Duty

Chapter 5: One on One

The lights within the room, barring the lamp pinned overhead the metal table filtering down dim light, remained off as Cagoria sat dutifully and motionless in her seat, head raised and attention focused forward on the chair across the table and door further beyond. From experience Cagoria knew she might be waiting a while for Dodoria to appear. The one-on-ones always included some period of delay before starting.

If she didn't know this to be protocol, she would have been annoyed or even anxious about this wasted time, waiting and observed from beyond a panel of one-way glass. But because she had done this herself a hundred times to captives or people of interest, and knew this was just to make her sweat, she was oddly comforted.

Despite the crime of treachery causing the near-death of one of her own, even after Dodoria's dramatic announcement to the entire base — likely to induce suspicion and fear between everyone — she took heart knowing that everything so far was by the book and routine. Once Dodoria came through that door, the standard questions would be asked, and then she would answer to the particular investigation at hand with all the knowledge she possessed.

She has and has never had anything to hide. From her very first breath she'd served Lord Frieza faithfully and totally.

Her thoughts were brushed aside in parallel to the opening motion of the door. Dodoria's wide frame flowed into the room and sat, scraping the metal chair against the concrete floor and throwing a folder filled with paper files across the table. He didn't flick on any more lights.

'So.' Dodoria grunted, picking up a pen and resting his free hand flat against the table's surface. He was unique among the high-ranking lieutenants of Lord Frieza as he preferred more archaic, physical methods of note-taking. 'Standard questions.'

'Understood.' Cagoria let her arms fall slightly, opening up her posture. She had nothing to hide.

He began writing. 'Confirm that you are the first of the Vanguard to attend an interrogation.'

'I confirm.'

Scritch. 'Name, rank, age — basic info, please.'

'I am Cagoria.' She peered at his writing motions. Sharp and heavy. 'First and Commander of the Vanguard. The current year is Age 761. By that I am 28 years old. I have served as Commander since Age 749.'

Scritch, Scritch. '12 years.' Dodoria nodded, gesturing for her to go on. Scritch.

'May I ask you a question before we go on?'

Dodoria stiffened. He put down his pen slowly and met her gaze even slower. 'Might as well before we get into the thick of it.'

She leaned forward. 'You made a point of looking at me when you revealed the news about Broly in the reception hall.' Her next words came after a deliberate pause. 'You implied something to me, it seems.'

'Oh?' Dodoria shifted, making his chair squeal. 'And what did I imply?'

'That my team is responsible, or at the very least involved, with Broly's near-death.'

Dodoria flashed a grin. 'Well—'

'And that, of course, would be correct,' Cagoria continued. 'I am personally responsible for every member of the Vanguard and the engineers, scientists, doctors, and other support staff that maintain this base, our equipment, our lifestyle, and our guiding mission. If any one of them is a traitor to Lord Frieza's will, and is responsible for Broly's grievous injuries — I'll execute them myself.'

'Hah.' Dodoria was still smiling as he shook his head. 'Good. Real good. I appreciate that you understand the situation.' He picked up his pen. 'It'll make this that much easier.'

She waited for him to speak again after making another series of straight, deep marks on the paper. 'Basic info,' he said without looking up at her. 'Describe your last couple ops. Going back a few months.'

'Most were run-of-the-mill,' Cagoria said, recalling the basic details. 'Predominantly the standard land-and-burns. One or two envoy trips to wavering client planets. We put down an uprising on… Frieza Planet 191, if I remember correctly. Delusional locals.'

Dodoria nodded to indicate she had. Scritch. 'Uh-huh. Describe your latest mission in more detail.'

One of Cagoria's brows lifted. 'This is relevant?'

'Everything that I ask is relevant,' Dodoria said, gesturing with his pen.

'Didn't you say Broly's pod had last been serviced four months ago?' Cagoria couldn't help herself from frowning. 'I don't understand the point of your question.'

Dodoria rolled his shoulders and made a sour face. He briefly looked like a disinterested parent. 'I don't have to tell you here and now,' he clarified, putting down his pen, 'but if it's that important to you, I'll lead you to where I'm going quicker. Do you know when Broly was last here, on Bja?'

Cagoria thought. 'Not off-hand,' she said. 'I'd need to pull up the landing records.'

Dodoria pulled out a paper file from his folder and slid it across the table. 'For your convenience. It's been approximately 15 cycles.'

She scanned the page. As he said, it'd been that long. 'Okay,' she said, waiting for Dodoria to go on.

'But of course his pod has been on this planet more recently than that,' Dodoria said, taking back the file and sliding it into his folder.

'Of course. The pods are programmed to return here mid-mission if significant damage had been sustained during transit or landing.' She cracked her neck, flicking her shoulder-length hair in the same motion. 'As you said, his pod had last been here four months ago. So Broly must have been mid-mission on a planet and his ship left and returned during that time.'

Dodoria nodded. 'That's how the ship got back here now, as well. A catastrophic systems failure…' He laid one thick hand on the table, leaning forward. 'That phrase mean anything to you, Cagoria?'

'Admittedly, not much,' she replied.

He scowled. 'Hmph. I'll fill you in.' The circuitry on Broly's pod is totally fried — and that usually doesn't happen, even during a catastrophic systems failure,' Dodoria said, jabbing his pen. 'According to the techs, the electronics on those ships are meant to survive a year of high-grade radiation and more heat than what you'd get doing a low-orbit maneuver around the average star. In other words, there's nothing natural out there in space that could have done that much damage to Broly's pod short of flying through a star's core.'

'Ah.' She thought for a second. 'And because his pod didn't return first without Broly, the damage must have occurred after he had entered the ship and gone into hibernation. Otherwise, he would have needed to wait for the pod to return, fully fixed.'

Dodoria slowly tapped his pen to the table. 'You're getting it. So I'll ask again; what happened on your last mission?'

He was trying to be intimidating, Cagoria realized, now that his movements had slowed and his gaze had landed on her. She'd known Dodoria for a long time. She was justified in feeling intimidated, especially as she knew perfectly well Dodoria had access to the file of this particular mission.

'4-person op, battle-landing on Planet Ysa. Target was a Saiyan cell.' She sighed. 'Cell wiped out, planet destroyed, we returned to the base with minimal injuries.'

'Why the sigh?'

'It didn't go as cleanly as I would like.'

'Oh yeah?' Dodoria shifted, levering his natural armor's protrusions. 'How so?'

'Visibility was bad and the team got separated,' she said quickly.

'So you lost sight of your team?'

'During the fight? Yes.'

'And they were fighting?'

'I'd assume so.'

'You're not sure?'

'You'd have to ask them to confirm.'

He nodded and picked up his pen and wrote. Four full lines, from what Cagoria saw, which was longer than everything on the page so far.

After that period of scritching and scratching, he set down the pen again. His posture was demonstrably more open than it was previously. He even let an arm half-dangle down the chair's side. He was—

'That's it?' Cagoria asked.

'That's it.' Dodoria said. 'For you, anyway, and for now. If I have any more questions, I'll follow up.'

'I'm surprised.'

'Frankly, Cagoria, you're not a suspect,' Dodoria said, releasing any remaining intentional pose or stature from his posture — returning to his more typical hulking slouch. 'I think someone else did something they shouldn't have, or someone let someone else do that. Either way — someone at this base is responsible. Someone tried to kill one of their own. One of Frieza's own.'

He was being vague, which Cagoria had come to expect given this was an active investigation, but she was smart enough to pick up on clues from context. The pod's return trip with Broly inside indicated the ship had been damaged while in transit. The extent of damage is substantial, but the fact that the pod returned at all is indicative that the pod hadn't been attacked by another ship. An enemy would have destroyed the ship entirely rather than let it escape.

Of course, the present damage to the pod was nearly enough to kill Broly. Likely it would have killed her or anyone else on the squad. How would she square sufficiently dangerous sabotage but failing just at the lethal threshold? It indicated that the damage was done remotely — whoever did so to the pod could not immediately inspect it to see if their plot had succeeded and the occupant was dead. Thus Broly returns near-death, undoubtedly incapacitated for a significant period of time.

That theory obviously implicated someone on this planet as the culprit — something that Dodoria must have reasoned.

Perhaps a small device was placed on the pod that fried the ship's circuitry, though the external damage to the ship made this less likely. A modification to the ship's engine could have caused an overheating reactor to fuse the pod's hatch to the hull. Even a miscalculated transit path could have produced higher-than-expected temperatures and inflicted critical structural damage. It would be a very efficient means of assassination if someone had sent a remote signal for the pod to sail through a supernova.

'I see,' Cagoria spoke, resuming her place in the present. Dodoria hadn't noticed or did not care about her several seconds' pause. He already seemed to be exiting the conversation.

'Keep your ear to the ground in the meantime,' Dodoria advised her, pulling out a fresh piece of paper and denoting the corner. 'Something or someone's bound to turn up.'

'Understood.'

'And make sure to report to the medical ward in the next hour, by the way,' Dodoria said, lifting his head. 'You and your team are due for the boosters.'

Cagoria's body tightened. Everyone on the Vanguard received the highest-quality medical care, whether that be preventive or curative, both to boost combat performance but also perform regular medical screenings for any rare or unusual diseases or syndromes a team like theirs would acquire chasing down insurgents on barely livable planets. Radiation and industrial toxicology exposure were the usual hazards, and required regular prior immunizing injections to prevent any long-term damage to their genetic code.

What was odd about now was that they'd last been screened just before this last mission; the last time before that was over a year ago.

'Understood.'

As expected the mess hall was deserted. Inquisition usually had that effect — or at least, whatever the lower level grunts at the base were being put through at the moment.

His metal tray clanked noisily against the canteen table as Vegeta sat, scrunching his face at his food. It was paste day, or food made to look like paste. That could have been keeping people away too.

Maybe. Not likely. Vegeta wondered if Dodoria had brought any inferior officers with him to Planet Bja; he doubted one of Frieza's lieutenants would be personally interrogating every single lowly technician, janitor, and cook. Perhaps the better question would be if Zarbon would come eventually. If he did, that would clear up a lot of the ambiguity.

A door opened at the far end of the hall behind Vegeta only to close a few seconds later. Whatever hungry soul that glanced inside thought better of entering.

Vegeta wasn't nervous. Moreso… unsettled. He didn't like uncertainty. This investigation into whoever or whatever sabotaged Broly's pod reeked of it. And whenever Dodoria was at the base, random, unideal events occurred. Useless violence. Dodoria hated this place. About five technicians were blasted to dust the last time he came through because they screwed up the landing assistance gravitational field and accidentally slung his pod into a nearby ravine. Vegeta could still remember their forms dissolving into a long streak of gray color, spilling out of the airlock to the main reception hall.

His spoon slid into the paste. Vegeta grimaced and let the utensil fall on the tray's edge. Interviewing the Vanguard would do nothing except waste everyone's time. Cagoria, Sashe — even Kakarot — they've all dutifully served their entire lives, not just to Frieza but to each other. Why would any of them try to kill Broly? Why would I try to kill Broly? Vegeta disliked the melancholic, brooding, silent soldier as much as anyone else, but he would never try to kill him in such a cowardly way.

Vegeta sighed and finally began to shove paste into his mouth. Bland and inoffensive. If anything, Broly's injury just gave him and the others more work to do. More missions, more fights, and less downtime in between…

The door to the mess hall opened again. Vegeta gave it no heed for another two spoonfuls, then turned while waiting to hear it close.

His fingers flexed from irritation. Kakarot was standing in the doorway.

'Vegeta,' Kakarot said tersely.

Without saying anything Vegeta turned back to his meal and resumed shoveling paste. He noted that Kakarot seemed off; the ingrate made no comment as he walked over and slid onto the canteen bench across the table from Vegeta. Kakarot made a face and placed his head in his hands as he stared at Vegeta's tray.

'Looks unappetizing,' Kakarot said idly.

'It's okay,' Vegeta replied, frowning as he realized Kakarot wasn't going to stop watching him eat. He put his spoon down and glared. 'What do you want, Kakarot?'

'Aren't you worried?' Kakarot gestured vaguely. 'About all this?'

'What, the investigation?' Vegeta sneered. 'I have more important things to bother myself with.' Vegeta's gloved fingers rapped against the table. 'Dodoria's looking for a moron to pin a badly maintenanced pod on. Probably is picking based on which head he'd most like to see roll. Which,' Vegeta jabbed his thumb, 'won't be one of ours.'

Kakarot's shoulders tensed. 'You don't think Broly's pod was sabotaged?'

'I think someone in maintenance made a fatal error,' Vegeta stared into his food. 'Incompetence, Kakarot. I…' He looked up. 'We're surrounded by it. Look at what happened to my pod just last mission. Damn door locked up and kept me trapped inside for nearly a minute. If that had been a hot landing, I would have been a sitting target.' Vegeta scowled back at his tray. 'Yet you don't see me reporting that…'

'What's that?' Kakarot craned forward. 'What's that about a report?'

'Oh, you wouldn't know the protocol, would you?' Vegeta growled. 'Trumped-up idiot that you are.'

Kakarot rubbed his knuckles against his chin. 'This has something to do with that Saiyan on Ysa, doesn't it? The one calling you Prince—'

The tray clanged against the table as Vegeta abruptly stood. What was left of his paste was splattered against the bottom of his gloved fist. He was shaking, face contorting into something wretched and ugly… and then faded alongside his unrestrained twitching. With one long streak across the table, Vegeta removed the mottled green residue from his fist.

'Goodbye, Kakarot,' Vegeta muttered, turning and doing his best not to walk any faster than normal. He paid no mind to whatever face Kakarot might have been making at his back.

The doors to the mess closed behind him as if they were a hundred feet away. Truth was, Vegeta was terrified. He had curtailed the visible shaking but it felt like his heart was bouncing between his ribs, faster and faster. Every inch of him was screaming danger, anxiety, imminent death.

Worst of all — he had no idea why. Damn you, Kakarot!

Kakarot did his best to ignore the seemingly purposeful blinding light shining down from the room's ceiling. In the present circumstances he could barely even see his interrogator.

'We couldn't… lower the lights at all, could we?'

Silhouetted in rays of lights and brightened pink, Dodoria didn't show any sign he had even heard Kakarot's request. His thick fingers were practically strangling his pen, lording over the pristine white and unmarked page of paper laid out on the table between them.

'Confirm that you are the second of the Vanguard to attend an interrogation,' Dodoria stated, not looking up from his writing.

'I was supposed to know that?'

'Confirm.'

'Fine, whatever.'

'Confirm.'

Kakarot sighed. 'I confirm.'

Scritch. 'Name, rank, age — basic info, please.' After a pause: 'No more lip.'

'...I am Kakarot. Soldier of the Vanguard. I was born in Age 737; as it is now Age 761, I am 24 years old.'

He felt some small satisfaction from drawing out his answers. Dodoria didn't seem to care. He continued to menace and scrape into his piece of paper.

'More,' Dodoria said, writing.

More? 'What kind?' Kakarot crossed his arms, smirking. 'Depending on the topic, I can talk for a long time.'

'Relations,' Dodoria said, appearing bored by his own writing. He squinted at a line and tapped it. 'With the other members of your team.'

Now that was an odd question. Kakarot made sure his answer met the measure of the question. 'To restate the public record, I've recorded… what…' Kakarot flexed his fingers. 'Three or four? Let's say four brawls with Vegeta outside of a training arena.'

'Seven, actually.' Dodoria lifted his folder in tandem with his gaze. 'Every incident, recorded right here,' he said, tapping the document with his knuckles before setting it back down. 'You seem to have a problem with authority.'

Kakarot barked a laugh. 'If you consider a troll as having any, then sure.'

'He's the second-in-command of your squad. If I was leading a mission and one of my crew disobeyed an order—' Dodoria jabbed with his pen, '—I'd kill them right then and there. Same goes if they even tried to hit me.'

The light seemed to hang in the air between them. Bits and pieces of what Cagoria had mentioned over the years about interacting with the leadership floated through Kakarot's consciousness. They were severe, serious, and most importantly, liked to push an air of intimidation with them to get people to do what they wanted that much quicker. Importantly, though — for all to take effect in the correct manner, there had to be an intimidated person on the other end.

Kakarot had nothing to worry about. There was nothing for them to know — about him, anyway.

'Look… Dodoria,' Kakarot said, leaning forward. 'You have the files in front of you, so you know I never — not once — fought with Broly. We kept our distance from each other. Everyone,' Kakarot drew out, 'kept their distance from him.' He then leaned back, crossing his arms, putting on an air of indifference. Carefully measured. 'For obvious reasons,' he added.

'Spell it out for me,' Dodoria prodded.

'He was stronger than all of us, so none of us liked him, but that doesn't mean we hated him, and we had no reason to kill him. Pretty simple.'

'Cagoria's stronger than all of you. Vegeta, too,' Dodoria observed.

'As of the last Contest, sure,' Kakarot said, half-smirking. 'Five years ago.'

Dodoria tapped the folder. 'So you're saying that Cagoria's stronger than you, Vegeta was but isn't anymore, and for that reason, you two brawl?'

'More than that. I would have challenged Vegeta for position of Second if it weren't for Cagoria stepping in and forbidding another Contest.' Kakarot gave an emphatic jab of his thumb. 'For almost two years I've been stronger than Vegeta, and for two years Cagoria has protected Vegeta from being supplanted.'

'That's speculation, of course.' Dodoria said. 'Without a Contest nothing's official.'

'Some things, you can tell. It's not like you can't use your scouter to measure an ally's power level during a mission, after all.'

'And you're assuming Vegeta uses all his power during them, huh?'

Kakarot shrugged. 'To some degree, all of it — it's speculation,' he acknowledged.

'And you've brawled with Vegeta going back over ten years, when you were children, long before this recent period you claim to be stronger.'

'What can I say?' Kakarot shrugged and grinned with one motion. 'I hate the guy. Always have, always will.'

Dodoria's mouth thinned. He kept staring. Glaring.

'Come on,' Kakarot leaned in. 'You've got more questions, right? Or did you just want a refresher on the animosity between Vegeta and I?

'Hmph.' Dodoria half-grinned. 'What do you feel like answering?'

'Vegeta,' Kakarot said immediately.

'Is what?'

'Your Traitor,' Kakarot clarified.

'And how do you figure that?'

'I hate him.'

Dodoria settled back into his chair just as a sour look curdled on his face. Waste my time, you pink glob of lard, Kakarot thought, and I'll waste yours.

'As much as I hate some people on my team,' Kakarot said, running a hand through his hair, 'I hate overlings like you even more. I haven't forgotten where you hit me during "training" when I was younger.'

'I haven't, either.'

'You're the third of the Vanguard to attend an interrogation,' Dodoria muttered, tapping his pen against the papers laid out across the table between them. To Sashe's eyes, he seemed even more unhappy than usual. 'Tired of asking that question. Just confirm.'

'I confirm,' Sashe repeated.

'Name, rank — whatever.'

She lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. 'Sashe. Soldier of the Vanguard.'

'Uh-huh.' Dodoria abruptly put down his pencil. 'I'm not going to waste your time, so you're not going to waste mine. I'm going to ask you about your squad, your whereabouts on your last mission, and your habits on-base.' His chair groaned as he leaned back, crossing his arms. 'Those are the only questions I've got. Answer them, and we're done.'

Not a single flicker of surprise or uncertainty crossed Sashe's drawn, placid face. 'Go ahead,' she said.

Dodoria leaned back in his chair, spreading files in front of him in a wide half-circle. By habit and by discipline Sashe did not scan them.

'How would you describe your relationship with your squad members?'

Sashe searched her mind for the right word. 'Transactional. They make sure I don't die on missions, and I do the same for them.'

'And your history with me?'

'Non-existent.' She paused. 'I think this is actually the first time we've spoken.'

Dodoria nodded as if he had expected everything he was hearing. Which, Sashe decided, was definitely the case. It wasn't lost on her that he had already interviewed three others. It was just her and Vegeta left to question, judging by the others' long disappearances throughout the day.

'Have you ever fought with anyone in your squad?' Dodoria went on.

'No, never.'

'And why is that?'

Sashe's eyes roved across the room. 'Never saw a reason to. Never felt like it, either.'

'Most in your group have brawled with each other in the past.'

'Because they goad each other,' Sashe's gaze swung back to him. 'Kakarot and Vegeta have done so since they could talk, Cagoria gets roped into their disputes, and Broly…' Her eyes floated away again. 'Broly's a special case. In ways I'm sure I don't need to explain.'

Dodoria made the motion of examining the contents of his folder. 'You are aware of Broly's medication, correct?'

'Yes, we all are. We've been warned of it by Cagoria. He's kept passive until the moment he's needed…' She mimed someone shrugging off a heavy pack. 'Then the chains come off.'

'Are you aware of any incidents where, after a mission, it was… "difficult" to put the chains back on Broly?'

'I've heard bits and pieces, but I've never experienced it for myself. Cagoria would know more.'

'Uh-huh.' Dodoria wrote for a long span of seconds. 'Alright. Describe your last mission, front to back.'

Sashe brushed a few loose strands of black hair from her face. 'We landed on Bja. Linked up, then engaged the enemy. There was dust. Smoke cover intentionally produced, would be my guess. We all got pushed into separate fights. I chased after our chief target for a while, but lost track of him. Then dust clears, and we find Vegeta standing over his corpse.' She laid her arms longwise against her torso armor. 'Mission end.'

'Their boss — the Saiyan Gerkin, yes,' Dodoria said mostly to himself. 'His body should be milled by now.'

A few final strokes of Dodoria's pen came to the bottom of the page. Dodoria's hand then flattened to the page, acting as a column as the officer teetered forward. 'I'm not going to write down your response to your next few questions,' he said, eyes unblinking. 'Just give me your initial reaction, straight. Got it?'

Sashe nodded.

'Did this Gerkin say anything to anyone before mission's end?'

'I didn't fight with him last. Vegeta was the one who killed him. To my knowledge Gerkin didn't say anything of substance to anyone.'

'To your knowledge.'

'I know what I said.'

A second passed as they stared at each other. Sashe wouldn't be cowed. He had nothing to pin on her, and she knew nothing to pin her team.

'You've heard nothing else suspicious?' Dodoria asked.

'I know what you're trying to do,' Sashe said, eyes narrowing. 'You think our team's loyalty is questionable. You've always thought our team was questionable. From when we were old enough to be trained.' She pressed her hand into the table. 'I remember the looks you gave us. How you trained us — handled us harder than Zarbon.'

'Yeah?' Dodoria barked. 'So what?'

Sashe took a breath and relaxed. 'So nothing. You're asking questions, and I'm answering.'

'Then who do you think sabotaged Broly's pod?'

'I don't and wouldn't know.'

A bemused slant cut through Dodoria's face. 'You're fun to interrogate, you know what? You give nothing.'

The method to living, Vegeta believed, rested on making the unbearable bearable. What Kakarot had triggered could not be denied; for hours before the interview his heart had thrummed and rubbed against his ribs, trying as hard as possible to grind itself into nothing against cold bone. In combat, challenge after challenge presents itself in a long and messy line, demanding either solutions or delaying appeasement. There was but one rule to follow: not all could be dispelled: but every challenge needed to be confronted eventually.

When Vegeta entered the small two-chair room under blinding light, his heart pumped and felt close to bursting, and his body matched it. As he sat his hand latched against the table's edge and pinched, twisting dusty gray metal into a warped shape. His leg bounded and jittered against his floor. His face was dead.

Dodoria spent a long second regarding him, small and beady black pupils in a sea of strained white boring into his skull. 'You seem agitated, Vegeta.'

'I'm always agitated when speaking to you, Dodoria. You're never a pleasant sight.'

'Hmph.' Dodoria appeared as amused as his unpleasant demeanor would allow. 'That's what I like about you. You always shoot straight. No bullshit or lies. No patience.'

Vegeta forced his leg to stop fidgeting. His hand remained vised around the table. 'And no tact from you.' He made a dismissive shake of his head. 'Just get on with it.'

Dodoria chuckled and shook his head, eyes running over the sheet laid out in front of him. 'Confirm you're the fourth of the Vanguard to be interviewed and your name.'

'I confirm; Vegeta.'

'Current date, your age, rank, the works,' Dodoria went on, scribbling.

'The date is Age 761. I am Second of the Vanguard and 29 years old.'

Scritch. 'Good.' Dodoria finished his line of notes and placed the pen down. 'Now my next question is going to be off the record. Your answer won't be recorded in any way at all. I just need your first gut-shot response to this question, alright?'

'Just get on with it,' Vegeta grated.

'Who's the traitor?'

White light continued its pour into the room, casting every motion into sharp contrast. Vegeta shifted forward, putting his arms on the table. 'There isn't one.'

'That's what you think?'

'I think the technicians who run this base are as incompetent as they seem to be.'

'I'm not interested in theories, Vegeta.' Dodoria rumbled. 'And I don't care about whatever tech rubbed you the wrong way that you're now trying to throw under the shuttle. One of your squadmates was nearly killed by sabotage. Wouldn't you want to know who did it so the same doesn't happen to you?'

'If they tried it, I'd survive it,' Vegeta growled.

'Unless you already know who did it.'

'I don't pay enough attention to general going-ons to entertain you, Dodoria.'

'Hmph.' Dodoria flexed his shoulders. 'That so? Then let's chat about your last mission, Vegeta. What did that Saiyan Gerkin tell you before you killed him?'

Vegeta's chest contorted. 'Ramblings.'

'What kind?'

'The soon-to-be-dead kind.'

Dodoria paused to pinch his pen between his thick fingers, miming as if he was on the verge of writing something, then placed the pen back down. 'Nothing of importance? Nothing memorable?'

'What are you insinuating?' Vegeta sneered. 'That some Saiyan renegade-outlaw can help you determine an act of sabotage halfway across the galaxy? Get real.'

'And why do you think the information isn't relevant?' Dodoria pressed.

'I didn't have access to Broly's pod,' Vegeta spat, rising in his seat. 'Ask every person on this base. Ask every member of my team. Whatever they think of me, who I am… they know I wouldn't do this. I have too much respect for the PTO. For my team. For Frieza. I spend my days training in the gym, eating in the mess, and sleeping in my room, and walking between where I do those things.' His hands laid on the table started curling into fists. 'I don't even think I've ever been inside the pod hangars except when being dispatched for a mission!'

'All loose ends—'

'Sashe likes to wander!' Vegeta yelled. 'Cagoria has access everywhere! Kakarot is an ingrate! Why are you questioning me?'

'Of everyone on the team—'

Fists slammed into the table with ki-laden force, denting the metal. 'I'VE GIVEN EVERYTHING FOR THE VANGUARD!' Vegeta roared. 'KILLED EVERYTHING COMMANDED OF ME! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DOUBT ME?!'

The stray extents of Vegeta's outburst wavered through the room and slowly settled, allowing the harsh light to re-manifest. Dodoria said nothing, did not move, staring and waiting.

'We're done,' Vegeta uttered, rising. 'I know nothing that can help you and refuse to be subjected to this insult any further. If you want to throw me in a cell, you know where I am.'

The sliding doors to his room stuck and scraped the last few inches closed. In any other frame of mind Vegeta would have exited and grabbed the nearest grunt by their throat and shove their face into the door's sill, daring to use their ground flesh as grease for the track. As he sat on his short cot he desperately imagined doing that, wringing that small joy from his doubting and circling mind, hands bound together in a knot.

He had lost it back there. If he wasn't the most suspicious of their team before, he certainly was now. There was no truth to what he had been told on Planet Bja… no value to the dying words of a known terrorist and malcontent, but how would he convince Dodoria or Zarbon of that after that interrogation? How would he reveal that without seeming like the obvious saboteur? Prince… I, a Prince... what nonsense! What!...

Vegeta's eyes shot sideways, and with a swing of his arm, his ki obliterated a ceramic bowl lying on his black nightstand. White shards flecked with dried gruel spilled across the room's metal floor, tacking and pattering until settling into an almost artistic pattern of pieces. His outstretched arm twitched, rage condensing into physical pink ki burning through the tips of his white gloves.

Why… Why is this happening?! It's just questions… 'Thinly veiled contempt and distrust… I've seen that my entire life,' Vegeta muttered, withdrawing his hand. Anger pushed him off his bed, nearly bulldozed him through the room's door. He turned, hand flinching again, hand reaching towards his cot—

He froze. On the ground near his feet was a deflated brown linen bag he did not own. Nothing more than a bag used to carry raw foodstuffs, but something like this would never make its way onto this planet. This was the type farmers used to haul their crops to market on backwater planets — not something that could hold up in vacuum transport like everything else on this base had to get through.

Vegeta approached and prodded the bag with his foot. There was something inside.

Before he could understand what he was grabbing and holding up to the light he had sat on his cot and spun a band of metal around a sphere, and then —

Vegeta's eyes widened, then dug against his eyelids.

'Prince.' Two of the most wanted Saiyans alive, flickering throughout the holographic image projected into the air above the sphere, nodded before crossing their fists over their chests and kneeling down. Bardock. Ceripa.

'We hope this message finds you well,' Bardock went on. 'Our plan is ready to execute at your command. At last — you can be free of your chains.'

A/N: Happy update day! Or at least this is what it feels like considering how often I update this fic! In any case I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Reviews:

NarupokeeAurorafan: Thanks for the review & I'm glad you're enjoying the team all sniping at each other!