His Majesty's Pet/Ginyu Force Tryouts

Dodoria knew the best bathrooms on the ship like the inside of his mudflaps. Frieza’s personal quarters housed the very best, where the finest space-badger slaves the Planet Trade Organization ever bred had toiled away, spared no expense, and crafted the most luxurious bathroom in the history of the universe, or something. Yes, there was the sculpted golden statue of Frieza and the heated floor. But it was the fact that Frieza never used this place that made Dodoria love it more.

He probably shits directly out into space like any other self-respectin’ Arcosian.

Frieza didn’t know. If he had ever come in here, Dodoria would have probably been killed. He was sure Frieza had forgotten this room even existed. Reviewing the security tape footage of the last two months confirmed to Dodoria that no one ever came in here.

Nevertheless, when he heard voices outside the door, Dodoria froze up. He made out Zarbon’s whiny voice first. Then he heard Frieza, and even Frieza’s son. He was lucky to have already finished when they started talking. Dodoria’s ear was to the door. He switched the light off and stood utterly still.

“N-no… I don’t have any proof, Lord Frieza.”

“Then we’re finished here, Zarbon. Waste my time like this again, and–”

“Lord Frieza!” the fool tried again. “They were both alone with him before–”

“What do you think, Kuriza? You were there, supposedly.”

“Kiwano’s henchmen had a trap ready for us! We lost our scouters–”

“Careless.” His father’s voice dropped to a danger tone.

“Father, please, we reached Vegeta soon after the fight. His explanation for what happened made sense. I believe him.”

“With all due respect, I don’t see how–”

“Nailo’s power level was 19,000, was it not?” Frieza said. His voice was getting more distant. He’s pacin’ again. He loves to pace.

“That’s right, Lord Frieza.” What a shame. One less rat in the walls, heh.

“Kiwano was listed at 21,000 when he defected,” the emperor continued. “The numbers don’t lie. The Saiyan took advantage of a weakened foe. Everything makes sense, Zarbon.”

“But, Lord Frieza–”

“Enough! Get out of my sight.”

“He almost certainly did kill them,” Frieza mused after Zarbon had left. “At least the Nyarin boy. It was a mistake to pair them together, perhaps.”

“He’s a cold-blooded traitor, Papa?”

“Not at all, Kuri. If anything Zarbon should be more careful. He’s walking a thin line, that man. His sense of entitlement will get him reassigned or worse if he keeps up with it.” Damn, Zarbon. I can’t say a word about this to him. “As for Vegeta, I’ll try again. He really liked his last partner, I fear. I should have known.”

“B-but if Vegeta killed them, that would mean he’s bad too, Father…!”

“Enough of that whining. It doesn’t suit you,” Lord Frieza said cruelly. “Get out of here, Kuriza. Go do something somewhere else.”

They exchanged a few more words and were gone. Dodoria waited perhaps another cycle before daring to peek out. He had forgotten his scouter, but there was nothing he could do about that now. I can’t get too angry, otherwise he’ll know I’m here. I need serro. Danm, I should've brought some with me…

Frieza’s bedroom was empty, and he got out of there fast. Outside, trying to look inconspicuous, Dodoria rushed back to his room when he ran into Orlen in an unlit hallway. “Sir,” the egghead muttered, bowing before him. He was holding his arm gingerly.

“What do you want?” Dodoria asked distantly.

“Can we talk in your room, my lord?”

“Huh, why?”

“That plumber told me to come to you about serr–”

Dodoria exhaled loudly, masking Orlen’s voice under his. “The hell did you just say to me, soldier?”

“Can we go inside sir? Please… my arm hurts. The rejuvenation tank healed it, but–”

He held it like a limp noodle; the naked desperation in his eyes impressed Dodoria the most. “Fine. Let’s make this quick.” Mrovian telepathic karaoke championships ’re on again in another cycle. I am going to watch that. I promised myself I would this year.

Dodoria shut the door behind them. Orlen had never been in here before–indeed, few had. The plumber, whose real name was Vinyaochetto, had been one for sure. Zarbon too, but he couldn’t think of anyone else. Not even Lord Frieza had, and Dodoria wasn’t one to bring space whores onto the ship like Zarbon.

“How’d you know about that?!” Dodoria smacked Orlen’s shoulder, grabbed him by the neck, and threw him at a wall.

“S-sir… it’s not–”

“Tell me!!” the man bellowed, preparing an energy blast.

Orlen gulped. “Nailo told me to go to the plumber…”

“Nailo’s dead,” Dodoria replied.

“He… he is?!”

“That’s right.” Zarbon must know. He hides it well. “Well then.” Dodoria’s energy extinguished. “If you wanna get involved, you’ll have to prove yourself.”

“Anything, my lord!”

Dodoria smirked. “Oh, this’s gonna be good.”

“C-can I get some serro–”

“Shut yer stupid orange skull!” Dodoria roared. “Never call it that. We don’t name contraband. Too risky that way.”

“I understand, Lord Dodoria. I’ll try to remember…”

“You’re going to deliver something for me to a client on Sommon. Once you’ve succeeded, I’ll give you a reward.”

“But my arm hurts now!” the man complained miserably.

“You’re one of Frieza’s elites, Orlen. Act like it.”

He sometimes got a tingly feeling in his fingers. Dodoria liked to eat a big bowl of space chili whenever that happened. He rewatched re-runs of space soap operas and felt a nice buzz in his brain before taking a round of patrol at twenty-three cycle.

He took sixteen grams of serro before leaving. The ship was derelict this time of night. Spotting a mangy-furred space rat scurry off into the shadows, Dodoria closed his eyes and flicked an energy ball down the hall, using only his excellent hearing to track the vermin. Best part is, that fat fuck’ll have to clean it up.

Inside the first training room was Guldo, the ugly little belly-worm of a recruit. Frieza wanted him brought here himself. Just like that monkey, now that I think about it.

He wasn’t nearly as strong as the monkey, however. “The hell’re you doin’ up this hour, kid?”

“Training,” he replied passively. “My pass is good through the end of this cycle, sir.”

Dodoria scanned it with his scouter just to make sure. “Fine. You can stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” the four-eyed space goblin replied. He was wearing nothing but a dark undersuit, his fatty form stuffed into it like too many feathers into a balloon.

“But, you’ll have to spar with me if you do.”

“O-oh…” the boy squeaked, gulping.

Yeah, we’re doin’ this. He’s stupid for someone as gifted as him. He doesn’t realize how good he’s got it.

Dropping his armor onto the ground with a heavy thud, Dodoria cracked his knuckles and stepped onto the training mat. “Alright! Come at me with everything you’ve got! What’s the matter, Guldo?! Are ya scared? Hahahah!”

Guldo looked like he wanted to throw up. He was petrified, melting in the moment. Shame. Dodoria punched him into a wall with a rather reckless swipe. He’s lazy if he can’t block that. The boy cried out, blood running down one of his eyes sockets. He struggled to stand. Dodoria waited calmly inside the ring. Breathing hard and moving sluggishly, the Bas returned only to be kicked in the chest immediately. The boy moaned weakly and fell over.

Come on, you coward. If you’re half the…

A flash of light filled Dodoria’s eyesight, and his ears started ringing. His face was warm, tingling, and he had somehow fallen onto his back. “What the…?!” His vision blurred up and his body shuddered with sudden violent feelings of vertigo. He staggered to get up, but couldn’t.

When it was over, Dodoria fell to his side, vomiting space chili. Ain’t nothing special about that four-eyed freak. I could end his pathetic life if I wanted to. He ain’t elite. He ain’t shit, ain’t nothin’ compared to me, he thought to himself before passing out.

Dragged from the shores of the imperial city, he was pulled all the way to the bottom of Shobuku Sea. Through the mud and murk, he drifted passively, feeling the pressure waves of memories swimming around him like a pack of Soru Whales. Captains and Generals in the Saiyan Army were laughing, leaning in, their smiles split wide in hunger-like expectation. A great fire was burning, the heat of it on his face. The day he stood before everyone, his armor shining like gold, Frieza and his subordinates, including that man with the hood, looking on hungrily. I was their hope, he thought miserably. I was going to become a Super Saiyan and kill Frieza, set everyone free…

It was hard to get a solid breath down there, in the bowels of his unconscious memories. The next thing Vegeta remembered was being awakened to the sight of sterile whiteness and Malaka’s wrinkly beak. “You were pretty beat up there, Vegeta. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“Hmph.” He wiped off his hair, found his armor, and got dressed.

“Lord Frieza wanted me to tell you to meet him in the throne room as soon as you woke up.”

“I’m going,” the boy growled impatiently, running the towel through his hair again.

The fear came to him in the hallway, no matter how hard he tried to contain it. He knows. The boy’s cheeks were sticky with heat. His mind was racing, yet he wasn’t really thinking or feeling. There was no time for that. He was already at the door.

They were all inside–Lord Frieza, his son, Zarbon, Dodoria, and Aranya. The boy’s hands were shaking, so he hid them under his cape.

“Ah, there he is. Malaka said you should be here soon.”

“Lord Frieza,” Vegeta said with a stiff bow. “What do you want?”

“You will hold your tongue!” Zarbon barked. “Do not talk to Lord Frieza that way!”

“It is quite alright, Zarbon. We have important things to discuss, don’t we, my little Saiyan?”

“Like what?”

“Watch yourself!” Zarbon yelled again, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He’s super angry. He must know. But I guess Frieza doesn’t…

“Like…” Frieza said, giving Zarbon a look, “what happened in the fight against Kiwano.”

He was stunned into thoughtless silence for a moment, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks again. He should not have put on his battle armor. “The-the… I, well, it was, I-I can’t remember much of it…”

“Tell him what you told me,” Kuriza said earnestly, stepping forward. He was wrapped in a very splendid crimson space snuggy. What a nerd.

He didn’t know why his mind had slowed down to such a degree, but he couldn’t make it go faster again. Vegeta stuttered, looking up at Frieza. Zarbon, standing just over the tyrant’s shoulder, looked more gleeful than the boy had ever seen him. Even so, he told them, his voice shaking, making sure not to forget a detail. If I make a mistake it’s all over.

He clenched his hands together behind his back. “Oh, so it’s like that?” Frieza said lightly. “In that case, I think I’ll make Aranya your new training partner.”

“U-um…. y-yes, Lord Frieza!” Aranya… Vegeta didn’t know what to think. He was too scared of blowing it to think of much else.

“Take care of him,” Frieza said in a deadly voice to the Nyarin girl. She was older than Vegeta by a good bit, much more mature and powerful, and way cooler than Nappa.

“I will, Lord Frieza.”

“He’s been losing partners at an astonishing rate,” Zarbon noted. “Watch your back.”

The pretty boy’s demeanor had fallen like a shadow across a snowy field. Why does he even want me gone so bad? Does he really know about what happened, or does he just hate me? “I will,” the Nyarin replied, her voice falling.

Dodoria was cleaning his fingernails.

“I want you two to become my most productive team by a year’s time. You both have great potential. It’s sad your brother’s gone, Aranya,” Frieza said, pausing before her, “he had more potential than either of you.”

“I will work hard for you, Lord Frieza. Anything you command, I will try my hardest to do.”

“Good. What about you, Vegeta?”

“I’ll become a Super Saiyan,” Vegeta said defiantly, staring Zarbon dead in the eyes. You tried to kill me twice. I won’t forget that, pretty boy. “It’s my destiny as the greatest Saiyan in the history of the universe!” he boasted wildly. “I’ll be the strongest warrior around these parts no question. It’ll be easy,” he grinned.

“Oh, is that so, Vegeta? My, my, you sure are boastful today.”

“It’s not a boast if I prove it,” the boy replied haughtily, absorbing the fear into him and twisting it into anger. He grinned a devilish grin again. “Maybe I’ll even rival you one day, Lord Frieza!”

“Lord Frieza!” Zarbon screamed at the top of his lungs, falling to his knees, his hair all in his eyes. Dang, he really does sound like a girl when he can’t control himself. “Lord Frieza… I-I’m sorry, but that goes too far… he insults you, my lord! You must do something.”

Frieza covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. One hand was on his son’s shoulder. “Come, Zarbon, Dodoria, let’s go. I think we’ve discussed everything that needed discussing.” They followed silently, Dodoria exhaling with every step. “Oh and don’t get comfortable you two. I’ll have a planet for you to conquer soon. It will not be easy. I suggest you get comfortable with each other’s fighting style and come up with some complimentary tactics. I wouldn’t want to lose either of you on this next mission, after all.”

“Yes, Lord Frieza,” they promised.

Everyone went to leave. “D-does that mean that we’re being given permanent positions on the ship, sir?” Aranya asked suddenly, her voice breaking through the awkwardness like a pillar of light.

“That’s right,” Frieza replied, not turning to look at them. “If this turns out to be a mistake, you two do know what will happen, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

His heart was pounding, his breaths coming with more difficulty. I have to be a Super Saiyan now… I have to prove myself to all of them… There won’t be another chance if I screw this up. His gaze found Aranya again, and the boy’s cheeks were humming lightly as he stared upon her form. Somehow she didn’t intimidate him as much as her brother had. But he was one of Zarbon’s spies. I have to be careful. She could be too. If she tries to kill me…

It would be a lot harder to tell that lie a third time, he knew.

The sparring room was packced with not only elites, but most of the Ginyu Force. On the central sparring mat, a little green thing Vegeta vaguely remembered seeing once or twice in the hallway was sparring with Appule. A few regular soldiers were brewing space coffee in a corner, and every Ginyu sans the captain himself was watching Guldo’s fight.

“What’re they doing here?” Aranya wondered aloud.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get this over with.”

There were two other training mats they could use. “He’s using the good one. I want to use that one. You heard Lord Frieza. We’re to be his number one team. If we are, we’re going to act like it. That stage is ours. Those two runts can use the secondary one.”

“Fine.”

Why’s she gotta be like that…? The prince trudged after the taller Nyarin girl. She made her way over to Jeice, who was the most official-looking Ginyu Force member. “The Saiyan and I are going to train, Lord Frieza’s orders. We’re using this mat.”

“Oh, are ya?” he replied cockily, shaking his long hair out of his face and grinning. “We’re on official business too. You’ll just have to wait, or use another training stage. Your call, Space Sheila.”

“Which official business is that, exactly?”

“We’re lookin’ for a new recruit for the Ginyu Force,” he said, eyeing Vegeta coolly. “Guldo right here’s one of the leadin’ candidates.”

“Him?!” Vegeta scoffed. “He’s nobody!”

“Oh yeah? I bet if you fought him, he’d cream ya, kid,” Burter poked in.

“Ya… he’s got you beat easy, kid. Hahahah, a monkey like you ain’t gotta chance,” Recoome said stupidly.

Vegeta wanted to hit them all into a wall. He sneered, feeling his cheeks flush with color again. This heat was not brought about from fear. Not even close. “I’ll fight him then,” Vegeta said, waving them off, walking over to the stage. “Appule! Get out of there. He’s mine.”

The Ginyu Force men giggled excitedly and shrugged, looking at one another. Jeice exchanged a very quick word with Burter, and they both nodded. “Alright, uh, go ahead.”

Appule squeaked with fear. He hasn’t forgotten me. Good. I won’t forget you either, egghead. If we’re ever alone together, good luck. “Okay, okay, you can have him!!”

The boy’s face was barely worth mentioning. Vegeta only remembered it because of the four eyes. “Hello, Vegeta,” Guldo said defiantly. “Long time no see.”

“I’m going to hit you so hard,” Vegeta sneered at him coldly. I’m going to win this competition. “So what I’m wondering is if he’s a leading candidate, who else is on that list?”

“You, for one. And her brother. Well, he was.”

Aranya held composure well. She’s like a princess, Vegeta thought, the guilt cutting him deep. He staggered to his knees suddenly. That’s not right… the pain…n-no… not again… It was the same feeling he had first felt on Tech-Tech, and again on Jeiri. Here again it came to ravage through his body like a flaming cut of fire spreading widely across the sky. The rejuvenation tank didn’t heal me… he realized with horror.

Recoome was laughing. “‘Ey, Vegeta, get up. The match hasn’t even started!”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Burter quipped. “He doesn’t stand a chance!”

That was all it took. His fury was all of him.

Vegeta tore at Guldo with speed even he was unaccustomed to. His punches were sloppy at first, but came fast enough that Guldo couldn’t dodge them all. The green boy’s block was shattered easily, forcing him to retreat. So I’m a candidate too. I could win this position. All I have to do is beat this four-eyed freak. That’s laughable. No way I’m losing to him. He vaguely remembered them sparring together once and how weak Guldo had been. He pressed on with a battle cry, pushing Guldo to the edge of the stage.

The boy’s chins were quivering with blood and sweat. Vegeta saw his opening and swung hard. A bright light exploded in his eyes, and he fell back, his mouth stinging. Guldo was standing over him, hands on his hips, laughing. So were his spectators. Why do they like him so much? They don’t want me to win…?

He lunged for Guldo, but again, his vision popped, he felt a sensation of vertigo, and he was thrown to the ground, his chest stinging with pain. What’s he doing….? I don’t get it. He’s moving so fast… how can he do that? Breathing hard, Vegeta sat up, looking around for any sign of Guldo. Unsurprisingly, the other boy was gone. He braced for impact and was hit three seconds later. Each time he’s coming at me faster. The punches weren’t getting harder, though.

This time, accounting for a loss in time between blows, Vegeta shot up and jumped into the air. Suddenly, Guldo appeared in the air just below Vegeta, confused. Looking around, he shouted something whiny before noticing Vegeta above him. He’s not very smart. He’s got an ability. That’s all he’s got.

Guldo shouted something at Vegeta, took a deep breath, and Vegeta fell from the sky, feeling a stinging, blinding sensation ripple across his face. He stood up immediately, taking the hit he knew he would have to, stumbling, but maintaining his balance, blinking furiously to regain his sight. He didn’t wait for it to return to him before jumping up and to the left, feeling the heat of Guldo’s aura fade from that direction. By the time the Saiyan Prince could see again, he had already flown down the dumpy little alien.

Grabbing Guldo by the back, Vegeta did a backflip, throwing him down as he did. Guldo slammed with a crack against the ground, causing a puff of dust to rise into the air as several of the stage’s tiles metal tiles split. Jeice shouted something at Guldo. Vegeta was screaming down at him, leading with both boots. The alien wasn’t able to block him in time. He went flying into a wall. Though his face was bleeding openly, Guldo tried to get up. Vegeta smiled as he created a purple ki ball above his glove and threw it at Guldo’s feet, sending smoke up into the air.

That’s right, cough it up, four-eyes. You’re done.

He sprinted forward, leading with his left foot, when a blur of blue crossed Vegeta’s vision. He froze, feeling the momentum in his body shift. He was picked up and thrown in the opposite direction, landing on the far side of the stage and skidding to a painful stop. He felt nothing at first, but a dazed, whirling feeling in his brain. When he sat up, however, Vegeta felt the pain rippling up from his ankle coming more intensely than it ever had from there before.

Bone was poking out of his skin. His white boot was staining fast. The tear in his jumpsuit was wide. “Y-you… bastard…!” Vegeta coughed, muffling a scream.

Burter landed in front of him. “Shut up. You lose.”

He kicked Vegeta in the face. The boy’s chest was burning with injustice. He wanted nothing more than to stomp on Burter’s fat blue neck, to make his eyes pop, to crush the life out of him.

His head was thrown back, his vision popping and darkening, and his head becoming too heavy to hold up any longer. Aranya shouted something, and Jeice replied in as equally fierce a yell. Vegeta fell, remembering the drops of blood landing before him on the training mat after his head hit the ground. They’re so slow, he thought, watching everyone walk past him and out of the room, Aranya still exchanging words with Jeice and Burter. Why do they have to be so slow?

Everything was gone. Filling up his pod’s tanks one last time on Vera Chutto VI, he leaned against the dirty outside bathroom, waiting for the whore he’d paid for to finish up. Sharlyk checked his wrist-comm, but nothing came up. They’re all gone by now. I won’t be able to contact any of them anymore, he knew. Not only had what little remained of Kiwano’s empire suddenly gone dark in the past few days (Sharlyk knew this was the work of the Ginyu Force), so too had The Surgeon and Yulrich, the last two contacts he had left.

He paid her generously and then set off towards free space in his run-down space pod. He didn’t have as much fuel left as he liked, nor enough space woolongs to pay for an entire refill.

It was an hour before he reached his destination that the Surgeon decided to ring him up.

“You’re still alive, are you?”

“That’s right. Are you surprised?”

“That was a stupid plan you came up with.”

“I know. It was meant to look that way. I was going to blow up the planet too… but Kuriza and Burter nearly found me. Just had to get out of there at that point. Kiwano tried to kill me before it went south.”

The Surgeon cackled dryly. “Good. You made it so tempting for them that they couldn’t resist, eh?”

“The sonic emitters didn’t even hurt Burter though,” Sharlyk complained, “much less Frieza’s son. I would’ve taken the boy hostage otherwise.”

“Oh well. You’re still alive.”

“Yeah, that’s the part I didn’t account for.” Sharlyk sighed, leaning back in his chair. “So, got any work for me?”

“Not in the empire.”

“Thought so.”

“Everyone’s been getting picked off. Gotta be careful out there. I can send you where Yulrich’s gone. How’s that sound?”

“What’s it like? What kind of work?”

A coordinates scroll flashed onto Sharlyk’s scouter, which he instantly transferred to his pod’s navigational systems.“Don’t complain. You’ll see when you get there.”

“How many others made it out? Yulrich is–”

“Yulrich is the only one. And he’s suffering from koani-eye. Doubt he’ll survive the winter.”

That’s too bad. “What of the senator?”

“Which senator?”

“The Arcosian,” Sharlyk said. “The one you were going to use to poison Frieza…”

“Oh, him. He’s dead.”

“What?!”

“I tried.” The Surgeon chuckled violently. “Frieza’s a lot more intelligent than he appears. Bleiku’s dead, and the Ginyu Force is looking for me.”

“Oh.”

“That’s right. So shut up, stop complaining, keep your head down, and be happy I had anywhere for you to go,” the other man said cholerically.

“But if we–”

“No. It’s over, Sharlyk. Don’t contact me again. This is my parting gift to you. Don’t blow it. Goodbye.”

And with that, the last man Sharlyk knew in the universe was gone, the ringing in his ear fading faster than light. So this is freedom, he thought sourly. Kiwano would tell me to stop complaining. The space-badger wasn’t sure he found this new life of his any more adventurous or exciting than the time he had spent under Lord Frieza. We’re all just stardust anyways. What does it matter?

“Aranya?”

There was no one around. The faint smell of burnt space coffee lingered in the room, as did the reek of his blood. Vegeta’s ankle was burning. He cried out trying to stand up. His head swirled with emotion, memory, and emptiness. Images of his father came before his waking eyes, the pain almost overwhelming him.

The injustice of it all was what haunted him the most. He struggled out of the room, delirious thoughts repeating themselves in his mind, thoughts he didn’t want to have, thoughts he didn’t want to give into. He pounded his throbbing fists on the ground, groaning in more pain.

It took him a few times to maintain balance on his broken ankle. Grimacing, Vegeta hobbled out into a vacant hallway, much to his relief. He was biting his lip so hard not to scream that when a light flashed on his wrist-pad (given to him for becoming one of Frieza’s elites):

“Lord Frieza needs you immediately. Do you hear me? Get up here now, you little brat. And don‘t pull any tricks this time. You know what will happen if you do. Send me back your response as soon as you get this. You will answer your captain!”

Zarbon. He grit his teeth. Zarbon had threatened him before, but now he was getting more bold. Vegeta wouldn’t be intimidated. The weak allow themselves to be wounded by words, his father had once said. I’m not so weak.

It was against the rules to fly on Frieza’s ship. He couldn’t go to the rejuvenation tank yet–Frieza needed him. He jumped into the air and sped off to Frieza’s quarters, his thoughts once again turning to the Ginyu Force. Did Zarbon make them do it? Whatever. Those posers are dead to me. If I ever get the chance, I’ll end all of them. He had never thought their poses were cool anyways.

Pain coursed through Vegeta’s body again–that same burning feeling, that same old feeling from Tech-Tech. He bit his lip and maintained his glide, blinking the pain from his eyes. Another round in the rejuvenation tank should fix that, he thought.

It was just then that the tears came flooding to his eyes, though he blinked them away, taking deep breaths to force them back inside. Don’t, he thought over and over, I will not let them break me.

The dull-painted walls were illuminated by mediocre artificiality. The blandness of it all was enough to induce space sickness. Through a broken light hole in the ceiling, a space rat peered out. Without hesitating, Vegeta blew its head off with a homing finger beam.

“I’m sorry, Vegeta, but I can’t. It’s past your bedtime. Lord Zarbon gave me specific orders to turn you back.”

“I need the rejuvenation tank!” the boy muttered. “Can’t you just let me take a few hours and–”

“No. Go to bed. Lord Zarbon’s orders.”

He grit his teeth at the bland grey door slammed before him. He knew it would go like this, Vegeta thought. He worked it out with them… he had to have. Some small part of him wouldn’t believe it; such thoughts were to give into despair, and Vegeta would never fall so far as that. I will not let him break me. He won’t!

The wounded Saiyan hobbled back to his dorm, not willing to risk flying again. It was late–roughly eighteen cycle, but a few guards were still out on patrol, and he couldn’t risk getting in trouble again.

Frieza’s summons had not been unexpected. He had detailed to both Vegeta and Aranya that tomorrow they would accompany Lord Frieza himself on a mission to an undisclosed planet. Vegeta had become intrigued, but the tyrant had said no more.

Back in the dorms, everyone had gone to sleep, except for Nappa. He was standing at the door to the hallway, talking in a low voice with the plumber, who was leaning against a hover cart, pawing at his mustache. They noticed his limp and stopped talking at once.

“What happened, Prince?” Nappa asked.

“Ginyu Force tryouts,” he sighed, his gaze trained on their feet.

“Oh, yeah…” the plumber interjected. I heard Guldo got the spot.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, they left a few hours ago, all five of ‘em.”

“Whatever,” Vegeta replied. “Hey, do any of you have painkillers?”

They glanced at his ankle, where his boot had stained crimson. “Yeah, I got somethin’,” the plumber sniffed, pulling a baggy out of his back pocket. Looking around for guards, he quickly gave it to Vegeta. “Drink the vials inside. There’s three doses worth. Take ‘em at least twelve hours apart. Don’t heed that and you could really hurt yourself.”

“Got it. Come on, Nappa. It’s bedtime.”

“Hang on, Vegeta… you gotta tell me how the tryouts went!”

You big stupid smelly fool. His ears went hot, his body shuddering with the heat of shame. “I fought that four-eyed slob, Guldo. He’s space trash, nothing I can’t handle. Hmph. I beat him.”

The oblivious oaf pressed on,“Yeah, but what happened…?”

“Burter hit me real hard in the a-ankle…” The Prince’s voice broke, and they stood in silence. The artificial lights burned his retinas. I can’t be weak, he told himself. Not in front of these two…

“A dirty trick,” the plumber said after clearing his throat. “He panicked. I don’t think he expected you to win.”

“Why not?” There was too much emotion in his voice, even he knew. “Why would they do that to me?”

The plumber was a big man, a green man, a man with a fine mustache and several chins of varying thickness. “You goin’ on a mission soon, kid?”

He nodded, detaching himself from the situation. Burter was my friend. He was there with us when we were looking for Kiwano… And suddenly, as if rising up from the death pools of his mind, Vegeta beheld Zarbon’s sharp, elegant, princely face emerge, smiling ever so slightly, looking away as he always did when he knew he had someone good. I’ll kill you too. I promised I would. I’ll kill you myself, I swear it!

He knew that killing everyone was not the answer. Lord Frieza would become suspicious if all of Vegeta’s nemeses and rivals started dying off. They won’t all die–not the ones I can afford to keep. But some people gotta go. Zarbon has to die for what he’s done to me! There were space rats in the walls; he could hear them. They all could. They exchanged awkward looks.

“They were trying to humiliate you, kid,” the plumber said finally. “That was set up. No way it wasn’t.”

“B-but… why would they do that to me?”

A cleaning probe drifted by down the hall, beeping blue, spraying an anti-dust coating along the left-side wall. “The universe’s shit, no matter where you go. You’ll learn that soon enough, both of you.” He gave Nappa an unnatural look that startled the Prince. The Saiyan General sneered back at the Novalisian but said nothing. “People are in it only for themselves. Ginyu Force had orders not to bring you on, I think. You gotta ask yourself why.”

“I already am!” Vegeta seethed. “I don’t know why they would do that to me!”

“Maybe they aren’t allowed to take you,” he suggested. “Maybe they fear what Frieza would say if they took you from him. I don’t know.”

“Maybe Zarbon put them up to it.” Vegeta’s voice was hollow. His eyes were having trouble focusing. “He had to. He has it out for me.”

Nappa said something, but Vegeta didn’t hear. “… come on, Vegeta!” He grabbed the prince hard by the arm and pulled him into the dorms.

“Remember, take one dose tonight, and wait until after the end of the mission to take a second!” the man called after Vegeta.

The dorms were unlit, so he was thrown into darkness inside. At once, he could hear Orlen’s familiar snoring.

“Hey…” the balding man said in an urgent whisper. “You can’t go around talking like that, Prince. If he tells Zarbon–”

“He’s good, Nappa. He helped me with a problem before. I know I can trust him.”

“Ah… oh.”

“Anyways, you’re right. I need to sleep. Goodnight, Nappa. You should sleep too.”

“My bedtime isn’t set for three more hours,” Nappa complained. “I have to go clean the chili bowls in the kitchen anyways. Ah… there’s so many of ‘em. This is gonna suck…”

“Good luck,” the Prince yawned absent-mindedly, waving Nappa away. In an instant, he was alone. He found his bed quickly, as his was a bottom bunk in one of the inner Elite Dorms. Aranya had taken the bunk above him. She was sleeping when he entered.

Under the boy’s pillow, a Saibaman doll lay cool and dextrous. He got into bed, hugging it gently, his eyes shut tight. It was not more than a minute later before the door opened again and Serindë entered, like an icy rose carried by a gust of wind. She moved soundlessly over to him, kneeling at the prince’s bedside, smiling warmly.

They exchanged a few words. His heartbeat started to rise; he grew flushed and excited as the woman massaged him. The Prince thought of Aranya in that moment, of her fighting alongside him, the way she smiled so rarely, that look in her eyes of confidence in him as her partner, the way the sunlight hit her fur in the morning on a bright world…

He arched his back, hugging the doll tighter, as Serindë’s gentle handles moved down from his shoulders to his stomach. Popping off the cap of the first of the plumber’s gifts, Vegeta downed it in a single gulp, feeling a rushing, eye-blurring sensation spiral through his brain almost immediately.

Serindë was looking down upon him with a worried look. “Y-your leg, Master Vegeta…” she whispered tenderly.

“I-I couldn’t go to the tank…” he replied quietly, ashamed. “Zarbon closed it for me. And I have a mission first thing in the morning…”

“Relax,” she said smoothly. “I’ll bandage it up. I’ll make it feel as good as I can, Master Vegeta. Don’t you worry…”

He was finding it harder to breathe. His skin was tingling, and his mind was rushing. He nodded passively, falling against his pillow, hugging his Saibaman, waiting for it to turn to black.

He awoke drowsily and maintained such a countenance all the way to Sahguii En. Kuriza came along too, for good measure.

Four pods skirted to a halt on the black-sand beach, the sun bright above them, reflecting the water and rocky structures rising from below the waves on the beach-face. Northwards, a seaside settlement built against a cliff-face of rock, extending out over the water, spread modestly about. They might’ve been a little more advanced than the Saiyans during the Tuffle War, Vegeta thought to himself.

“Kuriza!” his father said in a low voice, in a tone Vegeta rarely was allowed to hear.

“Watch this, Papa!” the boy replied hastily, jumping into the air and letting out a groan as he collected his energy in a red-flaring aura around his body. An awkward minute later, Kuriza had gathered enough energy to make a medium-sized blast, which he then aimed at the settlement, releasing it in a long-arcing throw. Seven seconds later, the city lit up purple and wine-red and vaporized to ash.

“Good.”

Frieza ushered all three of them closer to him. Pulling out a bag of candy, the top already ripped off, he reached a claw inside and grasped a long stick of pink taffy-like candy, giving one to each of them. “It’s good, isn’t it? I made it myself,” the ice lord admitted. “Dodoria ate my first batch. This is the second. I hope it tastes good.”

He’s horrible, Vegeta thought, trying not to gag. The candy tasted of muddy snow, though it was pink-colored for some reason. Is that something for Dodoria? He wanted to spit it out; the fact that he would die if he did was the only thing preventing Vegeta from doing that. He bit his lip, tasting blood. He didn’t like having to submit.

“In any case, this is a game my father taught me when I was young. I confess that this is the first time I’m playing it with Kuriza. You two will have to forgive him. He has a tendency to get lost easily. Don’t let him.”

That last sentence came almost like a threat. Three space pods exploded into puffs of space dust, instantly to be blown away by the seawind. The waves crashed against the rocks, rushing against his boots up to his ankle. He shuddered in pain, gritting his teeth.

“Find a way home,” Lord Frieza said curtly, before returning to his pod and blasting off to space.

A red, flaming pain shot up his leg and he collapsed, staring at the burn marks left in the indentations their pods had been nestled in. This is just like what Father did…

“Get up,” Aranya said coldly.

“Come along now, Vegeta,” Kuriza interjected. “We don’t have long.”

The skies radiated torch-flame orange, black mossy clouds speeding along at great pace, obscuring the nearly-full moon every few moments. Father pulled this same trick on me on my first mission off of Planet Vegeta, he reflected suddenly, remembering. He didn’t leave me Nappa or Ledas or anyone else… He shuddered, feeling a flare of old pain pulse through his body. His ankle was on fire, and it took all of his composure to not only not scream out, but to not drink another one of those numbing vials the plumber had given him.

A real warrior doesn’t feel pain. The Legendary Super Saiyan never felt any pain! He grit his teeth harder, straining to stand up, a fierce scowl plastered upon his face ferally. “Let’s go, then. How about we split up, see who can wipe out the most cities first?”

“I don’t–”

“We’ll do it!” Kuriza said earnestly. “Okay, soldiers! Form up! You,” he said, pointing to Aranya, who was giving Vegeta an annoying death stare, “go east. You, go west,” he said to Vegeta. “Whoever wins gets a promotion!” the young Arcosian boasted recklessly. “Haha, neither one of you is beating me!”

He grinned brightly, turned, and rushed off north, his bright red aura burning an energy-wound of a gash through the deep orange sky.

Vegeta nodded to Aranya, but she didn’t so much as look at him before going her own way. The boy felt like he had lost something, like he had been a space duck lost in a storm, his feathers torn off. The disorientation was nothing compared to the feeling of loss he beheld watching Aranya charge off towards the sinking sun, her Nyarin fur blackened in silhouette.

I have to focus! he thought angrily. I have to be disciplined! But as soon as he forgot her, his mind rushed with thoughts of his father, and he felt himself slipping all over again, for an entirely different reason. He stopped flying for a moment, holding his leg as pain shot in waves up and down it, leaning forward, and vomiting. He was hovered above a canyon with a rushing river, a blue-leaf forest on all sides. He was just a dumb idiot. He didn’t even see the comet coming. He got killed by a stupid comet. I can’t respect him. I can’t. He was weak. I won’t be weak like him, I won’t!

Vegeta rushed off, following his scouter until it began to beep shrilly. Ahead, another settlement built in the canyon wall, loomed like a boil. He rushed it, the wind whistling in his ears.

There are no rules in war, his father had said to him, smiling, flicking his wrist. The space pod had exploded in a pool of fire, and he remembered how shocked he had felt, how visibly he had recoiled, how deep his father’s laugh had been.

He taught me how to be a warrior. I know I can do this. I’ve done this before. I’m prepared for this. I’m going to be the next Super Saiyan!

His comfort was numbing–it was the glue holding together the various broken parts of his being. Energy formed in his hands. The last time he had cleared a planet as advanced as this, his partner had not been a Nyarin. True warriors survive. He was still here; Vegeta was still alive. I’ll win this stupid competition and wipe that awful look off her face.

He had no doubt he could beat the clueless Arcosian kid. But Aranya was something different altogether. She was twice his age, in puberty for her species, rapidly gaining muscle mass, height, weight, and fur density before the Saiyan’s eyes. He knew what her power level was truly, though she had never meant to tell him. 18,000. That’s nothing. I can get there faster than her. By the time I’m ten I’ll be at 40,000 easily.

He didn’t like to look at the natives before killing them. Sometimes if he knew the history of the planet beforehand, he would savor in this part of it more openly, but for a mission such as this, he didn’t need to look. Vegeta endured another poisonous shudder through his body, noting that the plumber’s elixir, while not healing it, had seemed to dim the intensity of the bursts somewhat. He shuddered anyways, taking a deep breath and clearing his mind before releasing the energy below, upon them all, wiping out thousands, perhaps more, in the blink of an eye.

Throughout the explosion, he thought of nothing but the feeling of his father’s hand on his shoulder, gripping him slightly, proudly, and how Vegeta missed that feeling he knew he could not describe, nor think about much longer if he wanted to remain entirely focused on the task at hand.