9

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Tap went Cooler, in his first form, on the rim of his hoverchair as This father paraded him around a star cluster.

Again.

Or was it a solar system? It wasn't like he paid much attention to the old man these days.

"Attendant?" Came the cool voice of the Arcosian.

"Y-Yes, sir?" Responded the stuttering, fearful, pathetic voice of the sniveling replacement for his last caretaker.

"Is it a solar system or a star cluster we're approaching?" Cooler asked. A few moments, which felt like an eternity to the prince's heightened senses, passed and he found himself increasingly annoyed. "What is it?" he repeated, turning to glare at the other species.

"I-I don't know the difference sir," the fool squeaked out, his eyes widening in fear satisfyingly.

"A star cluster is an assortment of solar systems, you simpleton," Cooler educated snidely.

If the attendant had any ill-will towards the insult, he was either too absorbed in his fear or was smart enough not to show it.

I'll let you guess what Cooler thought.

"Solar system, sir!"

"Good, less time I have to deal with the lesser creature's the better," the Arcosian muttered. He considered killing the man in front of him, all that whimpering was annoying, now that he had what he needed.

No, there would be too much of a mess and he would have to sit through another one of Cold's tedious lectures about 'restraint' and 'self-control.'

Cooler knew the real reason why his father tried to make him restrain himself. It wasn't some concern of his subjects well being or ignorant sense of goodwill.

It was fear, fear of Cooler, fear of his son, fear of his mortality. Cold knew that if Cooler was anything outside of his first form, his son could very well kill him.

"Emperor Cooler~," the reptile purred with a villainous smile, testing the name out. "What do you think? Does the title suit me?" he asked the attendant.

"Yes sir! Of course sir!" he responded.

Cooler chuckled at his servants… Enthusiasm, knowing that the man would agree with him no matter what.

"Emperor," the Arcosian repeated as he turned back to his window, a small smirk on his face.

To say Saiyans were an aggressive bunch would be an understatement, considering almost their entire culture was built around fighting and physical prowess. It was probably due to this reason that the Saiyan stereotype was big, dumb, and strong.

Forgive me, I've failed to describe the Saiyans. Saiyan's look just like you and me, save for a few differences. Their hair comes in variations shades of black and dark grey (save for a few outliers with blue and red), and usually can be described as messy and/or spiky. They age much slower than humans, only really aging when they turn around eighty.

Yet their most notable trait (and proudest if you asked them), would be their furry tail that would be located just above their butt. A Saiyan's tail was a major source of pride to the already proud race, a form of banishment being their tail being chopped off.

Now, it is also worth noting that Saiyan families are a bit different than the ones you and I are used to. Saiyan's have a relatively small population, mostly since they die in battle more often than not. In addition, for every male Saiyan, there were four females (Give or take). This combined meant that most Saiyan's didn't settle for just one 'mate', if at all. The most common was a house of four adults, one male to three females that were usually in a squad together.

This part of the story, however, begins in a smaller household, with two adults with a young child huddled in their living room.

Raditz, a small Saiyan girl with long hair that fell to her waist, looked at a large egg-shaped capsule with confusion and wonder. The source for her emotional state was simple: contained in the pod, was her baby brother.

"He's small," the young Saiyan stated bluntly, turning around to face her mother. A soft giggle came from the elder Saiyan as she smiled.

"You're not much bigger," the mother responded. Her name was Gine, and she was able to get her newborn son a personal incubation pod (Saiyans, and most space-faring species in general, having found a way to avoid pregnancy by putting the fetus/reproductive cells in an artificial womb) and bringing him home. Gine was a small thing for a Saiyan, barely having any muscle on her thin frame with kind eyes that made her seem even smaller compared to the rest of her species.

Raditz considered her mother's word before looking back to her brother. "He looks like Father and Aunt Turles."

Gine chuckled again. "He does." The mother reached over and started to pet her daughter's hair. Raditz began to purr softly as she leaned into the motion.

"He'll be here, right?"

"Of course," Gine responded. "You know he loves training you, and this is the first time he gets to see Kakarot." That was a sad truth of the Saiyan's, that for beings with such large families they didn't have families. It made those like Gine's, who loved everyone in their family, all the more weird by Saiyan standards.

Raditz considered her mother's words before pressing a hand up to the glass of her brother's pod. "I'm gonna get strong enough to protect him."

Gine smiled softly as she watched Raditz's promise, even if it was impossible. The older Saiyan didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that her brother was already deemed too weak to stay on planet Vegeta.

Better to let her enjoy the moment.

The aptly named (King) Vegeta, named so for it was the planet Vegeta which his ancestors conquered and now ruled over, strutted through the halls of his castle. The Saiyan monarch had a superior look in his eyes, something he had all too often, as he entered the royal nursery. He scanned the rows of incubation pods, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he looked at one of the few empty ones before settling at the singular pod resting in the center (standing above the rest, he would add with boastful pride).

Of course, his spirits were dampened as he saw the young form of his daughter sitting next to the pod. The young Saiyan was a near-perfect reflection of her father with the same sharp features (Although hers were significantly softer, due to her being the fairer sex and younger age) and spiky hair that stood straight up like a crown. The king scoffed as he approached his spawn, walking up behind her.

"You are supposed to be training," he told the child.

"You're supposed to not hire weaklings," she replied with a quick glare.

"Did you kill them?" Vegeta asked tiredly after a short pause, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was that the king could care about the trainers assigned to Vega, just that it was an issue to track down sufficiently strong enough to last more than a few moments against his daughter.

"No," the younger Saiyan scoffed. "I told him to come back when he can throw a punch."

The king pursed his lips in annoyance, for despite the efforts of his personal sessions with his progeny she was still soft by Saiyan standards. The princess would break bones, crush spirits, and was currently the strongest child on Planet Vegeta, yet she has been unable to take the life of anyone.

She'll grow out of it, and if not…

"I assume you checked Tarble?" Vegeta asked, referring to his newborn son of a few months. Vega rolled her eyes before holding up the power level scanner.

"He's not changed much, still only around five hundred," she said. The Saiyan king scoffed as he held the scanner to the container and scanned his son's power, his expression souring as it stopped at five-hundred and ten. "Told you," the female Saiyan's taunting voice said, the smirk obvious even when he couldn't see her.

It was a testament to his willpower that he didn't hit her and teach her to respect her elders. Vegeta did turn to glare at her before standing up.

"I will be personally overseeing your training from now on, you have thirty minutes to get to the training room for today's lesson," he said before walking out the room with a swish of his cape, not noticing nor caring about the exasperated sigh that came from his daughter.

Jaco, ultra-elite member of the prestigious (and inaccurately named) galactic patrol, protector of truth, justice, and all free people of the universe, was bored. Not from lack of work mind you, cutting down the number of patrolmen had (expectedly) increased the crime rate by almost half.

No, the source of his boredom was tossed to the empty seat next to him as he began to fish around his cruiser for its charger.

Yep, it was his phone, for it was a well-known truth that out of the thirty-eight members of the Galactic Patrol Jaco was easily the worst.

He never went out of his way to apprehend petty criminals (Those were for local law enforcement, not super-elite patrolmen) and there were rumors of him cutting deals with criminals in exchange for favors from the patrolmen higher up on the totem pole.

Completely baseless of course, born from jealousy for his ability to easily reach for the remote when it falls under the couch without straining himself.

A happy chuckle slipped past his mouth as he found his charger and plugged it in.

A pinging noise alerted Jaco to the patrol issue radio placed over his ear, the computer telling him it was an SOS message.

"This is Fridge of the… look, I don't know," a tired female voice greeted his ear, the name that belonged to it sounding somewhat familiar. "We… need help." Each pause in the voice was soon followed by a shaky breath. "We're low on oxygen, please… someone… respond…"

The radio mic. Was in his hand before the diminutive alien could blink (Not that he needed to, most of his body's moisture being stored in his head). "This is Jaco of the galactic patrol, I will be on my way to your location immediately." A few moments passed before Fridge spoke back up, her voice tearful and shaky.

"Thank you."

In the time it took to snap his fingers, Jaco started his ship up and was flying through space towards the signal course, the patrolman unaware of what he had gotten himself into.