His Majesty's Pet/See Ya, Space Cowboy

“She will live, won’t she?”

“There are no other serious wounds, and her condition is stable,” Lord Cooler said, striding in front of the looking window impatiently before coming back. “I think it’s likely she’ll make a full recovery…”

“Give her the transplant,” the boy said suddenly, gripping the handrails until they bent and twisted.

“That technology is extremely expensive and not guaranteed to work,” the lead doctor, a beak-faced man who was just another Malaka in Kuriza’s eyes, said. “It’s also risky. There have been few such operations–”

The boy raised a hand. “I don’t need to know the specifics. Just make it work.”

“It would have to be approved by your grandfather,” Uncle Cooler said. “We will have to go see him ourselves.”

“Why?”

“It’s an expensive and experimental operation you’re asking us to perform. You’ll have to explain how she’s important enough to be worth it,” the doctor explained. “P-please, sir…”

“I understand,” Kuriza said coolly. He could almost smell the reek of his ice wine breath now that his memory had been stirred. “Uncle Cooler, can we go there first?”

“Very well,” he growled, looking down at the pathetic Nyarin with various medical personnel clustered around her. “Why is she so important to you anyways?”

What game are you playing? Kuriza was nevertheless taken aback by the question and had to stutter for a few gasping moments to collect his thoughts. “I–well, I mean, she was one of my father’s elites who successfully carried out the mission to kill the slaver, Kiwano. She is a powerful warrior, fully capable of running a vast section of space. She is rational, organized, and very impressively composed under pressure. I should like her to be my sparring partner one day…”

He sighed, looking in on her, his cheeks remaining flushed. Cooler was looking at him. Say something, the boy thought with cowardice. Why are you so cruel to me, Uncle? What did I ever to you to–

“If that’s why you want her, she will remain here,” Cooler said flatly. “While you’re with me, you will have no sparring partner save for me.”

“O-oh…” stammered Kuriza. This had taken him again very unexpectedly, and he was at a loss for words. It always felt like when he was searching for memories it was like traveling at high speed through an Arcosian hurricane. What Kuriza remembered from such trips were at best fragmented, and at worst a ghost of a whisper faded to black in the unused corners of his brain (of which there were several).

“Are you scared? Scared you’ll end up like her?”

“No.” Kuriza spun from the looking glass, collecting his crimson coat around him. “If she’s strong enough, she’ll survive. If she does get her eyes,” he said to Mr. Wrinkly Beak, “you will instruct her to immediately seek passage to Planet Frieza 01, seeking either Lord Frieza or Lord Kuriza–whichever one of us is in.”

“I-I understand,” the man replied, looking over them quizzically. His mild disinterest mildly annoyed Kuriza. Stupid old bat. He must have graduated from medical school so long ago, Grandpa wasn’t even born yet… “I will send her to you if her condition improves.”

“But if it doesn’t?”

“Then,” Kuriza said, pausing at the door, and looking back at them over his shoulder, “you will wait for my return. If she is not alive at that time, I will kill every one of you.”

The man squawked indignantly, bristling with an aristocratic smugness. It took all of Kuriza’s willpower to refrain from shooting him in the head. I can’t. He can’t die yet–he’s too important. He knows too much. Without him, we’re headless here… “W-we will, my lord! I promise you that–we will save her by any means necessary!” He bowed, saluted, dripped sweat on the floor just in front of Kuriza’s Arcosian toes (veritably so).

“Get out of here,” the prince breathed.

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

“You will be in a lot of pain for as long as you stay with me. Are you not afraid?” his uncle asked in a bored tone, completely ignoring what had just happened. Always in it for yourself. Always pushing for your way. I see right through it, Uncle. You have more care than father, but your greed probably exceeds his. Amazing… I wonder if anyone else knows this about you. It must lead to an easy way to defeat you. Such a personality flaw is too severe to be meaningless.

“Of course I am,” replied the boy. “But Father wants me to be his rightful heir. I want to make him proud of me…” He stopped suddenly. Cooler remained silent. He had not yet come to the door to leave with him. “I need to be more ruthless–like him more.”

“I can make you into that,” Cooler said confidently. “It’s not so hard with lower life-forms to influence their behavior. You’re weak enough that I can do it.”

Kuriza’s cheeks reddened. Is that an insult, or is he really that sardonic? No–can’t be. He would never stoop so low on purpose. He doesn’t know…”

“Do whatever you must,” Kuriza replied. “I will become the strongest being in the universe by the time it’s my turn to be emperor!”

“Bah,” Cooler replied. “That was a stupid thing to say. Do you always ramble in such a way as to make your weaknesses so obvious?”

“I… what?!” Kuriza cocked his head, not understanding. “You mean I–I don’t get it…”

“You’re not advanced enough to tell,” Cooler said, narrowing his eyes in bemusement and walking over to the boy, patting him on the shoulder. “Think about it, instead of just blurting out the stupidest answer in record time. There’s nothing impressive about that, Kuriza.”

“I-I… yes! I get it.” He was beaming, looking around. “Tell me, Uncle, are you stronger than my father?”

“He would never admit it, but I am.”

“Oh…”

“This form you see me in is my restrained form, if anything,” the emperor boasted.

He has more transformations?! What the… why did Father never tell me about this? “What is your unrestrained form, Uncle?”

“If I ever show that to you, Kuriza, it will end with at least one of us perishing.”

Damn, he’s really serious about this. Doesn’t that make it more likely that he does have another form… but if it’s so obvious, wouldn’t he realize that and then exploit that fact knowing we’d never suspect that he was doing the obvious, stupid thing because he had always been so very careful.

“It’s fine, Uncle Cooler. Either way, if you have unlocked a new, more powerful form than this,” the boy said, looking down at his own body, which was in its final form too, “I could become mythically powerful. I would very much like that, Uncle. Please, teach me!”

“I will,” he growled. “But you need to stop assuming you will ever surpass my children.”

Raimie and Haimaru–the twins. But… “They’re just twins, Uncle.”

“That’s right.”

“D-does that mean…?”

“Enough questions. We’re leaving now. If you come with me now, you will not be able to leave the planet I send you to until you manage to hit me at one percent power.”

“O-one percent power… how much is that, Uncle?”

Cooler grinned. “You better hope it’s not well above yours. Have you been training?”

No, not really. Mostly, I’ve been painting and choreographing new poses with Ginyu… “A little,” he said hesitantly. “Not very much, Uncle, and I don’t know if I could do anything against you at such a level–”

“Nonsense,” Cooler growled, lowering his tone to a threatening degree. Kuriza stared at him, blue fur blurring coldly in his periphery. “If you’ve already conceded that, you don’t have a true warrior’s spirit. No warrior who wishes to be the best in the universe would dare give up so easily! It’s not about the feeling of winning. It’s seeing how far your body can go when it’s begging you to stop, when it’s pleading with you to give up, to collapse, to slip unconscious. You want to know how many others you can outlast and overcome, your endurance and strength and speed against theirs.”

“Will you teach me all of this, Cooler?”

“No. You will have to learn that on your own. I will teach you only two things for however long you wish to stay with me: the illusions of pain and overcoming such psychological drawbacks, and what it truly means to have courage. These are the only two ingredients I can teach,” he told the boy harshly. “Everything else, you must be able to understand as you experience it. If you are not decisive, Kuriza, you will fail. You must be decisive above all else. Do not be swayed by emotions. That is the road to slow decay.”

“I understand, sir!” Kuriza’s skin was bristling. He is nothing like Father. Already he’s trying to teach me. I wonder why… is there some reason my uncle is being so generous? It’s not like him–he usually stays pretty secluded in his slice of the empire.

“I will beat the will to live out of you,” Lord Cooler said coldly. “It is up to you to fight on anyways, to land that single hit. Only then will I allow you to train with me for real. When I see that you can overcome the fear of pain, I will know you are ready.”

And with that, he swept himself out of the room, leaving Kuriza to run after him back to their ship.

Zarbon hadn’t yet responded. Though Vegeta had tried a second time for clarification on what he was supposed to do now that Aranya was wounded and gone, there was no response. He’s probably hoping I’ll screw up and get killed somehow. Or maybe he’s in league with The Surgeon.

The thought had flashed into Vegeta’s mind after their fight, and he had not shaken it still. Who cares? I’m not scared of him. Zarbon’s not gonna kill me… I’ll kill him! I’m sure he remembers what happened to Nailo. That’s coming for him too…

They were on a planet without a name–three of the last four Saiyans in existence. There’s no use crying about it, Vegeta thought savagely, as he blasted a group of worm-faced aliens from existence. Wind blew through the trees. This planet was a tropical little world full of white beaches and rocky, half-submerged islands. There weren’t any continents or ice packs around the poles. There weren’t many natives either, but they all looked different on all of the different islands the Saiyans had been to so far, despite clearly being of the same species–at least in the distant past. Father once told me that the Tuffles and Saiyans descended from the same species because we looked so similar. That can’t be right, though… No, the Tuffles were too weak to be related to us.

Nappa and Raditz were indulging in the carnage ahead of him. He watched them murder hundreds of natives, wiping the island clean of the last remaining pesky lifeforms. Why do they even bother fighting us? Their power levels don’t even hit triple digits…

They were laughing, their hands full of fire–even the boy’s. He’s low-class, the prince observed on the shore, watching the sand-sprouted trees shiver in flames, Nappa and Raditz chasing the last petty fools to the water’s edge, where cornered, they were wiped out without a second thought.

The wind blew sand into the air as plumes of black smoke rose in segmented columns up and up and up.

They were looking for the man who had taken Aranya’s eyes, but there was really nothing Vegeta and the others could do except look around on all the nearby planets. So far, that had yielded them nothing except a few more planets for Lord Frieza to sell on the Galactic Market, which Vegeta hoped would get him back in the tyrants’s good graces, even if they never found The Surgeon again.

“Alright, Vegeta, let’s go onto the next one!” Nappa growled pleasantly. He laughed savagely and hurled a huge white energy ball, materializing the huge attack so suddenly, Vegeta was almost impressed.

As it detonated, sending boiling raindrops down around them, Vegeta’s scouter beeped. He froze, even as Raditz joined in on Nappa’s recklessness. Low-class, but still strong enough to wipe out a whole planet’s worth of these fools, Vegeta thought suddenly. The word monkey almost came to his mind when he thought of them. That’s right Zarbon, he thought madly, you made me into this. He almost wanted to laugh out loud in spite of everything, but his scouter beeped again.

The sand was turned to glass where the drops of energy fell. The boy didn’t answer yet. The incoming call was coming from a secure line, masking who was calling and from where, on a channel Vegeta had never used before. Is this Zarbon, then? Maybe he’s trying something…

“Hello?”

“Hello there,” a familiar voice said coolly over the scouter. “I admit I did not expect you to be as slow as you actually are, little Saiyan,” The Surgeon said amiably. “I thought you knew where I was going. I made it obvious enough.”

“Only a coward runs from battle,” Vegeta replied in a threatening tone.

“Your culture’s sense of moralistic heroism doesn’t interest me in the slightest. But I confess I am growing bored. Come find me, kid. I am where I would like to be for this.”

“I don’t know where you are,” Vegeta replied in so loud of a voice that his companions looked over to him in surprise. “You’re a coward! Stop hiding and–”

“I’m staying at the Citadel right now. You’ll find me on B-Floor of Dwivelle Hall. If you bring reinforcements–”

Vegeta scoffed. “Not a chance.”

“Good,” The Surgeon replied. “I’ll be waiting for you.

The communication died. A seawind was blowing through their hair. Vegeta thought he could see pieces of Nappa’s hair being blown from his head like a palm-full of sand.

“We’re going!” he shouted to them. “I found The Surgeon!”

“B-but Vegeta…” Nappa whined. “I thought you said he was stronger than you. Even if we catch him, how’re gonna get him back to Lord Frieza?”

“Easy,” the prince replied, kicking off into the air. “I’m going to kill him the same way I’m going to kill Zarbon.”

It was evening when they arrived. The moss-covered buildings of the Academy of Science loomed in decay, casting gathering pools of darkness across the vast stretches of paved campus grounds. Not a single officer-in-training could be seen. A hunched-over man, moving sluggishly across the port, was dripping pus from his fiery-looking koani-eye. Wrapped up in more than one dirty blanket, everything else about him was indiscernible.

Vegeta used his status as one of Frieza’s elites to put all space pods and ships on lockdown. The station commander was passive enough to work with without much argument. Once it was done, Vegeta spoke for the first time into the secured channel.

“We’re here.”

The Surgeon took a deep breath over the scouter, crackling his breath. “I know. The building you are seeking is to your right–the triangular-shaped one.”

“Oh,” Vegeta nodded to his companions, and they changed direction. “We’ll be there soon. No funny business.”

“Vegeta, I dunno if we’re strong enough. Even if we–”

“Nappa, quiet!” Vegeta stopped suddenly, turning about with all his fury to stare at his two Saiyan dogs. How is it that out of every Saiyan in the universe, these are the two I’ve been left with? “Are you telling me you’re scared?”

“N-no,” the balding man stammered, going red in the face. What a coward. I’ll remember that, Nappa. I know just what kind of person you really are. “Vegeta, come on. I just think it’s risky that we’re hoping that your technique works is all. What if he’s thought up a counter?”

“You don’t trust me.”

“That’s uh–”

“Listen to me here, Nappa. I’m not about to be threatened by some space trash like this guy,” Vegeta snapped back, his voice carrying across the grounds. In the distance, torn paper was fluttering across the air, in front of the grey, blue-moss covered Dwivelle Hall. “We’re Saiyans! We’re the greatest warrior race in the universe! We aren’t afraid of anyone.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so…”

“We’re going to show everyone,” Vegeta continued. “If you would rather wait in your pod, stop following us.”

The boy stared into Raditz’s eyes as he said this, sensing fear in his stupid low-class hair. That’s right. If you run, I’ll kill you too.

“No way!” Nappa’s pride was too forced. He pounded his chest and stamped his foot in the ground. “I’ll kill the bastard myself!”

“If you do, I’ll let you have my bunk,” Vegeta said.

“I… uh, what?! Are you serious, Vegeta?”

“Yeah.”

Their scouters picked up hundreds of power levels within the building. The ground floor was D Floor when they entered, and finding a set of gravity pads, the Saiyans descended two floors. In B Floor, the hallways were shabby, obviously dusted over with a tenuous layer of space weevil gloss, glinting silver as armor in the artificial lights. As soon as they stepped into the hall, they found no power level readings. That’s weird.

“You’ll pardon me for this, I hope,” the man sneered from over the scouter. “I installed some… material on this floor to prevent anyone down here from having their power level read on a scouter. I hope you understand. We’ll be only using our senses from this point out.”

The ground shook, and Vegeta thought he tasted something sour. His ears were ringing, and his scouter was lying in a melted puddle on the floor, just as Nappa’s and Raditz’s were.

“What the heck?!” Vegeta shouted, jumping to his feet and looking around. “Is this place some kind of trap?!”

“Yeah. He’s the one who invited us here, remember?”

“Whatever. You two stay behind me, and don’t get out of sight, no matter what, do you hear me?!”

They were off again. Alas that it was not a very interesting hunt, for around the next corner, an open door with the light on inside beckoned them to it. And no one–not Nappa, not the kid with the stupid hair that made him look ever so slightly older than Vegeta himself (and he was taller too)–said anything. No, they followed him in as if their tongues had been cut out.

As expected, the door shut behind them, and an assortment of monsters came running at them, screaming and slobbering, from the dank darkness beyond.

They were almost like space pirates in the way they casually dealt with the sick-looking creatures. Flashes of light–blue, white, and green–permeated the darkness in stutters, blasting each hideous beast after the other. Each one fell, its body smoking.

“Those were ones I had taken from this world,” the man growled from somewhere in the darkness over a speaker. There’s speakers above the doors. He had those installed beforehand–he was prepared for this. He’s smarter than he seems. I need to be careful. If we’re too careless, we’ll all be killed. But if I tip my hand too early, he’ll run again… and if he knows this is how I’m going to beat him, he won’t invite me to meet with him again.

“They don’t look like recruits, ah!” Nappa said, almost throwing up, as he created a white light in his hand to guide them on. On the floor, in bloody piles, the mutant flesh piles loomed suddenly, as unnatural as they all were. I recognize that species… Vegeta thought, glancing at a short purple-skinned fishy man, whose body had become enormously bloated with far more prominent fins, along with tumors growing from his neck, down his shoulders, down his stomach, and to his upper thighs. His left side had grown abnormally larger than his right, and his head had become misshapen too.

“I did experiment on them,” the man admitted in half a whisper. The Surgeon cleared his throat over the comm. “I will be doing something similar with all three of you–provided I don’t accidentally vaporize your bodies first.”

“Fat chance!” Vegeta shouted, his aura forming around him, banishing darkness. “Come on you two! I’m not letting him keep up with this!” He flew on, slamming his way through doors and speeding over tables and furniture through a variety of workshops and what appeared to be labs for experiments and other hot activities. What a nerd, Vegeta thought angrily as he flew. No way he’ll beat me. The thought of that was met with the image of what his father would have looked like had he learned that Vegeta lost to The Surgeon.

The pain cut deep, but it did well to drive him on with more ferocity. He blasted his way through numerous rooms until, even as The Surgeon’s voice was thin and threatening over the speakers. He was moving too fast to hear what that idiot was ranting about now. I’m just going to find him and kill him and that’s it. No messing around. He’s too dangerous.

Vegeta had read the file on The Surgeon, wherein it had been stated he had once been cornered by Galactic Patrolmen on Neplo Icor, and instead of fighting them had destroyed the planet to escape, killing billions. He’ll try the same trick here if he’s feeling cornered. We’ll have to move fast. That thought scared him more than anything else. No–I’ll have to. I’m the only one who can. He didn’t trust those two, even if they did have tails.

He was already beginning to warm one up when, even as the speakers in every room continued to ring with The Surgeon’s voice, a blackish fist came from the darkness, taking him on the chin, and hitting him so hard that for three seconds, he saw nothing but white, feeling and experiencing nothing else. Waking as he slid against the ground, Vegeta felt the air ripple as explosions went off, washing the room (which appeared to be a lab with multiple tables and egghead devices all over the tables (many of which shattered when the explosions went off)) in fire and light.

There hovering in the hair opposing Nappa and Raditz was none other than The Surgeon. “I bet you’re all wondering what my power level is, aren’t you?” he asked them in a very quiet voice.

The man was floating before a pink-skinned alien that also floated with fat air sacks flaring and shrinking below its blobbish frame. Its arms were small, pointed, sprouting from the center of its chest, and it was clicking sparks of ki as its fingernails touched one another. He had cut a long incision along the back of its skull down its spine, and leaving the skin bare, was moving with two bloody tools, their handles glowing blue, deep inside the creature’s head and back. The monster was screaming uncontrollably at the top of its lungs.

“Nothin’ we can’t handle!”

“Yeah, we’re gonna smoke you, you space-varmint-lookin’ thing!”

“I won’t kill any of you today. It’s true you didn’t tell Frieza or anyone else about this–I checked. You’re honorable men. Let me make you all into beautiful creatures.”

“The hell?” Nappa muttered.

Vegeta sat up, his head throbbing. His hand was still burning with the energy he had clutched between it. Taking a deep breath, he flexed energy from his palm into the air, revealing a bright white Power Ball. I’m sure Nappa remembers this. The low-class one hasn’t had a chance to learn a technique like this.

And it was only at that moment that Vegeta remembered, Oh… no… Raditz probably can’t control his Great Ape form…

Well, it was too late now. The other three had stopped talking again and were staring at the ball. “What exactly is this?” The Surgeon asked.

“An artificial moon,” Vegeta replied. “I’m sure you know what comes next.”

“Oh,” he said, his aura forming around him like falling flower petals. “In that case, maybe I will kill you.”

The creature’s arms sparked, and its cries grew more urgent. The Surgeon’s eyes were wide, fixated upon the fake moon. His snout was twitching. Go ahead and try, Vegeta thought, staring up at the ball, his chest heaving with anticipation and a warm, spreading tingly feeling rising up from his chest. We’re the strongest warriors in the universe! We aren’t scared of you.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Face the true might of the Saiyans, you pathetic worm!

He saw nothing, tasting dust and chaos, and hear the building collapse around him. Vegeta’s fingers were tingling uncontrollably. It was getting harder to breathe–but that only made him more excited. He kept his eyes closed. The Surgeon swore loudly, and Dwivelle Hall exploded as the three of them became Great Apes.

Recruits from the higher floors were in the air, having escaped through windows, or on the ground, staring up at the three. “Get out of here!” Vegeta bellowed at them in his deepening voice.

Many were running; more were standing and screaming. Dust was spreading across the campus grounds as the entire building was reduced to rubble. Frieza’s gonna be mad about that, he knew. Oh well. If I bring him The Surgeon’s body, nothing else will matter.

He felt alive. Looking around in his Great Ape form, Vegeta found Nappa and Raditz nearby. Nappa was standing casually next to Raditz, holding his shoulders, speaking to him in a beastly voice. He doesn’t know how to control the form. What an idiot. I could do that at his age…

Raditz was hyperventilating, standing with his shoulders pressed against one another. Nappa’s was holding him by the shoulder pauldrons. A crowd was forming to watch on the outskirts of the Science Academy grounds. Vegeta stood his ground. They’re probably telling Zarbon about this right now. I have to make this count.

“Nappa, is he ready?!” Vegeta bellowed.

“N-no… he’s too wild, Vegeta…! We’ve gotta cut off his–”

Out of nowhere, The Surgeon appeared, like a golden dart, slamming his fist into the back of Nappa’s head, staggering him. Nappa growled, let go of Raditz, and spun around, shooting energy wildly, blowing up most of the finely-trimmed grounds gardens in the process.

Raditz looked up, startled. At once, his face contorted into rage as he realized he was alone again. He jumped high into the air before slamming down on the ground, resulting in a fissure forming in the ground, shattering every window in the nearby windows, and even causing that crack to spread to the closest building, driving up it to the ceiling. I need to control him, Vegeta thought.

Before he could act, The Surgeon shot a blue star-shaped beam into Nappa’s chest, cooking his armor, and sending the big man flying into Vegeta.

Vegeta, who had simply been standing there, forming a strategy, was taken by surprise and fell to the ground with Nappa. “You’re more powerful,” The Surgeon shouted at them, dashing over. “But so much slower.”

His black hair was glinting with gold. He looked very pleased with himself. Stupid vermin. You’re too cocky. That’s your problem. You’re blinded by your arrogance.

Vegeta and Nappa continued to grumble as they stood up. “We have to deal with Raditz,” Nappa whispered to him as they did.

“Leave him. After we kill this bastard, I’ll blow up the Power Ball.”

“Vegeta, he could destroy the planet!”

Nappa clearly didn’t seem okay with this strategy, but there was no time to chase down Raditz. We don’t have scouters… we don’t know how strong he can get. I have to be careful and take him out at the first instance. If he’s stronger than me…

“Go left,” Vegeta commanded Nappa. “I’ll hit him down the middle afterwards.”

“Got it!”

The big man looked half a beast in this form, but Vegeta recognized that twinkle in his eye, and the way he ruffled his snout before diving into combat. And in that instant, as Raditz continued to smash buildings in the background, Vegeta shivered. We’re all beasts, he thought. Zarbon was right. But he’s one too.

Vegeta took in a breath, realizing in that moment. Nappa lunged at The Surgeon, who, for all his worth, hadn’t fled again. Vegeta wasn’t sure he’d be able to track the man. He’s arrogant. He thinks he can win. That’s how we’ll beat him.

The big man with the yellow armor swung wildly, making reckless passes at the little hovering man. This man was the worst man of all–a man this universe could not exist in tandem with any longer. That’s what the mission briefing had said anyways. Somehow, Vegeta doubted he was worse than Zarbon. But he’s stronger than Zarbon. If I can beat him…

The golden aura danced around Nappa’s fists easily. And then, the aura exploded into a bluish-black color before suddenly flaring up, in flame-like appearance, a deep red color. The Surgeon shouted, “And now it’s your turn,” to Nappa, before lunging at him with a single punch.

Vegeta held back, watching the attack. It hit Nappa hard on the nose sending him skidding back, forming deep gashes in the ground where his boots tore through pavement. Nappa hollered and released a mouth beam, but the man simply batted that aside.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, Vegeta held back. The prince wasn’t quite ready to move in yet. That form he just used… it powered him up. He’s a lot faster and stronger than he was a moment ago. The furry man was cackling as he formed a pool of golden energy before him before releasing it at Nappa.

The big Saiyan could only leap in the air to dodge, at which point, The Surgeon teleported too, appearing above him, and putting both hands out, shouted the name of some lame attack before unleashing a snaking, triple-splitting energy beam that was brimming with a mixture of blackish, purplish, and crimson energy.

Nappa put his hands up to block, but the light overcame him. As The Surgeon descended from the cloudscape, he appeared almost god-like, the energy around him floating golde and red, his hair standing on end, the size of his energy beam large enough to make the remaining spectators flee loudly.

“Nappa!” Vegeta called out.

Raditz looked up, beat his chest, and fired a mouth beam into the sky before leaping against another science building, toppling it and going down with it in a rush of dust and debris. Useless… all of them are useless… why is everyone like this? Even Aranya…

He paused, an itchy feeling forming in his throat. No. It’s only me. Only I can do this. I’m a Super Saiyan. It’s up to me! Prince Vegeta lunged up at the light, even as it was dimming. He knew that even if Nappa were still alive, the big man wouldn’t be able to defeat The Surgeon like this.

And indeed, that was the case–when the light cleared, Nappa was hovering in midair, his fur singed, steam rising from his body. His armor was cracked and blown to pieces, and his lip was trembling. His eyes–wide, white, and unseeing–twitched once. Vegeta arrived just as Nappa choked out a whimper and fell with a thud to the ground, unconscious.

“I must confess,” The Surgeon said, descending to be face-to-face with Vegeta again. “I did not bring you here–as opposed to dealing with you on Nivevi–because I was worried about your strength. That planet is valuable to me. I simply didn’t want to see it destroyed. I hope you understand, Saiyan, that you have already lost. You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are, kid.”

Vegeta punched him for that, suddenly surging his power to max before he did.

The Surgeon flew into the side of a building, leaving a trail of blood and disintegrating aura behind. Space trash. He’s pathetic–so predictable. I’ll have no trouble with him. He did use some kind of power-up boost. I’ll have to watch that. If he powers up again…

The boy launched himself at the wall, destroying the building in an instant. He felt his fist once again make contact with the man’s frail little body, but this time, The Surgeon used an explosive wave to gain distance. Vegeta felt no pain–not as he was. I’m going to kill you, he repeated over and over in his head as he tore after the man, and The Surgeon’s power was swiftly waning. He didn’t expect me to be above 12,000. Fool. I’m stronger than him right now!

The man tried an assortment of tricks with rapid-fire energy, more focused beams, teleportations, and Afterimages. None fooled the boy. Though he couldn’t move as fast as he wished in this form, the boy was able to maintain his imperial fighting style at a pace that would probably be relatively fast even at this power level in his normal form.

Still, this all seemed like such a normal fight, going exactly like he had imagined. Vegeta grabbed The Surgeon from the sky, squeezing him hard before throwing him into a crater on the ground. Another building went up in flaming, brown dust, and Vegeta thought, oh well, I guess they’ll have to rebuild the whole campus once I’m through with him.

It unsettled him again, as he stared down at the bloody, furry man who lay in the crater. He was supposed to be the most fearsome foe Frieza could have given us. His power level was unknown, which is a convenient way for Zarbon to send me to my death. The boy felt his lips parting in a sneer. How he wished for Zarbon to be here now. I did it, Zarbon. You tried to kill me again, and I did it. You’re an idiot. One day I’m going to kill you with my own bare hands!

He roared, beating his chest ferally, stomping the ground. Vegeta’s power surged, his aura bright blue, flaring hungrily. But it doesn’t make sense. He should be stronger than this… smarter, even. Why is he just fighting me like normal? He hasn’t tried to cut off my tail even once…

Vegeta’s eyes grew large. The crater was empty. Just above the rubble of Dwivelle Hall, the Power Ball shone primitively. An open target is an obvious target, an easy target, he could hear his father saying to him in his mind. There was one thing Vegeta had always known was a strong-point in regards to his consciousness: his ability to be decisive.

The Surgeon reappeared exactly where Vegeta thought he would. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is! The boy jumped in the air, coming down hard on the ground, cracking it, sending a shockwave up from the splitting street. His foe did not see it before it hit him. As he went flying on, Vegeta dashed after him through the air, his giant form crashing through buildings without care. He knew The Surgeon would be going for the ball again. He’s not confident to try to take out my tail–if he fails, he knows he won’t be able to surprise me again.

His cover was blown either way, and he would die.

Smoke was rising from the fallen building. Shaking rubble from his shoulders, The Surgeon found his feet. The grounds were empty now, save for the two of them. All Vegeta could hear was the wind in his ears. He bore down his quarry when suddenly, The Surgeon raised both hands above his head, and a large group of ki balls instantly appeared above him. Vegeta came to a stop warily, unsure what the man was planning to do. Is this some kind of trap?

The Surgeon’s eye was a bloody, pussy mess. His shoulder was leaking blood so fervently that his black and red striped fur appeared as a bucket of purple paint had been thrown on it. He was breathing raggedly, his breaths coming sharply and irregularly. He’s mortally wounded. He doesn’t have much left. This must be a desperation move… Vegeta realized he could be trying to destroy the planet and, at once, dashed at the furry little warrior again.

Releasing his yellow energy at Vegeta by flicking his wrist, The Surgeon cackled madly, his voice echoing across the abandoned campus grounds. Is he insane? Vegeta thought. He’s attacking me… not the planet. That surprised the boy, and when he went to block the incoming attacks, he was even more bewildered to see that none of the attacks were real. Illusions… the boy thought, blocking the first group of homing ki balls. The rest formed a cloud overhead, swirling menacingly. Vegeta stopped, keeping an eye on The Surgeon. He can’t run away from me. He looked up at the cloud of ki. Are they all illusions? Is this just some kind of trick to buy him time?

A second group came flying in; Vegeta blocked air. There was neither heat nor force to accompany the light. Fake again. He sneered impatiently, kicked off the ground again, and flew at The Surgeon for a final time. “Enough games!” he shouted at the man in his deep Great Ape voice.

The Surgeon merely smiled back at him, one arm on his wounded shoulder, breathing hard. He was utterly beaten. That was when Vegeta’s eyesight once again filled with yellow–the blasts had followed him back, shooting past him and forming a wall between him and The Surgeon. Bastard, this won’t save you…

Vegeta was about to blast the wall to pieces when a third group came in at him. As he went up to block, the light grew brighter, but again, he felt nothing. Blinking, he released his attack on ki balls in front of him when suddenly, the remaining energy split in all directions, fully spreading around Vegeta’s body and homing in on him.

“What… the…?” he gasped.

There wasn’t enough time to block everything. What came at his face, he blocked–but that energy was fake. Yet, the energy that impacted against his back, sides, legs, and even against his tail was very real, and it hurt a lot. He spun around, trying to block as many of the ki balls as he could, but without his scouter, Vegeta couldn’t tell which were real and which were fake. It seemed everything he blocked was indeed fake.

How does he know where to send the real ones? Is this just luck? No… it can’t be.

Vegeta grimaced, rising into the air, his fur steaming, his body throbbing with pain. There! He caught a glimpse of The Surgeon flicking his wrist again, and noticed new energy blasts forming amongst the cloud of fake ki. He’s not making the real ones until just before they hit me.

Vegeta smirked, allowing the cloud to surround him again. This time when the yellow energy came screaming in at him, he created a massive explosive wave, bright and blue, and instantly after forming that, Vegeta, letting out a bellow, threw out his hand, creating a purplish barrier around the whole cloud, funneling the out-rushing energy out of one tiny hole pointed at The Surgeon. All of Vegeta’s and the rodent’s energy funneled out in a torrent, galing stream right at him with such pace that the man was forced to shoot a ki blast into the rubble beneath him in order to dodge out of the way fast enough.

A trail of fire just missed him. As the man flew up and to the left, gaining both distance and height on Vegeta, the rubble beneath him stirred a second time. No way.

Covered in a thick layer of dust, Raditz rose up from beneath the collapsed building, howling with whining force. As he jumped into the air, his eyes radiating a destructive thirst, he spotted The Surgeon. With a roar, he came down upon the small, floating man with his fist, sending him crashing hard into the ground, forming a huge crater on impact.

He shot up faster than Vegeta would have thought. Now he’s running. Indeed, The Surgeon, bloody, his stamina fading, looked to be panicking just by how he was flying. Vegeta wasted no time in falling into a stance, bringing his hands together, and shouting, “Galick Gun!”

A purple rush sprinted after Vegeta’s foe. Goodbye, Surgeon, Vegeta thought.

The impact sounded severe even from thirty or so feet away, where Vegeta was standing. A flash of light surrounded The Surgeon, like a flame drinking up a flower petal, and then was gone. Hovering in midair, his form slouched forward, dripping blood, smoke rising from his body, The Surgeon did not move. He’s tougher than he looks, Vegeta thought, preparing to finish him off with another blast.

It was precisely at that moment that Raditz reappeared. Jumping childishly, he landed right in front of The Surgeon, grabbing him from the air, and in one fluid motion, tearing his head off with a single bite. A spurt of blood arced through the cloudless sky; the discarded body fell, and Raditz swallowed with a deep, satisfied growl.

Raditz shrieked again, shooting three mouth beams randomly in the air while beating his chest. Not bad, kid. Vegeta flew over to him in half a second, and as soon as Raditz saw him, he calmed slightly. You’ve proven your worth. Even if you are low-class, and you’re nothing compared to me… not bad.

Scratching his chin, Raditz gazed at Vegeta passively, waiting for him to make a move. The Prince of All Saiyans elbowed him so swiftly in the nose, Raditz never saw it. He fell unconscious back to the pile of rubble, sending a dust cloud into the air. The dust, for a moment glinted in the light of the dying sun. That’s right… Vegeta thought. That’s right, Zarbon. How dare you question the power of the Saiyan Race?!

He gorged upon his hate, upon his jealousy, until his father’s face was so far from his mind, it was as if Vegeta had never known him. All he wanted now was to kill Zarbon. He’s the last one I gotta get out of here. And besides, there’s no way he was stronger than that Surgeon guy. He’ll get the message soon enough.

Vegeta’s eyes returned to the Power Ball. He felt an old, nostalgic, painfully urgent feeling scratch at him from behind his eyes. Ignoring the dull pain, the boy raised a glove, focusing on the Power Ball’s energy, and with a wave of his hand, quenched the false moon.

In the low light, the tyrant’s tail seemed to glide through the air like a predator with a mind of its own. “My, my, Vegeta. You have really outdone yourself this time.”

“Th-thank you, Lord Frieza,” he said awkwardly, bowing again. Nappa and Raditz were on their knees behind.

“What happened to his head?” Lord Frieza asked sharply, pacing around the boy. His tone was reserved, quiet, but not unkind.

“I accidentally blew it off,” the prince replied solemnly.

“The damage to the Citadel was extensive,” Lord Frieza continued.

“Sire!” Vegeta stammered, his face going red. “We had to transform to corner him! If we didn’t, he would have run away again.”

The tyrant kicked the corpse weakly. “Rise, Vegeta. I must admit, your methods are a lot more… passionate than I would have liked, but you got the job done. You earn your keep around here–no one can say otherwise. First Kiwano, and now this miserable drug-peddler. You’re quickly becoming one of my deadliest warriors, my dear boy.”

“Thank you, Lord Frieza!”

Starlight drifted in from the looking window, falling upon the shoulders of Lord Frieza. “And it appears to me that you work best with your own kind. I heard you found that Saiyan,” he said, pointing to Raditz, “out there. Was he helpful?”

“He’s weak, but I can use him,” the boy replied without thinking.

“Ohoho, Vegeta! You should be nicer to your crew.” The Arcosian’s hand fell on Vegeta’s shoulder. “You don’t want them to resent you.”

“Is Aranya coming back?”

“No.” Frieza’s hand left him; the tyrant turned, flicking his tail high into the air, and jumped back into his hover pod. “She will live, I’ve been told. She may even see again some day, a long time from now…”

Vegeta remembered little else of their conversation. It was in a dream-like haze he left Lord Frieza’s room. No Zarbon or Dodoria. And that brat Kuriza wasn’t even with him… I wonder where they all are? His victory felt, if anything, deflating, in retrospect. Raditz killed him. I didn’t–no, I can’t think like that. I won. We won. That’s all that matters.

But she was gone, and even if he tried, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from Aranya for long. A weight was in his chest, similar to the one he’d felt losing Ledas. They hadn’t been nearly as close, but she’d been his friend, his partner… And she’s not coming back. Once again, loneliness surged over him.

The empty halls echoed with the uneven pattering of their boots. “Well, Nappa, I guess that means you’re promoted. You too, Raditz.”

“Eh, what’s that? A promotion?! To what?” Nappa asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

“You helped me defeat The Surgeon,” Vegeta replied. “And you heard Frieza himself–Aranya’s not coming back.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t call yourselves elites,” Vegeta instructed them. Raditz’s power level hasn’t even reached 500. He may never make it to 1000. He will never be elite. Low-class Saiyans never are. “You’re part of my team, and I’m one of Lord Frieza’s chosen elites…”

“More like the biggest suckup,” Nappa muttered to himself.

The boy pretended like he didn’t hear. He’s just jealous. He’s always been jealous of me. He’s the real suckup. But he was a Saiyan, and his father had chosen Nappa to lead his armies. And Raditz too had some worth, as much as it pained the boy to even consider it in the depths of his mind. He doesn’t remember it. But I saw it. I’m the only one who saw…

Reaching the barracks, the three trudged through to the back door, leading to the fancier elites’ quarters. Inside, the Ginyu Force were playing space darts with Appule. Jeice was throwing when they entered the room. Sitting high on a puffy chair, leaning back with the foot rest up, Guldo was holding his boot and complaining loudly, “I still have bits of worms in my shoe… ahh, it got all over my sock!!” he complained loudly.

Vegeta had to hide his smile. I bet you had a heck of a time, Guldo. Leading the other Saiyans into the rooms, he showed Raditz his new bunk, which had once been Aranya’s, and gave her brother’s to Nappa.

“I’m going to bed,” he told them. “You can go out there with the rest of them if you want.”

“Alright, I’ve always wanted to beat Recoome at something!” Nappa grinned fiercely. He has more hair than you, Vegeta thought.

They were gone in a heartbeat. Alone in the bunks, Vegeta looked around at all the vacant beds. Even with Raditz and Nappa, that leaves only Appule and Orlen left… Well, the Ginyu Force too, but they’re only around sometimes. Bah, I’m sure Zarbon will replace Nailo with someone else soon enough. I have to watch my back until I can get a chance to use the Power Ball on him.

He undressed and prepared for bed. It was eighteen cycle–late, but not that late. For a prince his age, however, he couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer. The fight against The Surgeon had worn him out. The trip back had been several days, and he never rested well on pod flights, but he was still feeling restless, and he didn’t know why. There was some phantasm of anxiety tugging at him in his brain, and he couldn’t let it go, but every time he tried to pinpoint it, to understand it, it fled like smoke in the wind.

He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth before going to bed, and on his way out, Vegeta was met with the wide-framed, tall, sculpted physique of Captain Ginyu. The man was running a finger across his abnormally robust chin, and grinned widely when he caught a glance of Vegeta.

“Heh, there you are, Saiyan.”

“Captain Ginyu?”

“I heard you took out The Surgeon yourself.”

“Oh.” Is that all he wants to talk about? What about Burter? What about the trial?! His fists closed, and he wanted to hit the man so bad. I’m too tired for that, he told himself, settling down. “Yes, sir, my team and I took out the threat as we were instructed to do by Lord Frieza.”

The grinning captain leaned in and whispered, “Ya know, we were supposed to take him out originally, but Lord Frieza reassigned us to this other planet on the other side of the universe. Ugh, it was awful… the smell of the place, man! You wouldn’t believe it. You were lucky, kid,” he said, nudging Vegeta playfully.

“I understand, sir,” Vegeta snapped in a guarded tone.

“Here,” Ginyu said, pulling back, turning around, striking a cool pose, and flicking a small pink card over his shoulder. Catching it, Vegeta looked the thing over, but it didn’t have any words on it–just black, white, pink, and orange patterning that looked alien enough to Vegeta that he could have mistaken it for art. “It’s a keycard for a three day, all-expenses-paid vacation at Poonjab VII’s Pink Oyster Cult .”

“Uh…” Is he bribing me for some reason? “Why are you giving this to me?”

Shrugging, the captain waved Vegeta off and staggered drunkenly back to the darts board. Of course, it was his turn, and he wasted no time in nailing Raditz right in the forehead with a dart. The boy fell over, crying like a baby. His eyes were tired and his muscles still ached. Vegeta unloosed his tail, as he always did before bed, and pocketed the keycard.

I bet he’ll forget he gave this to me in the morning.

The boy shut the door behind him, muffling their laughter and partying. Climbing into bed, all he could think of was his father. They’re all gone, Vegeta thought to himself. He was so tired, he could hardly think straight. He just needed to sleep. They were weak and died. No… maybe not. I miss them. Dad–he left me here. He put me in this situation with Frieza with no plan to get us out of here… he thought we were Super Saiyans… I AM A SUPER SAIYAN! I am… I am… I…

“Now, Saiyan, it’s time I taught you a little something about etiquette.”

Vegeta felt the stinging bite of Zarbon’s slap, biting his lip to not make a sound. Yawning, he pretended not to mind. That’s just what you’d want.

“If anyone else disappears, I will have Lord Frieza execute you in front of the crew,” Zarbon continued. “Don’t give me that look. I see how convenient it was for you for those three to be lost…”

“Sir, what are you saying?”

“I know you killed Nailo, and the boy Nyarin. The girl–”

“Sir!” Vegeta’s ears were tingling hot, and he felt a shiver of rage descend his spine. Is he seriously going to do that? His rage was quivering inside him, urging him–that stupid, fight-loving Saiyan brain of his. He fought against his instincts, holding his temper.

“The girl… no. I know you didn’t attack her. I interviewed her two days ago and she confirmed it.”

“Y-you…”

“Oh, what is that, Saiyan? Speak up? I couldn’t hear you mumbling like that.”

“Nothing, sir.”

“My lord.”

Father wouldn’t like this. He remembered that day seeing Beerus the Destroyer humiliate him. I won’t be like him. I can’t be… but I have to survive. “My lord,” Vegeta said after a long while.

“Very good, monkey,” he said in a mocking tone. Vegeta remained at attention. “We are going to be making a stop by Planet Frieza 41 in a week’s time. There’s a soldier there who will be joining us–a new elite. If he is to disappear, monkey…”

He has no proof. Frieza wouldn’t back him up if he accused me, would he? I destroyed Asaio’s scouter… I made sure no one knew… and no one was there for Kiwano’s death, either. “I understand, Lord Zarbon.”

“Good.”

He sprung forward, kicking Vegeta on the chin with a probing, graceful forward kick. As Vegeta staggered back, blindsided by the sudden attack, Zarbon did a spinning kick into his side, cracking his armor. The boy didn’t remember falling, but he remembered being on the ground, and a pain so bad in his side, he knew more than just bones were broken.

Coughing blood, he looked up to see Zarbon approach him. No one else would hear them in here–Lord Frieza’s outer meeting room. There wasn’t much furniture beyond the one desk, allowing for a nice sparring room, if anyone wanted to use it as such. Of course, all of Lord Frieza’s rooms were sound-dampened as well.

“Get up, monkey. Hit me if you can. Do it! You know you want to!”

Vegeta staggered to get up, blood leaking from cuts on his mouth and chin. It was getting harder to breathe. He must’ve broken my ribs… and punctured a lung… Holding his side, he groaned, sluggishly standing to face Zarbon. The effeminate-looking man twirled his cape, falling into a loose fighting stance as if to mock the prince. Don’t get angry. That’s what he wants. He’s looking for an excuse to kill me.

Vegeta lunged at him half-heartedly with his left hand, blood flowing down his face in a rapid stream. Zarbon dodged his weak jabs easily. The prince tried to kick him, and Zarbon grabbed his ankle, snapping it, and throwing him into the far wall.

Gasping, the boy lay in a bloody mess, unable to move. He coughed more blood, and this time didn’t so much as try to hide his whimpering. Zarbon approached him again. The boy’s mouth was against the cold, dirty carpet, leaking blood.

“The differences between you and me monkey are too numerous to count.” He kicked the prince hard in the nose. “But know this: I am not even using a fraction of my power right now. You are nowhere near my level. So don’t even dare thinking about making me disappear too!”

“I-I… didn’t…” he mumbled into the carpet as Zarbon kicked him again.

“Stand up, monkey!”

“I-I… can’t…” he gasped, his body shaking from all the blows he had just endured. “P-please…”

“Oh, what’s that? Is the prideful little Saiyan about to beg?” Zarbon laughed, jerking his neck awkwardly to flick his hair out of his eyes. “Go on then, Vegeta. Beg…”

I won’t do what you want. The boy did nothing. He felt Zarbon kick him again. He lay there, knowing as long as he didn’t do anything too stupid or provoke him too much, he wouldn’t kill him. His ribs were definitely broken now. He soon lost the strength to cry out, his blood and drool leaking into the carpet, moistening his cheek. I will survive. That’s all that matters. I’ll survive and get stronger, and I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him!

Vegeta groaned hard as the man’s boot found his back, hitting his spine hard. Zarbon was saying something but Vegeta couldn’t focus. There was just noise and pain and that look on his father’s face when he had read out Tarble’s power level for the first time.

He was ashamed, the boy thought in the whirlwind tunnel that had become his mind. I had never seen Dad so ashamed. He usually just kept things hidden. He barely even smiled. But that look–Vegeta could not forget it. It was a part of him now. He had recalled the memory so often that it would be with him forever. The look on that face produced the uttermost reaction of disgust in Vegeta’s body, and shame too–at himself, at his own weakness.

Clenching his fists, feeling the tears coming fast, as they always did when he approached this specific memory, Vegeta gasped with every breath in hoarse pain. Zarbon continued his diatribe and kicking. Weaklings deserve to die, his father had once told him. But he sent Tarble away instead of killing him. He didn’t have it in him. He wondered fleetingly what his father would have thought about what Vegeta had done to Asaio. All to protect a weakling like Tarble. At his lowest moment, Vegeta knew he loved his brother, knew that no matter how weak Tarble was, they would always be blood–the only blood Vegeta had left in this cursed, miserable, empty universe. I would do again, and I don’t care what Father’d say.

After a while, he didn’t feel it anymore, and his eyes closed, and he thought he was still thinking until he was not.

They wore scarves over their faces–hideous, vegetable-looking things, brown and green and sickly yellow–that Orlen’s grandmammy Kojiri had stitched herself. Can’t have anyone seein’ me here.

The old client had never sought to meet Dodoria in person. But everyone is different, or so they say. He was only coming because he needed this distributor to continue his lucrative serrokin trade going–and not just only on Frieza’s ship, but expanding, to all of the empire’s outposts and stations. This is the only risky part. Once we’re through here, we’re good.

They went alone, just the two of them. They didn’t take their armor, their scouters, or anything else they usually wore. Orlen wore a reporter’s crisp suit, while Dodoria wore sweatpants and a bit of a strap thing for a shirt (this was to provide fanservice to the female pedestrians wandering the streets at this time of night).

Their destination was the world of Lipanto, or more specifically “Old Lipanto”. That was the name for the decaying urban city once ruled by the Lipantan Republic. But those fools are long gone. This planet is ours now. Old Lipanto was almost entirely depopulated, and its streets were usually empty, or near enough as to feel that way, this time of day.

Their contact was located at a frozen dessert store named ‘Lun’s Magical Squirt Place’. There he is, Dodoria thought, walking into view. The man had a reptilian face, a long snout, green-scaled skin, and wore a frilly, gold-draped marauder's outfit, equipped with contraband light armor wrist guards and boots. He looked pretty stylish to Dodoria.

There was no one else around; they met him in front of the shop, ignoring his gesture to follow him inside.

“You’re the guy,” Orlen said. It was not a question. Dodoria hung back, observing the situation carefully.

“Show me it’s really you, Dodoria,” the man replied, glancing at Dodoria. Even in his disguise he was clearly the only Dodoria-shaped person around.

“Fine.” He pulled down his mask for a moment. The lizard man drank in his image, smiling sinisterly before Dodoria placed the scarf back over his mouth.

“Alright, that’s good. In that case…”

Their client jumped back, whistling hard, and about twelve Galactic Patrolmen jumped out from behind bushes, from alleys, out of other vacant-looking shops, and surrounded the two, each holding up a laser gun.

“Don’t move!” the fake dealer screamed at them, aiming his laser at them too. “Put your hands up… both of you! We have you surrounded. Don’t try anything stupid, or we will be forced to shoot!”

Really? I came all the way here for this? Dodoria sighed, slightly annoyed. Man, some days just suck, don’t they? “Use full power,” Dodoria whispered to Orlen. “I don’t want this to take long. None of them can escape.”

“Y-yes, sir, I understand, sir,” the man whispered back, slightly nervous.

Dodoria himself was not nervous. These were Galactic Patrolmen, the lamest group resisting the Planet Trade Organization in recent memory. He wasn’t afraid of them. He yawned as he raised his own hand, too fast for them to react, and detonated a pink, expanding energy wave, with little more than a mild strain of effort. Half the force was gone. Orlen blasted his foes with an energy barrage that left a crater of ash in the street.

When it was all over, perhaps thirty seconds after the plant had whistled, Dodoria’s belly grumbled. They were alone again, staring at the nearest shop’s window advertisement–or so he thought. Man, that looks real good. We’ll stop there, get a treat–just a snack, just a little somethin’ fer the road, yeah.

Dodoria really wanted to go into that dessert shop. Something was pulling him towards it. As he stood there in the street, Orlen looking up at him, waiting for him to make a move, the door to Lun’s Magical Squirt Place snapped open, and out walked a youthful-looking man with splotched grey and beige robes thrust over his head. He walked right up to them and stopped, pulling back his hood.

Oh, he’s a Namekian, Dodoria realized. What’s a Namekian doing all the way out here? “Hello there sirs. I was just being an innocent bystander inside, and I couldn’t help but see that unfortunate drug bust go down.”

“Quiet!” Dodoria said quickly. “No such thing happ–”

“Anyways, that was really great how easily you dealt with those scumbags. Nice work. So yeah. What are you guys interested in?”

“Oh, I get it!” Orlen said stupidly. “You’re a drug lord too!”

“Shut up, you!” Dodoria said, slapping the scarf right off Orlen’s proud orange pinhead.

“It’s true.” The Namekian blinked at them. “What are you guys in the market for?”

Dodoria nudged Orlen. If he’s recording this conversation, I’m not saying anything incriminating. “O-oh, that’s right… we’re looking for serrokin,” the alien whispered.

“Good,” the namekian replied. “I got a lot of that. How much you lookin’ to buy?”

“Half a ton,” Orlen replied robotically.

“Oh.” The Namekian’s eyes grew wider. “Well, in that case, why don’t you two fine gentlemen follow me to my warehouse? It’s just down the street, not too far from here. I’m Nishi, by the way,” he said, smiling widely. “I guess I’m your guy.”

“I guess you are…” Orlen replied awkwardly, glancing at Dodoria, who could do naught but nod sheepishly back at him. “Uh, welcome to the club, I guess.”

“You will not reveal our names to anyone,” Dodoria told him, “or I’ll kill you myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nishi said, waving his hand at them. “I’ll make more money alive, won’t I? Why’d I wanna end up dead?”

Maybe he’s not as dumb as he looks. “We’ll see. Just take us to the product so we can inspect its quality.”

“Yeah, no problem man. And just so you know, I deal in a lot more stock than half a ton. If you need more… I’m your guy.”

Dodoria could hardly conceal his glee. I’ll be rich, he knew. I’ll make a fortune! This is perfect… but I can’t let them see. I have to make it seem like nothing’s going on, especially to Frieza and Zarbon. If they learn about this… No, I can’t think like that. They won’t. I’ve been careful. And I won’t show this guy or Orlen anything, either. They won’t know how much of a goldmine we’re sitting on. Who knows? Maybe in five years time, I’ll have half the empire hooked on serrokin…

The thought was a greedy one, a massive one, a delusional one, and for those very reasons, Dodoria liked it a lot, and it should also be mentioned that at this time, he was feeling a really compelling desire for some space chili.