Of Ladyfingers and Radishes by `InSaNe`/Schizophrenic Eggplant.
A/N: This was originally started over a year ago as a story involving my friend Silke developing a major crush on a certain Saiyajin in DBZ. It's not Vegeta though, (he's mine). If you guessed Kakarot, you're close, but not quite there. My friend came up with the character Okura. She belongs to Silke and I am only borrowing her. I don't own DBZ blah.
Chapter One.
Frieza liked his little experiments sometimes, he thrived on getting his scientists to play around with the metabolic functions of some of the subjects that were occasionally captured alive, and the younger the better.
For some unknown reason, when Frieza first laid eyes on baby Okura, her eyes pleaded him to experiment on her, to keep her as a personal little pet – at least that's what his deluded mind convinced him. Saiyajin were sometimes known to abandon their young if they were too weak to even be sent to another planet. He named her 'Okura', a smooth derivative from the harsh-sounding Icejin word 'Okra', a rare, quaint vegetable delicacy on his home planet. Frieza praised himself on his clever, ironic wit of the infants nomenclature.
When his technicians had finally made a breakthrough with the combination of chemicals, officially declaring it wouldn't necessarily have a 100% fail rate (99.9% isn't quite failure), Frieza generously donated the little Saiyajin infant, while in a curious mood. He had taken precautions and before he presented her for all to see, carefully removed her tail himself, telling his scientific research crew that she was just another alien baby, and not a Saiyajin. It was all part of his master plan, if it came to effect, and he did not want to endure the tireless questioning from his henchmen about his penchant for that particular race. Only he alone knew the truth, and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way.
The scientists took notes while the technicians observed Okura's reaction from the first injection. Shaking ensued, vomiting, explosive diarrhoea, foaming at the mouth, hot and cold fever, and eventually a brief coma followed. Frieza became impatient by Okura's condition, and ordered her to be euthanased if she didn't come out of the deep sleep before the week was up. On the fifth day, dusky black eyes showed themselves to the light again, and a happy squeal startled the technician on duty. Affectionately, without having to assume the subservient manner demanded by his superiors and Frieza, the technician poked a finger into Okura's life-sustaining crib. Bad move. Okura gurgled with delight, grabbed his finger and didn't let go – literally. The rest of the staff, who were taking a break at the time, came running to see what all the howling and screaming was about. They were very shocked to discover it wasn't Okura crying her little lungs out, it was the poor technician she'd got a hold of. Break-time forgotten, everyone went into busy-mode, hooking up more electrodes to the baby, taking blood samples, writing observation notes, and eventually prising the unfortunate finger from the uncharacteristically strong grip of the 4 month old female Saiyajin. The finger - blue, black and purple and asking to be amputated, miraculously came right, but the technician never came near Okura again.
Once all the effects of the illness cleared, so did her super-strength. The solution for this was, funnily enough, another dose of the drug, at Frieza's command. He wanted to see if she could survive another round. The same symptoms occurred, but for half the time, and the strength returned. What a breakthrough! With each dose, Okura seemed to build up an immunity to the side effects which made her sick, while retaining the part of the chemical that made her strength increase up to twice that of a child five years her senior.
Her resistance built up to where she could handle 4 doses a day to maintain her strength at its constant maximum. Everywhere she went, she carried a small pack of vials, needles and a syringe, which was hidden in a section of her armour. Her child-size scouter, that she never went without, beeped every time she needed to take a dose, and if she was occupied with fighting something, it would beep at 10 minute intervals until she gave herself the injection. She could survive on three, but if she had some intensive training, she found herself starting to get dizzy and sluggish.
At age four, she could defeat a single Saibaman in under 5 minutes. Her favourite attack, unsurprisingly, was crushing it to death once she had weakened it by punching, kicking and throwing it. She delighted in watching 'the eyes go out.'
Her power level was nothing special. Because her raw physical strength was so powerful, no-one thought she needed to focus her ki to help add energy to her attacks. Unlike Recoome or Burter, the chemicals did not increase what ki she had. That did not mean that she had any to start with, and could adequately shoot a couple of basic beams. That is all she thought ki was at first, something one shot out of their hands after they powered up. By the time she was five, Okura was more than ready to join Frieza's army proper, starting in the 3rd class, where she would remain for five years, if she survived. She hadn't been called upon to become officially in the army on her first mission yet, and was impatient to be released from the Initiate class.
Because Frieza still held an interest in her, he made it his plan to keep her separate from the Saiyajin contingent. He was curious to know if it was a Saiyajin's natural instinct to become uncultured and savage, or if isolation from their own races mannerisms caused a young Saiyajin mind to think differently. She learnt the poise, and mannerisms of a young princess. Frieza may have been a cold, heartless individual, but he was always very polite, and this washed off on her. At this stage, Frieza had nothing against the Saiyajin, they were no threat. He merely used scare-tactics to keep Okura as far away from them as he could. If she became too pushy about that subject, he switched to other topics to distract her attention.
She was taught about all the other races under Frieza's vast and expanding galactic empire, how planets were treated depending what rating they were; very rarely were races allowed to function normally on their planet of birth unless they had something Frieza wanted. Then they would work to provide him with the materials, until the supply was exhausted or Frieza had heard of something better, then sent his armies to clear the planet, and sell it. The A grade planets were of the highest rated planets, and only rich allies of Frieza's echelon could afford such things, or wanted to. Frieza treated the A grade planets like rare jewels, they were the ones with lush growth, a clear atmosphere, and plenty of potential to sustain life. For the A grade planets with strong opponents, and at least one moon, he entrusted the Saiyajin, the majority being in the lower class of his army. A team of four or five Saiyajin, regardless of gender, could wipe out a planet of medium-strength fighters overnight on a full moon. For planets without a moon, or if Frieza wanted a planet cleared urgently, the higher classed warrior races who were stronger than Saiyajin in their untransformed states would be deployed.
The B grade planets were populated planets, but the conditions weren't satisfactory for what his buyers were looking for in ways of aesthetic pleasure, and weren't for his mainstream customers, but mainly for one of his many personal planets, used for bases mostly, stop-offs during multi-runs. He'd send his spies and scouts planetside to glean information about special skills among the populace that could be beneficial, and Frieza would request them, and if that request was foolishly denied, in came the army, and Frieza's wrath would be unleashed on their behalf. If the race with the skills surrendered, they became new recruits, using those talents for non-peaceful causes. Stronger races of limited intelligence fell into the trap of getting press-ganged by friendly individuals buying them a round and adding a little sleeping drug, or close enough to stick a little tranquilliser needle. When they woke up, they found themselves on a strange ship, with armour like almost everyone else. Their minds were the easiest to mould, and they soon found themselves accustomed to their new lives, or pay the dire consequences if they couldn't come to grips with a sudden change in environment.
The C class planets were derelict and unliveable. When they were spotted, they were either ignored completely, or destroyed on site, if Frieza was feeling particularly fastidious.
Okura learned to identify the races, and interact with most. For some reason, Frieza, who showed an interest in her as more of an experimental purpose than parental (although she was too young to know the difference then), forbade her any contact with the Saiyajin, telling her they were unruly and uncivilised primates. She watched them from afar, curious, because like her, they didn't have scales or deformed heads, or bodies of bizarre colours. Physically they looked normal, no different to her, apart from one thing. They had brown fluffy tails, that sometimes waved about, but more often than not were wound around their owners waist. She desperately wanted to touch one to see what it felt like, but then she was scared she might get diseases because they always seemed so rough and dirty to her, and Frieza's words of warning flashed inside her mind. The last thing she wanted was to disobey the words of someone she felt was so wise.
When Frieza wanted time on his own, which sometimes he was known to do, Okura was often watched by Frieza's 2IC, Zarbon. The beautiful mint-skinned male was taken aback to be relegated to temporary babysitter, but reluctantly resigned himself because it was at Frieza's command, and couldn't really argue. They wouldn't talk much, he'd just watch her, like he was ordered to do. No further interaction was required.
There came a time when Okura and her unwilling minder were in one of the control towers on Planet Frieza #56, when some pods landed, carrying Saiyajin warriors half-way through a multi-run, and on their way back to their home planet. Okura jumped up to the porthole window and laughed gaily.
"Haha here come the stupid, filthy monkeys! Nyah!" She poked her tongue out at the semi-bloodied soldiers in their cracked armour. Then turned around, startled as she heard a strange noise behind her. Zarbon had his hand over his mouth and sounded like he was having difficulty breathing.
"Mr. Zarbon? Are you OK?" She asked, her wide eyes blinking innocently. Zarbon could take it no longer and his massive shoulders shook with deep laughter. Okura was a little shocked, because she'd never seen him laugh, let alone smile like that. He'd always had a sarcastic, cocky smirk. Okura didn't know what to do.
"Ah, little imp, no wonder Master Frieza keeps you around." He said after the final giggles subsided. He composed himself quickly as his scouter beeped.
"Zarbon here… yes Master Frieza… she's fine, no trouble at all… yes, I'll inform her at once, my lord." Zarbon turned his attention back to Okura, who was drawing some random, dreamy designs into the mist she had created by breathing on the little round window. Zarbon sighed. One never got to witness such carefree acts of innocence that often. He had to ruin it though, business was business after all.
"Master Frieza has requested your presence, girl." He spoke soberly, the previous laughter forgotten. Okura turned from her window, and smartly followed her tall chaperone to Frieza's rooms. He was sitting behind his desk on his floating chair.
"Leave us, Zarbon." His right-hand man's saluted, and Zarbon's tight green braid swung around proudly as he performed an about turn, swished his cape, and marched out of the room. Frieza patted the desk, motioning Okura to jump up on it. He could quite ably get out of his chair and meet her on the ground, but that was unthinkable. Okura sat down cross-legged and her dark-chocolate eyes rested on her master and teacher.
"What is it you require of me, my lord?" She asked in her high, angelic-sounding voice. Frieza smiled a little smile.
"Today is when you begin your service to me properly. We received some arrivals on this planet. It seems that a little band of 3rd classes are going to be sent to another planet."
"I saw a group of yucky Saiyajin out the window." Okura stated, winding her fingers around each other. Frieza pursed his lips. It would have been better if she hadn't seen them.
"Yes… that was who I was talking about. They're lazy and slovenly. You will be going with a crew of three other 3rd classes, to finish up what they couldn't. You will leave with them in 30 minutes. Zarbon will direct you to the pod bays, after that you're on your own. Make sure you have enough… supplies." Okura nodded in agreement, and tapped the place on her armour where her syringes and vials were kept.
"Good. Enjoy yourself, little one." It was almost an order.
"Yes! Thank you, my master!" She respectively bowed and exited the room.
To her little body, the pod seemed so big. The chair that took up most of the pod was far too large for her little form, nevertheless, Zarbon showed her the basics of strapping herself in. Luckily she could still reach the instrument panel by stretching her arm right across.
"That
button under the red flashing light is to launch. Everything is automated after that, until you reach your
destination. Once you have landed, this
switch on the left opens the door. Got
that?" Okura glanced from one object to
the other, committing them to memory.
"I understand. Button to launch, switch
for door." Zarbon nodded.
"Good. Get back in one piece." He told her, as he motioned her to use the lever to shut the door as practise. The door shut, and Okura pressed the launch button. The ship vibrated slightly as the engine warmed up, the thrusters engaged, and take-off began. She saluted to Zarbon, who returned it, and then she was airborne.