Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ (applies to all chapters within this piece of writing).
Prologue
The advent of the regeneration tank has often been viewed as the pinnacle of medical science. Across the galaxy, no device is more widespread, available, inexpensive and effective at halting the progression of ailments as the simple cure-all. Anyone can operate a regeneration tank with minimal training. The best solution to any medical problem is to hurl the problem into the tank. Calculating every variable to the finest degree imaginable in an instant, the computer will spit out an analysis, taking less time than most sentients require to blink, and begin corrective measures that have proven 99.99998% succesful at remedying any malady -- from viral infections to shattered spines.
The tank's creators -- a race now known for their extreme opulence and consequently, improvidence -- were remarkambly proud of their achievement. They had managed, without anihalating a single system, to equate the ice-jin lords in terms of pure power. Everyone needed their technology. Often, regeneration tanks were the difference between victory and defeat in the tyrants' wars. Being capable of healing all a warrior's wounds -- no matter the severity -- in a matter of hours effectively doubled the size of any army. The tanks transcended galactic medical science. This transcendence is why every galactic medical scientist hates the tank. Regeneration tanks have stolen their jobs.
In the Ice-jin empire, doctors were once respected and powerful, only the Imperial family surpassing them in authority. The reasons for their importance were simple. Ice-jins are not the most trusting sentients in the Northern quadrant and it would have been far from a unique event for an emperor to be assasinated or poisoned. When these situations arose, the Ice-jins depended on a doctor's skill to sew together the tattered skeins that made up their lives. That was... until the regeneration tank's creation.
Why bother with a doctor, who might betray you, or be mistaken in his diagnosis? Certainly an objective and faultless machine was the superior choice. Doctors all across the galaxy lost their once immensely valued positions, relegated to simple tasks, such as overseeing child births. They became no more than menial labourers. For those unfortunate sentients who were affected, it was a catastrophe. That was how, Streelak Kremsta -- former overseer of Lord Freeza's physical condition -- had ended up on Vegeta-sei.
When the tank first arrived, Streelak was unconcerned. He, the top scientist in ten thousand systems, had been given the task of integrating the new systems with those systems aboard the Ice-jin naval vessels. After the succesful conclusion of the assignment, he'd returned to his lord, anticipating gratuitous thanks and rewards... only to learn he'd been transferred to Vegeta-sei, to oversee the birth of Prince Vegeta. Streelak Kremsta -- an extra-terrestrial, avian scientist, with leathery green skin and a sharp mind that belied his senile appearance -- was still there to this day. This day being one where he was preparing to unleash another Saiyajin butcher upon an unsuspecting populace.
The kid -- Kakarott -- was being sent somewhere called Ea-aarth. It was strange how it rolled so smoothly off his serpentine tongue. The planet itself was no concern of Streelak's, however. To his mind, its inhabitants were already dead. Once a full moon rose overhead, they may as well kiss their world goodbye. His responsibility was to make sure the planet was wiped off the intergalactic network, so that Freeza or Cooler didn't send one of their own teams to claim the dirtball. He was then required to send a copy to Freeza's personal flagship, in order to make certain that, if the warrior failed, another would be sent in his place. He sent the message to erase Earth from imperial records and then decided to take a break. After all, one or two minutes wouldn't make any difference to Freeza's record keepers. It wasn't like Vegeta-sei was going to be gone when he came back to the terminal.
The alien doctor turned off his computer screen and walked over to the infirmary's cafeteria, fully intending to return in a few moments, in order to complete his task. Streelak deserved a break just as much as anyone else. He picked up a slice of Kranstar, a Saiyajin delicacy made from the heavily muscled wings of one of the only species who had ever managed to succesfully prey on the Saiyajin race. It had always struck Streelak as ironic that the most feared predators in the universe remained in terrible fear of a practically extinct species of volant carnivores who could be skewered by something as simple as a laser beam. The irony may well have struck the avian again, and he may well have reaffirmed his belief in avian species' superiority as well, once again, had Vegeta not chosen precisely that moment to be struck by a Death Ball, the creature he'd time and time again healed's, signature attack.
Before Streelak had the time to even blink, the very ground he stood upon opening up in gouts of molten rock. In seconds, the entire planet imploded, and, as the pressure grew to great, exploded, taking every being within a dozen astronomical units along with it, save one. The explosion also took one other piece of information with it; the planet's destruction, and the energy that flared outward from its core, like a minature star at its heights, annihalated the only evidence that a boy named Kakarott ever escaped his world's death, and the wiped the existance of his destination from the mind's of every being in the Northern quadrant. In short, the explosion left Earth unheard of and its eventual protector dead to the minds of the few beings who had even realized he had existed.
Prologue
The advent of the regeneration tank has often been viewed as the pinnacle of medical science. Across the galaxy, no device is more widespread, available, inexpensive and effective at halting the progression of ailments as the simple cure-all. Anyone can operate a regeneration tank with minimal training. The best solution to any medical problem is to hurl the problem into the tank. Calculating every variable to the finest degree imaginable in an instant, the computer will spit out an analysis, taking less time than most sentients require to blink, and begin corrective measures that have proven 99.99998% succesful at remedying any malady -- from viral infections to shattered spines.
The tank's creators -- a race now known for their extreme opulence and consequently, improvidence -- were remarkambly proud of their achievement. They had managed, without anihalating a single system, to equate the ice-jin lords in terms of pure power. Everyone needed their technology. Often, regeneration tanks were the difference between victory and defeat in the tyrants' wars. Being capable of healing all a warrior's wounds -- no matter the severity -- in a matter of hours effectively doubled the size of any army. The tanks transcended galactic medical science. This transcendence is why every galactic medical scientist hates the tank. Regeneration tanks have stolen their jobs.
In the Ice-jin empire, doctors were once respected and powerful, only the Imperial family surpassing them in authority. The reasons for their importance were simple. Ice-jins are not the most trusting sentients in the Northern quadrant and it would have been far from a unique event for an emperor to be assasinated or poisoned. When these situations arose, the Ice-jins depended on a doctor's skill to sew together the tattered skeins that made up their lives. That was... until the regeneration tank's creation.
Why bother with a doctor, who might betray you, or be mistaken in his diagnosis? Certainly an objective and faultless machine was the superior choice. Doctors all across the galaxy lost their once immensely valued positions, relegated to simple tasks, such as overseeing child births. They became no more than menial labourers. For those unfortunate sentients who were affected, it was a catastrophe. That was how, Streelak Kremsta -- former overseer of Lord Freeza's physical condition -- had ended up on Vegeta-sei.
When the tank first arrived, Streelak was unconcerned. He, the top scientist in ten thousand systems, had been given the task of integrating the new systems with those systems aboard the Ice-jin naval vessels. After the succesful conclusion of the assignment, he'd returned to his lord, anticipating gratuitous thanks and rewards... only to learn he'd been transferred to Vegeta-sei, to oversee the birth of Prince Vegeta. Streelak Kremsta -- an extra-terrestrial, avian scientist, with leathery green skin and a sharp mind that belied his senile appearance -- was still there to this day. This day being one where he was preparing to unleash another Saiyajin butcher upon an unsuspecting populace.
The kid -- Kakarott -- was being sent somewhere called Ea-aarth. It was strange how it rolled so smoothly off his serpentine tongue. The planet itself was no concern of Streelak's, however. To his mind, its inhabitants were already dead. Once a full moon rose overhead, they may as well kiss their world goodbye. His responsibility was to make sure the planet was wiped off the intergalactic network, so that Freeza or Cooler didn't send one of their own teams to claim the dirtball. He was then required to send a copy to Freeza's personal flagship, in order to make certain that, if the warrior failed, another would be sent in his place. He sent the message to erase Earth from imperial records and then decided to take a break. After all, one or two minutes wouldn't make any difference to Freeza's record keepers. It wasn't like Vegeta-sei was going to be gone when he came back to the terminal.
The alien doctor turned off his computer screen and walked over to the infirmary's cafeteria, fully intending to return in a few moments, in order to complete his task. Streelak deserved a break just as much as anyone else. He picked up a slice of Kranstar, a Saiyajin delicacy made from the heavily muscled wings of one of the only species who had ever managed to succesfully prey on the Saiyajin race. It had always struck Streelak as ironic that the most feared predators in the universe remained in terrible fear of a practically extinct species of volant carnivores who could be skewered by something as simple as a laser beam. The irony may well have struck the avian again, and he may well have reaffirmed his belief in avian species' superiority as well, once again, had Vegeta not chosen precisely that moment to be struck by a Death Ball, the creature he'd time and time again healed's, signature attack.
Before Streelak had the time to even blink, the very ground he stood upon opening up in gouts of molten rock. In seconds, the entire planet imploded, and, as the pressure grew to great, exploded, taking every being within a dozen astronomical units along with it, save one. The explosion also took one other piece of information with it; the planet's destruction, and the energy that flared outward from its core, like a minature star at its heights, annihalated the only evidence that a boy named Kakarott ever escaped his world's death, and the wiped the existance of his destination from the mind's of every being in the Northern quadrant. In short, the explosion left Earth unheard of and its eventual protector dead to the minds of the few beings who had even realized he had existed.