When she didn't immediately agree, the King turned to his wife, his expression clear. The Queen's agreement was traditionally sought, though her concord was really a formality. "Yes," the Queen finally granted, her golden eyes paled to buttermilk by the burning sunlight slanting in through the high windows. "You should be rewarded for your service, Third-class Bardock." Her voice was gracious, but those disquieting eyes burned with irritation.
"Thank you, Your Majesties," Bardock said, clasping his hands to his chest and giving each throne a bow. With the formalities done, he gathered his thoughts and began his request. "Your Majesties, four days ago, one of my slaves was killed," Bardock said, and to his surprise, the memories from that night came back to him in a flash of pain and guilt.
Bardock slapped angrily at the doorplate, his rage at his human slave boiling over. She had nearly cost the King his life, and when he saw her! He didn't finish the thought; instead he stepped into the lab and hit the light switch.
Trunks raised his head as the light flashed on, bathing the scene in merciless brightness. His mother was in his arms, her clothes bloody and torn. Bardock froze in shock unable to stop staring at the slaves. Bulma's gravity harness was torn off of her chest, and hung from one shoulder, it mechanism destroyed. Her eyes were closed, her skin remarkably clean; he realized that Trunks was holding a bloody washcloth in his clenched fist. "I found her," he said, and then he choked as the tears began to run anew down the boy's face.
"Trunks," Bardock said gruffly, stopping when he heard the emotional tremble in his own voice.
"I took samples," Trunks said through soft sobs waving the washcloth at the trays on the next table, "from just about everywhere on her. But I can't… I think that they… I can't finish, Bardock. I can't, I can't!" The boy brought his clenched fist to his face and began to cry in earnest, his tears too thick to speak through.
And Bardock had stood there, knowing that he could collect all the samples in the world from Bulma's body, he could supply pounds of forensic evidence, and there would still be nothing that he could do for either human. It was the law, but the King surpassed the law, and that was why Bardock was here.
Bardock quickly cleared his throat, hoping that the King would take his hesitation as a tickle in his throat rather than the flood of emotion that the memory created in him. "She will be difficult to replace, My Lord. She was exotically beautiful, very intelligent and highly skilled. She had produced one child, proving that she was capable of reproducing healthy children. I will never find another slave with her intelligence or knowledge base again. And she was a gift for service from a former King. In short, I cannot name a price for redress with any ease.
"She was killed while I was away on Royal Business," he continued, clearing his throat against emotional clench still hiding there. "I came home to find that she had been assaulted and killed. Her attackers were merciless with her, My Lord and Lady. They ripped her gravity harness from her, leaving her to the mercies of our higher gravity. They didn't let her pass on peacefully first, either; they raped her as she died, crushed by the weight of her own chest, unable to draw breath or even move." Bardock paused, letting his words settle over the court. He was not giving details so that the King would be swayed by sympathy, but so that he could make him realize that his property had been cruelly and unjustly killed.
The King was still slouched in his chair, but there was nothing casual in the look he was giving Bardock. His dark eyes were fixed intently on the third-class, his face as still as stone. The Queen had leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes also locked on him with an unreadable expression.
"I beg this Court to grant me the right to redress," Bardock said, steeling himself for the next, most difficult part. "As there were no witnesses, I request the right to redress based on forensic evidence only."
"No," the King said instantly, quickly, without thought.
"I counsel consideration, Mate," the Queen said suddenly in her sharp Montessi accent, laying a hand on the King's arm. "A woman, even so a slave, has been brutally and unjustly killed. The men responsible should pay, by whatever means they can be found guilty."
"No, I will not defy the wisdom of those who went before us," King Vegeta said, shaking his head. "If we allow science to determine who is guilty, if the only requirement for redress is a 'scientific test', then we will destroy our heritage. The Warriors who founded our Empire determined that one's guilt can only be determined by visual perceptions and witness testimony. I cannot grant this request, even at my mate's counsel."
The Queen had gone stiff and silent again, her hand still on the King's arm. Bardock studied her covertly; he had not thought that she would come to the defense of his plea, especially for a slave. Finally, the Queen removed her hand from her King's arm, pulling it back onto the arm of her chair. "My King has so ruled," she said, her voice as emotionless as the mask that she now wore. "It must be done, according to his rule." She leaned forward suddenly, her voice hopeful as she asked Bardock, "Can then nothing be done to compensate you for your loss?"
"There is one thing," Bardock said, leaping into the opening that she had given him. "She left a son, a boy of eighteen years. He is as smart as she, a willing worker, physically strong and as exotically attractive as his mother. In time, he'll come close to replacing her. Unfortunately, he cared for her very much – they were very close to one another, and her loss is hitting him hard. I think that if he got away from my house and the lab, away from a lifetime of memories for a while, he would gain perspective and his mood would stabilize. Otherwise, I fear that I'll lose him too; then I'll then have lost the two most valuable slaves I ever had. I'm asking that he be allowed to serve you here in your palace, even though I would still maintain his ownership."
"I could see such a thing," the Queen said quickly, turning to her mate. "It is an unusual proposal, but given the circumstances, and the depth of service that Third-Class Bardock has given this Empire, I counsel acceptance."
The King was silent for a moment, his head bowed as if he were deep in thought. After a long moment, he spoke. "The slaves in the palace are upheld to a certain standard," the King said. "I have no objection to this arrangement if the young man in question can meet the physical standards."
Bardock bowed his head to hide his victorious smile. "I'm sure that he will meet your standards, Your Majesties."
"I will make sure of it," King Vegeta declared. "Bring him before me."
Bardock's smile disappeared and silence reigned in the mighty hall. The throne room was a sacred place; no non-Saiyan had ever been in its majestic halls. It was cleaned by servants, never slaves. "Your Majesty," the Court Caller stammered, clutching his staff of office, "the person in question is a slave, an alien!"
"Then should we go to him, hmm?" the King asked, his tone quiet and ominous. "Should we have to be inconvenienced?" He let the silence hang in the air for a moment, then shouted, "Bring him to me!"
* * *
Trunks stared at the back of the Saiyan Guardsman who had come to summon him. Not for the first time today, he wondered why Master Bardock had brought him here. He tried to figure out what was going on, but he gave up after a couple of moments, sighing tiredly. He knew that he should care, but he couldn't summon the strength to try; nothing seemed very important right now.
He trudged after the guard, his boots slapping the floor hollowly. Normally, he would have enjoyed the appearance of the brand-new black boots, as he would have enjoyed the sharp new bodysuit, done in the same orange and brown as House Bardock, with muted colors to signify his slave status.
The Guardsman glanced back at him briefly to make sure that he was following, grunting irritably when he saw that he was. Trunks wondered why the man was so upset; normally Saiyans didn't care one way or another about slaves so long as they did what they were ordered. Finally, he shrugged, forgetting about it; thinking took too much energy right now.
Trunks didn't even notice the massive double doors at the end of this hallway until they began to rumble open. He gaped up as the one-piece whitestones opened away from him, revealing a massive chamber filled with Saiyans in finely decorated bodysuits and armor. None of them were very friendly as he entered behind the Guardman; in fact, he would have said many of them were openly hostile. Why? I have done nothing wrong!
But when he saw who was at the end of the massive room, he forgot about the other Saiyans. The King of Vegeta-sei and his bond-mate the Queen sat in their bloodstone chairs, and Trunks felt the blood rush from his face. My father, he thought, staring at the King. He had never been this close to the King before; he had only seen him in pictures and in the stories his mother had told for him…
A mighty prince with an empty heart hiding a lonely man… He tried to break away from his people, but he wasn't strong enough… Maybe I wasn't valuable enough to him… He didn't know it, but he had lost the one thing that could have made him happy… Silly, it's to choose what one wants: the one gift of all free men, the joy of freedom… He knows now, of course, but now it is too late for him… Trunks, don't ever, ever, let anyone else tell you who or what is most important to you…
Trunks felt his face harden. She loved you! He screamed silently to the man on the throne, feeling his hands tremble with the effort not to power up. He wanted to embrace the golden light that he had found when his mother died; to use that power to wipe the room with the man that had fathered him. But he forced himself to remain calm, forced himself to hold back that beckoning light.
The King and Queen were staring at him, appraising him in a manner that he had gotten used to as a slave. Finally, the Queen smiled and said, "He appears to be in good health my Mate, and he is attractive enough to serve in the palace. I don't think he will be a problem."
Trunks felt a flutter of panic. Was Bardock selling him to the King?
"What can you do, boy?" the King grunted, his tone dismissive though his gaze was not. Trunks felt as if the King was eating him alive with his stare; it was so distracting that Bardock had to nudge him to remind him that the King had asked him a question.
"I can fix machinery, I have had training in computers and sophisticated electronics, and I have been trained in medical procedures," Trunks said, pleased that his voice carried forward strongly despite the tremble of fear in his gut. The tall Saiyan next to the throne gave him a hard look and Trunks frowned back at him. What!?
"I have mechanics, computer technicians and doctors, impudent boy," King Vegeta said coldly, "why do I need you, particularly when you have not been trained in palace etiquette?"
"Your father needs an attendant, and etiquette can be learned," Queen Cyrane added quickly, smiling and nodding slightly. "Lord Vegeta needs someone to watch him, and with his failing health, the boy's medical background would be perfect. This boy – what is your name, child?"
"Trunks Briefs, ma'am," Trunks said, then caught himself and added, "Your Majesty, I mean." Silently, he prayed that he was not committing any grievous social gaffes – no one had told him how to deal with royals!
"Trunks would do well as your father's attendant, I think," the Queen said with a gentle smile. Now that the Queen had commanded his attention, Trunks really looked at her. She was tall and regal, with dark skin and a narrow, oval face. Her nose appeared to draw the rest of her features forward, creating the impression of a predatory bird. Her unusual hair added to the impression of a predator as her mane of hair rose to form a crest above her head. From there, the hair arched back from her face and neck to frame her features with a black edging before sloping down her back in a black mass. In the midst of her black hair and sienna skin, her eyes were large, luminous and golden. They softened her sharp features while simultaneously reminding viewers of the eyes of a wild animal. Her tail, heavier and more thickly furred than most Saiyans', twitched gently behind her.
"Hmph," King Vegeta grunted, clasping his hands over his chest. "I will need to consider this, privately. Everyone, you are dismissed." Bardock put his hand on Trunks' shoulder, moving to guide him out when King Vegeta's voice stopped them. "Boy, you stay."
The Saiyans in the room stopped as one, turning to stare at their King. If he was bothered by their cold stares, he didn't show it. Instead, he gazed calmly at the young slave, waiting for Trunks to comply. Bardock shot a troubled look at Trunks, but obediently bowed. He gave Trunks a quick reassuring squeeze and began to move out of the room. As if his movement was a silent signal, the rest of the Saiyans in attendance began to leave as well.
In the now-empty room, Trunks turned back to the King, curious as to what the King wanted of him – and quietly, desperately hopeful that he wanted Trunks to be his son.