Among the fleet, Prison Ship 1 was a pleasant surprise. Goku had been confused at first, Oom'Bagu seemed happy to be going there as their first stop, smiling to himself. But soon he saw why as they pass through the airlock from the transit tube, crossing through a series of blast doors before entering a roomy space filled with many figures dressed in either black or white. The black garbed ones were guards, they were dressed the same as the ones who had greeted him. And the white ones were…

"Warden!" cried a white-garbed alien with an elongated head and spotty skin, "Good to see you again! I saw you caught yourself a big fish this time – Prince Vegeta!" The alien looked down and shuddered. "Real cold-hearted brute, that one. Only saw him in person once and eesh!"

"It is so," Oom'Bagu nodded then held up a hand with a chuckle, "Forgive me, I know your face but I forget your name. It has been a long trip."

"Oh!" He turned and pointed to the glowing aqua numbers on his shoulder, "Prisoner 5993, sir. Name's Dreeke."

"Dreeke," Oom'Bagu pronounced, "Yes, I certainly recall you now. You were transferred to this vessel six month ago."

"Mm!" he nodded sincerely, "Made a lot of progress too. Got a job on the medical line."

"Excellent, I am most pleased," Oom'Bagu hummed with a fatherly expression, "Keep this up and you'll have earned your freedom within another two years."

"Oh, that would be most wonderful, sir," Dreeke clasped his hands in earnest, "I'll leave you alone now, I can see you have a guest. But thank you for speaking with me, sir." The prisoner hurried off on his way.

Oom'Bagu noticed Goku's baffled expression and chuckled, leading him further on. "Prison Ship 1 holds a special place in my heart. It is where we hold the reformed – those who have demonstrated exceptional behavior and a desire to atone for their crimes. It is not an easy place to get into, but those who have enjoy minimal security and a chance to give something back to the universe – working in factories to produce various items that the people of the galaxy need to rebuild their homes and societies. I personally hold it as our greatest accomplishment."

"Wow, that's a great idea!" Goku marveled, stopping at a window to look down at a mess hall, "Did you think of it?"

"Horkion's idea," said Oom'Bagua warmly, looking through the transparent pane as well, "Who knew a heart of stone could be so kind."

Goku made a mental note to get to know Horkion better next he saw him. The more he heard of him, the more he sounded like a great guy. Goku smiled as a few more prisoner stopped them to greet Oom'Bagu before hurrying on their way. He wished Vegeta was here. Though he didn't want his friend to be locked up anywhere, if he had to be, this seemed like the place for him. But no, he couldn't be, not even here, he'd promised Bulma he wouldn't come back without him and that's what he was going to do.

Still, the curiosity remained. "Hey Oom'Bagu, I was wondering, what wrong did that one guy do? Dreeke?"

"Why don't you ask the computer?" Oom'Bagu offered as they entered the transit tube again, heading for the next prison ship.

"Oh, right." Goku looked down at his monitor. "Um…computer, could you tell me about Dreeke?"

The bracer beeped. "Prisoner designation please."

"Uh…" Goku scratched his head. "Prisoner…5993?"

"Identified: Dreeke. Sex: Male. Species: Velex. Current station: Prison Ship 1. Conviction: Aided murder and theft."

"Aided?" Goku frowned.

"Ah," Oom'Bagu hummed, "I suspected as much. Not all who we arrest caused direct harm within the Planet Trade Organization. Many helped launder the stolen planets or directed missions. This would be the case with Dreeke."

"So that's why he gets to be on Prison Ship 1?"

"Well it aided him in doing so…but no. As I recall, he was transferred here from Prison Ship 2. Had he been any higher, he would have had to work his way down each level before making Prison Ship 1."

And Nevrrest called Vegeta their number one… Goku thought as they crossed over into the next airlock, It's probably going to be a while before we even get to him.

Prison Ship 2 was similar in design to Prison Ship 1, the major difference Goku noticed was the collars they all wore and the lack of large open spaces. They also seemed a lot more nervous than friendly, though a few of them dared to give them a brief greeting. Oom'Bagu explained it was because most of them were looking to be transferred and feared doing anything that would harm their chances. In Prison Ship 3, Goku noticed the collars again and that only a handful were allowed to wander around at a time.

"What are those collars, by the way?" Goku asked.

"Standard issue shackles," the Gregorik answered, "The device built into them prevents the wearer from challenging energy."

"Really? Wow…and they'll work on anyone?"

"As far as we've determined. You will find we are quite efficient at what we do. No one escapes The Justice."

This fact became all the more clear as they passed into the fourth prison ship. That's when Goku also noticed a pattern – the prisoner uniforms from ship to ship were progressing in color. Those in Prison Ship 1 had worn white, in the second they wore violet, in the third they wore blue, now they were dressed in green. He could pretty easily guess what the next series of colors would be, leading up to the final ship where Vegeta was held – Prison Ship 7. Once they were inside number four, Goku immediately began to recognize more of the types he was familiar with – soldiers and thugs.

Like the previous ships, Prison Ship 4 had a mess hall, though the higher up in crime they went the smaller and more divided the mess halls were. Goku's stomach suddenly growled and he laughed. "Oh boy, looks like I'm getting hungry again."

Oom'Bagu laughed quite boisterously and then shook his head. "There is plenty waiting for you back on The Hammer."

"Nah, that's okay, I'll just have what those guys are eating," he said, pointing down the trays of mush, "What is it anyhow?"

Oom'Bagu frowned a little. "What I spent twenty years dining upon. Believe me, it's unfit for you. We provide diverse meal plans to the lower levels of criminals, but from here on protein trays are all that's afforded."

"Protein trays?"

"Basic nutritional needs covered in a simple compound. Tasteless to most. Understand, feeding all these prisoners is costly and protein trays are cheap." His expression lowered and Goku realized he'd been looking a bit darker with each vessel. "Besides…it's more than they deserve."

They were about to move on when suddenly some thread of emotion broke down in the mess hall below, a prisoner leaping over the table at another.

"Woah, a fight!" Goku cried as they began to pummel each other with their fists, the whole mess hall stirring and gathering around them.

Oom'Bagu stood over Goku's shoulder, watching the event with a measured expression. The guards didn't move to stop the fight, only standing by and laughing as the computer's voice hummed and an energy pulse shot through both prisoners. They fell to the floor. Oom'Bagu watched, his brow thrusting downward as they got back up and started weakly fighting again before the computer shocked them again, the guards laughing louder.

"What's going on?" Goku asked, his jaw hanging slightly.

"Excuse me," Oom'Bagu stated darkly, disappearing in a flash. A moment later the justiciar appeared in the mess hall, walking heavily forward just as the two prisoners were shocked again. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. The squabblers flopped on the floor, the fight knocked out of them by the energy blasts, the other prisoners and guards staring at Oom'Bagu with horror. He roughly picked the two pacified prisoners up and glared severely at the guards. "This is unacceptable! Why did you not stop and discipline them?"

The guard nearest to him trembled and swallowed hard. "Justiciar Oom'Bagu…"

"Speak!"

"We just didn't…we knew the pacification field would—"

Oom'Bagu's brow narrowed and he dropped the two prisoners, his pupils beginning to burn mauve. "Is that what you think? You think the pacification field is an excuse for you to shirk your duties?" The guards shuddered and the prisoners hid behind tables as Oom'Bagu's lips pulled back to reveal teeth. "It is a tool and a safety measure, not a replacement for a true guiding hand." He pointed a finger. "Call up your warden, I would speak to him at once!"

Goku watched with awe—a little scared himself!—as the guard was forced to speak to his bracelet, which Goku noted looked just like the bands the justiciars wore. Minutes later a very nervous and flustered looking alien walked in, his hair drooping at the sight of Oom'Bagu's disapproving glare.

The warden swallowed. "Justiciar—"

"I will speak," Oom'Bagu boomed, "Your incompetence is evident, your guards are slackers and I hold you responsible. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes," he protested, sweating, "We'll improve our security."

"Your security is without fault, your men's attitudes are." Oom'Bagu pointed at the guards. "Take these two prisoners and place them in solitary, three days—one sentence for each breach of conduct." The guards yelped their compliance. Oom'Bagu turned on the warden again. "As for you, you will put your administration in order or you will turn in your resignation—do I make myself clear?"

The warden swallowed hard. "Perfectly, Justiciar."

"Good." The two prisoners were lead off and Oom'Bagu returned to Goku's side, sighing as he adjusted his tunic collar. "Apologies, we may continue now."

Goku laughed nervously, rubbing his head. "Gosh, I had no idea you could be that scary. I hope you never look at me like that."

"I was a father once, I know how to be both loving and frightening," Oom'Bagu smiled softly, "Come."

They passed through another series of blast doors—one step closer to Vegeta—Goku feeling quite eager over all that he was learning about The Justice. "So, you're not the only warden?"

"I am Grand Warden," Oom'Bagu explained, "And warden of Prison Ship 7. I couldn't very well look after all the ships myself, as powerful as I have made myself I am but one man."

"What about the other justiciars, don't they help you?"

"The six of us help each other in all things." His voice deepened a note. "However, we each have a primary role to play. You know mine. Nevrrest is Grand Marshal, head of criminal captures. Horkion and Laswe are each Grand Guardian, in charge of training and maintaining the fleet personnel, especially the guards. Misado and Nettelish are the Grand Judges, they oversee all court hearings."

"Oh boy…I hope I can remember all this," Goku anxiously ran his fingers through his clumpy spiked hair.

"There is no need to fret," Oom'Bagu assured, "I have no qualms with answering repeated questions." He chuckled. "And assuredly neither does the computer."

Goku smiled a little. "I don't doubt that." He looked down. "But it's important that I do. I can't afford to make any mistakes."

Oom'Bagu stopped in the middle of the transit tube and looked at him. "…What did he ever do to deserve you?" he marveled, shaking his head.

"Huh?" Goku blinked, stopping as well, "I don't know what you mean."

"I can't imagine why you want to help him so desperately."

Goku smiled again. "I told you, he's my friend. And a good person, he wasn't always but that's what he is now." His brow lowered and he started them walking again. "Besides, I promised Bulma I wouldn't come home without him. And I meant it. I don't care how long it takes or what I have to do, I'm not leaving unless Vegeta's with me."

Oom'Bagu frowned, looking ahead. "Then you may be our guest for some time. Is that really a vow you are prepared to keep?"

"Mm," Goku nodded, his brow lowered.

The Gregorik sighed heavily, feeling the Saiyan's determination in his gut. "Then I pray your dedication be rewarded."

(**Scene Break**)

Vegeta teetered on the edge of the metal slab, too exhausted to fully hold himself upright, too sore to sleep. His throat was hoarse from night spent screaming. The hours since had slipped by in a blur. How long had he been here? He was starting to lose track already. His mind empty of all thoughts, crawling through bouts of emotion, still he sat, his collar bracing against his neck as he wobbled.

"Fishy, fishy, fishy…"

Vegeta's eyes cracked open. "Uh…h?"

"Doesn't get much fresher than that…heheha…"

His dry tongue moved. "Who…the…?"

"Hehe, to your right, little fish."

Vegeta lifted his stiff neck to see the panel on the wall had lit up again. Only this time it wasn't Nevrrest. This time he saw a humanoid with grey skin and white hair, a chain dangling from the metal collar welded to his neck, and dressed in crimson.

"Well, look at you," the alien grinned, "It's been a long time, Vegeta."

Vegeta blinked twice, forcing his tired eyes to come to focus on the face on the screen. His eyes widened slightly and he gritted. "Well, what do you know, Lacor."

"He remembers!" laughed the mutant, "And of course I remember you – old Frieza's little ward." He leaned in close to the screen and grinned. "Welcome to Hell."

"Grr, if I have to hear one more reference to Hell, I think I'll puke," Vegeta shut his eyes and snarled, not caring to waste his energy looking at him anymore.

Lacor laughed again, a dry cackle. "Well you'll see for yourself…lucky it took them this long to find you. I've been here a few years. Caught me having a bit of fun – you know the sort. Good old days style."

"As usual, Lacor, you're in love with the sound of your own voice and I'm already tired of hearing it." He gave the screen a brief glance. "How are you even contacting me?"

The mutant snickered. "Special privileges. Be a good little fish and they'll let you make calls too. Keeps you sane. Stay alone in a cell for long enough and your reflection becomes your best friend."

Vegeta grunted.

Lacor leaned in close again with a menacing smile. "I wouldn't pass up this chance for conversation, Vegeta. You'll be desperate for it soon enough."

Vegeta's eyes opened and glared ahead. "There's nothing I want from you, Lacor."

Lacor clicked his tongue at him several times and shook his head. "Well fine…at least I'll enjoy myself." He rumbled with laughter and brought a single eye close to the screen. "Quite an item, you, seems like you're all anyone's talking about anymore. Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans." He laughed mockingly. "Oh, and can't anyone forget how much the Marshal hates you. No one knows exactly why. Would make for a juicy rumor…"

Vegeta snarled and turned his head, baring his teeth at him. "I told you, I don't care about anything you have to say, so just leave me alone!"

Lacor roared with laughter, making Vegeta seethe. "Oh this is best laugh I've had in ages. And the best part is I'm sure you'll be good for many more to come…while you last, anyhow."

Vegeta's expression fell. "Hm. And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means not only are you a fresh fish, word is you're a dead fish," he grinned, running his tongue over his lips, "Everyone knows the Marshal's got it out for you. And you're a red shirt, so that makes you eligible for execution. In my opinion, it's only a matter of time. Can't wait to watch, should make for some good entertainment."

"Oh really…and why are you still alive, Lacor?"

"Hard sentence to pass, they only save it for those they consider 'unredeemable'…must be my winning smile that saved me."

"Yes…" Vegeta scowled, looking away again, "I'm sure."

"Marshal will get what she wants, I can guarantee it," he chuckled, watching Vegeta with vicious eyes, "You have no friends here, Vegeta. Not even among your fellow prisoners. After all, we all remember how you used to thumb your nose at us, you and your Saiyans pals, always thinking you were above the rest." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Well now you're truly on top, number one, no one can compete. How does it feel?"

Vegeta looked at the floor, remaining silent.

"Hehe, poor little prince." His eyes shifted. "Oh look at that…my call time's run out. We'll talk again, fishy."

Vegeta's brow lowered as the video feed cut. "No…we won't."