WARNING: This chapter contains content that may be disturbing to some readers. Discretion is advised. The chapters following this one will make sense without its added context. All a reader needs to know is that Vegeta suffers an anxiety attack and relives a past experience.
Intense pressure flattened Vegeta to the floor. He had begun a simulation set at four hundred times Earth's gravity, and although he had experienced such force before, he couldn't catch his breath for some unknown reason. His heart pounded against his ribs, beating so rapidly and erratically that he couldn't focus on any one thought or action for more than a few seconds. He didn't know why, but he was in terror. Everything surrounding him seemed unreal, as if each visible object stood as an imposter of the real one it concealed. When Vegeta looked at his hands, they did not seem to belong to him, and he felt strangely disembodied, divorced from himself. Despite watching his fingers tremble right before his eyes, he somehow floated above himself, looking down at his crushed body from the outside.
Surely, he had finally lost his sanity. He could not move, and sobs suffocated him. Perhaps he would die. That thought did not aid in slowing his thundering heart. Resigned to whatever Fate might bring, Vegeta ceased struggling, shut his eyes, and waited to lose consciousness. He would prefer anything over this waking nightmare.
When he opened his eyes, he found a frigid, purple sky flying overhead. He had just stepped out of a Saiyan space pod, and he stood on the landing platform at the foot of Frieza's palace. White towers pierced the wispy, crystalline clouds like icicles growing straight up from the bedrock. Vegeta knew this place well. He had just returned from a planet purge, and he intended to report to Frieza and receive his next assignment. This was no dream, for when he saw his young face faintly reflected in the gleaming marble floor, he realized that time had turned back, and he now relived a moment from his memory. What had transported him there he did not know.
Zarbon met him at the palace gate to escort him to Frieza. "Welcome back, Prince Vegeta," he said, nodding his head.
"Do not barrage me with pleasantries. Take me to Lord Frieza at once."
"I see your manners have not improved with the years, young prince." Zarbon gave Vegeta time to respond, but the young Saiyan did not. "But it's no concern of mine. Master Frieza will one day tire of you."
Vegeta scowled in silence, staring straight ahead as he followed the twisted corridor to Frieza's private chambers. Along the walls, Frieza had hung all manner of paintings, sculptures, trappings, and trophies. Vegeta detested every single one of them, for he knew that each artifact belonged to a planet the tyrant had destroyed. Preserved in a luminescent blue liquid, a Saiyan's tail lay on display inside a glass reliquary. Leftover blood discolored and darkened the fluid that surrounded the tail's base.
Zarbon stopped at the doorway. "You may proceed. Lord Frieza has requested a private audience with you. I will await you here." His eyes beamed with a wicked brilliance.
Vegeta entered, and the door slid shut behind him. Frieza stood before the wide window that overlooked the palace grounds. He peered over his shoulder, and addressed the young Saiyan cordially. "Prince Vegeta, my child, you have grown up! Remind me—how long have you been away? Come here." He extended an arm.
Vegeta strode forward, then knelt. "The planet is yours, Lord Frieza. I cleared it in thirty-six hours. The return journey took longer than expected. The wormhole bridge had closed during my time aground due to a supernova. By your counting, I have been absent five years."
"That long? Stand up. I have missed you." Frieza embraced the young man tenderly. "You have done well." He brushed the claws of one hand ever so lightly across Vegeta's spine. The tyrant's skin was cold and smooth, glass-like with tiny scales.
"May I request a new assignment, my Lord?"
"You must wait. You have missed out on much while you have been gone. Take a seat over there, beside my chair. I will speak with you."
"Yes, Lord Frieza." The young prince sat down on the footstool set up for him.
After pouring himself a glass of wine, Frieza set himself beside Vegeta, resting one hand on the boy's shoulder and curling his long tail behind him. "Tell me, Vegeta—I'm curious—tell me what gives you meaning in this life of yours. Answer truthfully. You will... disappoint me otherwise."
"My people give me meaning. I live for their legacy."
"Your people are dead."
"I am my people. I live for myself."
"An illusion of grandeur. He thinks he's the whole universe. What a small universe his must be—small and petty. And he speaks so vaguely. How insipidly boring," Frieza sighed. "Do you miss your father, little prince?"
Vegeta's eyes twitched. "I do not."
"You lie, but it doesn't matter." Frieza waved his hand dismissively. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry, Vegeta. When was the last time you cried?"
"A Saiyan prince does not show weakness. He must be strong for his people."
"Right—that nonsense. You recite it flatly like a recording. I like that nonsense, though. Saiyan philosophy wasn't half bad. It's a shame they're all dead. What's the point of letting the universe affect you, after all? It's all meaningless, and anyone who believes differently is fooling himself. Do you agree, Vegeta?" Frieza bore into the Prince's eyes with his own.
"I do not know, Lord Frieza."
"Then let me convince you." Frieza sipped from his glass. "As I reckon it, I my life has lasted me these past 51,347 years. After my first ten thousand, I had seen every star in this galaxy. It all grew so dull. A sun explodes, a sun is born, a sun collapses in on itself and becomes a black hole. It's tiresome. It's been done before. I've seen nearly everything there is to see in this dimension, and the more I saw, the more I realized it was all the same—redundant. There is but one thing left to do in such a situation. Do you know what it is?"
"I do not, Lord Frieza."
"It is to destroy—to take all of those boring things in the universe and make them go away, and make them go away with beautiful style. To turn everything into the nothingness it really is; to twist it and see how it much it takes to break it. In the beginning, the universe was nothing, and to nothing it shall return. This is why it was wise of the Saiyans to harden their hearts—because a heart is nothing, and everything that hearts feel is nothing, and anything that affects hearts is also nothing. What are your people and their legends now, Vegeta? They are nothing, as they always have been. You are right not to mourn them. Delight in the truth." Frieza smiled and lifted his wine to his nose, inhaling its aroma.
Vegeta had listened stoically, knowing that he could do nothing. Whether he reacted emotionally or maintained his impassivity, Frieza would delight in it. Either way, Frieza would get what he desired—Vegeta's destruction. Should the boy lash out, Frieza would torture him, and should he further calcify his heart, Frieza would smile and know that he had successfully twisted the boy into the slave of destruction he so loved. Whether through torture or through silence, Vegeta would find his heart frozen. Frieza had calculated this, and Vegeta seethed with the realization.
"This is why I love you, Vegeta—you are so hard, so ruthless!" Frieza held Vegeta's jaw in his hand and stroked the Saiyan's cheek with his thumb.
The chill of Frieza's claw left a trail of numbness in its wake. "I am honored by your favor, Lord Frieza," the young man said.
"You didn't know it, but I monitored your purge those months ago. I saw something rather interesting through your scouter's eye. Do you know what I'm referring to?"
Vegeta's heart skipped a beat, but he showed no shock. "I completed the task set before me as you requested, my Lord, and I completed it in half the expected time."
"Yes, that was very nice of you, little prince, but I was referring to your encounter with a certain female creature on that planet. Do you remember her?"
"Yes." Vegeta swallowed, hoping to loosen his tightening throat. "I remember."
"Tell me what happened. I will know if you try to deceive me, for I saw everything. Spare me no detail. I want to know what was going through that monkey mind of yours." Frieza rested one elbow on the arm of his chair, then supported his head with one fist.
Vegeta's heart raced.
"Do not make me wait, Vegeta. I have a galaxy to command."
"I had just disposed of a larger-than-average civilization center. A female creature had—survived the blast. Nappa tried to hold me back. He said the killing had set off my nerves, and I needed to compose myself. You must have heard that."
"Yes, I did. Good—you seem to be leaving nothing out. Go on. Paint me pictures with your words. I want to hear poetry."
"I struck Nappa for opposing me, and I pursued the female. I caught her in my arms. The blast had vaporized everyone else instantaneously, and I wanted to see blood. I like to see blood. I don't know why. Sometimes I injure myself just to see the blood. I go numb, and I like it—"
"Oh! Fantastic, Vegeta! You're opening up, just as I wanted. Carry on."
Vegeta closed his eyes, pretending that none could hear him but himself. He could not avoid this. "The girl screamed. The blast had burned away her clothing. Burns were all over her naked body, and her skin glistened with blood and crystalline ash. I don't know where it came from, but I felt lust. I—I—I'd never felt like that before. It made me—crazy. She kept screaming—begging for mercy. She knew I was going to kill her. My head hurt. I told her to shut her mouth. She didn't; she knew I'd kill her anyway. So I broke her jaw. That shut her up except for some sobs. Then Nappa grabbed my tail, and he tried to pull me away. I blasted him. Raditz was laughing at my erection, so I—blasted him too. Then I—" Vegeta inhaled sharply, and his exhale brought with it a fit of weeping, his shoulders convulsing with the force of it.
"No, the Saiyan Prince is crying! Don't cry, Vegeta." Frieza hugged the trembling young man to his chest, and ran his fingers through the fluffy hair at the top of his neck. "You can tell Lord Frieza. It's all right." He struck his tail against the floor. "Finish it," he whispered harshly.
Vegeta felt the wetness of his tears pool up against Frieza's slick breastplate. Biting his lower lip, he mustered up the will to do as Frieza had demanded. "Then—I—her... She couldn't—close her mouth. I was out of control. Delirious. I picked her up by her neck"—he sobbed for a few seconds—"and I fucked her throat. I—I—was a—virgin, but I knew what to do. She got blood all over me—blood. Disgusting, so I... snapped her neck. But she wasn't dead. Nappa grabbed my waist and dragged me away. I was weakened. I was—in another dimension. He killed her, then he knocked me unconscious. I don't remember any more!" Vegeta pounded his fist on Frieza's chest. "I don't remember any more!"
Frieza shoved the young Saiyan away, and he fell from his footstool onto the ground. Helplessly, Vegeta lay there whimpering in a heap. Frieza stood up, then rolled Vegeta over onto his back with his foot. He looked down, and said, "While I admire the brutality of your actions, young man, you nevertheless lost control of yourself. You were in a rage, a passion. You must remain level-headed. Didn't your father teach you that, Saiyan? Maybe not. I saw him lose his composure on more than one occasion, the undisciplined fool. Well, then. If he didn't teach you, then learn it now. A warrior is detached—even from the rush of slaughter. You must always feel nothing, for that is all there is in this universe—nothingness." Frieza poured what little wine remained in his glass out onto Vegeta's forehead, right between the eyes. "Think about it, Vegeta. What is innocence anyway? It's the absence of action, a privation, a word we use to describe purity and nothingness. What you did to that innocent was precisely equivalent to doing nothing, because an innocent has nothing to distinguish her from the void of space. There is nothing to cry about, Vegeta. You should not have lost control. Do not do it again."
When Vegeta tried to open his eyes, the acidity of Frieza's wine stung them.
Frieza resumed his seat. "When you are done sniveling, you may go. Zarbon will escort you to your quarters."
Defiantly, the young Saiyan tried to suppress his tears as quickly as possible. He yearned for nothing more than to distance himself from Frieza as far as he could. He wiped his face clean with the sleeve of his battle suit, although he could still feel the stickiness of residual wine and salted tears on his skin. Like a wounded animal, Vegeta stalked away to the door. He shielded his face from Zarbon when he met him once again, and he made sure to walk behind him as they retraced their steps through the corridor. Luckily, Zarbon did not dare to say anything.
When Vegeta entered the room Frieza had designated to him, he hesitated. Laid out before him, he saw a feast, plentiful to the point of superfluity even by Saiyan estimation. Vegeta could do nothing but gawk at it all for a moment. A beep from his scouter interrupted his survey, however.
Frieza's voice followed the tone. "You have found your quarters by now, Vegeta. What you see is a reward for a job well done. You will also find one million credits deposited into your account for you to deal out as you see fit. Once this transmission has ended, your scouter will display and record the coordinates for your next assignment. I chose it especially for you, Vegeta." A second beep ended the transmission.
Raditz appeared from an adjacent room. "How the fuck did you pull this one, Prince? What did you do?"
"Silence, Raditz. I'm going to bed. You will die should you disturb me." And go to bed he did, not bothering to touch the food before he went. He fell asleep almost immediately.
When he opened his eyes, Vegeta found himself on the floor of the capsule ship's gravity chamber. He could not estimate how long he had lain there, but he saw that he had not moved from where he last remembered lying. Surprised by the ease with which he got up, he realized that someone had shut off the gravity simulation. When he looked out the window, he surveyed the lawn of Capsule Corp. It looked to be about noon with the way the sun shone overhead. He remembered leaving Lake Turkana in the evening; if the sun had not risen more than once, approximately twelve hours had passed.
Vegeta paced. Whatever fever had come over him had subsided. He was himself again. The equation of his identity had balanced out and reached equilibrium, and again he became tautological. Nothing remained for him to do but forget the whole ordeal and resume his established routine.
He approached the console of the gravity simulator. He found a piece of paper taped over the command screen.