"I reject your proposal," Bardock said with his arms crossed defiantly. He stared intently at Bulma, like he was trying to read her thoughts through the view screen.

"We're just trying to help you, captain," Bulma sighed, both hands cradling her forehead in exasperation. "At least until another Saiyan vessel can take our place. We're all they've got in this sector until then."

"Any ship who approaches us will be fired upon."

Bulma looked up sharply. "Even if they're your own people?"

Bardock looked away and sniffed. "We have decided we no longer want anything to do with them. Please leave immediately."

He had to be bluffing. "No." Bulma shook her head. "We will remain here with you until they arrive. We're not going anywhere, captain."

Bardock scowled and made a gesture to an off-screen crewman, and the feed went blank.

The captain turned to Bulma, hands behind his back and face pained. "Looks like we'll be here for a while, since Saiyan High Command just informed us that their main fleet has been diverted to a crisis in the Namekian system and that a diplomatic ship will take weeks to arrive from Vegeta-sei."

It looked like Vegeta would have to suffer the ambassador for a while yet.

"What do you think is happening in the Namekian system?" Bulma asked, stirring cream into Goku's coffee before handing it to him. "I've received no word from the embassy on Namek Prime."

"They didn't give any further details, and the message was heavily encrypted," Goku replied with an apologetic shrug before taking a sip. "The captain said he received the subspace transmission early this morning."

"I guess we'll find out more when we get back."

They sipped their drinks in silence for a little while, comfortable in resuming their friendship where it left off the last time they saw each other. Bulma briefly considered telling Goku about Captain Bardock and their uncanny resemblance, but decided that now was not the time to open that can of worms. "So, should I expect a plus-one for you when you come 'round for dinner next?" she asked instead.

Goku stared at her for a long moment as a slight blush tinted his cheeks.

"So tell me, who is this great tamer of the mighty Saiyan Goku?"

The mighty Saiyan Goku coughed on his latest sip of coffee and took a moment to regain his bearings once his fit was over. "There's no taminggoing on," he mumbled, but then turned his sharp gaze to her. "But I wouldn't say the same for you and the lieutenant. You're awfully close for two people who claim to dislike each other so much."

"What can I say, we've known each other since we were children," Bulma said with a wry smile into her mug.

Goku leaned forward, placing his drink on a coaster and clasping his hands together. "I might not know much about my culture or heritage, Bulma, but I know what a man looks like when he's in love. And Lieutenant Vegeta has it bad. He can barely function when you two are in the same room."

"Well, he's delusional if he thinks we can be together," she said. "One of us would have to give up our career, and it just wouldn't… work. He told me a long time ago that his birthright as the Prince of all Saiyans has to come first. And I intend to take my father's place as ambassador on Vegeta-sei. If this mission turns out well, he's promised to step down and appoint me in his place. It's my dream, Goku, and I can't give it up for him. Even if he is royalty."

"Well, you know you can always talk to me. I can be your man on the inside," Goku joked. "Maybe I'll find his personal logs and send them your way."

Bulma smiled at the thought of that, then deepened her voice in a crude imitation of Vegeta's. "Tactical officer's log, supplemental. Today the infernal woman ignored yet another offer of the prestige and wealth that comes with joining the House of Vegeta. I do not understand how she could turn down such a handsome man as myself. Further investigation required."

She continued on, making fun of his grumpy attitude and stiff demeanor, and by the time she was done, Goku was in stitches.

Then the door chimed, and Goku straightened up in a sad attempt at decorum.

"Come in," Bulma said, barely able to contain her giggling. "Oh, speak of the devil," she muttered so only Goku could hear-and the latter had to clench his jaw to avoid another fit of giggles.

Lieutenant Vegeta stood at the doorway, one foot awkwardly placed just past the threshold. "Apologies, I didn't realize I was interrupting-"

"No, no, please come in," Bulma repeated. "The commander was just telling me a story about an away team mishap." She smiled innocently up at the lieutenant, whose cheeks reddened, and the commander followed suit with his own cheeky grin.

"I'll come back," Vegeta replied, stepping backwards and letting the door whoosh to a close after him.

Goku and Bulma exchanged looks, and the former took to his feet. "I'll let him know I was just leaving."

"Goku, don't you da-" Bulma tried, but Goku was already at the door. He turned back to wink at Bulma and mouth, good luck before he disappeared into the hallway.

Vegeta stepped through in his place, glancing back in confusion with his brows knit. Turning back to Bulma, he cleared his throat. "I wanted to know if you would like to have dinner with me."

"Well Vegeta, it's been a nice evening, but I think I'm ready for bed," Bulma said while dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. They had managed to get through their entire meal without starting an argument for once. But she could feel her patience with him thinning, so she slid her chair back to stand.

"Weren't you always a night owl?" Vegeta asked, tilting his head. "Unless you are trying to avoid me." He looked around the hall at the other couples and groups, all of whom were engrossed in their own conversations.

Bulma pulled her lips together in a tight smile. "A lot of things change in seven years."

"If you don't want to spend time with me, you can say so," Vegeta said, careful to keep his tone even. "I will respect your wishes."

Bulma looked down at her hands before collecting herself and facing him like the mature adult she was. "I'm going to be here longer than expected. Whether you like it or not, we need to keep things professional."

A muscle in Vegeta's cheek twitched like he was biting his tongue. "As you desire, ambassador. I did plan to end the evening in the holodeck with a concert, if you'd care to join me. Professionally, of course."

"I wasn't lying when I said I was going to bed, lieutenant."

"Have it your way."

Hours later, despite her best intentions, Bulma simply could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity, and finally, while staring at the bland grey ceiling, she summoned the computer with a sigh. "Where is Lieutenant Vegeta?"

"Lieutenant Vegeta is in his quarters," the computer replied.

"Ambassador Briefs to Lieutenant Vegeta," Bulma mumbled into her comm badge.

"Go ahead," he responded almost immediately.

Bulma pondered for a moment. "I can't sleep. Is your invitation still open?"

"I can meet you at holodeck two in five minutes."

Now to see where the night was going to lead them.

"I don't think I should," Bulma said, declining the third glass of wine offered her that evening. She sat across from Vegeta at a table for two in a little cabaret that housed a small crowd. In the corner, a jazz quartet crooned a melody over the din of conversation.

"It's holographic," Vegeta pointed out. "It's not like I'm trying to get you drunk."

"Ever the gentleman."

Vegeta's expression bordered on forlorn at the sarcasm in her tone. "You know it would be dishonourable-"

"Yes, yes, you Saiyans and your honour. You can relax, Vegeta." She leaned forward with a wicked grin. "I know you're not going to try to get into my pants again."

A furious blush rose to his cheeks, and he coughed into his wine glass. "Bulma," he said, voice cracking and missing its usual fire. Instead, it was filled with that same yearning she'd noticed in him ever since… well.

Ever since their last days together in the academy.

And that yearning had increased ever since the last time they shared a moment on the holodeck.

Bulma knew she was toeing a delicate line. She'd been given a glimpse into the real Vegeta: the one who hid behind a facade, whose mask had cracked and allowed her to see a part of him never intended for the light of day. Back then, when they'd gone to her dorm just to talk, when hands and lips had wandered… that glimpse had given her the boldness to do what she'd been wanting to do for years.

But in a great feat of willpower, he'd shot her down and claimed "duty" and "responsibility".

And that wound had never fully healed. So when he looked at her now, the desire-the longing in his eyes for the very thing he denied until recently-felt like a stab wound right in the heart.

And Bulma ate it up.

"Computer, set program… Briefs 7," Bulma murmured.

The cabaret dissolved and was replaced by a secluded beach.

They held each other close, still dancing even though the music had faded. The thunderous waves crashed to shore in its stead, and the setting sun with its brilliant hues replaced the dim ambient lighting of the cabaret.

Vegeta's hand slid up Bulma's back to rub between her shoulder blades before he suddenly pulled her into an embrace. "Bulma, I almost lost you on that ship. You were right, I endangered your life when I should have trusted you. I'm going to have to learn to trust your abilities if we are to-"

Bulma put her finger over his lips to cut him off. "I'm glad you learned how to dance," she whispered, not wanting to acknowledge his… his fantasyabout their relationship status and changing the subject.

Vegeta wordlessly stepped away to twirl her before bringing her back in close to him. His face was set in a thoughtful expression, and the intensity of his dark gaze transfixed her. It felt like he was melting away the hard layers that surrounded her heart. "Stay with me tonight," he said. It was not a demand, but a request. His voice was rough, deep with desire, but also heavy with the promise that tonight, they wouldn't be alone.

She was lost in the oceans of his eyes, but for once she didn't feel like she was drowning. Like the moon drawing the tides, the force of his attraction held her in its gentle grip. "Alright," she breathed, letting go of her resistance.

He ordered the computer to lay out a blanket in the sand. Their formalwear had already been replaced by setting-appropriate attire, and her sheer, white cover-up floated like haze around her body as she sank to her knees.

"It's been years since I slept under the stars," she remarked as Vegeta settled in beside her, laying on his side with his head propped up by his hand. She laid on her back when he beckoned her to join him, her heart racing.

Vegeta reached out and stroked the back of his fingers tenderly down the delicate line of her cheek. "Have you ever made love beneath them?" he asked, gaze resting on her lips and watching with rapt attention as her tongue flicked out to lick them in her nervousness.

Nervous because if she went through with this, it would become more than just sex. This was agreeing to devoting her life to someone else, to putting someone else's needs ahead of her own. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that. "Can't say that I have," she replied, a breathy chuckle escaping her as she tried to quell the ardour that felt like a floodtide sweeping her heart out to sea. If she listened to her heart, she'd end this night a married woman. In Vegeta's mind, she already was. With his next question came the make-or-break moment of the evening:

"Would you like to?"

The sleep that had eluded Bulma earlier now overtook her with blissful swiftness, pulling her into a slumber where she could forget what it meant to experience your heart breaking all over again. She dreamt of their time on Vegeta-sei, when they were young and carefree. They played in a meadow, the vibrant orange flowers swaying in the breeze as they ran through, holding hands. They let go for a brief moment and when she looked up, a vast distance separated them. She called out, but he was so far away he couldn't hear. She curled up into a ball in the grass and cried because she was all alone.

"Incoming transmission."

Bulma's eyes snapped open and she tried to remember why there were tears streaming down her face. She was alone in her bed.

"Priority, urgent." The computer beeped at her until she replied.

"Ugh, onscreen," Bulma muttered at the computer as she rolled over. Her heart raced and her anxiety levels hit a peak, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember why. "Remind me to set you to do not disturb mode next time I go to sleep."

"Reminder set," the computer chimed helpfully as the dark figure appeared on Bulma's view screen.

"I hope you have a good reason for waking me up," Bulma grumbled. She went through the motions of tracing the transmission, but this time it originated from the stern of the Legacy.

"Have you received further transmissions?" the dark figure asked, voice modulated like last time.

Bulma stared at her screen for a long, annoyed moment. "No, asshole, we haven't. If you're monitoring the same frequencies, you'd know that. Can I get back to sleep now?"

"Apply this filter to the static-filled messaged you've been receiving. I think you'll find it helpful."

The parameters showed up on Bulma's console, and the screen went black. She sighed, rubbing her eyes and returning to her bed. Then she remembered last night on the holodeck, when she'd made the hardest decision of her life. Had it been worth it?

The next morning, Bulma clasped her hands with worry as the captain paused. A new transmission from Starfleet command had come in about the Namekian Crisis. As it turned out, they'd been attacked by an unidentified probe which destroyed three of their colonies and disappeared without so much as a warp trail to follow.

"Evacuations are underway for all remaining bases, and Namek Prime remains on high alert," Roshi said.

"How many casualties?" Goku asked quietly. "Do we know anything of Lieutenant Piccolo's family?"

"Casualties number in the thousands right now. All Starfleet vessels in that sector were rerouted to assist in relief efforts and are on standby in case the probe returns."

"Captain," a voice interrupted over the comm.

"Go ahead, ensign," Roshi said.

"Another unidentified transmission has come in. We think we're getting close to cracking this thing."

"Understood, I'm on my way." Turning back to the officers around the table, he sighed. "Starfleet has asked us to keep this information on a need-to-know basis. Please refrain from discussing this matter in common areas."

Bulma glanced across the conference table to find Vegeta watching her, but he quickly looked away as he stood to follow his captain to the bridge.

"Captain, could you have a copy of that transmission sent to my quarters? I'd like to take a stab at it," Bulma said after Roshi put his communications officer back on the task of figuring out its source and language.

Roshi glanced at Goku, who nodded.

"More minds on the matter can't hurt, can they Captain?"

"I agree. Please inform me the second you find anything."

Once she was back in her quarters, Bulma applied to the recording the filter she'd received from her mysterious friend. The results were immediate. The condescending voice now came through crystal clear, but Bulma still couldn't understand what it was saying. After a few hours and no luck deciphering anything, even with modifications to her own universal translator, she sighed and paged the communications officer.

The days turned into weeks as the Namekian crisis unfolded lightyears away. Starfleet commanded the Nimbus to stay put, but the upper brass communicated with Roshi daily, who passed on word of the goings-on to the officers and Bulma each morning.

And Bulma finally received word from the embassy on Namek-they had stuck around in order to help the Namekians flee, but now they were forced to evacuate as well when reports of another probe sighting became widespread. She sighed as the transmission ended, rubbing the bridge of her nose to ease the ever-growing headache she had been experiencing day in and day out. Between the embassy news, the ever-stubborn nature of the Legacy's Saiyans, and Vegeta practically breathing down her neck about their "future", she was beginning to wonder when a girl could get a break. That wasn't even to mention that her shadowy friend had been tight-lipped as of late. She hadn't received a midnight transmission from him in at least a week and a half, and while her sleep schedule had improved because of it, it made her nervous.

Then, one evening as Bulma slaved over the attempted translation of yet another unidentified transmission, her comm crackled to life.

"I was beginning to miss you," she called over her shoulder at the comm station as she compared her notes from before. When she turned around, she was startled to see Raditz onscreen. His lip was swollen and bloody, and there was a split on his left eyebrow that still oozed blood. His right eye sported a beautiful shiner. "Commander!" Bulma cried, stumbling as she ran over to her comm station, gripping it as though she could reach him somehow. "What happened to you?"

Raditz grinned in spite of himself. "Ambassador," he greeted. "I got caught the last time we talked. Turns out a more senior officer switched shifts with one of the junior bridge officers for the evening that night and discovered my garbled signal."

"So they beat you up?" Bulma asked, horrified. She couldn't believe that the Saiyan actually looked pleased with himself.

"Yeah, I got lazy," he said and shrugged. "They threw me in the brig for a couple of days, too."

Bulma shook her head. "I figured it was you all along, but why obscure your face and voice like that?"

"Eh, plausible deniability," he laughed. "I knew it wouldn't really matter in the end, but I like the drama."

"So now you're transmitting your face after they caught you once and are probably surveilling you heavily?"

"If nothing else, I am one tenacious motherfucker," Raditz said, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin. "Plus, I'm pretty sure dad secretly agrees with what I'm doing, but can't publicly support me in front of the crew. Tensions are high, and there's been talk of mounting a raid against your ship."

"Wait, who's 'dad?'" Bulma asked with a tilt of her head.

"Oh yeah, I guess I never told you. Captain Bardock is my father."

Bulma nearly fell over, she pushed back against the desk so hard. When she next spoke, her voice was high-pitched with exasperation. "Don't you think you might have mentioned that at some point?"

"I kinda thought it was obvious, to be honest," Raditz said. "But yeah, it's why I'm confined to quarters now and not left to rot in the brig. And probably why he didn't have my transmission equipment confiscated."

"Okay, and you mentioned raids against our ship? Are they mindless? They'd never succeed."

"You can't tell a Saiyan no once he's got his mind set on something."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Ugh, tell me about it. I'm having enough Saiyan troubles on this ship, I don't need it from yours, too."

"'Fraid there's not much I can do about it, sweetheart," Raditz laughed. "Being confined to quarters 'n' all. Means I don't really get to communicate with anybody on board, and I'm bored out of my goddamn mind. So," he said, resting his cheek on his palm. "Tell me about your Saiyan troubles."

Had… had he initiated contact just to chat? Bulma wondered. It was the middle of the night and she only had a million and one things to take care of, but she decided a diversion would be acceptable. "I wouldn't want to speak ill of the Saiyan prince in front of his own," she said with a snort. "But can I just say that your traditions can get a little out of hand sometimes?"

Raditz shrugged and waited for her to continue.

"I've known him since I was a little girl. My father was the first human ambassador to reside on Vegeta-sei, so we were close to the royal family when I was growing up."

"Oh, has he always had that stick up his ass?" Raditz asked, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

Bulma snickered. "More or less, but it was endearing for a while. Until we went to the academy together, and he turned into a total…" Bulma trailed off, looking for the epithet that carried the most weight. She decided to allow Raditz to infer.

"Insufferable jackass?" he offered.

"That's the nice way of putting it," Bulma replied. "We went our separate ways, and I thought we'd never be friends again until surprise, I was assigned to his ship for this mission. We fought at first but then… well." Bulma shut her mouth, not one to kiss and tell. It was no business of Raditz's that the prince was trying to make her his wife.

"If it's any consolation, at least this Saiyan is glad you're here," Raditz said, smooth as you please.

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "You're different from all of them, aren't you? Why are you even talking to me? Don't you all hate humans?"

"You've proven not to be so bad. Besides, there's a reason we… well, I sent that signal to you."

"What's that?"

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you. That's up to the captain, and I'd rather not add 'treason' to my ever-growing list of shortcomings by divulging all of our secrets."

"I thought you already have. I'm sure your loving father will forgive you," Bulma replied, lifting an eyebrow. Everything she knew about Captain Bardock said that he was a man who protected his interests and that of his crew. He showed leniency in confining Raditz to quarters, but she knew that Raditz was right and that they should play it safe for now.

"The man doesn't know a damn thing about forgiveness. He still hasn't forgiven me for what happened to my little brother. And I was a child at the time."

He said it with a flat tone, but Bulma could see the sadness in Raditz's eyes despite the slight blur in the image on screen. "What happened?" she asked quietly, mind reeling. If Bardock were his father, and Goku looked like Bardock, could he be talking about…?

"He's gone because of me. We were only kids, but it was my fault, and my father has held it against me to this day. We were playing near the pods, and he climbed into one. We were pretending to go on a deep-space mission, and I launched the pod with him in it by accident. It was set to… to home. To Vegeta-sei. It was designed to be faster than our ship, and ol' daddy didn't learn about it until my mother found me crying in the corridor."

Bulma sat back in her chair, stunned. Nobody knew where Goku had come from. He was just a child when he was found, crashed at a human colony with a broken navigational computer and no memory of where he'd come from. Now it was obvious. She stood abruptly. "I'm sorry, Raditz, I have to go. Contact me again tomorrow night, but I have something very important I need to discuss with our first officer." Without another word, she cut off the transmission. If Goku was Bardock's son, that would make him Raditz's brother. She had to tell Goku that these Saiyans were his long-lost family.

That revelation added a whole new layer of complication to this convoluted mess.