A quick note: Someone asked what a Xager was. It is a made-up alien, designed to fill a plot point and get the story rolling. Don't overanalyze dear readers. ;^
Back to the story!
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"Know who want that," the Xager says, pointing at the piece of machinery in Bulma's hands.
"Who?" I demand, clenching my fists as I loom over the little rodent.
"Avidaris Montidulein," the little beast gets the words out surprising well considering its lack of a proper native language.
"Of the Black Star Syndicate?" I ask, hoping that it's not him. Although my optimism is somewhat empty; after all, how many Avidaris Montiduleins can there be? The creature's nod destroys that tiny hope.
"So why does he want that?" Goku asks, pointing at the machine in Bulma's hands.
"No know. He just want," the Xager groans as it sits upright. It must be feeling better; its eyes have started the Xagers' customary darting around, seeking whatever advantage it may find.
"It's useless without the codes anyway," Bulma says with a sigh, setting the piece of machinery on a worktable. She stares at the little creature, and then turns to Goku and asks, "So what do we do with him?"
I start to answer her, but she leans back against the workbench and rubs the back of her leg with her foot, making her sundress do interesting things. I lose my train of thought completely, and am caught off guard when Kakkarot says, "Let him go, I guess."
"What?" I snarl in rage, turning on the fool. "Let the rodent go? How did that idea lodge in your lame mind, Kakkarot?"
"Well, it gave us information," Kakkarot says sheepishly, "so we should let him go."
"It's a Xager, and it probably lied," I say.
"Hey, letting it go is the right thing to do," Yamcha snaps. I barely choke back vomit at the righteous tone in his voice.
"You are all weak-willed, foolish creatures," I snarl and start to stomp away.
"Hey, we let you go once," Krillin yells at my back.
Without turning around, I answer, "That was my point." Let them chew on that for a while. I have to find out what Montidulein wants with one of Bulma's machines. The Black Star Syndicate can be vicious, and I have to protect her from them.
* * *
If I ever had to thank Frieza for one thing, it would be his requirement that I learn to use and repair most machinery. But that would be only the most grudging thanks possible, and I would follow it with a burst of energy that would burn the egg-sucking lizard to nothingness.
Regardless, it is that training that will make protecting Bulma possible, so I guess that white monster was good for something. Rewiring the subspace communicator in the grounded Namekian spaceship so that it would work was easier than I remember, and I am pleased to hear the static that flows out of the speakers when I give it power. I slide the dial to the right until I hear the hiss of the open channel.
A sound behind me alerts me, and I flip the switch to mute before I twist in the seat to see who it is. Blue eyes meet mine, and I just stare at her, watching the moonlight from the open door turn her hair silver-blue.
"Vegeta, what are you doing?" she asks softly, her eyes traveling over the instrument boards, taking note of the changes I have made.
"Making a call, if you don't mind," I answer, and curse myself silently when I hear how gentle and soft that answer is. She catches my tone, and looks at me quizzically; I keep my face blank, trying to will her to leave.
"Why are you only nice to me when we're alone?" I had long feared this question from her, and to have it come now, when I was so worried for her, only made it worse. I feel my face jerk as I try to betray nothing to her, and wonder what to say. I couldn't deny that what she said was true, but I can't tell her the truth either. So I just look at her in the semi-dark of the spaceship, and wonder what to say.
Finally, she looks away, staring at the moon through the open window of the ship. "Can I sit here while you make your call?" she asks softly, her voice slightly pleading.
"Why? And why aren't you with your moron – didn't I hear him say he was staying here tonight?" I counter.
Bulma curls up in the co-pilot's seat, her leg brushing my seat briefly as she slides into place. "He's with the others, still trying to figure out whom this Avidaris Montidulein is, and what he wants," she grouses softly, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them.
"How are they coming with that?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
She snorts in distain and says, "They're not." She rolls her head so that she can look at me, and adds, "But you know who he is and what he wants, don't you?"
"Avidaris Montidulein is a high-ranking member of the Black Star Syndicate who is in charge of their black market acquisitions and sales. The Black Star Syndicate is a ruthless illegal organization that is focused on making money for the organization and its members. Why do they want that machine?" I ask, knowing that is the piece of information that I need. Hopefully since I have been forthcoming, she will be as well.
She turns to look back out the window, and I watch her watch the moon. I have to be patient – if she wanted people to know about this device, she would have told everyone already. "It's a weapon," she answers finally. "It creates sub-harmonics that can cause massive fluctuations in ki. If I can ever get it to work, it could raise or lower someone's ki level against their will."
I stare at her, not sure that I want to know about this device. "Against their will," I mutter, forcing myself to grind through the implications of such a machine. It could sap a warrior of his strength.
Or force a Saiyan to the next level.
"Does it work?" I ask, not even bothering to keep my voice casual.
"No," she pouts, and I fight the urge to smile at the frustration in her voice. It is not the type of frustration that will hurt her, but rather the drive that will force her to complete it. She's silent for a moment, and then asks, "So is now when you ask me to use it on you to turn you into a Super Saiyan?"
"No," I answer, "that is not the way of the Saiyan. I need to earn the title of Super Saiyan."
"Ah," she replies, "Saiyan pride rears its ugly head again."
I glance at her sharply. "I will become a Super Saiyan in my own right, not because a machine gives it me," I answer tersely as I grab the headset.
"I'm sure you will," she replies softly. I hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if she is mocking me or agreeing with me, but I shake it off. I have a call to make.
I had memorized so many different escape routes from Frieza; over a hundred before the first two years I was with him, though I lost track after that. All of them had a fatal weakness that had meant that I could never think of engaging them. One of them had involved the Black Star Syndicate. If I hadn't had Earth to go to, or Kakkarot to kill, then I might have been the leader of them by now.
And I would be hunting Bulma. But those are the paths of life; one never knows where one will end up. I punched in the ship-to-ship codes that my childhood self had so painstakingly researched, the numbers that I had hoped briefly would save me from Frieza. Before I had found out there was no escape.
The screen flashes and settles into a holding signal, and the headset beeps lightly in my ear. Bulma shifts and leans forward suddenly, to see the screen, I presume. I have only enough time to hold up one finger in a "quiet" gesture before the headset beeps solidly and the screen flares to life. Bulma has her hand on the arm of my chair, and I lay my hand lightly over hers to conceal it. It would not do to let them see her, and I ignore my enjoyment.
"Yes?" the answering alien asks, and I let my smile twist into a truly arrogant grimace. "Maldock, how good to meet you." I growl, careful not to be too arrogant and condescending; I have to walk fine line between bravado and intimidation.
"Who are you?" Maldock asks, leaning his large gray-yellow head into the view-screen to see me better. Verishics have wonderful hearing and scent, but poor eyesight, and I'm grateful that even if Bulma does lean in too close, he won't be able to see her.
"Do you not recognize me?" I ask arrogantly, knowing that the statement will only irritate the myopic alien in front of me. "I am Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans."
Even if my voice and face did not mean anything to the Verishic, my name did. "Lord Frieza is dead, so don't think that you can wheedle favors from Black Star in your master's name, monkey."
I bite back the snarl at the hated nick-name. Frieza had invented it, and made sure that the galaxy knew of it. I must stay calm; I must steer this conversation, not be steered. "What I am seeking will aid your keeper," I answer, tilting my head to one side.
"Fine, what?" Maldock sighed, waving his tentacle-like fingers.
Repressing a grimace at the alien's gross anatomy, I answer, "I can get the machine he wants. The one that his pet Xager failed to get." Beside me, Bulma jerks, and I see her mouth open. I squeeze her hand, asking her silently to be quiet just a bit longer.
"Really?" Maldock sneers, leaning forward. "According to our reports, it was you who captured the agent."
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I hope my devoted readers are enjoying this – all ten of you! Chapter 3, tomorrow or the day after that – I do have other things that I need to do, not that I enjoy them as much as this...
