Wine, dark as the void of space, poured from a glass bottle into a clear flute. The holder of the wineglass swirled it gently, with the care one would expect of a such a connoisseur, and sniffed the aromatic bouquet.
"Such a fine vintage, your majesty. I do thank you for your hospitality. I am happy to report that your new planet is cleaned and the vegetation will be regrown within a decade. I took the liberty of personally dismantling the more cumbersome structures left by the indigenous creatures. Despite having no identifiable markers of advanced civilization, they quite liked to build religious sanctums."
A tall man, slight of build but severe in expression, bowed respectfully to the diminutive figure sitting in the hoverchair. "We are grateful, Lord Frieza. We have arranged for your requested compensation to be transported to your ship within the hour. The Latiputan monarchy thanks you."
"Merely business, of course," smiled Frieza, taking another sip of the wine. "Though you might find some coming your way if this wine is indicative of the quality of your cuisine. I quite like this one."
"We are happy to hear it, Lord Frieza."
Frieza drained the last dregs of the glass, and motioned for a nearby servant to retrieve it. "I shall be taking my leave, then, Your Majesty. I have another appointment with a different client soon, one that has caused me much issue as of late. My deepest apologies."
The king made a no-matter motion. "Of course, my Lord. We too understand the strain caused by uncooperative persons. Please take care, and may the moons watch over you."
Thin purple lips stretched into a thinner smile. "A pleasure, your Majesty," said Frieza cordially. He activated his hoverchair and navigated his way out of the opulent castle, Zarbon and Dodoria immediately taking up stride next to him as he left the room where he had shared that wine - *Quite excellent wine* thought Frieza - with the monarch. Silence reigned supreme for a moment before he addressed Zarbon.
"Have you located the monkeys?" he said. Zarbon shook his head.
"My Lord, they seem to have all gone to Sector 78-1Z. The one called Raditz is dead, according to his scouter, and his pod was destroyed. The other two had their scouters blown up by a power level that shorted them out. It had to be more than 10,000, though, because they had just upgraded to the fourth series."
Frieza's hand curled into a fist. "Are you saying that all of my monkeys are dead?" he hissed dangerously.
Zarbon hurriedly continued. "The pods for the Saiyans are still active, and haven't yet been tampered with. Anyone strong enough to have defeated Vegeta would have presumably destroyed the pods too, so Vegeta is almost certainly still alive. However, the navigation systems on both were fried by the same spike in power that broke Vegeta and Nappa's scouters, so any attempt at flying them would result in piloting failure and certain death."
The fist unclenched. "So. My monkey is trapped. How sad and unfortunate. I suppose I will have to go retrieve my little pet, like a good owner." The voice was flat and bland, yet somehow hummed with sadistic anticipation. "He disobeyed me by going to that sector anyway, so he will definitely be in for some punishment."
A beep on Zarbon's scouter signalled an incoming message. His face turned an interesting shade of brown as his reddish blood suffused his green face. "Sir, Planet 14-2B is encountering problems with purging. The current inhabitants have technology strong enough to harm lower-level soldiers."
Frieza's face remained calm. "Is this the same planet that Delshalak Peerm ordered? I distinctly remember him refusing to pay the full amount as punishment since he was so very rude to me at our first meeting."
Zarbon tapped his scouter a few times, bringing up the relevant information. "Yes sir, it is. Delshalak Peerm also canceled your next appointment with him."
A tail lashed at the side of the hoverchair. Irritation threatened to make it lash harder, but Frieza held his annoyance in check. A thought occured to him, one he had not had in a while. "I see. What is the climate like on the Delshalak's planet?" he asked offhandedly. Several beeps later, the relevant information was transferred to the hoverchair's holographic display. Temperate, with excellent soil and many native plants that produced edible items. The problem with the planet at that time was pollution, which the Delshalak had refused to address since his election as the head of his people. "It's been a while since I had some fun, don't you think, Zarbon?" A cruel smirk played upon dark lips. "Set a course for Petraya once we board the ship, Zarbon. I feel I must speak with the Delshalak face to face about this troubling development."
"Yes, my Lord. It shall be done."
Frieza relaxed in his hoverchair, the thought of some stress relief soothing his frayed nerves. His father was demanding better results from him, more and more, and inferior species like this one kept finding ways to ruin his ever-so-carefully laid plans. In time, though, the pressure would die down. There was always a rush on the planet market at this time every century or so. Things would calm down once more, and he could go back to simple management.
The disc-shaped ship lifted off the ground and began the ponderous ascent through the planet's atmosphere. The dampeners allowed the ship to ignore all but the most severe of jolts, so Frieza was able to retrieve a bottle of wine from his private stock and pour a glass without issue. The red-hued liquid swirled in the glass as he considered it along with his strategy going forward. Planet destruction, in the whole, was not particularly profitable, aside from the occasional emergency request from a world with no ki-capable fighters in danger from a rogue planet. Certain species were simply unable to produce fighters that could manipulate ki into beams or blasts, though most had excellent physical capabilities as a trade-off. As a result, destroying Petraya would not be profitable in the end, as a dead customer/government, though less insubordinate, would not ever be able to pay, nor would payment be able to be extracted from a destroyed world. So, despite his desire to destroy Petraya and the upstart Delshalak, he would have to do that as a last resort.
He took a sip of the cool alcohol, a pleasant warmth settling in his abdomen. Oh, the woes of an intergalactic real estate agent...
He was mildly startled out of his reverie by Zarbon contacting him through his scouter. "Lord Frieza, I have news on the Saiyans. The pods have been tampered with, possibly destroyed. We attempted to send the remote self-destruct signal, but it failed." The hiss of static whined across the speaker. Outwardly, Frieza betrayed no signs of his ire, until the glass began to crack, then shattered in his hand.
"Zarbon, a change of plans. You are to redirect the Ginyu Force to planet Petraya. If all else fails, have them remove the Delshalak and quite thoroughly explain to the people of the planet that their leader has put their lives in jeopardy because he refused to pay for services rendered. Destroy the planet if they collectively refuse to pay. Set a course for the last known location of the pods." Quiet rage simmered beneath the calm tone.
"Yes sir. Setting course for sector 78-1Z, and contacting the Ginyu Force," Zarbon said. "We will arrive at the destination in 4 months
Four months... Frieza eyed the nearly full bottle of wine.
With some mild fascination, Nappa looked at the fabrication equipment that was currently printing a stopgap leg for him out of high-density metal. It was not pretty, but Bulma had promised that it would support his weight, and allow him to at least get up and about. She was at the controls, monitoring the progress of the fabrication and tweaking the material usage and speed of the machine.
"You should know I'm only doing this for you because Goku asked me to," groused Bulma grumpily. She had been working on the ship non-stop for about 3 days, and at this point was on the verge of collapse. Nappa's leg had gone to the wayside because of the urgency of the ship's construction. Said Saiyan was half-hopping, half-hovering around her lab, inspecting the various instruments with obvious interest. This did not go unnoticed by the blue-haired genius. "Hey, don't touch that! Muscle-bound meathead..." she grumbled as he picked up a plasma cutter.
"I'm not just a fighter. On planet Vegeta, before I joined our fighting forces, my father taught me a fair bit about the technology we worked with," the bulky Saiyan replied. He replaced the cutter gently and moved on. "Fighting wasn't all we Saiyans were good at. Kakarot's father was something of a scientific fighter, constantly inventing his own techniques. King Vegeta's inner circle included a number of scientists who monitored the births of new Saiyans." He stopped at another fabrication machine, this one purpose-built for machine parts. "When Frieza came, he promised us much in the way of technology and cultural advancement, as well as the opportunity to fight other strong races. We had our hunger for knowledge sated and our thirst to fight quenched. How could we resist his offer? How were we to know that he would use us like a cheap tool, and throw us away and destroy us when we became more of a nuisance than he was prepared to deal with? We jumped at his offer, like a trained pet," Nappa sighed.
Bulma looked shocked. "You're not kidding, are you?"
Nappa shook his head. "It was amazing while it lasted. He gave us what we had always wanted."
Questions raced through Bulma's head at a mile a minute. She selected one at random and asked, "What is this Frieza guy really like, if he'd do something like that? I mean...it sounds like you guys did a lot of work for him. Why would he kill you off, even if there was a credible threat behind that legend?"
Nappa shrugged. "He's a psychopath. He feels no remorse in the slightest for anything he does, unless it comes back to haunt him. He's in the business of buying and selling planets, which he has purged before each sale. When you purge a planet, you remove all life on it that might be an obstacle to a new resident species, then collect and move on. The planet is left for a few years so that the signs of battle can clean up, then it's ready to be moved into. He also loves to blow up planets with enormous balls of energy...he just sits there in his little hoverchair, and blows it up from orbit. I've seen it enough to know he thoroughly enjoys blowing up a planet or two."
Bulma shuddered. The more she heard about this Frieza, the more her blood wanted to crawl out of her...
He and Bulma were both surprised when a *beep* from the fabrication machine informed them that the leg was finished. Nappa hopped and floated back to the table while Bulma assembled the various components of the leg, including the standard Capsule Corp logo. She tested the joints and the mechanism that would mimic the actions of a natural limb, being slightly surprised when it nearly kicked her, and tweaked a setting on the motors. Satisfied with the results, she brought it over to the Saiyan. "This will hold your weight, and will be able to bear about 200 pounds more of force over that, but anything greater, I can't guarantee it'll stay in working order. I'll try making you a better one as soon as possible but I have to get back to working on the ship now, so this will have to do," she said. "Now sit still, I'm going to try to attach this as best I can. It's lucky your muscles are so well-defined, because the straps are going to have something to grip." She fiddled and grumbled as the leg continued to give her mild issues, but eventually she had it properly attached. She nodded in satisfaction and pride. "Alright, give it a try!" she beamed.
Nappa hopped off the table, carefully putting weight on it. It groaned in protest, then settled. Nappa limped around the lab a bit, testing it, and nodded, impressed. "This will do for now. Where is Vegeta? Now that I can walk, I should probably stay at his side again..."
Vegeta was, at the moment, on the other side of the compound, having uncomfortably been being used as labor by the ever-bubbly Mrs. Briefs. She had somehow roped him into providing help with the docking bays, never minding the fact that he was obviously tempted to blast her into oblivion. Now that it was noon, she was dragging him along at a breakneck speed back to the main living quarters. Many a visitor saw a befuddled and utterly culture-shocked Saiyan being towed behind a mass of frilly kindness. Before his princely pride had a chance to manifest itself into a ki blast, she had put him into a chair before a large table while she fussed and fiddled in the nearby kitchen. Utterly confused, Vegeta could do little but try to grab his jaw up off the floor. A telltale thump thump signaled the arrival of his custodian, Kakarot, who had fallen ever so slightly behind because of Mrs. Briefs's enthusiasm.
An unsteady set of footsteps came from behind the doors to the kitchen that led to the rest of the compound. Seconds later, Nappa opened the door, followed by Bulma, who made a squeaking noise of relief as she dashed to coffee, murmuring in satisfaction as she poured a cup, put creamer and two sugars in it, then knocked it back like a shot of vodka. Nappa was, Vegeta noticed, ever so slightly.ore relaxed than he typically was. Generally speaking, the muscled Saiyan was always on alert, but he seemed a little more comfortable than he used to be. Grunting, his attention was transfixed by a mountain of food appearing from the kitchen. The smells that assaulted his nose were unfamiliar to the prince, but all made his stomach twist in anticipation. Nappa's own eyes popped, having never seen that level of culinary skill and abundance since Planet Vegeta had been destroyed.
"Here you go, sweetie!" twittered Mrs. Briefs. "I know Goku likes his food, so since you two are from the same place, I guessed that you both probably have the same appetite!" Vegeta could only stare dumbly at the smorgasbord of delights before him. Before he could even stammer a reply, a hand with a blue wristband darted around and grabbed a cinnamon roll. Instinctively, Vegeta's hand grabbed the offending arm. The room froze.
A terse silence filled the room. Vegeta and Goku were locked in a struggle for dominance. Just as both opened their mouths to start an argument that would inevitably end in fighting, Bulma swatted Goku's hand with a rolled up newspaper. "Goku!" she squealed. "Seriously? He's not even sitting down for a minute and you're already trying to steal his food? Wait your turn, damnit!" The scene was so ridiculous, it managed to break the tension and the atmosphere of doom that had settled on the kitchen. Goku grinned sheepishly and scratched his head while he continued to be berated by Bulma. Vegeta began to eat, quickly but cleanly and politely. As he did so, he couldn't help but find his gaze drawn to the woman whose personality so clashed with her hair color. She was... fascinating...
Bonus:
"Alright, you understand the basic principle of the Spirit Bomb. Now, I want you to put it into practice! Gather your thoughts and concentrate! If you mess up, I'm putting you back onto the weight sets!" Yamcha grimaced and closed his eyes, envisioning the small planetoid. He felt the pulse of the planet...the grass...King Kai... Gregory...Bubbles...and...one other thing? "YARRR! WHO BE YE, YEH SCURVY DOG?!" shouted an angry voice in Yamcha's head.
Yamcha yelped. "What the hell?!" he cried, falling to his butt. King Kai looked at him in confusion.
"What happened?" the blue god queried.
Yamcha struggled for a moment to find words, then spluttered out, "I heard a voice in my head! It sounded like an old timey pirate!"
The dumpy god snickered and hooted. "That's just Bojack. He's a space pirate we Kais trapped in my planet!" The god continued to laugh hysterically.
Yamcha began to get irritated. "What's so funny about that?!" he demanded.
"He only talks to those he knows he can scare because he has body odor stronger than them!" the Kai giggled.
Apparently there is an issue with the mobile app's PM function. Currently my computer is not working, and probably will not for a while, so while I can see via email that I have a PM, it is difficult to answer. I will answer sometime this week to the PMs I have received, once I figure out how to fix my computer. I thank you for the feedback, and understand your concerns. I am basing my characterization on what I know of Goku's personality (I have not been watching Super, though I have some basic awareness of the series. I have not watched Dragon Ball, either, though again I have some basic awareness of major plot points. I dislike most of GT, though I rather like the design of SSJ4. I might incorporate it into my theories if it suits the story, as its appearance and lore would work well in this context).
Finally, I would like to thank the kind individual who took the time to give me advice on spacing dialogue. Despite my education and age, it seems I remain ignorant on a number of issues. I will take your advice in stride, and will take some time at some point in the future to fix my errors in the previous two chapters.
Again, I thank you all for your feedback, and your continued interest in my story. Words are what make us human, but stories give us life and imagination. Without someone to hear, a story dies.
Edit: re-uploaded because a portion was cut out somehow.
Second edit: removed a redundant phrase (note to the kind guest reviewer: if you will notice, Goku is being nice to Bulma. He was about to clobber Vegeta like he was pie filling for grabbing him. If anyone else would like to suggest a better reworking of that scene, please do. This is a work in progress!).
