How would the results be replicated? Bulma was, in effect, a positive control. Her early response to her gene therapy was the baseline from which all other responses should be compared. She experienced severe side effects, and Gohan needed to duplicate the results in other human test subjects to further identify the genetic misfires that caused them. He could then proceed with fixing the problem. Then he would proceed to the next phase: global contagion. The delivery method of the virus used on Bulma could possibly be aerosolized, added to the water or food supply, or spread by a test group of infected persons who, at first, showed no visible symptoms for a longer period.

Yet, the genetic diversity within the humans meant that some people would never become infected. For whatever reason their immune systems would fight off the onslaught. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Right then he needed more people to examine who wouldn't be missed by anyone. There would be no search parties or passionate television appeals from families to find these unfortunate lost souls. They would be cared for appropriately at first, but they couldn't leave until he finished with them.

If they died during experimentation, well, their sacrifices wouldn't be in vain, Gohan believed. They would be worthy soldiers playing a vital role to improve their brother-and-sister humans. Their contributions would move the race to a higher level, as Saiyans. Anyone else who wanted to live and prosper peacefully - namely, alien immigrants - would have to accept the outcome. Mortals with special talents or powers that made them useful in the new world order would be given priority to stay on Earth before all others – and they would pledge their loyalty. Anything less would result in death – or maybe even methods of brainwashing - unless they put up a good fight. In Saiyan eyes, a proper resistance is considered noble... however futile.

As planned, if she recovered, Bulma's new status could also be used to attract those who wanted to be stronger - better. These individuals longed to feel superior in ways that their current lives could not offer. They would quietly minister to others, convincing them of the necessity to join. They would do the footwork, helping to infect others with the virus and imprint their minds with a new belief system.

"We'll see," Gohan said to a separate reflection of himself. He would discover a method to wash away his "half-breed" status as well – followed by Goten, Trunks, and Bulla. They were destined for greatness because they were sired by two of the strongest mortals in the universe. Full representative democracy on Earth was possible in the future, but an iron-fisted, autocratic monarchy would be necessary in the beginning to establish order. Vegeta had the will to impose it. Goku would have to find the will - or else there would be hell to pay for him and everyone else.

Gohan observed his encrypted burner phone. No pleasantries would be exchanged on this call.

"I found another body for you, Kaleb. Should have another in a few days."

"You know where to meet me." Gohan hung up before the person could say more. Back to work.

Madness.

Vegeta's nightmares had returned with a vengeance since Bulma entered the hospital. Sometimes he tried recalling the soothing sound of her voice when she comforted him. On the worst nights he would train in the gravity room until finally passing out from exertion. Later, after breakfast on lunch with their children, he would begin his daily pilgrimage to see his wife, often sitting with her all day. He would leave to train, and to have dinner, but he believed it was his duty to be there as much as possible. Tights would occasionally ask the physical therapists to avoid the room when she found him, alone, massaging and exercising Bulma's arms and legs. He spoke little to anyone, relying on Tights to explain his wife's progress as needed. At home, he kept his promise to be present for his little girl, but overall he was tired – very tired. None of their friends dared speak of it, though. Krillin had been the only one who seriously considered broaching the discussion. He loved his childhood friend immensely and hated to see her husband in so much emotional pain. As a sensei, however, he believed his support might be needed more in the future.

Vegeta recalled earlier conversations with Tights and Goku when his wife first became ill. He spoke cryptically about a situation he would have to disclose soon. He just wasn't ready at the beginning of this nightmare. Each child he and Bulma conceived risked becoming mentally ill in the most terrible of ways early on. The condition arose from a recessive genetic trait in the royal family that his father fiercely kept secret, except from his closest advisers including Nappa, head of the Royal Army. The general later told the young prince after their planet was destroyed. Other Saiyan families carried the trait too. There was no treatment and no cure, even with the advanced technology available. Other Saiyan offspring were afflicted. Infanticide was common once parents began incubating their children during their earliest developmental years, until about age three.

Even though they weren't a couple back then, Vegeta told Bulma early to watch Trunks for symptoms through the boy's fifth birthday. Same with Bulla, and now their next child. Neither discussed the subject at length since they learned of her most recent pregnancy, and no one else knew, not even their children. Bulma's father carried the secret with him to his grave. Vegeta also realized Bulma delayed telling him about her experiments to avoid an even worse argument about this subject. What if it unlocked the condition because the genetic material was new to her body? Did she discover how to edit his genome to eliminate the trait? Hell, even Goku and his boys could have it. Bulma must have shared this with Gohan. If so, he was a dead man walking.

For a time Vegeta wondered if he had a lesser version of the condition, considering whether he was one of the "insane" ones while under Frieza's thumb: the "nature versus nurture argument." He was a "pet" child solider coached in the galactic pirate's bloodthirsty sociopathy, and was beaten regularly for "fun." Survivors from their destroyed planet also bathed Vegeta in the historical lore about Saiyans' winner-take-all warmongering. That had left some hope until, of course, the prince lost his shit dramatically on Earth when he fought the guileless Son Goku, the "low-class" Saiyan he didn't know existed.

Maybe he had a lesser form of the affliction. Yeah, right. Insane? Nope. Brainwashed, perhaps, until he broke free from Frieza's abuse. Sadistic sometimes when he killed on duty, especially when others crossed him? Yes, unfortunately.

His mental possession by the wizard Babadi was the closest he came to complete and irreversible insanity, until he miraculously managed to free himself. Bulma said his typical cunning had vanished at first: He was recklessly psychopathic. Luckily he broke free after realizing that death was preferable to possessed madness.

Sounds entered and exited his mind without acknowledgement. He had to block them out at first.

"Dr. Brief, Vegeta at this rate of growth, Bulma will give birth three months earlier than a normal pregnancy. It's amazing how much the fetus developed in a month. It's approaching size of a human six-month old now. I don't recommend waiting to deliver until she reaches full term, though."

Bulma had been kept comatose for a month. In that time, her caregivers managed to slow her bodily changes with a drug affecting hormone release in her brain. The treatment also relieved further dangerous blood pressure spikes that could harm her and the fetus. The medication would eventually exhaust itself, though, leaving them in the same place: reversing the changes would be difficult, or maybe next to impossible. And now, despite his angry demands before, Vegeta had largely accepted the outcome. He just wanted her back in his arms, together with their children. Tights finally learned more about the genetic trait in his bloodline. If she couldn't do anything else, she would work diligently on that. Bulma had no choice but to discuss that with her.

Tights moved to the foot of bed. "So, Todd, what you're saying is deliver the baby early."

"Yes, ma'am. She should have surgery by cesarean section before she's brought out of the coma."

She and the obstetrician looked at Vegeta, who was examining the ultrasound image. The fetus was curled in a ball, sucking its thumb. He saw the little tail, fingers, toes, and heard the swishing heartbeat. His felt his chest throbbing, matching each little palpitation.

"Vegeta?"

"Hmm?" He scratched his beard and faced them. "Yes, that's fine, Tights, as long as it doesn't..."

"There's always risk," she interjected, "but I believe Bulma's in a better position now. We'll examine the baby for defects as soon as the surgery is over. His lungs aren't fully developed, and he may need help eating, which is normal for babies delivered prematurely at this stage. He'll be in an incubator."

Vegeta gave her a slight smirk. "You know Saiyan babies are incredibly strong. I feel his life force without even touching his mother. His body will catch up quickly. Give him a day or two. Trust me."

Tights pinched her arm as she left. Vegeta's quiet, determined assurances often made her tearful, but she avoided crying near him anymore. The return of his prideful stoicism felt comforting. No doubt he was still angry, though.

By the end of the week his son was born. Trunks stood by his father, watching the staff wheel Bulma from the operating room. Tights brought the tiny baby to the window.

"Do you sense his power, son?"

Trunks tapped on the window and smiled. "Oh yes. He's a fighter already. Just wait for at least a week before opening the training room for business."

Vegeta frowned at him. "The earlier the better. Your sister is a handful already. Where is she anyway?"

"In the lounge," Trunks said hesitantly. "She… didn't want to be here."

"What do you mean she doesn't want to be here?" Vegeta inhaled deeply to calm himself. "I understand what she's going through, but this behavior cannot continue – not like this. Go get her now."

Trunks rubbed the back of his neck. He often did when considering ways to appease his father. "Maybe you should wait until the doctors bring mom out of the coma. Bulla may feel differently then."

"Trunks, family is all we have whether Bulma lives or dies now," he said, facing the operating room again. "Your sister will regret her actions forever if the latter happens. She will face hardships in life, just like us, and she must make peace with her mother. She must follow our example. My word is final, understand?"

"Yes, father."

"Actually, I'll meet you in the lounge shortly. It's time I shared something with you that Bulma and I also should have discussed earlier. Then you both can be equally pissed off with us."

Trunks draped his hand over his forehead. "Ugh, please, no more revelations. I don't know if I can take more."

"You're speaking with someone who was tortured mercilessly as a boy, routinely called a pet monkey, and had his planet blown to oblivion," Vegeta said flatly. "Do you really want to go there? You even got a decent hug out of me recently, dude. Suck it up."

Shaking his head, Trunks laughed and opened the door. "All right. You win."

They nodded at each other before Vegeta walked toward the recovery room. He put on surgical scrubs, covering most of his body, as well as a mask, gloves, and shoe covers. Doing this annoyed him, and he cantankerously told everyone as much, but the medical team insisted that this ritual protected his wife from post-surgical infection.

He sat down next to her and activated a small image of their son on his watch. He was so eager to see his wife breathing on her own, but it would be several more days before the team would remove the ventilator. "Our third child is here, Bulma, and this time he gets a Saiyan name. After everything we've been through together, I deserve that honor. He is quite handsome, too, just like his father. I suspect that his premature birth that your sister is so worried about won't be a problem by the time you awaken. Everyone is ready for you to meet him, especially me. You and I…will work out the rest between us, as partners."

The prince stood to leave as emotion flooded his mind and heart. There would be no tears, though. Not today.

"I still have my family."

Pan had largely stopped speaking to Gohan, preferring to spend most of her time with her grandparents and uncle Goten. They all agreed that she needed stability because of her father's emotional distance, but they considered staging an intervention. Gohan's behavior was quickly becoming indefensible, they believed. None of them knew much about psychotherapy, but they understood the healing benefits of meditation and reflection – what any thoughtful, serious practitioner of martial arts training should know well.

Gohan left his office at the medical tower distracted, as he usually was. He had been thinking nonstop about Bulma. The security on the floor was heavy, and not a word emerged about her true physical condition. To avoid rampant speculation and inaccurate rumors, Capsule Corporation employees were told she had complications during pregnancy that required close monitoring. Even Vegeta didn't want that information shared, but Hercule, who was skilled in manipulating the media, said revealing some details would be helpful. Then the family could ask for privacy from the public "at this difficult time." People would feel sympathetic, especially because it was Bulma.

Instead of using his hover car, Gohan decided to walk and then fly home. It was late, as usual, and he prepared himself for another night of not seeing his daughter and lecturing from Hercule. He would eventually repair his relationship with his daughter. He loved her deeply and resented his judgmental family for implying that he didn't care about her feelings at all. He was trying to make a better life for everyone, including her. She would reach her full potential, too, through his work.

His back stiffened, while his shoes scratched the pavement. Frustrated, he exhaled and bowed his head.

"Son Gohan, may I join you?"

Gohan slowly turned around. "Do I really have a choice?"

"No, but I'm trying to be polite," Piccolo said. "It doesn't always come naturally. Now come follow me."

"Look, Piccolo, I don't need another person telling me how terrible I am. My skin is pretty thick from those arguments."

"Never assume anything about me or my motivations," he replied, handing him a two-piece white garment and cloth belt. "You learned that when I first trained you as a child, and you don't get a pass for forgetting it just because you're all grown up. Now let's go."