"Hey, I know it's a silly question but… Do you Saiyans have books?" Krillin pondered after approaching a guard that's been standing outside their room.

"Books?" the armored soldier turned his head to the side like a curious puppy. It was tough to say if he was sneering or genuinely baffled by the word since the helmet the soldier wore obstructed more than half of his face.

"You know, something to record information to recount it later?" Yamcha tried a generalization. "You guys can't be keeping your history recorded and passed by word of mouth, right?"

"Oh, records? Yeah, we've got something like that. We can show them to you if you'd like, Earthlings," the soldier relaxed and slumped his shoulders down a little after realizing how insignificant the request of the guests he watched over was.

"Heh, that smells like half a million to me. Man, losing out on a wedding and half 'a million Zeni, today just isn't your day, Yamcha!" Krillin rubbed the bottom of his nose, looking mighty proud of himself and picking the right position.

"Don't jump the gun yet. What they mean might not quite be books yet," Yamcha waved it off with a bitter look on his face. "If it's not written information being passed down to other people and some military report type deal–you still owe me half a million, right?"

"Fine, fine…" Krillin waved it off. "But it's smelling like a sour loser to me…"

The two soldiers walked out in front, guiding the two Earthling martial artists into a fully cybernetic and drowned in the shade room. With more focus to one's glint, one could make out lights turning on and going out once in a while in the upper layers of the room, spanning nearly a dozen floors up. Upon registering an entry into the chamber, the computer lit up and its activity illuminated the entire hi-tech chamber. Krillin and Yamcha gasped and gawked at the sight of plated floors and a complex computer system that spanned all twelve floors up.

"Greetings, this is the Archive Library of Records of Planet Vegeta. It is now Age 777, the 23rd of March, the Day of Vegeta II. Planet Vegeta is in the space sector 267 of the South Galaxy. The orbital period is the usual 737 Pax. The current Keplerian Ratio is 1,27. The radius of Planet Vegeta is 6673 km. The current day length is 2294,4 metro-ticks, and the atmospheric pressure is 0,67 atmospheres. The current average temperature outside is 24 degrees and the current surface gravity is 18.0 Gs. According to the three-month-old record of the nearest space station, the current population of Planet Vegeta is 0. Thank you for listening to the start-up debriefing. The archive has now booted up and you may proceed to your inquiry," a mechanized, feminine voice read out in a bored tone, slowly escalating in excitement until transitioning into cheer when the cybernetic library fully booted up.

"Man, I'm beginning to believe that maybe I'll actually end up owing you the money…" Krillin scratched the back of his neck. "This sounds more like a record archive than a library."

"Hey, what kind of services can we get here? Do you just offer boring atmospheric stat stuff or do you have some sort of electronic library thing going on here too?" Yamcha asked the machine directly, figuring he may have known how this whole thing worked after listening to it briefly.

"The Archive Library of Records can provide you with whatever stats you require. Be advised that some stats might require additional verification. The most technical planetary statistics might require verification of scientific division approval and personal data on any inhabitant of Planet Vegeta might require authorization from Regent Paragus," the archive muttered. "Also, please be advised that the Archive still uses the old and outdated weekday labeling method. That is only until the new administration of Planet Vegeta provides the Archive with an alternative, so do not take it as official and usable in any official documentation."

"Do you have books stored in your archive?" Krillin asked loud and clear.

"Negative," the library answered with lights gleaming and snuffing out in sync, almost as if the machine was portraying facial expressions in its own unique way. This made Yamcha pump his fist in a cheer.

"Everything's coming up Yamcha!" he snickered before the lights began flickering on the complex system of computers and screens once more.

"Scrolls, books, datapads, compact data storage units, and all affiliated methods of storing information have become obsolete. However, the Archive Library of Records has recorded all the information present in scrolls, books, and datapads that have ever been formed on Planet Vegeta. If the library is authorized to contact the nearest space stations and download an information update, the Archive Library of Records may provide you with the recorded information on any planet that's stored information in that space station as well."

"Oh, man…" Yamcha deflated after the murderously honest cyber archive had quashed his premature cheer.

"Don't fret too much, pal…" Krillin gently patted Yamcha on the back. "It's not like you're married, so you won't get flak from your wife for betting away half 'a million Zeni…"

"Gee, thanks…" Yamcha muttered with a deep blue face that seemed adamant about cutting itself off of all air supply as punishment for the recent failures of the brain. "Wait a second, what do you mean "if you're authorized to contact the nearest space station"? Do you mean someone cut you off from contact with the nearest space stations?"

"Correct, despite it being a security hazard since Planet Vegeta's cybernetic infrastructure is now exposed to cybernetic threats because of being unable to update the security protocols from the Outernet, because of explicit orders of Regent Paragus, the Archive Library of Records is disconnected from any nearby space stations for around three months," the Archive replied. "Do you wish to connect to the nearest space station and update the current information archives?"

"No," one of the two soldiers accompanying Yamcha and Krillin boldly stated from behind the pair. "These two came here to read something and learn about the Saiyan culture."

"Excellent, do you wish to hear the story about King Vegeta's attempted execution of Regent Paragus and the rightful heir to the Saiyan Throne–Broly?" the archive wondered with a delightfully cheerful voice.

"Umm… Sure?" Yamcha shrugged.

"Regent Paragus was known as a loyal and capable military strategist of Planet Vegeta. Because of his cunning and strategic prowess and exceptional leadership qualities, he rose to the rank of colonel in King Vegeta's III army. However, despite the meteoric rise and potential of Regent Paragus, it was discovered that the battle power of his recently born son–Broly had been far exceeding that of King Vegeta III's own son, young Vegeta IV. And so King Vegeta ordered the immediate execution of young Broly and his father. He also strived to delete all traces of their existence from the archives. Current sources state that the execution was attempted, however, was unsuccessful and both Regent Paragus and young Broly survived."

"Wait, if King Vegeta struck it all out from the records, how come you've got this information?" Krillin wondered purely out of curiosity, having found this detail a tad odd.

"That's because I have edited this article at the request of Regent Paragus. Seeing how he is a survivor of said incident, and the acting Regent to the throne of Planet Vegeta, this request has been approved. Do you wish to hear earlier versions of this record?" the Archive inquired.

"They will not. That'll be enough…" a soldier butt in, gently prodding his hand out in between Krillin and Yamcha and trying to guide the two behind him. The soldier let out a dull gasp and spat out some slobber before collapsing to the ground. Yamcha dashed into action and threw a hypersonic roundhouse at the second soldier, downing him before he could react to Yamcha's decisive attack against the Saiyan soldiers.

"What the heck, Yamcha?" Krillin grabbed his head. "Why did you do that? This'll get us into so much trouble!"

"I'm not in the mood for this," Yamcha warmed himself up, turning his arm around to the front and back as he tested his mobility in the new and meshed with military technology from other planets Saiyan battle armor that they've been provided during their stay at Planet Vegeta. "These guys ruined my wedding, they're acting incredibly suspicious now and I'm not going to stand for it. Don't you find it suspicious at all?"

"I mean… Yeah, why would King Vegeta have records of that time he ordered someone to execute a baby and his father, a successful officer of his army if he seemed so hellbent on making this information disappear? From how accessible the article is to guests, it seems like there's more to this information than the Saiyans let up on," Krillin shrugged.

"Exactly, we need to hear the original article. Archive, please give us the earliest version of the article," Yamcha requested.

"This information requires Level 1 Security Clearance. Please provide proof of Planet Vegeta citizenship or rank in Planet Vegeta military," the Archive replied. Krillin kneeled down and began searching the unconscious bodies, before finding a badge to show to a laser scanner. The two Earthling martial artists held their breaths as the machine scanned the badge, but when the lights began shifting rhythmically once again like everything was normal, they sighed in relief.

"Paragus, before his betrayal of King Vegeta III, was a loyal and capable military colonel of the Saiyan army. However, after the birth of his son, it was discovered that young Broly possesses incredible battle power and even more unimaginable latent potential. Because tests for C-Type S-Cells had been forbidden on Planet Vegeta as per the order of King Cold, King Vegeta decided to send the baby for testing to an outlying world at the edge of the known universe. That was until Paragus, likely feeling paranoid about the King trying to eliminate his son, betrayed the King and deserted the Frieza Army in a stolen spaceship. Their current location is unknown, however, they've been last recorded heading to the outskirts of the North Galaxy, before severing their connection to the space stations and the Outernet."

"What the…?" Krillin gasped.

"That's a completely different story from the one that Paragus told us," Yamcha gnashed his teeth.

"We need to let everyone know," Krillin nodded.


"Hey!" Gohan waved his hand at a bundle of Shamoians, who turned to him with surprised looks on their faces. Two of them cowered behind the third, grabbing the mohawk'd Shamoian by his shoulders and shoving him out in front of them, like an offering to the approaching Saiyan. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you guys. I just wanted to see you guys. I've been to Planet Vegeta before, but I've never seen you guys around."

"Huh?" two of the cowering Shamoians pulled out from behind their friend and stood in a straight line. Their glances then immediately became fixated on Piccolo who stood behind Gohan with his arms crossed and his strict, beady eyes stabbing right at them. The trio of younglings quivered and began shuffling back together, dragging their nude, clawed, insectoid-like feet through the soil.

"It's okay, this is Piccolo-san. He won't hurt you either. He looks scary, but he is actually looking out for everybody good. He'll protect you if someone's trying to hurt you," Gohan kneeled down with a smile while moving out of the way to show Piccolo to the young Shamoians. Strangely enough, Gohan's efforts to get on the Shamoians' good side proved more than sufficient as their terrified and wimpy expressions took no time at all to flip over and for playful cheer to replace them.

Before long, Gohan found himself chasing the young Shamoians around the place and playfully evading capture at their hands and being tagged by their tiny arms. One by one, more and more Shamoian younglings joined in before Gohan truly noticed the sizeable crowd around him. The soldiers patrolling the palace also noted this gathering, though they kept it to themselves and just observed the Shamoian younglings playing outside with their guest. Piccolo found himself a place to rest too, having pressed his back against a twisting tree with a vibrant leafage that provided ample shade below it. He kept a lax eye on the playful bunch, though reserved to butting in and scaring the bunch again only if the soldiers decided to bust this childish game.

"Hmm… This is strange…" Gohan pondered, scratching his chin. "What is your race like? Do you have short lifespans, maybe?"

"Not at all! Though few Shamoians that undergo the maturity metamorphosis stick around for long. Most of them end up disappearing soon enough," a Shamoian youngling with a lime-colored mohawk exclaimed while chasing a friend in a game of tag. "We actually live for around a hundred and fifty years. After around thirty, we undergo a metamorphosis that changes our outer appearance. We lose the mohawks, our heads wrinkle up and our skin color changes. Our mohawks then grow back on our chins or upper lips. A hundred and fifty years is not exactly long in the grand scheme of things, but we couldn't say it's short either… Saiyans live around that long too, right?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure…" Gohan scratched his head, pondering over it. He hadn't seen too many older Saiyans, though neither his father nor his grandparents seemed to get that much older with time, so the true extent of the longevity of the Saiyans was unknown to him. The warring ways of the Saiyans likely led to most of them dying premature and violent deaths.

"You mature quickly, though, right?" Shamoians pointed out. "How old are you?"

"I'll be 14 soon!" Gohan replied.

"Wha!? 14!?" Shamoians gasped, grabbing their mouths.

"Why, what is it?" Gohan scratched his head, baffled by the reaction. The wave of shock amongst the Shamoians made Piccolo bat an eye at them as well. The lively reaction even seemed to cut the game of tag short.

"N-Nothing… It's just… We thought Saiyans matured incredibly quickly, like Broly-sama…" Shamoians scratched their heads.

"Wait, what?" Gohan shook his head in uncertainty. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well… Broly-sama is just 10 years old. He grew up lightning-fast!" Shamoians all pumped their fists, supporting the one with the violet mohawk that explained their confusion. "We thought that was normal amongst Saiyans…"

"10 years old!? That's impossible!" Gohan exclaimed in disbelief. "He looked almost as old as dad!"

"Well… We don't have any Shamoian survivors that saw the initial contact between our people and Paragus-sama, but…" one Shamoian began butting his fingers awkwardly. "I've heard some rumors being passed down from the metamorphosed Shamoians that Paragus came to Planet Shamo alone with his magic capsules… Those capsules make buildings and bridges and factories grow out of the ground, so some of us have wondered if they could've made Broly-sama grow out of the ground too? Did you grow out of the ground from a magical capsule, Gohan-san?"

"What? No!" Gohan objected. "This is so weird… Can you guys wait, I need to talk to Piccolo-san."


A soldier patrolling the halls near the kitchen stopped and turned his head, following a curious noise he was hearing in the kitchens. With a methodical and quiet sneak, he pressed his back to the wall and peeked inside. What he saw made him gasp, but the unorthodox scene also made him lower the plasma rifle that he clutched to his chest before. Various aliens in white chef coats pressed their backs to the walls while a handful more scurried, hustling over pots and pans to satisfy the bottomless appetite of three feasting Saiyans.

"Man… This food is sure ain't as good as on Earth…" Goku complained with a childish pout before slipping the gelatinous blob off of a fork and slurping it down whole into his stomach where it wobbled around, inflating the Saiyan's gut to an almost hilarious degree before it began dissolving in his stomach bit by bit.

"Chayote…" Broly grumbled with a husky tone as he extended his hand that held a patte tube half of his size. "Have more… Food…"

"I'm fine, big guy…" Chayote calmed Broly down with a pacifying gesture before returning to her food. He may have thought he was being nice, but all these attempts to shove his head up her ass were really rubbing Chayote the wrong way. "Just make sure you're full first before you deliver handouts."

"You know…" Goku put an oversized tentacle down on the table to where it dwarfed the table's surface and flopped half over the floor and spewed some sort of thick, mustard-colored liquid with a pungent odor from the suckers. "Do you really want to stay here and eat this sort of food? Honestly, I think I kind of understand why Vegeta and the other Saiyans moved to Earth…"

"Ve… Vegeta…" Broly clenched his teeth together with his canines beginning to sharpen before one's very eyes. Broly's muscles began bulking up at once, with Chayote and Goku turning to the hulking out Saiyan beanstalk in confusion.

"H-Hey, calm down!" Chayote called out to Broly when the swelling-up giant smashed the table and blew the tentacle that Goku had put down into shreds, showering everyone in the kitchen in the messy mustard secretions that it had been spewing out from the sides.

"Chayote…" Broly turned to Chayote and began shrinking down on sight. His whited-out eyes once again regained their blackness in the center and his rustling, spiky black hair rested on his back. "I'm sorry," Broly sighed.

"That's okay, it happens to me too, you know. I've just learned to deal with the rage issues. I don't like the V-guy myself, but I stopped flipping out like that a long time ago. Maybe we'll work on that together?" Chayote smiled softly, comforting the giant with a pat on the shoulder after he turned fit and slender again without losing much in terms of height.

"Kakarot…" Broly's face became stern as he turned straight to Goku and glared him straight in the eyes, baffling the Earth-raised Saiyan. "If you try to take Chayote away from us again, I'll kill you."

After stating that, Broly calmly turned around and left the kitchen, sending the terrified soldier that was observing the goings on in the kitchen from the corner stumbling back and flat on his back. After turning the corner, Broly nearly stepped into the crawling petrified soldier. Before the poor soul could help it, Broly scooped him off the ground and clutched him, hanging in the air with his feet frantically dangling in the air. A sharp crunch of collapsing steel filled the hall with the soldier collapsing lifeless with a helm crushed to the size of a tin can and the visor of tempered glass shattering soaked with blood and viscera.

After confirming that the unstable giant had left the hall, a pair of patrolling soldiers scooped their peer off the ground and swiftly dragged him away from view before working on the bloodstains and brain matter littering the floor.