Rescue
Vegeta's eyes fluttered open, his mind groggy but racing. 'Where am I?' Panic flickered through him for an instant. The atmosphere around him was unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed him. 'Heaven?' He scoffed at the thought. No, it couldn't be. He had spilled too much blood, caused too much destruction. Heaven wasn't for people like him.
He tried to move, to shout, but his body betrayed him, paralyzed—trapped in his own skin. 'I'm a Saiyan prince,' he thought bitterly, 'feared across galaxies, and yet...' Rage flared in his chest, but even that fire felt distant, dulled by whatever had happened to him. His mind clawed for control, for answers—anything to stave off the creeping vulnerability gnawing at him.
With a painful effort, Vegeta summoned his ki. His muscles, weak and unresponsive, fought against him. Slowly, humiliatingly, he managed to turn his head.
He blinked. Two Namekian children stood just outside the door, stirring something in a pot over a small stove. The mundane sight stoked a new kind of fury in Vegeta. 'How can they go on with such trivialities while I, the prince of all Saiyans, lie here defeated?'
The pungent smell hit him then, and his stomach churned. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'What kind of madness is this?' He thought, his disdain intensifying. 'Are they actually cooking that filth to eat?'
Oblivious to Vegeta's inner storm, the children sat patiently by the pot. Paindu stirred the contents, muttering, "It's almost ready."
Vegeta clenched his jaw. 'Fish?' The idea of eating something so... pathetic made his stomach lurch. 'Raditz. That fool might eat this garbage, but not me.'
Lindu turned toward the house and noticed Vegeta's eyes open. "Paindu! Look!" he gasped.
Paindu froze, his spoon slipping from his hand and splashing into the pot. He stared at Vegeta with wide eyes. "He looks terrifying when he's awake," he whispered, barely breathing.
Lindu, excited, scrambled to his feet. "I have to tell the others!"
Paindu grabbed his arm. "Not yet. Help me with the curry first. We need green chilies." He dipped his finger into the pot and tasted it, frowning. "It's not spicy enough."
Lindu recoiled. "You'll burn everyone alive with that! Add it to your own plate, but I'm not dying because of your cooking."
Vegeta turned his head away, gritting his teeth as their childish conversation grated against his senses. 'A Saiyan prince,' he thought darkly, 'reduced to this. Helpless. Watching children cook fish curry.'
The feeling of helplessness tightened around him again, suffocating his pride. How had it come to this? A warrior prince, unable to move, forced to endure this indignity. His fists trembled weakly at his sides. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the shame and fear that gnawed at him.
'Zarbon.' His heart raced as the memory surged back. That smug fool had crushed him. Again. The image of Zarbon slamming him into the dirt replayed in his mind. Vegeta had fought, clawed his way to power, and yet... he had blacked out. He had lost.
But he refused to accept it. 'I will not be defeated. Not like this... not ever.'
Gohan, Yamcha, and Krillin sat huddled inside their makeshift shelter. In the corner, Dende lay on a bed they had crafted for him. Gohan knelt beside him, his hand resting gently on Dende's forehead. *Thank God,* he thought, relieved. *His fever's gone down.*
Krillin quietly recited scripture in the far corner, while Yamcha lay sprawled on the floor, fast asleep, a book covering his face. The title—*Money-makers' Microhabits: The Importance of Discipline*—was painfully ironic given Yamcha's chaotic life.
Suddenly, Gohan's heart skipped a beat. Dende was growing cold. His eyes widened as he checked for a pulse. Nothing.
"KRILLIN! YAMCHA! GET OVER HERE!" Gohan's voice cracked with panic.
Krillin snapped to attention, placing the scripture on a shelf before rushing over. "What's going on, Gohan?"
"I can't feel his pulse!" Gohan cried, his hands trembling.
Krillin pushed Gohan aside and grabbed Dende's wrist. His face paled. "Oh no…"
Without wasting time, Krillin placed both hands on Dende's chest and began administering compressions. "Gohan, check his pulse again!"
Gohan did as he was told, gripping Dende's wrist, desperately hoping for a sign.
"When I count to three, give him breaths. Ready?" Krillin's voice was urgent but steady.
Gohan nodded. "Got it."
"One... two... three—now!"
Gohan leaned in, breathing life into Dende's mouth, his hands trembling with fear.
Yamcha, now awake, rushed over, eyes wide with shock. "What happened? If either of you needs a break, let me know. I'll take over!"
Krillin, beads of sweat rolling down his face, nodded as he continued the chest compressions. "We'll manage. Just be ready."
Minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of Krillin's hands pressing on Dende's chest and Gohan's controlled breaths.
Suddenly, Gohan's face lit up. "Krillin! I think I feel something!"
Krillin immediately stopped and checked Dende's wrist. His breath caught. "You're right. His pulse is back."
Gohan let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank God."
Yamcha's tense features softened, but the worry in his eyes remained. Sweat glistened on his brow. "Dende made it this time," he muttered, "but we need to think about our next move... in case he doesn't."
Krillin glanced at him, a grim expression on his face. "What can we do, Yamcha? We're out of options. We just have to wait for Goku. Mr. Popo said he'd be back in six days. That was three days ago."
Yamcha stared at the floor, frustration written all over his face. "I never thought it would get this bad, Krillin."
Krillin nodded, his voice low. "Yeah. But at least we're still alive. I hope Yajirobe is too."
Yamcha's hands clenched into fists as he trembled with guilt and anger. "I feel so powerless. Yajirobe... We are so sorry..."
Yajirobe sat slumped in a chair, ropes cutting into his wrists, the dim light casting harsh shadows across his gaunt face. He looked thinner now, worn down by days of torment since Vegeta had taken him captive. The door creaked open, and Dodoria entered, his hulking form blocking out the light. Yajirobe's tired eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance flaring within them.
"How many times do I have to tell ya—I don't know anything about the Syanide!" Yajirobe's voice cracked, but there was fury behind it.
Dodoria raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised by the outburst. "You sure about that?"
Yajirobe grunted, his muscles straining uselessly against the ropes. "Of course I'm sure! If I knew anything, don't ya think I would've told you by now to get the hell outta here?"
Dodoria hesitated, contemplating Yajirobe's words. Over the past three days, the prisoner had offered up locations for the Syanide, but every answer was so absurd it became clear he had little grasp of interplanetary geography. Torture had yielded nothing useful.
Without a word, Dodoria turned and walked out, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
Yajirobe slumped forward, letting out a long sigh. His anger faded into a hollow resignation. Why had he tried to act so brave against Vegeta back on Earth? He wasn't a hero—Krillin and the others could've handled it, they always did. But no, he had to play the part, and now he was paying the price.
Zarbon sat lounging in his chamber, casually flipping through a magazine when a knock came at the door. He glanced at the CCTV screen—Dodoria.
"Come in," Zarbon called, quickly sliding the magazine into a drawer. "It's open."
Dodoria entered, his expression grim.
Zarbon turned his chair to face him. "So, did you find anything useful?"
Dodoria wiped the sweat from his brow. "No, I didn't. Zarbon, I don't think the fat man knows a damn thing about the Syanide."
Zarbon smirked, unable to hide his amusement at Dodoria's use of fat man—a bit rich, coming from him.
Dodoria frowned, clearly not in the mood for jokes. "What's so funny?"
Zarbon waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing."
Dodoria's face hardened. "What are we going to do now?"
Zarbon's smirk vanished. His eyes locked onto Dodoria's, cold and resolute. "We kill him."
Earth...
Goku and Tien stood at Khami's lookout, bags packed, waiting for Mr. Popo. The air was heavy with anticipation. Chichi, Ox King, and Master Roshi had come to see them off, their presence a mix of support and quiet dread. Korin, arms crossed over his furry chest, glanced at Khami.
"Khami, how much longer till Popo arrives?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.
Khami checked the antique watch on his wrist. "He should be here any moment now."
Goku stepped toward Chichi, his gaze softening as he saw her cradling their baby, Goten. With a gentle hand, he ruffled the boy's hair. "Pray that I come back in time to watch him grow," Goku said, his voice low, laced with both hope and uncertainty.
Chichi swallowed, nodding, though tears welled in her eyes. "You will... God willing."
"Look!" Master Roshi shouted, his voice breaking the tension. He pointed to the sky.
A small speck appeared in the distance, growing larger by the second until the unmistakable shape of a spaceship materialized. The wind picked up, whipping through their hair.
Inside the ship, Mr. Popo smiled, Khami's lookout growing closer. "Ah, it's good to be home."
The spaceship descended slowly, stirring the air with increasing intensity. Master Roshi and Goku watched in solemn silence, the wind tugging at Roshi's beard and tousling Goku's hair.
Tien narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed. "It's time."
Goku turned back to Chichi and Goten, pulling them into a loose but heartfelt embrace. "Goodbye. I'll come back." His words were steady, but the weight of them hung in the air.
Ox King placed a comforting hand on Chichi's shoulder, though his own eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Everyone felt it—the creeping sense that this journey was different, that the threat they faced was unlike any before. Goku and his friends had conquered many foes, but this time, they were up against an alien corporation spanning galaxies. The danger was unimaginable.
Kami's hand tightened around his staff. "It's time for you to go."
"Right," Tien said, nodding solemnly.
The spaceship finally touched down, and the door hissed open. Mr. Popo hopped out and walked over to Goku, handing him a worn instruction manual. "Since you've gotten used to piloting a spaceship from your trip to King Gai's planet, I won't be coming along this time."
Goku accepted the manual with a nod. "No problem."
Popo leaned in, his voice softer. "Make sure to check the shortcut I scribbled on the back. You'll need it if you want to make the trip in three days."
"Got it," Goku said, pocketing the manual.
With their gear strapped to their backs, Goku and Tien exchanged one last glance with the group. Then, in a swift movement, they floated up and into the ship, the door closing behind them. Goku waved through the window, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time he saw his loved ones.
The ship's engines roared to life, and as it slowly lifted off, Goku's friends and family waved back, the reality of the moment sinking in.
The wind howled as the ship ascended higher and higher. It hovered for a moment before, with a surge of energy, it shot into the sky, vanishing into the distant horizon as nothing more than a faint twinkle.
Master Roshi, Khami, Korin, and Goku's family stood there in silence, watching until even that final glimmer was gone.
Yajirobe snored loudly, still bound to the chair in his dimly lit room, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited him. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and in stepped the soldier Apulle, a space pistol gleaming in his hand. Apulle's presence was imposing—he was no mere grunt. As the fourth strongest in Frieza's security battalion, he ranked just below the likes of Dodoria, Cui, and Zarbon. In the Planet Trade Organization, he held the grim title of executioner.
With deliberate calm, Apulle approached Yajirobe, the weight of his footsteps echoing in the silence. He leveled the pistol against Yajirobe's face, the cold metal pressing into his skin.
Yajirobe's eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down the barrel of the gun. His heart pounded violently in his chest. This was it. His end had come.
To be continued...
Author's note: Whole of the 29 chapters have now been revised. From here on I will try to maintain quality at the same level.
A reviewer asked about Chichi's role. She will have an important non-fighting role, potentially more in the future arcs. She will serve as guidance for the younger ones, and maybe more.
Someone asked around ten questions. I can only answer one with certainty . Yes, Gohan will take on the role of the main character as the story progresses but the shift wouldn't be abrupt but gradual.
I also request everyone to review more. It's the least you could do.
