Doubts

It had been a long, long time since they were last given a purge assignment. About two years, to be more precise. During that time, they had traveled to Frieza's base planet 35, Vegeta was put in isolation for three months, he spent a year in complete madness, and now, six months later, he was finally on the road to recovery. For the most part, he lived in reality thanks to the efforts of Nappa and Raditz, who were sure to keep their mental links with him open constantly. They guided him back to the physical world, assuring him that what was outside his mind was real and that he could trust them to stay with him and never let him know what it truly meant to be alone ever again. He was still unstable, but as long as he kept in close contact with his fellow saiyans, he could function almost normally. Normally enough, in Frieza's opinion, for him to be given a purge assignment on a medium-sized planet with a large population of weaklings. It was an easy mission, a good start for him after his mental breakdown.

To be honest, Raditz and Nappa were nervous about going on a purge mission with him. Would he slip back into insanity when he started killing? Would he kill them, himself, and blow up the entire planet, all to make sure it was real? It would do no good if they were all dead. Still, they had to trust their prince. He could usually carry on coherent, logical conversations with them without using their mental connections, and he no longer confined himself to their quarters. He would leave to train, though he still much preferred training with at least one of them, and he would journey to the mess hall for his meals, sometimes unaccompanied. He was showing great improvement. In small steps, he was almost back to what he was before experiencing isolation, at least on the outside.

There was one reason that Raditz and Nappa were both partially grateful for Vegeta's most severe, traumatizing punishment. For the past few years, he had been growing so distant they were never sure he wouldn't kill them when they inadvertently made him angry. He treated them like dirt along with the rest of Frieza's soldiers. He never allowed them to open their mental links with him, he shoved them away, refused their help, insulted them, degraded them, and adopted some of Frieza's sadism that he used against them as well as his enemies. Most of that was reversed. In some small way, he depended on them, even if he never said so. They were his grounding in an uncertain environment full of hostility and deception. They made themselves open to him, and in turn he accepted their companionship on a deeper level than he ever had before. It was almost as if they had become, after all these years, friends. Of course that was a taboo word for any saiyan to use, but that didn't mean they didn't think it.

They arrived on planet 2351XR two absmonths after leaving Frieza's base planet 98. They had been stationed there for four weeks while Frieza tended to some business in that quadrant of the galaxy. It was during that time that Frieza learned of a profitable planet for the PTO and he sent the saiyan squadron there to purge it, making it ready for sale. Before they left, he pulled Nappa aside and warned him that if the purge failed, he would not hesitate to kill Vegeta. He would not tolerate a useless soldier, no matter how highly he favored him. His warning only served to make Nappa's anxiety grow. When their pods landed on the planet, he was the first to step out and reconnoiter the surroundings for any signs of sapient life. He was followed by Raditz, and then Vegeta.

"Looks like we got 16 billion people on this planet. Might take a while to exterminate 'em all, but it won't be much of a challenge. Their power levels are low. Only a handful over 500." Nappa turned in a circle while numbers continued scrolling across the display on his scouter. "Lots o' big cities with high populations. Quite a few scattered across the country. We'll have to be careful to make sure we get 'em all."

Raditz nodded, then glanced over at Vegeta. He stood tall, but his arms were hanging at his sides, not even clenched into fists. His face was the same stoic mask he always wore, but it was his eyes that were different. They once burned with a fire of hatred, anger, pride, and power, but now they were dull, lifeless. Raditz sighed. At least they weren't frightened anymore. Would Vegeta know what to do? Had he forgotten? Would he be willing to do it?

"Frieza said we have a month to clear the planet. Not sure we'll need that long, but we shouldn't have any trouble meeting his deadline," Nappa continued. "That's good, considering." His eyes shifted over to Vegeta, who still looked almost relaxed. Not at all eager to kill, anyway. "Haven't gotten any information about weapons to look out for. So, we ought to get started."

The two large saiyans looked at Vegeta expectantly, awaiting his orders, though they weren't sure he was capable of issuing any commands quite yet. He looked back at them blankly, as if asking silently what they expected of him. The tip of his tail twitched, but he did not speak. Other than that small twitch, almost imperceptible, he did not move. Nappa frowned and drew his hand across his face. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Getting Vegeta back into the killing mode was going to take some time, maybe some guidance, and lots of encouragement. Neither he nor Raditz could spare the time it would take to retrain their prince in the art of genocide.

"Sure would be nice if we had another person in our squadron," he muttered, rubbing his bald head.

Raditz grunted. "Yeah, but only another saiyan."

"Too bad there aren't any."

Nappa shook his head. "No. We're down to…" he stopped, as if considering how to phrase the rest of his thoughts. He continued in a whisper, so low he wasn't sure if the others could hear him. He wasn't sure he wanted them to. "Two and a half."

The third-class saiyan shifted his eyes over to Vegeta to see if there was any sort of reaction to Nappa's words. There wasn't. That cut him deeper than any physical attack could have. Vegeta didn't even care that he was being considered half a saiyan. It made his stomach twist knowing for sure that what Nappa said was true. More true than either of them wanted to admit the whole time they were preparing for their current mission. Their words of reassurance had been empty. Vegeta was still broken inside. He needed more time before he was ready for this sort of work.

"He'll get better, Nappa," he murmured. He wasn't sure if he believed himself anymore.

"He will." Nappa sounded more confident than his lower class comrade. "But he hasn't yet and we can't let Frieza know he hasn't. He'll kill him."

It didn't come as a surprise to Raditz to hear that Frieza would kill the Prince of all Saiyans if he failed this one purge mission. He was no doubt tired of waiting for Vegeta to regain his sanity. A year and a half. It was too long. If Vegeta didn't prove himself to be a worthwhile asset to Frieza's army, he would be sent to the next dimension. It was that simple. Raditz still didn't want to believe it. He knew Frieza was powerful enough to kill Vegeta. Especially when Vegeta was so helpless. He was as strong as ever, maybe stronger than ever before, even, but if he wouldn't so much as defend himself against attack, he had no hope of surviving. Not when Frieza chose to get serious.

"Stop wasting time. Go west. Destroy everything, kill everyone. You know the routine."

Raditz was grateful for a change that Nappa had been the general of the saiyan army before they were destroyed. When Prince Vegeta was unfit to serve as their leader, Nappa had the authority and experience to step in and take his place until further notice. He wasn't the smartest saiyan, but he had a head for battle that Raditz could respect. He nodded and levitated off the ground. He used his scouter to survey the territory to the west and bolted into the sky to begin his purging, leaving Nappa and Vegeta behind.

When Raditz was gone, Nappa turned his full attention to Vegeta. He frowned. "Vegeta, are you going to help purge or you just going to stand there all day? We got work to do."

Vegeta raised his chin to meet Nappa's gaze. His brows furrowed. "What work?"

Now was not the best time to explain to Vegeta what he meant by purge. Nappa couldn't figure out what was going on in Vegeta's mind. Surely he remembered what it meant to purge? His memory was intact, he'd seen pieces of it when they were communicating telepathically. It seemed Vegeta's forgetfulness was more voluntary than anything. Frustrated, Nappa chose to use their mental link to help Vegeta remember. He showed Vegeta killing, death, destruction, and gave him the feeling of bloodlust, power, the thrill of the hunt, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the satisfaction of victory, all that went with purging. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile on Vegeta's lips and a small predatory flicker in his onyx eyes.

"So killing, it's what we do?"

Nappa smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yep, and we're damn good at it. You ready to get started?"

"I think so." Vegeta looked uncertain as he slowly hovered off the ground.

"You can do it, Vegeta. Kill every miserable life on this pathetic planet. You're the Prince of all Saiyans! They should feel honored to be killed by you!"

The corner of Vegeta's lips turned up in a small smirk. Yes, he was the saiyan prince, wasn't he? Of course he was! And he was going to show the peons of the planet who he was and what he was capable of! Damnit, no one would ever question who he was again, no one would ever make him question who and what he was. The fucking Prince of all the damn Saiyans! His smirk grew until his lip curled over the tip of his canine.

"I'll kill them all myself, Nappa." He started chuckling, a low sound that was almost a growl. He didn't wait for a reply before he headed north to begin slaughtering billions of innocents.

…

It was only seven more months until October. Bulma spent more time planning her wedding than working on inventions or attending board meetings at headquarters. It was on the forefront of her mind and she didn't think anything took higher priority in her life. She already had the honeymoon booked. She was going on a month-long cruise in the Bahamas with Yamcha. She had the best fashion designers in the world working on her dress, her bridesmaids' dresses, and all the tuxedos for the groomsmen and Yamcha. Money was not an issue for her. She was going to have the most extravagant wedding the world had ever seen. It would mark the beginning of a perfect marriage. Everything would be as she always dreamed it would be. All her friends and family would attend, she would have a beautiful dress and bouquet, and her reception would be the biggest party on the planet. Her wedding would be in all over in the media, showcasing her special day. She couldn't wait.

Bulma shed her clothes and stepped into the hot bath, practically brimming over with strawberry-scented bubbles. It was exactly what she needed after another long day of phone calls, errand running, and shopping. Not that she minded the stress. It was all for a good cause. But that didn't mean it didn't leave her feeling sore, tired, and moody. Taking a relaxing bath always helped her nerves. She lowered herself into the soothing water and crossed her legs. It felt wonderful to have a minute to herself. No more running around West City trying to find the best cake baker, ribbons, and flowers. She moaned as the tension in her body eased.

'If I weren't having so much fun planning this I would almost want it to be over and done with.' She smiled and squeezed a glob of shampoo into her hands and massaged it into her scalp and through her long, aqua tresses. 'It's hard to believe I'm spending a year preparing for a half hour ceremony and a two hour party afterward.'

She wished Yamcha could be with her for most of the planning. She wanted his input on the decorations, colors, food, and dance music, but he was gone more often than not with the Taitans. She couldn't be mad at him for that. His career wasn't what she ever imagined her husband having when she was younger; it was unorthodox, brainless, and childish in her opinion. He didn't even really like baseball that much even though he was the most wanted, highest paid player in the league. Sure he was good at it. He hit a home run every time he stepped up to the plate and he never committed any errors and always caught the ball when he was in the field. He was a star athlete. At least he was doing something to earn an income. Sure, she could support a family on her salary alone, but she didn't want to be the breadwinner. She was traditional in that sense. Yes, she would continue earning millions, but she wanted her husband to contribute as well. Since Yamcha had no education higher than his GED and no work experience aside from his life as a bandit, he had no hope of ever getting a 'real' job. So baseball it was. And he excelled at it, though he would have rather been fighting.

'It's ok,' she reminded herself. 'At least he's not another boring businessman or lawyer. I don't have to worry about him letting himself go even if he's not fighting anymore. He'll keep training so he'll be a stud at least until he's 50. That's a plus.' Bulma rinsed her hair and started washing her body. 'Ugh, and speaking of training, I really should do more of that myself. I've gained a few pounds. Can't let that happen, especially not before the wedding.'

Bulma reclined in the bath until her hands resembled prunes, then got out and toweled herself off. She pulled on a silk robe and went into her bedroom and sat at her vanity. She leaned forward and inspected her face, making sure her appearance was flawless as ever. No wrinkles, no blemishes, nothing. Just perfectly smooth, ivory skin, a complexion many women would kill for. And it was all natural. She gave her reflection a dazzling smile and admired her pearly whites. Everything about her was beautiful. It wasn't conceited to think so, was it? After all, she was beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous, actually.

She stood up and appraised herself in the mirror. She would have to be careful not to exercise so much she lost her luscious curves. She ran her hands over her butt, hips, and breasts. There was definitely some fat worth keeping. She loved her hourglass figure and hated that she had to cover it so often with a lab coat. "You still got it, babe," she told herself. She giggled and twirled around once. "I'm going to be the most beautiful bride in all the world."

So she never got her prince. But she did get the sweetest, most considerate guy imaginable. Yamcha was still bashful and adorable in a boyish kind of way. It was endearing. He gave her gifts just because and always put her needs before his own. Some people would say he was whipped. Bulma didn't think so. He was just treating her like he should, like a princess. She was his treasure. She frowned slightly. Was she just a trophy wife? The best of the best, soon-to-be wife of an athletic celebrity? She shook that thought from her head. It was stupid. Yamcha wanted to marry her because he loved her. He knew her before he ever became famous. He was attracted to her before he ever knew who she really was. Their love was real. It would last a lifetime.

At least, she hoped it would. Sometimes, though she tried to deny it and would never confess it to anyone, sometimes she doubted her love for Yamcha. It seemed so shallow. As if deep down, she knew she had so much more love to give, love that she didn't think Yamcha earned.

But that was crazy talk. Yamcha was the love of her life. He was the best Earth had to offer. And she would take nothing less than the best. After all, the best was what she deserved.

…

Three weeks had passed, and they were almost done with their mission. They had time to spare, though they didn't feel inclined to slow their pace. The sooner they finished, the better. No sense in pushing it close to the deadline when their lives were on the line. If this mission failed, they would pay for it in blood. They weren't willing to risk it. And so they kept working at their grueling pace, wiping out the indigenous civilization from the face of the planet. Vegeta started fast, taking out entire cities with one explosive blast of ki, but as the days progressed he slowed down as he lost interest. He started to retreat within himself again since he didn't have Raditz or Nappa at his side to see to it that he remained in the real world. Killing did give him a rush of adrenaline, a feeling of power, but he was still uncertain about good feelings. He trusted the sense of touch above all else; he knew he was real, as were his thoughts and emotions, but that didn't mean they couldn't be influenced by lies, deception, facades. In fact, he associated good feelings with a lack of reality because it was only pain that he could be sure of when the rest of the universe faded around him. Only bad feelings were absolute, unquestionable.

At first Nappa and Raditz did not notice Vegeta's decline in killing. They were too absorbed in their own massacres to take note of his inactivity. But when the number of inhabitants of the planet stopped dropping dramatically from day to day, they began to suspect it was their prince who was slacking in his job.

Nappa growled with frustration when he realized what was happening – or not happening. If he had hair he would have been ripping it out. All he could do was scratch his scalp. He opened his mental link with Vegeta. "Prince Vegeta, what are you doing? Where are you?"

A minute passed before he received a response. That wasn't a good sign. Usually Vegeta only hesitated when he wasn't sure about answering, when he was doubting whether or not the voice in his head was real. But after the minute passed, Nappa received a mental image of a rocky landscape with sparse vegetation, roaming herds of strange animals, and a village burning in the distance. He was seeing the world through Vegeta's eyes, always a little disorienting. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing two places at once.

"Vegeta, how many have you killed today?"

"One village. I'm not sure how many people lived there." Nappa felt a wave of guilt and self-doubt pass through the link. He groaned and sank to the ground and beat the dirt with the palms of his hands. Why was Vegeta doubting himself?

"Keep killing, Vegeta. You have to keep killing them. Assert yourself as the saiyan prince! It will make you powerful. Power is real, Vegeta. It is the most real thing in the universe. Don't doubt yourself. And don't you dare feel guilty for taking the lives of these fools. They don't deserve to live."

The uncertainty did not diminish with his pep talk. Nappa couldn't be sure Vegeta was going to continue killing the planet's inhabitants. That meant he and Raditz were going to have to work even faster to make sure they met the deadline. Deadline. What a poor word choice. Nappa blasted another farmhouse to the next dimension as he flew east to the next cluster of towns his scouter had picked up. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't count on Vegeta to keep purging. He couldn't count on Raditz to make up for what Vegeta wasn't doing. He simply wasn't strong and fast enough. He was a third-class warrior, though he was strong, considering.

Nappa closed the link between himself and Vegeta and opened the link he shared with Raditz. "Vegeta's not killing many. He's likely to kill even less. He's losing his grip. We're going to have to work faster. We really could use another member in our squadron if this continues."

"There's no one else to add to our squadron. You know that."

"If only there were one other saiyan in the universe!"

Raditz and Nappa continued purging their respective territories while Vegeta remained in one location. He was trying his hardest to remain in the physical world, but it was becoming difficult. He felt so distant from the other saiyans, maybe they weren't real. He hadn't seen either of them in quite a while. Maybe his memory, imagination, whatever, was playing tricks on him. Maybe the voices in his head were his own creation, and the images running through his mind were created to make the voices seem more real. This killing business, what was the point? Why was he doing it? Was he even doing it? Were the people real, or was he wasting his precious energy on a nonexistent endeavor? He couldn't be sure. It felt good to kill, but so what? It felt good to believe he was free, too, and that wasn't real.

They had one more week to finish the purge, one more week and seven billion more natives to kill. There were too many of them. They were practically covering the surface of the planet, teeming like insects, filling the cities and scattered across the countryside, in the mountains, on islands, some even underground. They were everywhere. It was slow going killing that many even though they were pathetically weak. It was meticulous work making sure every last individual was killed with each blast, making sure none were well hidden in the rubble or in the forests or mountains. People could take cover anywhere. The scouters could detect the life force of an infant with virtually no power, but it took time finding the weaker ones, and severely injured people were extremely weak. It was impossible to be too careful. The saiyans could not afford to let one native survive. That would mean they failed their mission and they would be executed for their failure.

Raditz came across another small city and started blasting it with a continuous barrage of ki beams. He didn't stop until the last building crashed to the ground, presumably marking the death of the city's entire populace. He checked his scouter to be sure. After a few minutes it hadn't found any energy signal. He would have to trust it. No one was alive there. It was time to move on.

He was beginning to think Frieza wanted them to fail. He would finally have his excuse to kill the saiyans off once and for all. The saiyans, the proudest warrior race ever to roam the universe, would finally be eradicated by one sadistic, paranoid lizard. He shuddered thinking about the demise of his people at the hands of his master. He hated him. He hated that he had the power to destroy even someone as strong as Vegeta. He hated that they were defenseless against him. And he hated that he was so eager to kill them after all they had done to serve him. They completed more purge missions than any other squadron in the tyrant's army, yet he still wanted them dead because of their race. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

'Well fuck him. We're not going to fail. We're going to finish this purge before the deadline.' Raditz blew up another village and surrounding farms. His power surged with his anger. He hated what Frieza did to Vegeta. He hated that Frieza would kill him because of what happened to his psyche. It was his own damn fault for leaving Vegeta in isolation so long. Why punish Vegeta for suffering from his punishment? It made no sense. 'I doubt any of us will ever be powerful enough to kill that bastard, but we're not going to die by his hands. We can at least give that much to our people. We'll die honorably, in battle someday. We just have to get this purge done on time. Come on, Vegeta, don't give up now. Keep killing. You have to keep killing. It's the only way to survive.'

How could he get Vegeta to kill faster? How could he motivate him? He was probably having one of his existential crises. Raditz shook his head as he landed in the middle of a small village and started firing ki balls at all the buildings until they were all leveled and the scouter showed no more life existed in the area. It was hard to think when he was feeding off the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It only made him thirst for more blood, dulling his rationality until he was bordering on acting on primal instinct.

'What will bring him back to reality? There has to be something we can do.' Raditz flew faster until his long hair whipped around in the wind. 'He loses grip on reality when he can't feel, but he has to be feeling pretty damn good with all the kills. What's wrong then?' There was really only one way to find out. He needed to talk to Vegeta and find out from the man himself.

"Vegeta? What's going on?"

"Raditz?"

"Yes, it's me. What are you doing?"

A pause. Hesitation, uncertainty, suspicion. "Nothing."

That was what Raditz was afraid of. He didn't want Vegeta to be doing nothing, he wanted him to be killing people. Apparently Vegeta's instability had come in to play again and he was too busy trying to reassure himself that the world was real to bother taking a role in it. He was a bystander, wondering what was real and what was illusion.

"Why aren't you doing anything, Vegeta? Don't tell me you don't feel it."

"Feel what? Feel good?" His voice was accompanied with distrust and anxiety. He didn't like what he was feeling. Something about it was off.

So that was the problem. Vegeta did feel, but what he was feeling was too good. In his mind, there really was such a thing as too good to be true. He was doubting it. Well, Raditz could use that to his advantage. He didn't like doing it, but it was better than letting Vegeta be killed by the lizard for an incomplete mission. "It shouldn't all feel good. Don't you feel the shame and the humiliation? You're killing weaklings with no defense. You, the Prince of all Saiyans! There's no honor in it, but you have to do it because Frieza ordered you to. Every death is another sign of your submission to the lizard. You hate him, don't you? You hate serving him. So you should be ashamed that you're obeying him."

He did not receive a reply from Vegeta, though the prince did not close the mental link he had opened. Through it he could still feel his misgivings. He wasn't entirely convinced, but at least he was considering what Raditz told him. Minutes passed without another word between them. The long-haired saiyan nearly forgot his conversation with Vegeta when he felt an overwhelming sense of shame and anger flood into his mind from their link. Was that what he thought it was? Not a second later his scouter picked up a power reading of 13,000 far north of his location. Vegeta was back at work. He almost smiled, but he honestly felt guilty for having to manipulate his prince's emotions like he did.

"You were right. I feel it."

Raditz sighed and nodded as he destroyed two close villages, one blast from each hand. "You see? Good doesn't mean not real. It's bittersweet, I guess. Bad is just the flip side of good. You can feel either in any case. It depends on what you want to feel."

"Good is real."

"Yes."

"I'm not sure…"

"You'll figure out what I mean. For now, keep killing these pathetic people."

He didn't feel entirely sure that Vegeta would keep up the work without him essentially holding his hand, but Raditz closed their mental link anyway. Whatever he told him would at least get him to kill for a while. Then, if he started slipping again, he or Nappa would have to convince him again that he needed to kill more. They would do whatever it took to keep him going so they would have the planet cleared on time. If it meant manipulating Vegeta, then so be it. At least he would live.

…

He watched her putting on her dress. It was simple, but elegant, wisteria satin overlaid with plum chiffon. She hadn't wanted a strapless dress, so she was given a dress with cap sleeves encrusted with shimmering jewels. He thought it looked good on her, but she wasn't as satisfied. She frowned at herself in the mirror and spun around. Did it have to be so low, both in the back and front? What sort of bra was she supposed to wear with it? This wouldn't do, not at all.

"I can't wear this, Goku."

Goku, who was sitting backwards at the desk, rested his chin on the back of the chair. He was bored. His chin kept slipping across the finished wood until finally he gave up and held his chin in his hand with his elbow on his knee. She had been scrutinizing her appearance for the past half hour and demanded he stay there to give his opinion even though he told her at the outset that she looked good. "Why not?"

She slapped her arms against her sides. "I just feel so… so exposed."

Her husband shrugged. "So have them fix it. There's still plenty of time. It's only April. You have until October to get it right."

"I know." She smoothed the fabric over her hips and turned to the right, then the left. "Am I getting fat?"

"No, of course not, honey."

"I did have a baby. Maybe I should start working out more. I trained a lot when I was younger. I was pretty good at martial arts, you know. Of course you know, you fought me." She started mumbling to herself so Goku couldn't understand her anymore. She was always losing him when she started talking about exercise and diets and such things. It wasn't a topic that came up often, but when it did he was left in the dust.

Goku rubbed his forehead. "Do you think this is a good idea, Chi?"

"Is what a good idea?"

He shrugged and looked out the window. It was a dreary, rainy day. Typical April. The raindrops pattered against the glass window and a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. "I don't know. Bulma and Yamcha marrying."

Chi-Chi glanced over at her husband. He had a rare crease of worry between his brows. She sighed. "I know what you mean, Goku, but they're adults and they can make their own decisions. Maybe things will change when they're married."

"I don't want to see either of them get hurt." He looked down at the plain floorboards and exhaled slowly. "And something doesn't seem right about it. I can't explain it."

"You mean like how they don't seem to really love each other, but they're both convinced that they do?" She tied her hair up in a bun and started her scrutiny over again in the mirror.

"Is that what it is?" Goku didn't always understand emotions and relationships very well. He married Chi-Chi because it felt like the right thing to do. He did love her, and the love he had for her had grown over their years together. But he still didn't understand the love between other people. All he knew was that Yamcha and Bulma had always been in an unstable relationship and more often than not they seemed to be unhappy with each other because of some little argument. That didn't scream happily ever after to him.

Chi-Chi let her hair down and walked over to sit on the side of their bed. "I might be wrong. If you want my honest opinion, I think both of them are too selfish to get married."

Goku laughed a little and rubbed the back of his head. "That's for sure."

She smiled and stood up. "Can you unzip my dress?" She turned around and Goku got up and unzipped the back of her dress for her. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Goku. Either we're wrong or they're wrong. Hopefully they'll realize if it's a mistake before they take their vows, but we'll have to wait and see what happens." She stepped out of her dress and put it on its hanger. "Could you go check up on Gohan?"

"Sure, Chi." Goku kissed her cheek on his way out of their bedroom. She was right, as usual. It wasn't his place to question Bulma and Yamcha's decision. They would do what was right. He had to trust them.

…

The purge was finally completed with a day to spare. The three saiyans met back at their space pods and were preparing to return to Frieza's base when they received a transmission on their scouters. Instead of going to base, they were to travel to another planet in the same galaxy and purge it. They were then to wait to receive further orders. Neither Nappa nor Raditz was happy with their instructions. Were they going to have back to back missions until they failed? They were tired and hungry. There hadn't been time to stop for food or sleep for the whole month. There were simply too many civilians to kill.

"He's going to keep us going until we can't go any longer," Raditz grumbled.

"I know." Nappa leaned against his space pod and stroked his mustache with his thumb. "We need help. At least until the prince is better." He cast a glance over at Vegeta, who was again standing with arms at his sides and a blank expression on his face.

Raditz kicked the dirt and crossed his arms over his chest. "What if we had another third-class?"

Nappa looked up at his comrade. "What did you say?"

Raditz shrugged and dug his toe into the soft ground. "What if we had a third-class saiyan join our squadron? I'm not sure we would be able to find one, but I did hear that I had a brother. He was sent away from the planet before Frieza blew it up. Maybe he survived."

"How would we find him? He could have been sent anywhere." Nappa scoffed and shook his head. There was no way to find one person in the whole universe. He could be anywhere. He could be dead.

"I looked in the saiyan records once, just to see if I could find him. His name was Kakarrot. He was sent to some puny planet called E-arth."

"E-arth? That's a stupid name." Nappa scratched his head. "Do you know where it is?"

A sly smirk curled Raditz's lips. "It's in this galaxy."

"What? This galaxy! Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Look, I don't even know if he's alive, alright? I didn't want to mention him because I thought it might be a wild goose chase trying to find him. It doesn't matter if I know what planet he was sent to if he's not there anymore. Either moved on somewhere else or dead."

"It would be worth finding out. We need another saiyan if we're going to complete these purges." Nappa pushed away from his pod and started pacing. "The next planet is going to be easy. The population is low, the planet is small, they don't have advanced weaponry, and they aren't very strong. Me and Vegeta can handle it. You go to E-arth, wherever the hell that is, and see if Kakarrot's still alive. If he is, bring him back with you. We're not going to tell Frieza about this. If we're lucky, no one will notice you're not with us. Go now."

"Right." Raditz opened the hatch of his space pod and stepped in. He poked his head out and shifted his gaze from Nappa to Vegeta. "Keep working with him, Nappa. He has to get better."

"I know. Hurry up, get out of here."

Raditz nodded and sat back in his space pod. He entered the coordinates he remembered from the files on his brother's mission and hit the command to launch. Within minutes he was flying through deep space on his way toward E-arth, and hopefully, his brother. They were taking a huge risk having him going to a planet not on the purge list, but if they could get help it would be worth it. Maybe they could lie to Frieza about where Kakarrot came from. Maybe he would spare them if they still managed to get all their purges done. Either way it was a gamble. But with Vegeta in his current state, who knew if they could count on his help?

A/N: And so it begins...I feel like Nappa and Raditz are Vegeta's thanes (For more information on thanes and their relationship to their leader, read Beowulf). We're so close to Vegeta and Bulma meeting again! Bear with me, readers. I know you're anxious to get to it. As for Yamcha and Bulma's engagement, what's wrong with it? You all want this to be a B/V fic? It's not in the romance genre. But, you never know what might happen. I don't know if Bulma was that excited about marrying in canon or not. I thought she was more ambivalent than anything. I just made her more interested in marriage because it suits my AU purposes. ;) Many of you have noticed that the saiyans' power levels are all much higher than in CU. I'll just tell you this: It's important in the near future. More twists and turns coming up!

Thank you kindly for all the reviews. Keep 'em coming. I love your thoughts on my story!

Beta'd by lilpumpkingirl. Thanks!

Vegeta: 27
Bulma: 25