Vegeta repositioned himself in the highbacked chair. The sputtering engine of Jaco's hatchback ship jiggled his springy seat. The never thought of space as a bumpy place. Memories of sailing though space in his space pod filled his mind. He can still hear Nappa's voice, chiming through his radio. 'Time to enter hyper sleep Prince Vegeta'. At five he would buckle himself into his capsule and hastily cut off the cabin light, like a kid on earth cutting off the flashlight beneath their comforter. At fourteen, he remembered crossing his legs and cutting off the radio. Then he would watch the flashing green analog light fade on the radio console. He sat cross armed, counting the comets and asteroids.

"Typical teenager," he scoffed.

"What?," Jaco said, bringing Vegeta to reality.

"Nothing."

Jaco was content to sit in silence. He griped the yoke of the cruiser with both hands. Sweat trailed into his big yellow eyes. He hated having Vegeta at his back but facing him was worse. His soot black eyes made Jaco nauseous. He thought about it often and still couldn't grasp the mystery.

Why Bulma, why him?, he thought.

"None of my business," Jaco thought aloud, shaking his head.

"Keep driving jack-ass," Vegeta slipped as he drifted in thought, settling on Jaco and Bulma's previous trip to see Master Zuno.

"If you're gonna be mean, then you can get out! I'm an elite galactic patrolman and I don't exactly have time for your snark- prince," Jaco told him off.

Prince, Vegeta mulled over. He stared into Jaco's eyes thinking they looked like drippy egg yolks. Vegeta was taken back at Jaco's saucy remark. He tried to recall the last time anyone other than Bulma dared to snap at him- let alone use sarcasm.

"At least your insides aren't made of runny egg, like the rest of you," Vegeta said.

Jaco's shoulders eased away from his head and he unpuckered his lips.

"Thanks, I think?," Jaco said, "But, I gotta tell you even a compliment from you sounds like an insult."

Vegeta's pocket glowed and rumbled against his thigh. He fished out the round galactic communicator with his hand. He flipped the flat disc over and over.

"How do I use this glorified Styrofoam plate?," Vegeta asked.

"Just tap it," Jaco sighed.

"Already did that."

"Just a little harder then. It's old and the sensor is not as sensitive," Jaco instructed.

Vegeta poked it harder with his index finger with no results. Finally, he slapped the palm sized disc on his knee. A glitching hologram streamed from the center of the disc, at last.

"Can you guys hear me?," Bulma asked.

"You're riddled with static on this hunk of crap, but it'll do," Vegeta said.

"You're lucky I even let you borrow it," Jaco piped, "It's not your personal walkie-talkie you know."

Vegeta studied the grey and white figure of his wife walk above the metallic disc. She was only three inches high from head to toe. She could fit in the palm of his hand- hands on her hips and all.

"Are you listening to me?," Bulma fussed.

Her bobbed hair and balled fists brought one of Bulla's old bedtime stories to Vegeta's mind. He remembered pirates and a boy caught in the limbo of never growing up. He would never admit it, but he was captivated. Bulma's voice reached his ears, but the ideas did not.

What was the blasted fairy's name?, Vegeta thought, Tinkerbell?

"So, where did the police find her phone Bulma?," Jaco said, brining Vegeta to the present.

"It was just past the stadium, the sim card pinged off a cell tower, but the phone is totally crushed otherwise."

A vein bulged in Vegeta's head. It streaked down his forehead from his widow's peak like lightning out of a black cloud.

"Damn it," Vegeta growled.

"I know honey. I know," Bulma attempted to console him.

"Well, at least you kind of know which way they went, right?," Jaco chipped in.

"Maybe," Bulma groaned, "I'm hoping that Bulla took pictures and that we can see her recent communications."

"Thanks for the update, but we're closing in on Zuno's planet. Gotta go," Jaco said.

Bulma's holograph vanished and Vegeta shoved the disc back into his pocket. Vegeta expected a round ball to appear in the distance, one made of gas or clay. A muddy brown speck stood out in the darkness of space. It expanded and took shape as they puttered closer. It wasn't a round ball turning through space. It was a wooden crate with orange and brown foliage spilling from the top. Pyramid shaped tassels hung from the corners of the box. The atmosphere was a hazy swain of glitter sweeping around the box. Vegeta caught his mouth hanging agape. He snapped his jaws together and braced for landing. Jaco exhaled and decreased the thrusters with his breath.

"Easy does it," Jaco whispered to himself.

The ship rattled to a stop, jamming the landing gear into the dark sage colored grass. Jaco unbuckled himself and popped the hatch. Vegeta jumped from the lip of the ship while Jaco scampered down the ship's ladder. Vegeta studied the fleshy grass. Instead of the expected crisp, dry crunch beneath his boots, soft mossy undergrowth cushioned his feet. Disgust bubbled within his stomach as fleshy vines wriggled beneath his feet.

"Wait for me," Jaco said, hitting the ground running.

He chased Vegeta down the concrete path. Vegeta stormed toward the wall of alabaster steps growing in the distance. Jaco was forced to catch up to Vegeta's brisk steps. A grand tower watched over the landscape. The temple was trimmed with red and white paint. Vegeta counted four square stacked roofs. The corners rolled on a gentle slope toward the ground before curling at the ends like a handlebar mustache. A sharp beaded needle marked the center of the highest tier. Vegeta paused, locking over his shoulders at the spreading trees with rustling gold and orange leaves.

Just like her damn flowers, he thought lock jawed. He saw Bulla plain as day sitting pots of mums on her balcony to mark the first day of autumn, where are you Eschalot?

"Do you have an appointment?," A voice broke Vegeta from his thoughts.

Three men, barely waist high greeted them on the portico. Their flat feet shuffled beneath their floor length robes. Their round faces and moon cheeks were identical. Their voices shared the same monotone, no-nonsense sound, like typical, tired government workers on Earth. Their skin was lily white and wrinkleless on their plump frames. They stood shamelessly round bellied with their fists clutched behind their backs.

"Appointment?," Vegeta said, "I must speak to this Zuno."

"I'm sorry, but Master Zuno is on a strict schedule. Please book an appointment. Our next appointment is in 7 years from next Tuesday."

"We don't have time for-"

"Actually," Jaco interrupted Vegeta, cutting off his steep voice, "I'm here on an official investigation. No appointment needed, otherwise, you're interfering and will be charged to the highest degree of the law."

Jaco flashed his silver badge with the authority of a seasoned officer of the law and held his ground with the audacity of someone twice his size. No smug smile crossed his lips, just a stony, professional stare.

"Right this way," the plump figure in the center said.

He bowed to Jaco and Vegeta. It was short and curt. His long drooping ear lobes waggled back and forth. Vegeta covered his intrigue with a frown, surprised that the barrel bodied being had a waist to bend from.

Vegeta and Jaco followed them inside of the temple. The sliding doors were made of parchment paper- yellowed with age on their wooden frames. Vegeta thought about Bulma's father smoking in his nicotine-stained office. His fingers were the same blotchy yellow as the walls. Inside Vegeta's crossed rams fell by his sides.

"That's him?," Vegeta mumbled.

"Yep," Jaco said as he strolled into the wide room.

A coal black cast iron pot drifted in the air. In it Master Zuno sat. His round belly spilled from the top like a muffin over its wrapper. His curd-yellow skin was smooth like whipped milk. He was a larger version of the temple attendants.

Are they clones?, Vegeta thought.

Master Zuno's dripping earlobes touched his shoulders. His receding hair line ended in a thin black strands. A neatly pinned bun decorated the back of his mostly bald head. Vegeta struggled to find his chin or a jawline.

"Master Zuno," Jaco began, "We've come on official galactic business. Thank you for seeing us."

"Much obliged, but you must still pay tribute," Zuno said.

His echoing voice made Vegeta blink. Vegeta cocked his head over his shoulder. Vegeta thought Zuno looked like a statue carved from soft melting butter.

"Oh, of course," Jaco blushed. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a nervous grin.

"Tribute?," Vegeta snapped out of his trance.

Jaco rubbed his sweaty palms on his uniform. He walked up to Zuno's hovering pot with his hands balled at his waist. He popped his backside out and puckered his lips. He forced himself to bend at the waist and smushed his lips onto Zuno's cheek. He straightened his back and rejoined Vegeta with his chin buried in his chest.

"You get one question, since you are male… and less than robust," Zuno said matter of fact.

Jaco prodded his elbow into Vegeta's ribs. Vegeta watched on slack jawed and wide eyed. Jaco bit his lower lip and tried to decipher the Saiyan's expression- abject horror, embarrassment, or seething rage.

"Watch this," Jaco whispered with giddy amusement, "Grand Master Zuno, the man next to me, tell me how tall his hair is?"

"You idiot!," Vegeta blurted ready to rip Jaco's head clean off his shoulders, "Now, I have to kiss him. We could have just used your wish!"

Jaco held his palms up to Vegeta. He felt his knees buckle beneath the weight of the Saiyan's scorn.

"Ahem," Zuno demanded their attention, "From the crown and apex of his head, the largest strand measures 12.24 cm. If measured from his widow's peak that value increases to 19.26 cm. Add 2.4 cm respectively for each level of power added to his base form. At age 12, he lost his bangs due to an increase in testosterone, which is common for males of the species, increasing length from the scalp by 3 cm.

Amazement flushed the anger from Vegeta's face. He quickly pulled a folded square from his pocket. He whipped the folded photograph and approached Zuno's pot.

"And your tribute?," Zuno asked Vegeta.

Zuno's question stopped the Saiyan in his tracks.

Vegeta folded his arms across his chest, "I am NOT kissing you."

"I will NOT answer your question without tribute," Zuno mimicked his tone.

"Since you know everything, let me bring something back to you. You know I'll keep my word," Vegeta offered.

"Tribute must be upfront."

"What about a bow?," Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his thighs. He bent deeply at the waist, showing Zuno the back of his beck and shoulders.

"How thoughtful... but no."

"Jaco," Vegeta growled, "This is your fault. Get up here and kiss him again!"

"No way," Jaco huffed and stuck out his tongue, "That's what you get for being rude to me."

Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Oh Eschalot," he sighed, "Let's get this over with."

Vegeta's lower lip curled with disgust. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned closer.

"Vegeta!," Jaco yelled.

Zuno and Vegeta looked at the jittery little alien with expectation. Guilt buzzed in Jaco's stomach like hunger pangs. It was odd seeing a proud man bow, but the satisfaction was missing. Jaco recalled the story of Vegeta socking Beerus in the face for slapping his wife.

I guess there are two sides of unthinkable when you care about someone, Jaco thought.

"The communicator in your pocket," Jaco finally pieced together. Vegeta pulled the flat disc from his pocket. Zuno edged his open hand toward Vegeta. Vegeta looked back at Jaco squeezing the little disc between his fingers. Jaco quirked a brow.

Are you-asking me?, Jaco thought.

Jaco nodded. Vegeta handed it over to Zuno's short fat fingers. A pleased smile pressed Zuno's thin lips. His beady black eyes examined it and searched the controls.

"This old model is perfect for my late night line chats," Zuno said with blush painted on his cheeks, "I'll give you one question," he said.

Vegeta repositioned the photograph, holding it up to Zuno's round head. It looked like a soft bread bun mounted onto his neck. Fat rolls circled the base of his neck like a bangled necklace.

"Tell us-"

"Careful, Vegeta," Jaco warned him, "Be specific."

"Tell us… everything you know about where my daughter is; here's her picture."

Zuno studied the photo with his sleepy half open eyes.

"At this moment, 6:32PM Earth time of your country zone, she's in cell block C of the genomics section. She's registered to bed number 2," he said before resting for breath.

Jaco whipped out a pen and a pad. He scribbled furiously on the paper using his knee as a desk.

Zuno continued, "The cell block is on the fourth capsule wheel of the vessel code named 'The Disciplinarian'. The vessel's serial number is BCA210062716932 on the universe 7 galactic registry. There is also another alias, 'The Rambler', but its serial number was removed by a disgruntled employee and has been lost to time. The vessel coordinates are 3,712 light miles from the galactic center, crossing grid Y at 15 clicks per hour."

She's in prison?, Vegeta thought.

"Vegeta," Jaco called him, "We gotta hurry and get this out to patrol, maybe we can get some squads after the ship."

Jaco and Vegeta headed for the door with a skip in their step.

"Saiyan…," Zuno's voice boomed after them. Vegeta turned on his heels. For a second their gaze met. Zuno's downturned eyes pierced Vegeta's very being.

"May you have luck and Zen for your endeavor. May your Eschalot survive the Kurai."

Vegeta's heart weighed down his feet. Dread tainted the air around him, trapping him in a cloud of unwelcomed despair.

The what?, Vegeta thought.