His Majesty's Pet/Epilogue

Some time later…

Vegeta was scrubbing the bathrooms clean as he had been instructed by Zarbon to do for weeks, when the plumber entered all slick now, all cool. Only this wasn’t the plumber Vegeta had known many a moon ago–not the fun-loving, bodysnatching, Saibaman-doll-rescuing-from-the-toilet old sack of fast-spoiling meat. No, this was a grey-skinned, black-beaked, featherless charlatan masquerading as Vegeta’s favorite plumber in the whole ship who he hadn’t seen for several weeks, but perhaps that was because he was on vacation. He has to be.

“Uah, hi there,” the new guy said. He was about fifty years younger than the last model. Zarbon’s choice, the boy thought miserably. That would explain why he took so long to find. “What are you doing, kid?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes,” Vegeta retorted, going back to his work.

“Well, that’s my job.”

“Obviously.” Vegeta sighed, standing up and throwing his rag to the floor. He hated this more than anything–more than the pain, more than Zarbon limiting his rations, more than losing all of his friends. “Lord Zarbon commanded me to clean the public bathrooms myself every other day. I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Oh. There must be some mistake then. I’ll be going!”

Out the man flew. Vegeta finished his dull work, zoning out the entire time, and when it was done, he found himself standing in the hallway again, not a guard or plumber in sight. A worker bot was floating along at a dubious pace before falling out of the air and landing with a lightless thud on the ground. It didn’t move again, nor make a sound, nor even shine one of its seventy-six lights. It’s been like that ever since Gichamu died.

He was detached from it all, too tired to appreciate the irony. Hunger rumbled in his belly. Rounding a corner, he found a corpse–a soldier lying on his back, his skin drained of color. He looked incredibly old. His eyes had turned a reddish yellow color and his teeth had melted to black powder. Vegeta stopped to peer at him for only half a moment before running out of there. He knew what would happen if he were found with that body. Oh well. Someone else’ll find it. I didn’t do it, so I’ve got nothing to be afraid of.

His stomach growling, Vegeta returned to the training room, where he found Appule and Raditz. The Saiyan with the long hair was an altogether unkempt savage in Vegeta’s eyes. He’s not even worth a Saibaman yet. Maybe someday he will be, but probably not. Low-class Saiyans rarely are.

“Let go.” Walking up to Raditz, Vegeta pulled off his armor and cracked his back. In a very arrogant display, the prince began to pace in a circle around Raditz as he loosened his shoulders by flopping his arms about while clenching and unclenching his stomach muscles.

“Aw, right now, Vegeta? I’m tired…”

“Stop whining,” Vegeta retorted. “If Frieza heard you whine like that, he’d blast you off the ship. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay!”

He had known from the beginning that Raditz was only lucky. He had not one atom of talent in his body. It’s kill or be killed out there. He doesn’t have those kind of instincts. Part of him wanted to give in to what Zarbon clearly wanted and kill him already. It would be a mercy. He can hardly take on newborn Saibamen. He’s useless.

But he did kill The Surgeon, though Vegeta would never tell him that. His form was loose and barbaric, the kind of rustic fighting style low-class Saiyans from the countryside would often use. Vegeta remembered this particular style well. He’d once knocked out a group of nine year olds from the Shigihara district of the Brassica region back home. I was only three when I fought them. They were completely worthless. Raditz isn’t even as old as they were back then… and he’s not half as strong as they were, either. And apparently he had been stranded on that one planet for most of his life. He did manage to take out all of the remaining natives after his buddies were killed, though.

Vegeta raised a hand, motioning for Raditz to attack. The boy came at him instantly, and Vegeta liked that part of him. He doesn’t hold back at least. He’s a Saiyan as much as I am, even if he doesn’t have anywhere close to my level of talent.

With purpose, Raditz hurled his clumsy fists. The Prince placed his hands behind his back, dodging slowly as Raditz came at him. “Is that all you’ve got?” Vegeta yelled at him. “Pathetic! Come on, show your Saiyan spirit!” Of all the Saiyans, this is the one I’m left with.

Raditz doubled down. He tried. Vegeta could tell that his punches were coming a little harder and a little faster, but he was so inexperienced. He could feel the heat of his rage clinging to his skin and hear Zarbon cackling in his ear as he kicked the boy’s bones to dust.

The low-class Saiyan moved in with a more pressing attack, but even this hardly roused Vegeta to use his power. The insult of that–that this was who he was left with–made him tremble with rage. He let out a war cry and leapt at Raditz, shattering the other boy’s momentum. Raditz hadn’t been expecting Vegeta to attack him so suddenly, and his defenses were down. Ledas wasn’t even this bad when I first met him.

Savagely, the boy lunged at Raditz again, this time feinting with a kick from the right and smashing up the boy’s chin and face with his left. He took Raditz so hard, the boy’s cry of surprise was riddled with blood.

As Raditz struggled to keep his feet beneath him, Vegeta roared at him, “Are you giving up so easily? Come at me again!”

His face was all red where the blood was leaking out. Wiping his mouth, his eyes staring at Vegeta with a pleading, glazed-over look, Raditz finally answered the call. He swung two poor punches with no power behind them, neither one even forcing Vegeta to dodge. As Raditz came again, Vegeta’s impatience exploded in a soundless fury. He spun around counterclockwise, taking Raditz in the face with his elbow. The boy hadn’t expected that one either.

He dropped in a puddle of his own blood. Vegeta stood there, wiping blood from his elbow, wincing from where Raditz’s tooth had scraped his skin away to leave a raw, red ruin torn through his jumpsuit. Insolent brat. I should kill him for that. I can’t let him dishonor me like this!

Appule was staring at Vegeta. In the artificial light, he somehow looked very small. “Take Raditz to a rejuvenation tank,” Vegeta commanded.

“Vegeta… you can’t just order me around… I’m an elite like you!”

He cocked his head, even as his breathing continued irregularly. “Only Zarbon and I know what you tried to do. You’re lucky you didn’t end up like Cherion .”

The pin-headed fool went pale. That’s right. Someday I’ll kill you, Appule. Hopefully Zarbon’ll already be dead by then. But it doesn’t matter. You stand no chance against me. I could kill you whenever I want. “V-v-v-egeta…”

“Enough of that useless stammering! Get him out of here!” Vegeta reprimanded him, heat flushing his face. A drop of sweat fell from the Saiyan’s cheek.

Squealing in fright, Appule grabbed Raditz’s limp body and ran out of there. He was all alone again. The same boring metal walls, the same training mats, the same weight machines, the same armor racks greeted him. He shivered, sighing, feeling his rage evaporate as soon as Appule left. And yet, before he could savor his solitude for a moment, his wrist-comm flashed.

Vegeta’s heart raced emphatically. He had to mask a shudder, fearing the worst from Zarbon for that little exchange he’d had with the new janitor. But this message wasn’t from Zarbon.

Dodoria? Vegeta waited half a heartbeat before answering. He’s never done this before. But at least he’s never beaten me either. I just hope he’s not calling to make me the ship’s new plumber…

Recoome strolled down the hall, his hands in his pockets, whistling something obnoxious and out of tune. When he was gone, Cui turned from the window, putting his hands on his hips.

“He did this on purpose, didn’t he?”

“Psh,” Vegeta turned away from him, scowling. I don’t want to be anywhere near this creep. The memory of Planet Frieza 41 was an unpleasant one, and not one he was likely to forget. “You hit me with a cheap shot.”

Cui licked his lips. “Alright, monkey… if you’re so confident, step into the sparring ring with me.”

“Hmph. We have a mission to do.”

“Sure, I just thought you Saiyans were supposed to be stupidly brave.”

“Are you calling me a coward, fish-face?”

“What’re you gonna do about it, monkey?”

I’ll kill you too someday. I hate all of them. I have to kill all of them! “Whatever. I’m done wasting time with you.”

Vegeta walked over to the closet, which was fondly known as Zarbon’s Closet. In the back, several powerful Saibamen, most of them too feral to be used in combat assignments, were kept in large energy cages. This is so stupid, Vegeta thought, moving to the back of Zarbon’s closet, which faintly smelled of sulfur. Zarbon or Dodoria could put them down when they get unruly, but they just box them up so we’ll have extra work to keep us busy.

He pulled out all six, setting them down on the secondary training mat. Cui paced from one end to the other, scanning each Saibaman with his scouter. “Nothing too bad–oh, look at this guy–his power level’s off the charts!”

“That’s Nuttumé.” The prince walked around behind the cages, putting them between him and Cui. “He belonged to the guy who was here before you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Cui clicked his scouter a few more times, making sure it wasn’t malfunctioning. “His power level’s above 15,000…”

“That’s right.”

“Well, the others are all above 4000, but they shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Gee, I haven’t seen so many Saibamen this powerful in my life! I wonder what missions they went on?”

Vegeta was sure at least one of these beasts had been named Lil Vegeta at some point. “That doesn’t matter. We’re going to kill them all. Even Nuttumé. He’s gone crazy since Nailo’s died.” I wonder if he knows… no, he can’t. He’s stupid. All the same, Nuttumé was staring at him now. “He won’t work with the other Saibamen or any of our teams, so he has to be put down. You heard Dodoria say that too, didn’t you? I assume you have ears on that mushy head of yours.”

Cui exhaled deeply, glaring at him. “He’s stronger than either one of us. We’ll take them out in the cages.”

“No, that’s the coward’s way,” Vegeta replied at once. “I thought I was supposed to be the coward? Looks like you screwed up, Cui.”

Vegeta shot six finger beams that exploded against the metal ceilings of each cage. In an interstellar burst, the beasts were loosed upon the room.

“Idiot kid! Insolent brat!” Cui spat, stepping back, his eyes on the largest Saibaman of them all. Nuttumé was a true physical specimen unlike anything Vegeta had ever seen before. While he wasn’t much bigger or broader of shoulder than his fellows, his footwork was impeccable. He did things not even Vegeta could do. He twitched, the veins in his arms flushed a deep reddish color, unlike the others. Even his chestplate seemed to be stained a darker red than the others; his head was reddish except near the crown of his skull where all the color had drained away to white.

A gruff bark was all it took. The six of them tore after Cui together. Vegeta folded his arms. Yeah, yeah, I’ll help, he thought sarcastically, staring up at the nearest camera, which was of course looking directly at him with a curious mechanical tilt. I know you’re watching, Zarbon. I’ll play nice.

“Stupid monkey, look what you’ve done!” Cui screamed, jumping back to charge up an energy attack.

“Stop whining.”

The boy raised one finger, aiming it at each of the Saibamen one at a time. The finger beams, yellow and swerving, tore after their quarry, taking three in the head, one in the neck, and the other in the shoulder. Cui finished that one off. Nuttumé of course had batted such a feeble attack away from himself like it was nothing. But now, it was two on one again, and Cui was unharmed.

“We’ can take him out if we–”

“Yeah, teamwork, yeah,” Vegeta muttered in embarrassment, using blinding speed to instantly move next to Cui. Raising his hand again, he pointed it at Nuttumé as Cui did the same. “Just do it already.”

“Gruh!” Nuttumé screamed, his mouth frothing with bright-bubbling spittle. Howling, he got on all fours and rushed them with a crazed look in his eyes. Stupid beast. It’s a shame you weren’t smart enough to find a way to survive.

“Galick Beam!”

Cui didn’t say anything. He didn’t name his attacks anything cool. He’s a stuck up bastard because he used to be the captain of a whole planet. He doesn’t realize he’s even lamer than Zarbon.

Nuttumé made a valiant final effort of it, even threatening to self-destruct before Cui’s blue-green energy, wrapping around the darker red energy of Vegeta’s Galick Beam, tore through his lower jaw and out the back of his head. He would have exploded and torn a pretty big hole in the ship had not their attack vaporized him in a flash.

The familiar sickly-white glow of everything in the ship returned a moment later. Vegeta gathered up the empty cages and put them back in the closet. Zarbon’ll appreciate all the extra room in there now.

“You know, this doesn’t change anything between us,” Cui said after Vegeta returned.

“Whatever.”

“You’re a rude little monkey, aren’t you?”

“Your power level is fourteen thousand,” Vegeta sneered at him. “If I were you, I’d be hitting the gym a lot more now that you’re competing against other elites. Some of us may prove to be stronger than you.”

“Impossible,” Cui laughed, waving him away. “Dodoria promised me I was the senior elite on the ship. Is there any elite here with a power level higher than mine?”

The boy’s face darkened with shame, and he was reminded of Raditz and his pool of blood. The hunger was renewed, but that camera was still watching. No! I won’t let something stupid get me killed. I’ve lasted this long, he thought. I’m not about to give up now. And besides, you left me here… But who he was thinking of, Vegeta couldn’t guess in that moment. Dad? Mom? Nappa? Zorn? Ledas? No.

“Hmph. I’m out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah, Vegeta. I’ll see you around. The empire’s a big place, heh. I wonder where we’ll meet next.”

Vegeta stopped at the door until Cui finished speaking. Barely hiding his smirk, he opened the door and walked out. He won’t know I’m going to kill him until it’s already too late. What a fool. If I didn’t save him there, he would have totally lost his cool and let the Saibamen swarm him. What a loser. He’s not worthy of being one of Frieza’s Elites!

Vegeta was lost in thought when he rounded a corner and nearly crashed into Prince Kuriza. “Oh, there you are, Vegeta,” Kuriza said briskly, stepping back. Vegeta immediately noticed that the Arcosian was acting much more formal and graceful than usual, observing manners and other useless things like honor. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Come quickly.”

“What is it?”

“I am about to embark upon a mission of the utmost importance and secrecy, and I need your help. Follow me, and we’ll discuss everything on the way.”

“Uh… yes, my lord.”

“What time is it?”

Glancing at his wrist-comm, the prince replied, “Twenty-one cycle, sir.”

“What time is your bedtime, Saiyan?”

“Twenty-one cycle, sir.”

“Very good, Vegeta. We must hurry then.”

“Well… where are we going, exactly?”

“Why… to Ginyu’s quarters, of course.”

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Aranya.” He didn’t respond. That’s weird. What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting so hostile? “Don’t you want to know how she was, Saiyan? She was your former team member, was she not?”

“Whatever. Lord Frieza told me she’s never coming back, so what’s it matter?”

“She may not be coming back here, no, but once she gets her new pair of eyes, I’m sure I’ll find a use for her.”

“You’re making a team too?”

“That’s classified.”

“Whatever. What are we getting from Ginyu’s room?”

“That’s classified.”

“Really? Can’t you tell me anything? If I’m going to help you–”

“Saiyan!” Kuriza pulled out something from his inner robes, handing the unopened piece of milky and pinkish candy, the two halves swirled against another and encrusted in pure space sugar, to Vegeta.

Vegeta was scowling at him, looking gloomy like he always did. “What’s this for?”

“Eat it.”

“Is that an order?”

Kuriza smiled sweetly. “Yes.”

“Fine.” He fumbled a bit to tear the nokashi open. When he was finished, he scowled again. “What was that for anyways?”

“This is top secret, Vegeta. Now that I’ve paid you for your services, you can’t tell anyone about our super secret mission, alright?”

“Whatever.”

“If you do, I’ll kill you,” the prince countered. That got the monkey’s attention.

“Wh-what…?!”

“Quiet Saiyan!” Kuriza said suddenly, detecting footsteps approaching them. As his scouter confirmed half a second later, a guard was indeed on patrol. “Act natural,” he whispered to the other prince, whose arms were folded. He was always frowning for some reason.

“Hang on, who’s there?” the furry, flat-faced guard asked, coming into view. “Oh, it’s just you, Prince Kuriza. Please excuse me.”

“Oh, no worries.” Kuriza laughed nervously, beckoning the man over to the nearest window. “So, um, that’s some nice fur you have, soldier. It’s very shiny.”

“Ah thanks, Prince. Heh, about time somebody noticed! I use generic space gel every morning, sir!” he barked like a drunken android.

“Excellent work, soldier. You’ve truly done an exceptional job. I’ll have to put you up for a promotion.”

“R-really, sir?”

“Yeah!” Kuriza beamed, smiling really broad as he bypassed the fingerprint lock to open the great looking window staring off out into the depths of space. In a rush of sound and cold, the window vanished. Now it was Kuriza’s turn to fold his arms and watch Vegeta strain to keep his balance. The soldier cried once (and it wasn’t a very good one either) before getting sucked out to space like some chest-bursting varmint.

The Saiyan boy had jumped out of the window’s direct suction path and held his back up against the far metal wall. I could wait for him to get sucked out too, Kuriza thought, but Father really likes this one for some reason.

The window closed sharply; they were walking back to the elites’ sleeping quarters. “So where did you go?” Vegeta asked finally, breaking the midnight silence. “I haven’t seen you around in a while… sir.”

“Uncle Cooler took me to the Stomping Grounds for training.”

“He’s training you? In fighting?”

“That’s right.”

The other boy’s tone had quickened. He almost sounds excited. “How strong is he?”

“Oh, I don’t think that could be measured in power levels. Certainly no scouter is capable of reading a number that high.”

“A-and, you’re sure? Are you far behind?”

“Oh yes, very much so. Him and Father both, it seems,” Kuriza sighed. “But Father wants me to be his heir, so I will. If I’m going to be Emperor of the Universe, I need to be strong enough to hold it all together, like them.”

“Well, part of the universe. Don’t your uncles have empires too?”

The blood was rushing to his face–that old, familiar, embarrassing feeling. “Don’t be so pedantic.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Father can be so demanding. He expects a lot of me,” Kuriza admitted as they drew closer to the barracks. “It can be very taxing sometimes, Saiyan. I’m sure your father was like that too, from what Zarbon has told me.”

“What did he tell you about my dad?!”

That sudden anger–he must have a quarrel with Zarbon. Interesting. “Nothing that the history books would not have, I fear. He was the hero of the Saiyan-Tuffle War. He united the Saiyan tribes against a common foe to take back your species’ homeworld.”

“And then he was killed by a comet.”

“Life is chance,” the prince shrugged. “If someone ever attacks the ship, you could wake up choking to death in space.”

“Hmph. I would never go out like that.”

“Me neither.” A tingle of pleasure ran down from the tip of his tail. “Alright, we’re here. Quiet. The others are inside, but Ginyu went out on a super-important mission with my father.”

“Where’d they go?”

“I think they went out shoplifting again, but I could be wrong. Look for hidden compartments and containers. What we’re looking for is a small data chip, blue and black… I think.”

“As you command, sir.”

It was dark, but they moved very quickly. The boy was quite young for a Saiyan by Kuriza’s estimation. He wasn’t very good with alien ages. He looked to be about ten years old for Arcosians, but he was light on his feet, careful, forward-thinking in his movements, and appeared to have been trained in stealth, as he used several movements that Kuriza’s uncle had taught him only last week.

Father was correct: he’s a prodigy. The admission cut deep. He buried it immediately–there would be no unprofessionalism in front of the Saiyan.

No one was around as they entered. Kuriza led them directly to Ginyu’s room in the back, opening every door with a flick of his finger. Once they were inside, Vegeta turned on the light and locked the door behind them, and they got to work.

It was really swell work, really fine work, really interesting work, and it took an appropriate amount of time as to not make this unrealistic godmodding, but eventually, Vegeta indeed found a secret hidden compartment behind Ginyu’s pillow, three squares above his head on the back wall. The metal piece fell out when he knocked on it lightly, and peering inside, the boy found what could only be described as a large stash of expensive space wines, spirits, and assorted alcoholic beverages.

Kuriza shook his head. No, that’s not it. I always knew he had that there anyways. Three months back, Kuriza had replaced one of the bottles with tropically spiced Sobren milk, and Ginyu hadn’t made mention of it whatsoever. Kuriza went on looking. He found Ginyu’s boots and his magazines (all about space golf and the top shag space carpets of the month) and his shredded yellow blankey tucked neatly under his pillow like any good captain should be able to manage.

It was exactly at that moment that Kuriza noticed a space rat on the wall. Oh no gross ew its all brown and the fur and look at its eyes its moving so fast and it could touch me filthy beast its got diseases it could bite me if i step on it feel it squish between my toes

“Lord Kuriza?!” Vegeta whispered in a shocked voice.

Kuriza blinked and noticed the smoking hole in the wall. “Did I do that?” he asked dumbly.

“Ye-yeah…” Vegeta said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, this is bad! What are we going to do?”

There was a knock at the door, and Kuriza was forced to answer it himself. “Oh hey, it’s you! I didn’t know you were back on the ship, Prince Kuriza!” Recoome said in his usual, mentally-deficient voice.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Kuriza replied ambiguously.

“Uhhh, what’re ya doin’ in the cap’n’s room, kid?”

The Arcosian Prince waved his hand in Recoome’s face like they do in the movies. “None of your business. Go away, Recoome. It’s bedtime.” I don’t want to have to kill you…

“Nah, you’re gonna tell me or I’m goin’ to Lord Frieza right now!”

“Do you really want to do that?” Kuriza asked suddenly. His voice dropped low, his anger cooling to the utmost ice. You don’t respect me, you stupid, dumb oaf. I really should kill you. Father wouldn’t put up with insubordination! “Are you disobeying me, soldier?”

“Here,” Vegeta said, tossing a tiny piece of plastic at Recoome, who almost caught it, but the card bounced off his fat fingers, falling to the carpet, where he dove to retrieve it and what remained of his grace (but he didn’t get back any of the latter, in Kuriza’s humble opinion). “It’s a three day all-expenses-paid trip to Poonyjak or somethin–”

“Poonjab VII!” Recoome cheered, reading the card, his mouth cracking open obtusely in a gleeful smile. “Alright! This is what I really call a party now! Thanks Vegeta! Ya know, you ain’t half bad… for a monkey, hah!” he said, waving teasingly at the boy before marching off to bed. What an idiot. I wonder what the captain sees in him. I cannot be so blind as him. Kuriza knew he was not. Not with Aranya. Even Vegeta likes her, and he doesn’t respect anybody.

They had already closed the door behind them when they noticed that the hole had burned through the wall, stirring ash into the air. A molten chunk of metal had fallen on the nearest table, where the lampshade had gone up in smoke. Kuriza barely noticed that he was rubbing his fingers together again. If Father or Ginyu figure out what happened here… he thought. No, I have to calm down! But this still doesn’t explain where Ginyu hid that mix tape of slam poetry I made for Burter’s birthday. Where could he have hidden it? It doesn’t make sense! I should have found it by now! It’s not fair! I wanna see me again! I was amazing! I was the best! I need to do one where I transform and…

“Lord Kuriza!” Prince Vegeta whined ever so urgently in his ear. “What now?”

“Ah, yes.” Kuriza faced Vegeta, watching the light of the growing fire glint in the monkey’s dark eyes. “If this is to be the last time we ever see each other, Saiyan, farewell. I wish you good fortune in the combat assignments to come. But for now, all I can advise you to do is run. That’s what I’ll be doing.”

Kuriza didn’t wait for the Saiyan to whine again. The boy spun on his heels, his aura blooming, noticing with a jolt of electric excitement how much more powerful it felt wrapped around his frail, thin body now. And I’ve only been training with Uncle Cooler for a few weeks…

Already, he was feeling it. The pressure of his father’s expectations both seemed to weigh him down and keep him going. The wind was rushing to his ears as he sped towards the nearest star-lit looking window. They’ll never know it was me.

The prince wrenched it open impatiently. A drifting cleaner bot was patrolling by at a slow pace, bobbing uncomfortably in the low lights. The window vanished; the bot was pulled violently and utterly out; the soundless rush that accompanied it was intoxicating enough to make Kuriza jump into the looming void pool without a second thought.