goal anyway, but still...
Lost, Prince? a gruff voice said from above him. He looked up and saw the Namekian floating in the air, brawny green arms crossed over his chest and his forbidding glare directed from underneath a turban.
What do you want, green man? Vegeta snarled.
The Namekian smiled, exposing sharp teeth. You've got quite a bit of power, he said, voice rough.
Vegeta felt a rash of rage pass through him, then regained control and relaxed his shoulders as the feeling slowly left him. I know, Vegeta said, calmly regarding the Namekian. The green man regarded him right back, their eyes locking and slowly testing one another.
Finally the Namekian barked a laugh, his white cape snapping in the night wind. We're a lot alike, you and I, he said with a wry smile.
Vegeta scowled. How do you mean? he asked coolly, trying not to betray his curiosity.
The Namekian shook his head, a half-smile still on his face as the white teeth flashed in the starlight, his body slowly drifting upward and away.
Vegeta took a step forward, his scowl deepening. What do you mean? he demanded, but found himself looking at an empty space in the sky. The Namekian had gone.