Echoes
Chapter 69: Family and Hanger-ons
A/N: Did another broad look at this fic: either we're 2/5th of the way through (judged by overall story beats hit) or halfway (judging by estimated chapter count). This also means that, for the first time ever, I thought about what the ending of this fic would look like. But, wow, that is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo far away.
Pretty confident in saying that this fic is going to end in DBZ, not Super… but, well, it's not going to be an ending in any way, shape, or form familiar.
Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!
At the crack of dawn, Bulma woke, showered, and dressed; at the crack of coffee, she exited her suite at the top floor of Capsule Corp. and began another long day of work.
Eighteen to twenty-hour workdays, as they had been in the past when a lot was on her plate, were becoming common for Bulma in the month since returning to Earth. She couldn't help it; being stuck so long away from her laboratory among an alien civilization had given her a million different ideas to flesh out and test. Could medical technology equivalent to what the PTO had be mass-produced? It is advantageous, let alone feasible, to prototype a single-person ship that, hypothetically, could speed through space like nothing else before it? What kind of armor, stronger and more flexible than what the PTO had, could she make? Sometimes, she wished she wasn't so smart.
The only assistance Bulma had in these regards was that she didn't have to spend her time reverse-engineering the PTO tech Capsule Corp. had on hand; her researchers had descended onto the shuttle like scavengers and had picked it dry, just as they had done with Raditz's scouter and ship. Though, without her direction, her staff had proven ill-suited to handling these matters on their own. When she had come back from Namek, and had viewed the progress that had been made on technology she was already well acquainted with, she was forced to throw out most of her researchers' incorrect work. She still wondered which one of her assistants had the thick-headed idea that a scouter was a glorified smart device shaped into a pair of pseudo-sunglasses. She had probably gotten rid of that troublemaker by firing half her staff, though.
Her mind was buzzing with all this as she stepped out into the day's early light and swung into the conspicuously parked spaceship at the front of the Capsule Corp. building. Not that anyone outside the company would recognize it as such; somehow, this space-worthy vessel was shaped like a sagging balloon.
Inside, she spied Retu pressed against the main chamber's central pillar. She still couldn't believe he and her father had put a gravity chamber in this thing.
'This thing really works?' she said while steam from her cup wafted against her face.
'It does,' Retu assured with his back to her. 'It was actually ready to go a month ago, but I kept working on it. Wanted to make it as safe and sound as possible.'
Bulma ran her eyes over the spherical chamber, then Retu. 'You're not going to train in it, are you?'
'Uhh… no,' Retu replied as he wiped grease onto his mechanic overalls, 'probably not.'
'Then what's with all the effort?'
'Uhh... ' he ducked back into the guts of the central terminal. 'Personal pride.'
'Pride?' Bulma took a sip from her coffee and smiled. 'I know a thing or two about that.'
After exiting the ship, and finding herself enjoying the rare occasion where she got to bask in natural sunlight, Bulma decided to take a short walk around town. West City this early in the morning was predictably empty around Capsule Corp.- anyone who had to work today was already in before the sun rose. This early in the year, the air was cold underneath the warming light of the sun, and to Bulma's dismay, by the time she turned a corner onto a street of strikingly uniform similar houses, she discovered her coffee had cooled considerably.
She knocked onto the second door she walked past. After a minute, she glanced at her watch and knocked again.
'Hrmmph?...' Bez, dressed incredibly casual in a grey undershirt and baggy sweatpants, made a series of other sleepy sounds as he pushed the door open and peeked out. 'Who- oh. Bulma?' He let her open the door fully. 'What's up?'
Bulma chugged the last of her now lukewarm coffee. 'Just checking in,' she said, forcing onto him the empty mug. 'Do me a favor and wash this for me?'
Bez nearly dropped the mug. 'What?' he asked, bewildered. 'Why?'
'Because I'm going to see you at the board meeting later, right?' She titled her head to one side. 'You're due to give a report.'
'What? Since when?' The mug came dangerously close to leaving Bez's hands as he tossed his arms. 'I don't know anything about Capsule Corp! I don't even know how to work most of the appliances in this house!'
'Every board member gives a report on a company division of their choosing,' Bulma explained patiently. 'All you have to do is choose a topic and talk about it for five minutes. It's not that hard.'
'But- you forced me onto the board-'
'To give you an income, so you're not penniless-'
'-when I know nothing about!-'
Bulma narrowed her eyes. 'But do you know how to wash a dish?'
'What? Well, I... yeah, I think-'
'Then I'll see you and that mug at the meeting!' Bulma said cheerily before shutting the door in his confused face.
To Bulma's surprise, that door didn't reopen while she strode back up the street. She imagined the many consternated faces Bez could be making behind that door, and that entertained her all the way to her father's lab.
Dr. Briefs had converted one of the main building's garages on the ground floor- dating back to a time when storage-saving capsules were a distant fantasy- into his private laboratory. Stacks of books, diagrams, and schematics were littered around a central workstation and what Bulma guessed was a still in-construction telescope. Her father, she saw, was underneath that mess of glass, metal, and wires.
'Didn't know you were an astronomer, Dad,' Bulma said as she leaned on one of the less cluttered tables. 'Figured you for an "earthly" scientist.'
From beneath his creation, Dr. Briefs wheeled himself out and sat up on his dolly. He had a wrench in one hand and a mess of oil in the other. 'I am, dear! But before I put your satellite in orbit, I need to make sure it works on the ground first!'
She looked more closely at the construct. 'So this is the prototype, then?'
'Indeed!' He placed the wrench down and began wiping his oily left hand on his lab coat. 'With this, I should be able to detect any army or armada heading to Earth weeks out… as long as it's pointed in the right direction, of course.'
Bulma looked further upward and spotted new material encompassing the room's ceiling. 'I see that you've even installed a proper ceiling to reveal your project to the open sky.' She looked at him. 'You've really gone all out, haven't you?'
He gave her a suppressed smile. 'I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a hobby I wanted to get into,' he said, turning and looking up at his work. 'Stargazing, that is. Though… I wish it was under better circumstances.'
Behind him, Bulma dipped her head. 'Yeah,' she muttered. 'We're agreed on that.'
She chatted to her father a bit longer before letting him get back to work. From there, she attended the aforementioned board meeting, saw Bez give an awkward presentation on sinks, but patted him on the back at the end all the same. He appeared to appreciate that. And he gave her a clean mug.
By then, the day had reached normal morning hours- her watch told her it was almost 9 AM. Bulma had one more thing left to do before she could shutter herself in her personal lab and throw her entire being into her experimental projects. A light breakfast of yogurt and fruit, a quick refill of her coffee mug, and out the front door to a squirreled away corner of the grounds-
She blinked as soon as the door was open. Krillin, looking just as tall and purple as she had seen him a month before, fidgeted with his hands before her.
'Hey, Bulma...'
0o0o0
Frieza's cape, crimson red trimmed with gold, billowed furiously in his wake. The natural weather of his home planet Arcosia, which usually spat out freezing wind and blanketing snowstorms, had the good sense to give him nothing but a clear day for his arrival. The message he said with his attire and pace must have been clear; he would not be delayed.
His father's estate, tucked away in the hinterlands adjacent to the mighty mountains that formed the spine of the world, rested at the top of a valley overlooking an empty valley. According to legend, this valley used to hold a great and monstrous beast when the planet was young, and that one of his ancestors, before going on to conquer this planet and create the basis for the empire Frieza now governed, challenged this monster, slew it, and feasted on its young. It is said that the flesh of this beast invigorated this warrior and his descendants with unfounded mental and physical prowess. Thus, it was said that this warrior founded a dynasty.
Looking out on this valley now- which struck Frieza as a valley, nothing more, nothing less- he laughed at that legend. The strong did not need a tale to justify their dominance over others. They had and maintained strength to keep themselves above the pathetic masses. A groveling bug did not need to hear stories of mighty beasts to deter them from attempting what would be a suicidal attack- they simply needed to see one.
In the end, there was only might, and the lack thereof. That was the rule he lived by.
Frieza, with a swish of his tail, turned away from the valley and strode inside. His court, all fifty-something of them, followed quickly after him.
The first, most important, and largest chamber of any Arcosian estate was the reception hall. Depending on the time of year and the occasion, such a room could be laden to the brim with tribute or food, or achingly empty. Frieza quickly determined that, aside from the people, this one fell into the latter category.
Two distinct groups were present: one was the court of his father, which blanketed the edges of the chamber, and one was that of his brother's, which formed a smaller clump towards the room's center. Conspicuously, his brother's court was filled primarily with warriors, some of which Frieza recognized from his past court events. Another laughable trait in his brother- he inspired enough foolishness in others that they would hitch their stakes to the clear second in the empire.
Their father King Cold- who, when standing at full height with his red cape and blue, black, and tan armor, easily dwarfed everyone else in the room- spotted Frieza's entry easily enough from within the press of his court. With a telling sweep of his arm, he cleared the courtiers from around him. 'Frieza!' he said. 'You made good time, son!'
'I do so when it is requested of me,' Frieza said bluntly. Behind him, his court finished filling into the chamber and the door to the outside closed. 'And Cooler is?...'
'Right here, brother.' From within his entourage, Cooler emerged. He was dressed the same to how he was the last time Frieza saw him, which, of course, meant he wasn't dressed at all; Cooler was unique among the three of them that he usually didn't wear any sort of armor or cape. He was, thus, plain with his dark purple skin and natural white carapaces that covered his chest, wrists, ankles, and head.
It was also a fact that Cooler did not bother with using the reduced forms Frieza and his father employed to limit their power. Expecting this, Frieza had arrived in his white and purple natural form, same as his brother's. A regrettable sacrifice, for he missed his horns in this form.
'I see that you are in your natural form, Frieza,' King Cold remarked. He swung his gaze to his other son. 'Very unlike you.'
'I understand how Cooler thinks,' Frieza said with the slightest hint of conceit. 'How he attempts to compensate for his lack of innate power by attempting to overshadow me in my reduced form.' He smirked. 'No thought on how to be judicial with the use of his power.'
A murmur went through the crowd. If anything, however, under the gaze of his father, Cooler simply looked amused. 'It is rare to see you so openly combative with words!' he said. 'This summon must have truly rattled you!'
'Perhaps I wish to remind you that I am your superior, in both strength and speech.'
'Children,' King Cold said in a paternal, jovial tone, 'you two have not been gathered to trade barbs- Cooler has leveled a complaint against you, Frieza,' he looked towards the crowd, 'and it is the responsibility of both of you to make sure you play your parts well.'
Frieza was well aware of the audience they had; Cooler, of course, must have been aware of this, too. This move carries substantial risk for both of us…
'I intend to, father,' Cooler said. 'And,' he stepped forward, 'I intend not to waste anyone's time. The charge I level at Frieza is this- he is grossly incompetent for his position atop the PTO.'
Again, a murmur went through the crowd- though this was largely drowned out by Frieza's own reaction. 'Bah! This is the same charge you've been bandying around for decades!' Frieza said dismissively. 'This is what you decided to waste father and I's time with?'
King Cold leveled a significantly more scrutinizing gaze at Cooler. 'Is that all you offer, Cooler?'
His eldest son did not shrink under the weight of his stare. 'I am not a fool, father. I would not convene this without more.' He stepped to the side, and gazed into his court. 'Without… him.'
The tension in the room drew into a single point- even Frieza found his chest clenching while he watched the crowd slowly part to reveal someone. To reveal… someone he knew. Anger flashed in his arms, legs, and tail, warping every muscle in his body. Him!
In his normal form, and adorned in a fresh suit of armor with thin scars patterning the skin around his eyes, Zarbon stepped out and faced Frieza. He said nothing; he looked far too uncertain to do anything but reveal himself.
'I was confused,' Cooler began, arms crossed, 'when your right-hand man, half-dead, stuck in a near-failing ship, appeared near the edges of the East Quadrant. Naturally, I took the man in, healed him, and returned to him his strength.' A small smile graced Cooler's mouth. 'As you can imagine, he was very grateful to repay me.'
Frieza glared at Zarbon with enough vehemence to kill him, and he even took a step forward to fulfill that promise. Cooler, however, stepped between them. 'Of course, he did not tell me anything I did not already suspect; that, on your watch, you let a PTO base be leveled and lost an entire PTO army, not to mention that you lost track of some other men- but it is nice to have a primary source confirm this all.'
King Cold's younger son looked ready to explode- his tail thrashed on the ground behind, sending courtiers skittering back- though those who knew him knew better. Others, however, in mortal fear of Frieza's temper, were even leaving the chamber entirely. 'You!...' Frieza's eyes were locked on Zarbon. 'How dare you betray me!...'
Zarbon turned his head away and muttered something.
'Now now, Frieza,' King Cold said warmly, with the same effectiveness of telling a starving predator to spare its prey, 'let Cooler finish.' Abruptly, as King Cold turned to Cooler, his merry affect tightened into something sterner. 'I imagine your brother has more to say than accuse you of organizational incompetence- which, I'll remind him, he is just as guilty of in similar past circumstances.'
Cooler, who, up to this point, had been uniformly even with his case, faltered. He replaced smooth assurance with forced composure. 'But of course, father- I would never waste your time with charges of that stature-'
'Then the charges are?...'
'Frieza mortally wounded me and sent my ship into deep space when I refused to follow his order,' Zarbon spoke up, his voice tight.
All sound left the room. King Cold leaned in towards Zarbon, his face a mask. 'What order did you refuse to follow?'
'The order to betray and kill you, King Cold.'
The soundless expanse was pierced by thunder- an energy blast billowed into Frieza's right palm, crackling and heating the surrounding air. Ground rumbled and couriers backed away, skin singing.
'YOU LIAR!' Frieza exploded. 'YOU FAIL ME AND YOU SEEK TO DRAG ME DOWN WITH YOU? I WILL THROW YOU AND YOUR MISERABLE "LIEGE" INTO OBLIVION!' he shouted at the top of his lungs. Unknownst to Frieza, energy leaped from his palm, scoring across the ground and nearly killing some stray courtiers. 'AND THEN I WILL ERASE EVERY PUTRID MENTION OF YOU FROM THE FACE!-'
King Cold's tail, held behind him still enough to be seen as a part of the scenery up until this point, lurched forward and smacked Frieza across his cheek. The impact flung Frieza to the cold stone floor, and was strong enough to shake the entire room around them. Those present- those who could keep themselves on their feet and face the nascent storm, anyway- were taken aback. Not once had they seen anyone lay a finger on their Lord Frieza and live.
Nothing of his previous detached, amused expression remained; King Cold, to his other son's hidden glee, now viewed Frieza with utter contempt. 'You are foolish, Frieza,' he said in a crisp, collected voice, 'to assume that, upon retirement, I withdrew from the going-ons of the Empire. I alone have the power to grant privilege, and I alone have the power to punish.'
Like a child, Frieza held a hand to the stinging side of his face where his father's tail had hit him. Already, a red welt welled under his skin. One propped arm separated him from the ground, and a mixture of fury, shock, and shame passed through him. 'You- how could you?' he asked in a small voice. Choking, he looked at the crowd. 'In front of?...'
King Cold took a sharp breath, then straightened. When he addressed the three courts gathered, he did not lift his gaze from Frieza.
'Apart from my sons, you are all dismissed.'
0o0o0
Though he had been dropped off at the base of Korin's tower by Chi-Chi almost a month ago, Yajirobe realized he had a few errands to run before rejoining Korin atop the Lookout. First, he trekked to the nearest town and purchased several sacks of rice- he imagined that Korin didn't have much food on hand. Second, he cooked and ate most of that rice on the way back to the tower, so he had to make a second trip and buy more rice. Lastly, once he had arranged the rice sacks against the base of the tower, he began to seek out a smith to repair his sword.
That task had taken the longest, and had led him to a couple of unfamiliar places, but, in the end, he returned to the base of Korin's tower with a reforged blade strapped to his waist. It didn't possess the same craftsmanship it had had before being broken against Garlic Jr., but it was whole again, and for Yajirobe, that was enough.
When he finally started his climb, he found that the ascent was harder than he remembered; once he reached the top of Korin's tower, he decided to take a day of rest before using the power pole to take him the rest of the way up to the Lookout. So Yajirobe succeeded in opening, cooking, and eating another whole rice sack before he noticed that Korin was moping on the ground in some dusty corner of a storeroom.
The eight-hundred year-old cat was so low to the ground that he looked like a lumpy rug. Yajirobe prodded him with his toe. 'Korin? You okay?'
'No,' Korin said with a whine. 'Everything is awful.'
Yajirobe scratched the back of his head. 'Uh… wanna talk about it?'
'Not really.'
'Hmmph.' Yajirobe looked around the room. 'At the very least, you want to mope around in a less dusty place?'
And so the two of them went out onto the tower's main platform. While Yajirobe munched away on his food, and listened to Korin give him a rough idea of why he was here, he also grabbed a stool for Korin to sit glumly on.
'I just don't understand,' Korin said through his paws once seated. 'He… well, I can understand why he was angry… but to exile me?... It seems excessive.'
'Didn't you always describe him as a crotchety old man?' Yajirobe asked. 'To me, this sounds pretty consistent with that. You did something he told you not to do. So he punished you in the crotchety old man way.'
'Because I thought he needed the rest!' Korin complained.
'You've made that clear.'
Korin sighed. 'Maybe I do deserve this… I don't know.'
'You miss it, yeah?'
'The Lookout?'
'Yeah.'
Korin's eyes wandered. 'To be honest, I had grown to like the Lookout. And I had only scratched the surface of what that place has to offer…'
Yajirobe grunted and moved his hand closer to Korin. 'Want any rice?'
'No thanks.'
Munching sounds filled the air around them. Korin glanced out towards the sky. 'I wouldn't be so down,' Yajirobe said, mouth full. 'You still got this position, after all.'
'Yeah… I guess so.' Korin thought about what was going on at the Lookout. Though… nothing is set in stone. Change; it's the way of things.
0o0o0
A month passed before the event Kami anticipated- one he awaited from the moment Earth's voyagers returned from the stars- took place. It was a breezy, cold day atop the Lookout, cold enough to make his joints ache, when Piccolo exited flight and landed. He approached quick enough that a wall of air, traveling alongside as he zoomed through the sky, flashed out and buffeted Kami and Mr. Popo alongside his arrival. Neither of them so much as flinched.
Piccolo, clothed in his purple gi and white cowl and cape, spent a long second studying his surroundings. 'So,' he said, 'this is the hermit's cave.'
'Your description is wrong on both counts,' Kami said sternly. His voice was robust and deep, like the bark of an old tree. 'Though I would not expect your mind to reach any other conclusion than this incorrect one.'
Piccolo's eyes continued their roaming. 'It's funny,' he said. 'My memories of this place up until now were muddled… my father, it seemed, very much chose what to remember about this place when passing along what he knew to me. He thought this place as much more imposing than it actually is.'
Kami's grip on his wooden staff, tall as him, tightened. 'You knew of this place?' he asked. 'It is a miracle you did not come sooner, then.'..
'I never had a reason to come here before,' Piccolo explained. 'Nor, do I think, did I have the power to fly here until recently.' He glared at Kami. 'Things are different now, of course.'
Mr. Popo remained placid as his master gave a harsh laugh. 'Yes!' Kami said. 'That much is evident. So let me guess as to why you have decided to grace me with your presence: are you here to kill me?'
Piccolo narrowed his eyes. 'And why would I want to do that?' he asked, face creased. 'I'd be killing myself.'
'I do not mean kill in the literal sense,' Kami said, voice quiet. 'I can sense your being has changed since the last time you walked this world… you are no longer just Piccolo.'
Something flashed across Piccolo's face. 'And what do you know about that?' he growled.
Kami leaned on his staff. 'I know that you are your father's son,' he said in a weary voice. 'A long time ago, King Piccolo tried to do to me what you did to whoever resides within you now. It was just after I had banished his evil nature from my body, and in his rage of being cast out, he tried to forcibly rejoin with me.'
'And?'
'I resisted,' Kami said. 'And I would successfully resist you if you tried such a foolish thing,' he added, grimacing. 'My power here far outstrips whatever paltry strength you have gained.'
Piccolo studied Kami. 'So you know of this… ability of mine?'
'Intimately.' He tightened his grip on his staff. 'I know you consumed a poor Namekian on Namek, effecting an irreversible change, and that, if it's within your power, you would do the same to me.' He summoned all his malice. 'Know that I would rather kill myself than allow that to happen!'
Kami's words echoed across the Lookout. His and Piccolo's cowls fluttered in the wind.
'I have nothing more to say to you, then' Piccolo said, turning his back on Kami. 'I came here to be courteous, for once- I figured that you would want to know of such a technique, and to do so, I would have needed to tell you about our race- our real history.' Over his shoulder, he glanced back at him. 'But I see now that you know enough.'
Kami laughed. 'What is this?' he taunted. 'Are you trying to make me jealous of your journey?'
'Not at all.' Piccolo said without looking back at him. 'You should know better than anyone else how much danger the Earth is in. If things go as badly as they can, and we're faced with annihilation... ' Piccolo drifted off, seemingly unwilling to finish his sentence. 'It is best that we both know as much as possible so to be prepared for every scenario.'
'What are you insinuating?' His eyes widened. 'You think that- I would agree, willingly, to such a thing-'
'Nevermind.' A white aura wrapped itself around Piccolo. 'Goodbye, Kami.' With that, he blasted off and down, away from the Lookout. Wind pulsed past Kami and Mr. Popo, pulling their clothes away from their bodies until coming to a gentle stop.
'That was odd of him,' Mr. Popo said. 'I wonder what else he would have told you.'
Their sentence was indirect enough to be taken as either a comment or a statement. Kami, eyes glued to the horizon, said nothing.
0o0o0
The air moved around them in slow rolls, gracing them with a rare day where the weather in the mountains was calm and clear. It was the perfect day for technique training and meditating; while Suno and Chiaotzu traded back-and-forth technical strikes higher up the slope, Tien and Launch sat and meditated in a rare, level section of flat, grassless rock.
A few hours passed like this before Launch opened her eyes, squinted at Tien, and stood.
Tien realized Launch had stopped meditating almost instantly. 'Something wrong?' he asked, looking up from his sitting position.
Launch cracked her back. 'Alright,' she said, glaring at Tien. 'I'm going to punch you now.'
He blinked. 'What?'
Before Suno and Chiaotzu could even turn, a huge gust of wind rushed up the slope, flattening them onto their backs. Launch had thrown a single punch- a punch wreathed with blue and yellow ki, traveling with enough speed to flatten a large town- into Tien's face. The blow landed, throwing out an even greater wave of wind, and the previously calm air fluttered furiously in its wake.
She felt that her hand, after landing, still touched skin. 'I knew it,' she hissed. 'I friggin' knew it.'
With a wave of his hand, Tien used his ki to disperse the residual energy thrown into the air from the blow. 'Knew what?' he asked, as Suno and Chiaotzu found their footing and came closer.
'I knew you were hiding something,' Launch snarled. 'That was damn near the strongest blow that I could throw- and you took it without even flinching.' Her eyes burned with fury. 'Bulma said you and everyone else hadn't gotten that much stronger in space. That, clearly, was a lie.'
'Well,' Tien said, moving Launch's fist from his cheek with a single finger, 'Bulma isn't a good judge of these things.'
'So you admit it?' Launch pressed. 'You're stronger?'
'Sure, but- hey!'
Launch grabbed Tien by his clothes and yanked him off his butt. 'You listen here,' she growled. Her hair, blue-and-yellow, fell in messy clumps around her head and across her face. 'Don't you ever hide your power from me again!' she said, clenching his white undershirt by its collar and holding his face mere inches from hers. 'I'm not some kind of preening fool whose ego takes a hit from knowing someone's stronger than them. I relish a target,' she said with enough emphasis that Tien didn't know what kind of target she was referring to. 'So you better be honest from this point on. Got it?'
Tien frowned. 'Got it,' he said, nodding.
'Good,' Launch said, throwing him back to the ground. 'Now show me everything.'
'Everything?'
'Everything.'
Tien glanced to his right- Suno and Chiaotzu, who were previously throwing uncertain expressions towards Launch, now nodded halfheartedly towards Tien. Might as well, they said.
'Hmm.' He looked back to Launch. 'Fine,' he answered. 'But you should take a few steps back.'
'I move for no one,' Launch bit back. 'Power up.'
Tien narrowed his eyes while looking at Launch. 'Alright,' he said, taking a deep breath and tensing. 'Your choice…'
As soon as his speech fell off, energy and sound rushed in to replace it, swarming Tien in a shell of rippling white energy. Launch, by gritting her teeth and calling on her own blue-and-yellow aura, just barely managed to keep herself standing. Suno and Chiaotzu had much worse luck- they were driven back up to the slope to where they were sparring before.
After he was done, and words could be heard through the fading sonic chaos, Launch gave a snort of disbelief.
'This is your maximum?'
'Just about, yep.'
'About sixteen times mine, I'd guess.'
'Probably.'
'You asshole.'
0o0o0
They entered the nondescript building- it looked like a groundskeeping shed more than anything else- in silence, both of their minds preoccupied elsewhere. Bulma could draw out the implications from what Krillin told her, but still, she was curious…
'Rayne's giving birth soon, yeah?' she asked as she stepped into the center of the shed's one and only room.
Krillin joined her there and, with both of them on it, the platform under their feet began to lower downward. 'In the next month,' he confirmed. His voice, Bulma noted, was curiously both how she remembered it and not- it was like she was listening to Krillin speak- with all his cadence and enunciation- through a filter.
'Are you going to be there?' Bulma asked, sipping her coffee and looking at him immediately after asking her question.
'Maybe,' he said. 'Maybe not. It… depends.'
'On?'
'Whether she wants me there.' His face twitched. 'You know, Bulma, some people would find what you're doing right now very rude.'
'Are you "some people"?'
'I might be if you keep this up.'
She did a half-roll of her eyes and swung her attention forward. Nothing but the darkened edges of the shaft surrounded them. 'Just trying to be there for you… and Rayne, of course.'
'And not to sate your curiosity?'
'Hey,' she snapped, lurching to him and forcing him a step away from her. 'I didn't have to let you down here. I chose to. And, not to toot my own friggin' horn, but typically, the chances of me solving a problem increases if I have more information available to me.'
'Knowing my personal life will help you get me back into my original body?'
'It might,' Bulma grumbled. 'Can't hurt…' she mumbled.
'What was that?'
'Nothing important,' Bulma said. She pursed her lips and turned to him. 'Surprised you didn't catch that with your trained senses and whatnot.'
'This body is different from my old- well, original one, Bulma,' Krillin said sourly. 'And, of course, I'm not doing any training in this body.'
She lowered her mug. 'Why not?'
He sighed, heaving his entire body. 'I don't see the point in it, to be honest,' he said. 'Someday I'm going to get my body back, right? That means that Ginyu's going to get his back, too. And that means… well…' he probed the tip of one of his horns. 'I don't want to deliver an in-shape and primed body back to one our enemies, especially when the body I get back will be as strong as the time it spent chained to a wall.'
'Point taken,' Bulma said. A jolt hit the platform. 'We're here,' she said, stepping off before they had finished moving. She missed banging her head against the bottom of the shaft by an inch. Krillin wasn't as lucky. His horns rang against the metal and made a dull clanking sound.
'Ow!' Krillin clutched his head. 'Bulma-'
She was already pacing down a brightly-lit white hallway away from him. 'Hey!' he called, bursting into a jog. 'Wait up!'
Krillin had only been down here once before, and as he caught up to Bulma, he noticed the additional security measures that had been put in place. They had to pass through a biometric scanner, two manned checkpoints, and even a chemical shower.
'This one isn't really needed anymore,' Bulma said while jets of hot air blasted them dry. 'We were able to determine pretty quickly that their pathogens are, amazingly, remarkably similar to ours. No risk of us killing them with our germs, or the obviously worse reverse scenario.' She tapped the side of her neck with her finger. 'Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd say those two facts are suspiciously coincidental…'
As Bulma rubbed her thumb against her chin, Krillin noticed the last addition Bulma had made in his absence; the room containing their prisoners- which was, originally, a dull, dank, and depressing concrete bunker with a large panel of one-way glass facing in- was now divided into two. On the right, a white room resembling a hospital housed Recoome, who sat in bed with his eyes closed. Curiously, however, to his left, Ginyu- squatting in his body- and his room were exactly as he remembered it. It was still poorly lit and depressing, and had its sole occupant still chained to the far wall. Energy cuffs kept him in that uncomfortable, quasi-standing position.
'I don't enter that room, if you're wondering,' Bulma said while approaching the glass and stopping next to him. 'Too dangerous given that he might be able to switch bodies with me at his leisure, so, obviously, we never got the chance to remodel his cell. Needless to say, someone who can switch bodies at a whim could wreak a lot of havoc around here.'
The guard at the desk positioned behind Bulma, who was apparently tasked with watching the prisoners at all hours of the day, nodded to this before turning back to his newspaper.
Krillin glanced from the man back to Bulma. 'Have they said anything yet?'
Bulma frowned. 'Ginyu doesn't respond to the intercom. He scrunches up his face and stares at the ground. And I'm not going to torture him to talk to me- though, maybe that's what he considers conversation with me to be.'
'And Recoome?'
'He's reticent, too, though in a different way. He just seems… distant,' Bulma said, gesturing with her hand. 'Not present. Can't get more than a few words out of him.'
Krillin stared at the giant. He seemed… smaller, somehow. 'I would guess that happens when you lose both your legs,' he said.
'Yep.'
They both said nothing for the next minute, and the only sounds in their viewing room were those of newspaper pages being flipped. Bulma took her time to drink her coffee. 'So, you ready?' she asked after a small gulp.
'Ready?'
Bulma looked at him. 'This is what you wanted to do, right? Go in there and try and get information out of them.'
Krillin lowered his eyes. This was it, wasn't it? Why I came all the way out here… I just wanted to be useful again. 'Yeah,' he answered. 'I guess so.'
'Good,' Bulms said, nodding. 'You're pretty much the only person who can go in there, after all.'
'Trust me, Bulma- I know.'
'You'll also have to put on cuffs. Just in case.'
'Knew that was coming, too.'
0o0o0
A short time later, with Krillin's power properly muzzled, he found himself alone with Ginyu. The prisoner had lifted his head, registered him for a second, and then had thrown his expression to the side. 'That's another disappointment,' Ginyu grated. He glared at the floor. 'You should be dead.'
Krillin's mouth curled into a frown. 'You should be dead, too, but it seems like we've both been disappointed,' he said, moving further into the room. 'So; I was wondering if, from one dead man to another, we could chat.'
Before Krillin had reached him, Ginyu began to laugh hard enough that his entire body joined in, rattling the chains that bound him to the wall. 'I'm afraid you're mistaken in that,' he replied. 'I am not a dead man. I am probably the most alive person on this planet- wherever that may be.'
Half of Krillin's face rose with his curiosity. 'Meaning?'
'Meaning that my master, Lord Frieza, will come here soon, liberate me from my chains, and clear this planet of lower life forms for the highest bidder.' He lifted his gaze towards Krillin- the two of them peered into warped versions of their own eyes. 'Though I'm sure you already knew this if you even bothered to listen to me while we fought.'
'I did,' Krillin answered, crossing his arms. His energy cuffs rankled prominently on his wrists. 'You seem to have a lot of faith in this "Frieza" character.'
'Do you not have faith in the God you worship?' Ginyu asked, his eyes wide. 'Imagine the strongest deity possible- double that, and you'll arrive at Lord Frieza.'
'I don't worship a single entity,' Krillin said. 'I wasn't raised that way.'
'Neither was I,' Ginyu replied with a smug expression, 'but I came around.'
Krillin crossed to one side of the room while a lull in the conversation lingered. Ginyu watched him intently.
'Let's assume that Frieza is capable of beating us,' Krillin said.
'Which he is,' Ginyu cut in.
Krillin shot a glare at him. 'How would he know where this planet is?'
'A simple matter for Lord Frieza to deduce.'
'How?'
'Lord Frieza can do many things.'
Krillin half-smirked. 'You haven't actually given me a reason other than to say how great your master is.'
'Well, I don't know the facts of the situation as well as he does,' Ginyu said, irritated. 'I am a prisoner, after all.'
'And what if Frieza knows just as much as you right now? What if he's totally in the dark?'
'A foolish claim for you to make.'
Krillin paced to the other side of the room. 'Then let's assume that Frieza knows as much as you do about us- you fought us, after all, so you have more direct experience with us.'
Ginyu said nothing, electing to stare at the ground.
'So- do you know where we are?'
No response.
'Do you know the name of the planet we fought on?'
No response.
'Do you know what species my friends and I belong to?'
No response.
'So you know nothing, really? So we can expect Frieza to know nothing, too.'
'I refuse to answer,' Ginyu said, glaring up at him. 'That does not mean I am ignorant.'
'Exactly- you know exactly how little you know,' Krillin said, drawing closer to Ginyu. 'Regardless- you're really at our mercy, aren't you?'
Ginyu laughed. 'You may think that.'
'The point I'm trying to get at is this,' Krillin continued. 'The odds of Frieza coming here anytime soon are low- very low,' Krillin stated. 'And we have no issue keeping you here until you die of old age.'
'What's your point?'
Krillin scrutinized his face. 'There's only one way you're getting off this planet- our way.'
Ginyu looked amused. 'Oh? And what is that?'
'Switch bodies with me again and we'll agree to let you free,' Krillin said. 'Provided, of course, that we blindfold you before sending you off and we scrub from your ship anything that could lead your master back here.'
Distant satisfaction appeared on Ginyu's face. 'You want your body?'
Krillin straightened. 'It can be reversed, can't it?' He examined his arms- he tried to put into words something he had been feeling for some time now. 'This body I have now... it wasn't your first.' He looked at Ginyu. 'You've done this before.'
'Thank you,' Ginyu said with faux sincerity, 'for revealing what you want from me. It makes my life here much simpler.'
Krillin narrowed his eyes. 'What?'
'As much as I can't touch you,' Ginyu said with a smirk, 'you can't touch me. There's really nothing you can do to me while I have your oh-so-desired body, is there? You can't hurt me, let alone kill me, or even ship me and this body off-planet- otherwise, you wouldn't have taken me prisoner, right? You want your body back.'
'We can make your life uncomfortable,' Krillin said in a low voice. 'I wouldn't test us.'
'And, yet, you cannot kill me,' Ginyu said. 'And if it is necessary that I have to languish in prison for my final victory over you- that is a goal worth waiting for.'
'You still believe Frieza is going to save you?' Krillin questioned, a sharpness in his voice.
Ginyu laughed, and dropped his head to his chest. 'It is not a matter of if… it is a matter of time. He will find you one day… and on that day, I'll walk free. I don't mind waiting in this cell for that day to come.'
'A big if-'
'I have nothing more to say to you,' Ginyu said softly. His words lingered on the room's walls. 'Stew in your crimes, for one day soon, my master will come here and punish you for them.'
0o0o0
After Ginyu refused to talk any more, Krillin spent some time in Recoome's room; this proved to be even less fruitful, however, as Recoome didn't even acknowledge his presence. He embodied a statue all throughout Krillin's probing, and even when Krillin made a disgruntled show of giving up, he remained so.
Bulma, to Krillin's surprise, was glaring at him when he returned to her. 'You could have mentioned the offer you made to Ginyu to me before you went ahead and said it,' she said. 'For all you know, I might have had a carefully constructed negotiating plan before you blurted that out.'
'Did you?'
'Yes!' Bulma yelled, throwing her hands- curled into fists- to either side. 'It's obvious that you don't know zilch about how delicate these situations can be! Everything lies in what you choose and don't choose to reveal!'
Krillin, initially, frowned and leaned away- but something occurred to him, and he steeled his face and swung forward. 'Well, if that's the case, why didn't you give me a heads up before I went in there?' he shot back. 'I would have been more careful with what I said.'
'I- you-' Bulma's anger drained from her face. 'To be honest,' she said, sighing, 'I didn't think you'd be successful. I can't overstate how significant it was that you got him talking… even if you did something boneheaded in the process.'
Krillin looked at Bulma; he felt… something familiar in what he saw in her. 'I caused you a lot of future stress, didn't I?'
Bulma, resting her head in one hand, used her other to swat away Krillin's concern. 'No, no, It just... makes things more complicated,' she said, moving over to an empty chair and slouching into it. 'This past month has been a lot. I didn't want anything more on my plate… I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my heavy workload out on you.'
'Bulma,' Krillin said, his voice serious, 'if I'm causing you problems- if I'm causing anyone problems- I should be told. Thank you for telling me this, and I'm sorry that I went in there without consulting with you more.'
'It's fine,' she said, lifting her gaze from her hand. She managed a small smile. 'But thanks for the apology. Honestly… it's my fault. I was just too stressed to properly brief you…'
Krillin nodded- and, while doing so, another idea struck him.
'Bulma,' he said, furrowing his face in thought, 'I think… I think I'm going to stay here for a while. In West City, that is.'
The corner of Bulma's mouth lifted. 'Oh?'
'I think I help everyone the most by sticking around and questioning these two,' he said, meeting her gaze, 'considering that, in five minutes, I've had more success with Ginyu than you've had for an entire month.' He looked at the ground. 'I do want my body back… it's all I can really think about, to be honest. And until we try using the dragonballs, there's no other way I can make any progress towards that goal except by talking to Ginyu.'
'All that is true,' she said wistfully. 'Though… I don't want to probe, but…'
'Until Rayne says otherwise and calls me back,' Krillin answered her, 'I want to help here. Okay?'
Bulma's face brightened, and lifting an arm, she squeezed his shoulder. 'Okay. Just make sure you phone her and tell her what's going on, okay?'
'Promise.'
Soon after, they strode out from the underground building, past the security checkpoints and up the lift, and when they were once again outside in the Capsule Corp. gardens, Krillin's eyes widened.
'Bulma,' he asked, looking around, 'it just hit me- where's Yamcha?'
'Yamcha?' Bulma repeated, as if surprised to hear the name. 'You know… that's a good question. I haven't seen much of him at all recently, to be honest.'
Krillin stared at her blankly. 'You don't know where he is?'
'He kinda…' she scratched his head. 'Yeah, I don't. I sorta lost track of him when work picked up.' she shrugged. 'Pretty typical, to be honest. That's happened a few times before.'
'That he disappeared or that you failed to notice?'
Bulma half-frowned and made a wishy-washy gesture with her hand. 'Little of both.'
'You two have a strange relationship.'
'We go through periods,' she said flatly. 'Like cogs in a machine- sometimes, according to what the larger machine is doing, we meet up. Sometimes we don't.'
'And what's the machine in this analogy?'
Bulma shrugged. 'Life, I guess.'
'I'd like to hear more about the thinking behind that analogy.'
'Another day. I have better things to think about right now- like where you'll be staying in West City.'
'What are you thinking?'
'Do you want to live with Bez and join the Capsule Corp, board?'
'What?'
0o0o0
Beneath the shade of an ancient tree- the only tree in the main courtyard of Fire Mountain's castle- The Ox-King stood and watched his daughter try to… well...
He laughed to himself. It was such a ridiculous sight.
A few feet away, Chi-Chi- who was, for the first time since the 24th World Martial Arts tournament, dressed in her traditional multi-colored plate armor- stood, arms crossed, over her nearly 2-year-old-son. To her displeasure, Gohan seemed much more interested in tugging grass blades than paying any attention to her.
'Gohan!' Chi-Chi said sharply. Her son didn't so much as react. She reached down and waved her hand in front of his face. 'Gohan!?'
'Chi-Chi,' the Ox-King said warmly, 'he said his first word yesterday. And you expect him to train?'
'Of course!' she said, whipping her head to him. 'If he can talk, he can train. Do you doubt my ability as a teacher?'
'Mmm-'
Chi-Chi and her father both froze and turned to Gohan. He was looking, in a way only very young children could, up at Chi-Chi. 'Mmm- mmm-'
'What?' Chi-Chi urged him. 'What is it?'
'Mmm-mmm-' Gohan struggled with his mouth and pressed his lips together. 'Mmm-mmm!-'
'Moo!' he finished, smiling beatifically.
The Ox-King broke out into laughter again.
'You're not a cow, Gohan,' Chi-Chi said wearily, scooping him into her arms. 'I wish you took this more seriously…'
The day was warm- warm enough that the gash on Chi-Chi's forehead, which had healed into a thin, ragged line that ran from between her eyebrows to her hairline on the right side of her forehead, didn't ache. Oh, Gohan… I really wish you were a bit older. This stuff can't wait…
Something flashed; Raditz's face, parading a contemptuous sneer, ran through her mind. Her scar ached. It hits you when you least expect it.
'Dear?'
Chi-Chi turned to her father, who, with an index finger, pointed her attention to his left. 'That's one of your friends, isn't it?'
They both turned; somehow, Rayne, visibly pregnant and on her hands and knees, had appeared out of nowhere.
'CHI-CHI!' Rayne wailed, her face a creased mess. 'I can't do this!'
Fighting off her confusion, Chi-Chi shared a glance with her father and placed Gohan on the ground. With some haste, she sped over to Rayne's side. 'Rayne… what's-'
'KRILLIN IS TALLER THAN ME NOW!' Rayne moaned, throwing her head to the sky. 'EVERYTHING IS WRONG!'
The Ox-King beckoned toddler Gohan over to him and scooped him up into his arms. 'Dear,' he said, addressing Chi-Chi, who was wrapping herself around a tangled Rayne, 'I'll, uh- I'll leave you to this.'
She nodded silently, and listened to the retreating thuds of her father be overtaken by Rayne's strangely comical, over-the-top wailing.
0o0o0
Far away from any prying eyes, Dr. Gero, an older man whose hair whitened and back shortened with every passing year, crept through his lab like a ghost, pulling levers and adjusting dials. The unexpected awakening of his specimen a few months ago had presented great risks… but it had also given him an idea. Today, after weeks of effort, he hoped to achieve the promise of that idea.
He placed a chair in front of a large, cylindrical tank and sat in it. Within the tank, green-blue solution bubbled up and down, floating past a twisting amalgamation of flesh and metal. He sincerely wondered whether his ambitious cultivation had destroyed the specimen's consciousness entirely; that was not a part of it that Gero had not excised and extracted for his own purposes. Even now, long after he had finished collecting the bulk of his research material, Gero could not look at the machinery that twisted through pocketed and segmented flesh without thinking of it as a giant and unliving petri dish.
But he was a scientist, and people of his standing experimented- if only to sate their curiosity.
'Good…' Dr. Gero glanced at a display of readings fed by sensors within the tank. Slowly, he turned a dial at his knees clockwise. 'Good. What happened before shouldn't happen again.' His gaze moved glacially back to the tank. 'I imagine that was quite… unpleasant, to wake up in the state you were in, without certain… preparation.'
The specimen, its face mediated by polished glass and green water, looked distant and sad. '...'
'Is there something you wish to say?' Dr. Gero asked. 'The system is set up now that your spoken thoughts will be enunciated by my computer. We can talk, more or less.'
In a cold, sterile, and robotic voice: 'Where… where am I?'
Dr. Gero frowned. It wouldn't do to have the specimen either confused or curious. He twisted the dial next to his knees. The specimen slumped in its tank.
A few minutes later, with a slow and steady turn of that same dial, Dr. Gero seemingly revived it. It appeared… calmer than before.
'Hello?'
'Hello,' Dr. Gero greeted. 'My name is Dr. Gero.'
'My name is Raditz.'
'It is nice to meet you, Raditz,' Dr. Gero said, folding his hands in his lap. 'If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions.'
'What would you like to know?'
Dr. Gero titled his head. 'Tell me about your… childhood, if you can.'
A flood of speech came from Raditz- enough to overwhelm Dr. Gero if his computer hadn't slowed down its translation. Many of Dr. Gero's presumptions and deductions were proven correct; the specimen was a Saiyan after all, and it was the brother of the one Dr. Gero had observed for many years. Raditz's first memories seemed to revolve around its childhood on its destroyed homeworld, Planet Vegeta. The people it fought… and the people it learned from.
It was far more than he anticipated. To his surprise, his specimen had retained its memories… perhaps even parts of its personality.
'I'm going to go away for a moment, Raditz,' Dr. Gero said once his specimen grew quiet. 'I will be back soon.'
'Okay, Dr. Gero.'
He turned the dial at his knees.
'Computer,' Dr. Gero said aloud.
'Yes, Doctor?' a voice- the same that had been relaying Raditz's thoughts- replied from a pylon to his right.
'Prepare for dictation.'
'Yes, Doctor.'
Dr. Gero stared at the tank. 'Log 12: specimen has been successfully induced into a state of calm. In this state, it seems not only willing, but able to divulge personal details of its life. Obviously, this is a welcome development- concrete information and memory will go a long way towards stabilizing whatever personality matrix is constructed for Project B-1.'
He listened to the lab's pumps filter air through the vents above him and the blinking sounds of his equipment. All tools he had built many years ago, and expected to work for quite some time. It occurred to him-
'Computer,' Dr. Gero resumed, 'stop dictation and cease all listening.'
'Yes, Doctor.'
The pylon made a chirp, signaling that its receivers had been temporarily turned off. Groaning, Dr. Gero stood, walked over to a nearby table, and grabbed a pencil and notepad.
He stared at his implements, then scribbled a single word onto the first page. T-O-R-A.
0o0o0
It was freezing this far out and high up; Frieza couldn't remember the last time his teeth had chattered this bad. Extreme cold was nothing new to him- but nothing came close to matching the weather on Arcosia, especially in the most extreme parts of the planet.
What kept Frieza sane so far was remembering that Cooler- who he could see rubbing his arms for warmth to his right- had also been dragged up a mountain with him. I have father to thank for that.
Now, far away from their courts and atop a frigid peak with snowstorms threatening to blanket them from every direction, that same father forced them to their knees to listen.
'I will be crushingly honest with both of you,' King Cold began, 'as much as I despise doing so.' He stood, mighty arms crossed, and glowered down at them. 'I do not care for attempts by my children to kill me,' he laid his gaze upon Frieza, 'nor do I care for the word of turncoat underlings,' he looked at Cooler. 'Both have precedent in the past, and both have proven to be ineffective means. As my children, you both should know better.' He paused. 'Do you know why these means have been ineffective?'
Neither glanced up at him. 'Evidence would point to us not knowing why, father,' Cooler answered carefully.
King Cold sighed and dropped his head. 'No, I suppose not.' He refocused his gaze on them. 'You see, sons, these means failed because, simply, they did not obtain any appreciable amount of power for either of you.'
'I'm… not sure I follow, father,' Frieza said.
'No?' King Cold asked, lifting his gaze to Frieza and narrowing his eyes. 'You do not know of power?'
'Not in the way you describe it.'
'That would be the confusion, then,' King Cold said, striding forward. Behind Frieza and Cooler, an icy ledge ended before a sheer drop off the mountain. King Cold stopped at the very edge of it. 'Power to you two, I suspect, is how most people understand power- direct, concentrated, active. You think of power when you crush a throat or destroy a planet. I assure you, however, that, before he died, and perhaps throughout their entire life, any victim of yours felt the steady pressure of your might on their neck.'
King Cold studied the chaotic snowstorm swirling in the air beyond him. 'Take this storm, for example. In the distance, snow pounds against the land, strong and cold enough to kill an unprepared traveler. But that same traveler would, without even experiencing such a storm, run from it as soon as they saw it. They would not risk ever coming close enough to something as deadly as this.' He lifted his head, tilting his black horns backward. 'Before a single snowflake had even landed on them, the traveler had fled.' He turned back to his sons. 'Why is that?'
Before Frieza could parse through his mind- the cold made it hard to think- Cooler spoke. 'The traveler recognizes the power of the storm from afar. They don't need to be put through it- they already know what dangers it carries.'
'Correct,' King Cold said, nodding. 'Sons, we are that storm. There are only three of us to rule over trillions. At any given time, billions might be plotting our downfall from our perch atop the galaxy. If we did not maintain a different type of power- one that is indirect, dispersed, and passive- what good could the three of us do if those billions decided to revolt all at once against our empire?'
'That isn't a likely event,' Frieza argued. 'They know better than to challenge us.'
King Cold's entire face rose with doubt. 'Do they? Tell me, Frieza: what sort of message does the assassination of a parent send to the larger galaxy? Or of any family member, for that matter?'
Frieza thought on this. It sends… 'Vulnerability,' he answered, 'on the part of who was killed.'
'You are half-right,' King Cold replied. 'An assassination also signals the weakness of the person who set it in motion.' King Cold lifted a hand and swept it left-to-right. 'Why else would the perpetrator attempt this if not to avoid confronting their target across the normal domains of power? Committing such an act signals that the perpetrator could not defeat their victim in a proper fight.' King Cold lorded over his son. 'I imagine you felt this way towards me.'
'I- I would never plot to kill you, father!' Frieza said. 'I swear!'
King Cold stared at him, then, strangely, half-smirked. 'I believe you,' he said, 'for I am confident I have instilled in you enough common sense to understand what I would do to you in the wake of that inevitable failure. So-' He turned to both Frieza and Cooler again, '-as I've said before. I do not care about whatever schemes you plot behind my back- but, if those schemes end up hurting our collective standing across the galaxy, whereby the empire I spent my life building begins to unravel, severe consequences will follow.'
He faced away from them. The cold seeped into Frieza and Cooler's bones. 'And, perhaps, if this lesson does not stick, I will have to kill both of you. I do not relish the thought of raising another heir, but I will do so if forced.'
King Cold left the next few seconds empty. 'But,' he resumed, closing on a nearby block of ice and sitting on it. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, 'that is a topic for another time. What concerns us now is recent missteps-' he leveled his gaze on Frieza, 'your missteps, to be exact, Frieza. The events spoken of by Cooler do not warrant punishment in isolation, but coupled with your behavior before the court today, they bode badly on your capacity to govern.'
'You must… excuse me father,' Frieza said, his face alternating between a grimace and a scowl. 'I did not expect to hear such… treason from a whelp such as Zarbon. What he spoke of were patent untruths.'
'The plot against me?
'Yes.'
'And what of what Cooler said?'
'I… I cannot say-'
'As I said before, father,' Cooler rejoined. 'The destruction of the PTO base, and-'
'Yes, yes,' King Cold said, waving away his oldest son. 'I heard you the first time. It is not in your interest to lie to me, Frieza,' he said, rolling his neck. 'From my bedroom I can access every PTO record in the galaxy- it will not be difficult for me to determine whether a base and an army have gone missing.'
'These accusations… are true, father,' Frieza said through gritted teeth. 'At the time you called me here, I was in the process of investigating these events.'
King Cold rolled his head towards Cooler. 'And how is it that your man, Zarbon, was picked up by Cooler in the East Quadrant?'
'I… do not know.'
'Do you have anything to say, Cooler?'
King Cold's eldest son frowned. 'Before he spoke before the court, Zarbon had not previously mentioned to me how he had arrived in the East Quadrant. In fact, initially, he seemed quite confused by that event.'
King Cold adjusted his sitting position. 'Regardless if his claims are false, it remains true that a "patent untruth" nearly caused the death of every person in your court, Frieza,' he said, looking towards his younger son. 'That blast, if launched, would have destroyed my domicile, too, actually.'
Frieza lowered his head. 'I understand that, father.'
The surrounding storms crept closer to their mountaintop. King Cold noted how antsy Cooler looked to be. 'Something the matter, Cooler?'
'Surely,' he said quickly, 'this warrants grounds for a challenge.'
Frieza's deferential mood evaporated in an instant. 'What!?' he snarled. 'You can't be serious!'
'I concur with Frieza,' King Cold said, staring at his older son. 'You lost the last time you and Frieza fought. That was not that long ago…'
'Circumstances have changed,' Cooler maintained. His attention was squared on Frieza. 'I was confident enough to set into motion every event of the past month so that I could get to this point. Here, on the precipice, my confidence remains.'
'After all this… you still seek to nakedly undermine me!' Frieza hissed.
'I will remind you two,' King Cold said, 'that you are only allowed to fight when one of you will be made stronger by it. If both of you suffer because of this duel, I will not allow it. But-' he sat back, '- I see no such risk here. The loser will be disgraced and sent to the edge of the galaxy- and the son who could defeat their brother will take their spot atop the galaxy. Yes…' he tapped a finger to his chin. 'That will do nicely to patch up today's debacle.' He looked at Cooler. 'You want this, son?'
'I welcome this, father,' Cooler said, standing. At the same time, Frieza did the same. 'And, if you permit it, I will fight him here, on this mountain, so as to decide this matter before we face the court again.'
King Cold stood and clapped. 'Good! Very good!' he said, his booming voice running down the mountain. 'I agree wholeheartedly! Who gave you such a mind, Cooler?'
'I think,' his eldest said, swinging his gaze between Frieza and him, 'it was you, father.'
'You're going to regret this, Cooler!' Frieza yelled suddenly. A wave of wind passed over both of them, and when the thrown-up snow dust cleared, they saw Frieza had bulked up; he was accessing his full power from the start. 'I am tired of entertaining your pitiful ambition! You've dragged my name through the mud for long enough!' His purple aura roared around him, incinerating the snow beneath his feet, while his cape billowed so furiously behind him that it ripped and flew away. 'I'm going to crush you and your delusions for all eternity!'
To the side, King Cold stepped back, grabbing his own cape to prevent it from ripping off of him. All around them, the very mountain seem to shake under the might of Frieza's power. 'You grow stronger with every passing year, son!' he shouted.
Cooler felt the wind push against him, and his skin grew wet from melted snow. No sooner had this grown tiresome did a storm finally hit the mountaintop from behind, throwing a wall of snow forward towards Frieza. 'I would never let my delusions guide me here,' Cooler said, drawing his arms into his body and clenching. 'I am driven by ambition and facts- and it is a sheer fact that I am stronger than you!'
Slowly, the strength of Frieza's ki was pushed back- from Cooler, a similar but lighter purple aura arose, gathering around him in a cone. Soon enough their auras occupied equal competing spaces atop the mountain, with Cooler's aided by the direction of the snowstorm.
Frieza thought that this would be the end of it and prepared to charge. When he took his first step forward, however, he stumbled into an even greater wave of energy. Snow that had previously clogged the air between him and his brother melted without a trace. 'What!?'
He saw now; Cooler was changing. He watched as white spikes shot out of his arms, carapace grew and covered his face, and every muscle in every part of him bulged outwards. He went beyond their natural forms… he became something stronger.
He took a step backward. What?!... What is this? Cooler- he couldn't have!-
For all his confidence in his own strength, Frieza tasted fear in his mouth- and it had failed to come from his father.
0o0o0
He had returned, somehow, to his first home, even though he hadn't tried to come here. The desert drew him, however, and propelled him through pelting sandstorms and wilting heat. It wasn't that bad, though; flying above the desert, as it turns out, proved to be much easier than walking through it.
The house was much the same as he remembered it, ignoring the desert's gradual reclamation of it in the form of sand filling room corners. To get in Yamcha actually had to swim his way through a dune as tall as his breast.
As soon as he was inside, he wondered why he had come back- every feature of his former home reminded him of his former life- of how different he was from the 15-year-old kid who had run away from his village to be a bandit. But he wasn't really here for old clothes or forgotten mementos- no, he was searching for something else entirely.
Krillin's words one month ago had stuck with him. After everyone had departed from Capsule Corp. and he had been left alone with Bulma, he realized how asymmetrical their lives were- without a second thought, Bulma launched into her work, restricting the time in the day she spent with Yamcha to minutes. At first he had tried to do as they agreed- he tried to support her by attending to their prisoners and providing her with coffee, food, and reminders to sleep when needed- but as the days and weeks dragged on, he felt more and more replaceable. His work- which he never doubted was useful- didn't feel necessary that he do it. Anyone else could have stepped in and done what he had been doing. So, he wondered- what if that happened?
So he took one of Bulma's pagers and left without any real destination in mind, waiting to see if Bulma would page him to come back, or at the very least ask where he is.
He had been gone for weeks now, and still, the pager did nothing. Perhaps that was why he was in this desert- he was looking for what had given him purpose before. He was old and wise enough- not that he boasted great amounts of either of those two things- to realize that he had felt this before; that he had gone off to seek some meaning of his own, had failed or succeeded, and ultimately returned to West City and Bulma. There was nothing wrong with that- how fleetings those searches had been. That was how his life had gone since he had ambushed her and Krillin in this desert. He didn't feel good or bad about it. He acknowledged it.
Turning his mind outward, he gazed on an opening in the desert. Sand poured into a small cave, filling it from every conceivable angle, but somehow, this landmark had yet to be buried. Yamcha sensed that, for him, this was no accident.
He dug out enough space in the sand for him to stride in.
Down he went, skidding down sand-filled passages, until he reached the central and final chamber. Torches were lit no longer- no usable wood even remained, desiccated by the dry air of the desert. Yamcha extended his right arm, and brandishing it in front of him, lit the room with his ki.
A half-opened, empty grave- the grave he had constructed for a man he thought dead- laid before him, its stone the same color as it had been several years before. Sand lapped at its base, and throughout the room, silence hung like tapestries.
Yamcha knew that there was nothing physical for him here- the ball and staff of an old master had been taken from this place long ago. But… beyond that...
Perhaps, this time, he would find a more lasting meaning.
0o0o0
Zarbon was present among everyone else when King Cold, Cooler, and Frieza returned from their summit in the distant mountains- and, specifically, Zarbon was present when Cooler returned, dragging a bloodied, burnt, and unconscious Frieza behind him in a thin trench. Judging by the worn look of his carapace and the many bruises and cuts on his purple skin, Cooler had suffered for his victory… but victory it was, and before Frieza had even woken up, King Cold had performed the ceremony; Frieza's position was swapped with Cooler's, and the older son of King Cold now ruled the galaxy while the younger one was relegated to its edges. Even now, as Zarbon reflected on the day's events, news of one Arcosian's fall and another's rise spread across the galaxy.
And so it was proven that Zarbon had made his first right decision in months by betraying Frieza, his one and only master for his entire adult life. He would not return to PTO space as an outlaw- instead, due to his aid, he would serve with the usurper, Cooler. It was likely that he would never see Frieza again.
So he stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking out on the black void of space, clad in the armor of a man he had helped rise to power, and fought against the tides of bitterness that threatened to wash him away. He had no reason to feel as empty as he did. And yet that was how he felt.
His ruminations were cut off by the sound of a door opening behind him. His gaze flickered over his shoulder. 'Salza.'
The right-hand of Cooler saluted him and strode into the room. Zarbon faintly recalled that he was of the same race as Jeice- who, he realized, was most likely dead. The entire Ginyu Force, wiped out… Frieza truly is alone.
'I must give you credit,' Salza said, coming to his side. 'That was political pageantry of the highest form. The way you carried yourself in front of a being that could kill you with a sneeze, the grace with which you lied- my!'' he exclaimed, tossing his head. 'Many could find something admirable in you.'
Blankly, Zarbon stared at him, then turned back to the window. 'I simply did what was needed to survive. It was clear that, unless Cooler could substantiate his argument more or Frieza embarrassed himself in front of the court, King Cold would not permit Cooler to challenge Frieza for rulership of the Empire. And, if that were to happen, I would be executed.' He picked out a dull red star in the distance- he wondered how many people across time had viewed this same failing thing. 'I must admit; I am surprised Cooler won. The thought of a being stronger than Frieza… it is hard to fathom.'
Salza shared an unguarded smile with him. 'Service at the edges of the galaxy only serve to harden the strong. You are defeated by what lurks there if you do not grow stronger from it.'
Zarbon turned to him. 'Truly? What can you say about that part of space?'
'I believe Frieza will be consumed by it.' Then, Salza shrugged. 'But Lord Cooler thinks otherwise. He has learned over his long years to never fully count out his brother.'
Zarbon turned back to the window. 'I see.'
Salza followed his gaze, glanced back-and-forth between the stars and Zarbon. He coughed. 'Do you- hmmph- do you have the notes?'
Zarbon reached into a pocket and handed Saiza a device. 'My entire account is recorded here,' he explained without looking at him, 'along with my personal thoughts on the other mysteries surrounding the operation on that planet.'
'Excellent!' Salza said, scrolling through the document. 'You have Lord Cooler's thanks. He is very curious to read more into your account of this mysterious planet, especially now that we have confirmed that that planet is missing.'
Zarbon's gaze shot to him. 'Missing?'
'Our agents reached the coordinates you provided. There are remains of a destroyed fleet, but of a planet…' Salza held his hands together and fluttered them away. 'Nothing. It seems you are the only man alive in the PTO who has first-hand knowledge of the secrets that planet holds.'
A slight smile reached Zarbon's face. 'It seems that I rewarded Cooler well, then, by making him a party to these secrets.'
Salza nodded, and drawing back, he stared at Zarbon's back. 'Lord Cooler rewards those who serve him faithfully.'
The sound of a boot stopping abruptly on the stone floor reached Zarbon. He began to turn. 'Hmm?-'
In one smooth motion, Saiza surged forward and plunged his hand, edged with a purple blade of ki, into Zarbon's back. Blue blood sprayed out his front and hastened down his new armor. At the same time, while Zarbon hissed and felt a surge of bile and blood rush up his throat, Salza slid up to him.
'Cooler rewards traitors, too,' Salza whispered into his ear. 'You could never be trusted to serve under us, and we couldn't let you run around with what you know… so…' Carefully, and to the sound of organs rupturing, Salza retracted his right hand from Zarbon's slackening form. 'Thank you again for making this easy.'
Zarbon wasn't sure what happened next, but the world seemed to tumble then, and the next thing he saw- beyond the haze clouding his vision- was a common soldier, nothing more than a yellow grunt with big muscles, step tentatively into his vision and hover above him.
He felt sticky.
'I need to move him, you said?'
'Please do.'
'Where to?'
Darkness swam through his consciousness. Voices reached him distant and cruel. He thought that, after everything he had been through, he would have known what death would be like. He was wrong.
'Throw him out of the airlock. If anyone asks… he died on the first mission given to him.'
A/N: Hey all; tried to get through this one in a timely manner. You can see how that went. But, still, we got a lot left to do for this arc!
Reviews:
Sceonn: But what? Tell me! And thank you for the review!
LWexe: Yep! Everyone is here in some regard!
Transformers g1's-Prime: Yep… The Cold War got a little hotter than what you probably imagined, though. Also, aside; I really like Cooler as a character. I always found him to be a cool contrast to Frieza.
Yeah, Vegeta is… looking scary. And, yeah- Turles poor guy. He just wanted to go off and eat his Tree of Might fruit in peace.
TienFan99: Here's another fix! Your review prompted me to push on this so we didn't go too far beyond a week- who knows about next week, though!
Lots of plot lines coming together here too… wait and see, bud.
Good to know about the consistency/tonal stuff from chapters 1 to 20… maybe I'll do a redo one day. Who knows.
You goddamn genius! You hit the nail on the head exactly! How'd you know Zarbon was going to pop up with Cooler :( You're getting too good and picking up my tells!
Takee: Thank you for the kind review! Always love a first-timer :)
Thank you for the praise! Holy cow! 2nd best fic out of possibly thousands is not bad at all!
Ugh! Dragonball Legends is good! The creativity in that fic is boggling- and, if I'm being honest, that fic influenced this story a lot. Particularly the OCs- probably the best OCs I've ever seen in a DBZ fic.
You think this is better than canon dbz! Holy cooooooooow! That's high praise! Thank you!
Glad you like the risks I take; I always figured that, if I ever wrote a fic this long, I'd really have to make it my own in terms of plot and characters to justify all the work I'd have to put into it. So far, I think it's coming along well.
I like Roshi and Krillin too! And their relationship- woooo, I don't know if you could tell, but I really enjoyed writing their scene in chapter 65. And you're totally right about their relationship (really everyone's relationship with Master Roshi) never develops past what it is in Dragon Ball. They surpass him… and, yet, their relationship doesn't change. I figure that, at some point, either the student or the teacher would realize things had changed.
Thank you again for the review! I'll keep up the good work as best I can!
Cityracer: My old friend- here we go.
Yeah… Krillin wasn't thinking very clearly. Poor guy. He needs to watch more movies where the main character does exactly as he did and it doesn't work out.
I figure Launch is probably, after figuring in training… 1/16 or so as strong as Tien (1,000 or so). Though, what's working her hers and everyone else who didn't go to Namek's favor is that it's easier to catch up to a tangible goal than for those who are presently strongest to keep themselves the same distance ahead, particularly when the strongest on the planet (Yamcha, Tien, Krillin, Piccolo) aren't sparring with each other. Tien can only spar with Launch, Suno, and Chiaotzu at the moment- it seems logical that they would gain more from that than he would.
All good ideas. Recoome is still thinking about his legs, though.
Curious to see what you think about Bulma and Yamcha's relationship going forward- definitely going to be developing it over this arc.
I personally love slice-of-life sections, too, though they're tricky for me to do: I can't have them in the story unless they're driving the grand story along in some way. Obviously, an action scene where a villain is defeated is naturally going to be more easily incorporated into the broader narrative than a slice-of-life scene where Krillin, stuck in Ginyu's body, goes searching for an ice-cream vendor in West City. I think you'll find certain sections of this chapter very slice-of-life, however, and in general, this arc will probably have the most slice-of-life sections of any arc so far. It'll fit the post-Namek vibe very well, I think.
That's it for the reviews! Thank you all!
