His Majesty's Pet/Be Brave

Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to stay. Not here–back in the city. Corpse eyes stared up at him from behind stolen blue scouters. He had only found the town again because of the smoke. One building was so engulfed in flames that its form had been swallowed whole. Several others near Khun’s body were burning moderately.

It was three hours before Nailo returned. His mood had soured considerably. “Where’s the blue kid?” he growled.

This question will decide everything. His heart would just not stop beating with force against his ribcage. The techniques Nappa had taught him didn’t work. “D-did you catch him?”

“No.”

“Hmph.” Vegeta folded his arms and turned his back to his comrade. Got you, lizard-face. “Then it’s your fault.”

“What are you talking about, monkey?”

“Asaio and I were looking for ships in the nearest city when that bug-eyed pirate ambushed us. I didn’t get there in time.”

His lizard eyes were engorged. “Vegeta… Asaio… h-he’s dead?”

A quivering spasm of pain shot from his fingertips to his neck in an instant. It was all he could do not to scream. What was that? I’ve never felt anything like that before… “That’s right. As I already said, it’s your fault.”

“Why didn’t he kill you too?”

“He tried.” The boy showed him his wound, which had been so buried in blood that the bite marks were no longer visible. “I hurt him bad and he ran.”

“Did he?”

He knows. A flush of fear spread from his cheeks and down. “You better be careful. Frieza’s gonna be mad.”

The man crouched next to a dead pirate, pulling up a scouter with a crack in the corner of its screen. “We have a mission to complete. Asaio wasn’t strong enough to see it done. Frieza will blame his failure on no one else.”

Whatever. Try saying that to his face. The alien remained crouching, staring at the prince. Vegeta returned the gaze. They stood there in silence, a Tech-Tech’s home burning slowly behind in the distance. The elite’s eyes were oily rain clouds, unnervingly base.

“We better get going.” He pivoted, turning north.

“No,” Vegeta said, looking south. “We already checked up there. There weren’t any ships.”

He kicked off into the waning sunlight. He blinked, and Planet Vegeta was returned to him as if out of a dream. It had been approaching evening there too. His father had been looking down upon him, that same severe look on his face. He had been asking about his latest mission for Frieza. We’ll be done with it before tomorrow. That’s what I told him.

Again that feeling came clawing up his throat, hanging on his cheekbones, begging to proceed. Everyone from that memory, he realized suddenly, was dead. Everyone I ever knew is dead. It seized upon him swifter than a Tahmic Shadow-grappler in the dead of night. Before everyone collapsed, a thought flickered through his mind:

That’s not true. I still have Nappa. Man, this sucks. He’s the worst.

It was true that he would never see his brother again. Whatever. May as well not have one. If he let go now, there would be no pain. In his short life, the Saiyan boy had already learned that lesson the hard way. He didn’t care to relive those memories now.

Nailo was disappearing into the distance. He let go, ascending into the bright sky, the heat causing his face to flush. You’re next, he thought. It’s not like you don’t know I’m coming for you. I’ll have to plan accordingly. He only wished Asaio hadn’t managed to wear him out. The bite stung a bit. Had he not been wounded, Vegeta would have thought this world a perfect place to end Nailo’s life.

Not today, but soon. It’s either me or you–kill or be killed. The Prince of All Saiyans won’t lose to some random space lizard! I’ll use his arrogance against him. Why should I trap him when I can let him do that to himself? Decisiveness was all that mattered. Nailo underestimates how much I hate him. I wonder if he’ll be surprised when I beat him, or if he’ll expect it…

Dodoria was eating a big bowl of space chili, which was unusual for him. He leaned back in his chair, frowning. Gotta look like I know what’s goin’ on. “It’s Nailo,” Zarbon said in a dull voice, his scouter flashing with a live video feed. “The Nyarin’s dead. The boy.”

“Damn. He was our most experienced elite!”

“Nailo and Vegeta are heading to Jeiri now. They were on Tech-Tech of all places… oh, it’s a long story. I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dodoria gobbled up his space chili and grunted in pleasure.

“Dodoria, this is serious.” Everything’s serious with you, pretty boy.

They were alone in the kitchen, but none of the doors were locked. He can’t expect much privacy in here. What does he want me to say? “Asaio was Ginyu’s top pick for the Ginyu Force. That’s what he told me, anyways.”

“Too bad. How’d he die?”

“That’s the thing…” Zarbon glanced around again. His scouter picked up no nearby presences. Dodoria’s functioned likewise. “Nailo’s convinced it was Vegeta.”

“Yeah?”

This is a lot of chili, especially at twenty-two hour. I’m going to be up all night at this rate. Ah well, I need to catch up with ‘Udon and the Space Hams’, yeah. “… Dodoria…?! You there?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m payin’ attention. What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you think?”

He swallowed another mouthful of space chili, realizing stupidly that he had not been paying attention to anything Zarbon had just said. “Yeah well, I’d say yeah.”

“Do you really think Vegeta killed Nailo?” Zarbon asked breathlessly. He was giddy as a schoolgirl.

“I mean, yeah. Seems like a thing that bratty little monkey’d do. I don’t get why Frieza keeps him around.”

“I know!” Zarbon whispered, looking upon Dodoria like he was the king of all space fruits. He’s a big fat liar. But it’s a good performance, I suppose. “He should be taken out regardless. We made sure their planet was wiped out. There is no reason to grant exceptions to any members of such a treacherous species!”

“I know you’re hunting down all the Saiyans you can find,” Dodoria said coolly.

Zarbon’s voice deepened. I bet you think you’re a real man now. Dodoria was a real man. “You do, do you?”

“You haven’t made it a secret.”

“Well, as far as I can tell, Lord Frieza doesn’t care. Apparently he’s only fond of the prince–he couldn’t care less about the other monkeys. I can do whatever I want to any Saiyans I find. So… who else knows, Dodoria?”

He didn’t have to try half as hard as he thought he would. Dodoria was getting pretty good at this. At least I’m pretending, he thought. How someone as dumb as Zarbon reached such a high rank in this empire, I’ll never know. “No one, eh. At least I don’t think any of them has been questioning why the planets have been highlighted recently. Hell, there’s only a few guys here right now anyways, so maybe no one’s just gotten around to seeing it yet.”

“I suppose,” Zarbon said. “Naturally, Lord Frieza would approve of what I’m doing if it were ever brought up.”

“Not if he knew how many hours you slack off to organize that stuff, heh. It’s like an obsession for you. Not to mention how many soldiers you have workin’ for you, scoutin’ all the planets…”

“Enough!” Zarbon snapped. “What should we do about the monkey?”

“Nothin’. Unless Nailo’s got proof, don’t think about bringin’ it up to Lord Frieza. He’ll make you both pay for wastin’ his time.”

“And what if he did? Are we going to let him get away with murder?”

Dodoria shrugged, finishing off the last few scoops of space chili, licking his bowl clean with the precision of a well-practiced routine. “It would be obvious if he was tryin’ to lie. He’s barely old enough to talk.”

“Come to think of it,” Zarbon whispered to himself, “they did contact me earlier. I had almost forgotten because it was so trivial… but the circumstances of that call were suspicious.”

“Yeah, like what?” Dodoria said dumbly.

“‘Lord Zarbon, I’ve found’ is all he said before static. Then Vegeta came on, after a half a minute pause, or so. He said they were being attacked by space pirates or something, I don’t remember the rest. He didn’t stay long.”

“Eh,” Dodoria exhaled, setting his bowl down on the table and leaning back. “That’s pretty weak, Zarbon. What else you got?”

“Is it?” It almost wasn’t a question.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want to him. I won’t tell Lord Frieza.”

“Whatever… I want…?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy.”

“I must go then,” Zarbon said suddenly, his embarrassment melting under the harsh artificial kitchen lights. He adjusted his cape and marched out with high importance.

Nailo’s one of his men, no doubt. That makes three. He’s certainly got more. I’ve only got two. Dodoria stood up, thinking it best to get to work immediately. No wonder he knew about the space bacon bonanza party I threw myself two months ago.

My lane is still open, he thought, easing his anxiety. He hasn’t suspected a thing. Dodoria made his way out, going first to the bathroom, where he cut open a new bag of serro in a stall and inhaled the whole thing in one go. At once, his vision brightened, his chest tightened, and he cared that he was alive. This is real livin’. This is how life should be all the time.

His thoughts were clear, focused, and myriad. Dodoria’s body bristled under the weight of the dosage he had just taken. It was getting more difficult to breathe, but he had always liked that feeling.

No way the Saiyan killed Asaio. But he had to have killed that guard. Damn. Zarbon’s too dumb to suspect him. That was good. If he’s distracted by the Saiyan, he won’t even think about looking into my recent connections… His mind was racing and he felt alive. I’ll have time to pretty things up.

Dodoria had to get back to his room so he could trip out in peace, like any other well-to-do space gentleman. He didn’t want to get fired from his job–if Zarbon caught him high on Frieza’s ship Dodoria’s life would be forfeit. That’s just what he’d like. I’ve gotta be real careful here, keep makin’ him think I’m the dumb one, heh. This was an easy gig, running a high-stakes, low-rewards drug trafficking network through the emperor’s ship. He liked it almost as much as he liked candied Torrnan toenails.

Dodoria’s heart rate was rising steadily. Careful now. Remember you’re on a diet, he chided himself. I said I’d only do second breakfast today, and I meant it. His belly rumbling, Dodoria took one step into his apartment. Right about the time he attempted to take that second step, often considered the hardest step of all, he blacked out and dropped like a sack of space potatoes onto the dirty, dank-smelling carpet.

It’s a shame no one caught that one on video.

“I’d advise against that, sir.”

“Burter, tell her I heard her for the millionth time!” Prince Kuriza yelled in frustration. His voice garbled up into static the more effort he put behind it.

“Yeah, maybe you should drop it, kid.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Vegeta and Nailo were drifting in a run-down refrigeration freighter, no larger than the size of half a dozen pods. It was cramped in the two-seater, and neither looked at the other even once throughout the trip. Technically Nailo had stolen it, so if they ever got pulled over by fearsome Galactic Patrolmen, the boy would be completely clean. Vegeta was fairly certain Inovians couldn’t breath in space anyways.

“How long will it take?” Nailo asked.

His comm crackling, Burter shouted, “Three to twelve hours!!”

“Are you sure that’s the closest outpost, sir?”

“Huh, what are you talking about?” Burter’s tone reminded Vegeta of a man his father had once executed for defecating on the silver-carved statue of his father’s crowning as the King of All Saiyans after defeating the Tuffles and liberating the planet from their wicked tyranny. “I used the first planet I found, so…”

“Planet Frieza 224. They could assemble a force of three hundred in two hours for you, sir.”

Kuriza’s comm popped on. “Do it.”

After it was decided, everyone drifting lazily in their space pods, the remaining members of Kuriza’s Space Swagboys (and single Swaggirl) turned the talk to battle strategy. Burter assured them that Kiwano’s power level had been detected on-planet by floating stealth drones. The drones could give live video feeds of the planet too, which everyone was now cycling through on their scouters.

“It’s clear to me, at least. We should destroy the planet from orbit.”

“No,” Kuriza said sharply. Man, why’s Frieza’s kid such a jerk? “We must take Kiwano the Slaver alive if we can.”

“Very well, my lord. Then our best strategy is for you to lead the charge.”

“No.”

“B-but… why?!” Her voice was heavy with disbelief. The Saiyan’s skin bristled. “With all due respect, are we not meant to be figuring out the best way to do this, sir?

“Shut up,” Burter said casually. “He’s not going in first, okay? You need to protect your prince.”

“Psh, I’m a prince too!”

Nailo’s claw was on his shoulder. “Say another word, and I’ll slit your throat.” He didn’t broadcast that message to the other ships.

Vegeta grit his teeth, a painful throbbing pain shooting up and down his arm in rhythm with the pulses of his heart. Nailo let go and said something else.

“Denied,” Kuriza replied in a noble, high voice. “Aranya is the new second in command! You have command over Nailo and Vegeta now,” he told her, “and all of the soldiers coming from Papa’s outpost. Burter and I aren’t getting involved unless we have to. Show us what you’ve got.”

Vegeta’s fingers were tingling, and he felt anxious–unusual for him, before a battle. Usually this was the part where he felt the best. Every time he shut his eyes, the memories returned like a flood of ice water. That was okay; he wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.

“Why?” Nailo asked him. Above the windshield, a faded picture of Frieza’s round head was staring down at them. Vegeta opened the compartment standing between their seats, and found a dead space rat, its belly cut open roughly, its inside sifted and sorted through and put back (mostly), on top of the bloated, decomposing corpse.

He shut it quickly. Nailo swore and gave him a look more naked in intent than before. He wants me dead. He knows. I know he knows. I can use that against him. Vegeta looked away, pretending not to notice anything. There are no rules in war. The ship drifted lethargically behind a moon, engulfing them in shadow. A lot of things could happen down on Jeiri when the time comes.

“The soldiers are ready, my lord.”

He spat sour Uu’goc onto the stone floor. “Go.”

“As you wish, Lord Kiwano.” He bowed stiffly, walking to the door.

Through the window, above a sea of fiery orange-tinged treetops, dying sunlight slanted from a golden sky. The outpost that Kiwano was using as his base was an ancient ruin wrought mostly of thousands-year-old stone crumbling yellow with age. In the center of this ancient hall, on a raised dais, a throne of pearly-white stone, glossy and luminous.

“Where’d my Chillrose go? To hell with poisoning it, I want to have it now! Where’s it?!” the king said in a drunken slur, wobbling on the throne.

“It’s gone, my lord. Don’t you remember? You gave it away.”

“To hell with that. I’d kill for some ice wine, Sharlyk. Sour’s better than sweet. You wouldn’t happen to have any? Even the lower-grade stuff…”

“I’m afraid not, sir. I’ve never been much of a fan of wine.”

“Ah, useless shit. Get out of here!”

It was like a pale flame in the dark, radiating the falling sunlight. Just outside, two hundred soldiers waited in the courtyard–those brought here with Kiwano. They’re weak. Not one officer among them. Most are probably pirates fitted for armor just before they got here. I have to watch myself and be careful out there.

It had not escaped Sharlyk’s notice that the “army” he’d been given command over was little more than a ragged band of inexperienced pirates and below-average fighters, judging by their power levels. He said nothing about it. “Shall I activate the emitters, my lord?”

Kiwano whistled to the engineers in the far corner of the hall. They had set up a few long-range scouters along with other communications arrays. Otherwise, this dusty, dank ruin was empty. Kiwano’s scouter beeped, its lense glimmering orange. “Lots of ‘em. Brought an army with ‘em, looks like.”

“No matter. I have a plan for that.”

“Good.” Kiwano sat on his throne, leaning back. “Most of the Ginyu Force aren’t here. It’s a pity that we will not be able to kill all of them today.”

“Burter is. As is Frieza’s son.”

“Eh?” Kiwano poked his fat head up, his spikes shivering across his scalp as he frowned. “Kuriza?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“We should take him prisoner, then. He’s a massive bargaining chip.”

“If we could, I would, sir. But he’s far stronger than me, I’m afraid. I don’t like my chances trying to capture him.”

“So be it. Kill them all. We’ll take out the rest later.”

If this succeeds, Frieza won’t send another force after us. He’ll come for us himself. That bloated pink carcass knows as much, but is playing dumb. “As you command, my lord. How soon until they get here?”

“Within the hour,” the man replied, taking a deep swig from his Uu’goc sack. “Kill them all. No matter the cost.”

“Aye, Lord Kiwano.”

Outside the temple, a courtyard of crumbling golden stone stretched on like bony arteries in all directions, the longest paved road leading back to the Planet Trade Organization outpost poking up above the horizon behind a green haze of rising pollution.

The barren road leading back to that place was dug deep in the ground, with walls of more than twelve feet high on each side. Ten men could walk abreast through it, though crumbling pillars, obelisks, and statues were spread along the road. It was here he sent three quarters of his garrison. Their sole purpose was to engage Kuriza’s soldiers and wound them as bad as possible. They were all going to die.

Kiwano gave me shit soldiers to command. Everyone I have command over is cannon fodder. I guess that makes me cannon fodder as well. This garrison–this army gathered to fight the Planet Trade Organization’s most elite soldiers–was a joke. These men and women were not the usual warriors he led, not the usual quality reavers he was used to fighting alongside.

The plan is insane. We cannot win. What does Kiwano think I think? This is maddening… he’s so self-deluded, he can’t see how ridiculous this trap he’s trying set is.

His second in command was a fang-toothed, long-faced pirate by the name of Muhgo. Half of his nose was missing. “Alright, sir?” he asked, sidling over to Sharlyk, who was standing on the edge of the courtyard, looking down the stairs leading to road back to the base. It would be nightfall soon. Orange-winged bugs, flashing with color, sprung from forests surrounding them, and the air was cooling fast.

Resting on top of several temple pillars around the courtyard, the emitters were perched in eternal, silent watch over Sharlyk and Kiwano. Those sensors were all that protected them. If they failed, everyone died. It was a risk that had to be taken. Foreign as time-wounds did they look this evening. Sharlyk could hear them humming softly, metallically. He clenched and unclenched his fist, waiting.

This is the worst part, he thought to himself. I cannot stand waiting.

“We’ll be ready for ‘em,” Muhgo promised. “What’s the plan, sir?”

“Fight them. Hold them back.”

“M-me, sir?”

“That’s right. Get down there and lead them.” Sharlyk pointed to the road leading back to the outpost. Most of the soldiers had taken up a loose, spread formation along the road.

“You’re staying back, sir?” Mugho tone had changed. He paced before Sharlyk like a hungry animal.

“That’s right.”

“Bit of a cowardly move, don’t you think?”

“I’m the last line of defense,” the space-badger replied coolly, unswayed by the pirate’s height. “We’ll fight whoever you let get through.” He gestured to the soldiers who had remained up here in the courtyard–roughly a dozen of them. “Don’t let any get through and we won’t have a problem.”

Muhgo growled; his entire disposition had changed. Sunlight slanted across his scarred face, illuminating his eyes like drops of boiling amber. “Heh. Ya really think I’d do that? Ya really think we can hold them back without you?”

“No.” He placed his hands behind his back, closing his eyes. I should not be surprised. I knew he was insane. I always knew it. But I never imagined he could be so petty. I should not have waited this long. Now I know what must be done. He almost wanted to stay and kill Kiwano himself, but he had to behave. This still has to work, or I’m dead too.

Sharlyk jumped back, just barely missing Muhgo’s reach. A warm feeling spread thinly across his face, just below his eye, where a trickle of blood soaked into his fur. Not bad, he thought. Then, his feet touched the stone, and he vanished.

Before Muhgo could react, Sharlyk had reappeared behind him, hitting the man in the back with a devastating flying kick, stunning him. It was nothing for Sharlyk to step around his foe, a handful of burning yellow ki in his paw, and to punch Muhgo hard in the throat. His energy exploded, tearing a hole through the alien’s neck, shining bright yellow light out of his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Muhgo staggered for a moment, groping, punching blindly, and fell, his body collapsing lifelessly.

The space-badger kicked him off the edge, letting the body roll down the stairs. Catching his breath, he faced the dozen soldiers who had not moved during the engagement. “Form up,” Sharlyk commanded. “They’re here.”

A few of his remaining guards shifted uncomfortably in their armor. They’re traitors–all of them. I can see it in their eyes. I have to wait before wiping them out. I could use them as meat shields if I need to.

All of their scouters were blinking, indicating incoming power levels. Kiwano didn’t lie about that. There really are hundreds of them. This would get more complicated the more soldiers there were. I only have four emitters. I don’t even know if someone like Burter would be able to outspeed this… or simply endure it. It’s a gamble. But there’s always Plan B.

He didn’t want to have to go down that route, because it ensured his death. Sharlyk wasn’t in the business of getting himself killed.

It all started like something out of a dream. Gradually, on the horizon, the soldiers came flooding into view, and gradually, as they approached, the pirates moved to engage. This was meant to be a simple battle at first. But nothing ever went as planned.

Plasma and ki traded in the air, crackling like lightning in the green haze in the distance. He read two power levels leading the force that he instantly recognized: Aranya and Nailo. They’re Frieza’s elites. Where’s everyone else? There was indeed a third power level with them, hovering at around 6000, but he did not know who that could be. It didn’t closely match the level of any of Frieza’s other known elites. I’m stronger than all of them.

He expanded his scouter’s range to maximum, but no other high power levels appeared within range. That’s bizarre. Intel said Asaio, Orlen, and Kuriza would be present too. Not to mention Burter. Doubt crept into his mind at once. This could be a trap, he knew. The others could be coming up from behind… He spun around, scanning. Nothing. Explosions filled the tunneling road, as hundreds died before Sharlyk’s eyes. Kiwano wanted me to lead those halfwit marauders. All they’re good for is softening up Kuriza’s vanguard, it appears.

It wasn’t more than ten minutes before the fight had reached the bottom of the stairs. The soldiers came at the pirates like a surging wave, never slowing, never stopping. The three elites (the third being the Saiyan, Prince Vegeta, he could now see with his naked eyes) were indeed leading the group. The Nyarin directed those around her, including her comrades, to efficiently overpower the pirates.

She has a tactical mind–quick to act and steady under pressure. I’m impressed. But will she anticipate what I have in store for her?

He stepped back, pulling the remote control from his pocket for the first time. There were seventeen buttons on this one, and for very little reason, Sharlyk thought. His thumb claw found the correct button as he spun around to gain some distance. That was when his soldiers closed in on him, breaking formation.

“Stop!” a tall alien with spotted blue and red scales, said.

“You too?” Sharlyk replied, breathlessly. He nearly laughed. Oh, Kiwano. You sad, sad fool.

“Where are you going, sir?”

“I wish to return to the temple,” he replied sarcastically. “May I go, please?”

“No, you may not. It is your duty to defend this temple from all Planet Trade Organization soldiers and mercenaries. Until that task has been fulfilled, we cannot allow you to leave.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, I’m sad it had to end this way. I thought even if he wanted to kill me, he would have at least have had the balls to do it himself.”

Sharlyk took to the air with a graceful kick-off. A pool of light washed over the soldiers, and soundlessly, they went up in ash and dust and left only scorch marks on the stage to remember them by.

“Kiwano!”

The temple doors split open with light and heat and crumbled under his fury.

The man was lounging on the pearly white throne, drinking deeply from an Uu’goc sack. Not the same one as before.

“Sharlyk!” He stood, visibly shaking with fury. Sharlyk glanced at the engineers in the corner and vaporized them without second thought. “Y-you…”

“I had a plan,” he said suddenly. Approaching the throne, Sharlyk shook his head wearily. “It probably would have worked. But you had to go and fuck everything up.” Silence answered. “If you wanted me dead, you should have done it yourself,” he said, pulling his scouter off and throwing it the floor.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be.” The big blubbery man, whose armor had never seen a bit of dirt in its many years of hard use, sneered, “I was good to you, Sharlyk. I gave you much of my profits. And this is how–”

“Shut up, you drunken lout. Your lying has become embarrassing. I can’t tell if you’re really this stupid, or just pretending to be. Either way, they’re here,” Sharlyk said, nodding to the open doorway. He didn’t have his scouter on, but Sharlyk’s eyes were sharper than most. Vegeta and Nailo. Neither one should worry me.

He kicked off again, gathering speed with a huge building rush, enough to intoxicate Kiwano into a mental state not unlike blissful numbness. He snapped out of it, focusing, rushing in on Kiwano. The drunken man swayed, and sipped from his cask again, and Sharlyk did a bicycle kick, appearing from behind Kiwano, and kicking him off the throne. The big man, the Greedlord, the Slaver, fell flatly on his face, rolling down the stairs. Nailo and Vegeta had vanished from the doorway. Sharlyk had no idea where they went.

As his master went to rise, Sharlyk shot him in the back of the thigh with a piercing blue energy beam. The man screamed, dropping his Uu’goc, blood pooling under his training suit. He staggered and fell to a knee.

Sharlyk looked down upon Kiwano, standing on the throne. You were an idealistic fool. Lazy too. You could have accomplished so much had you not been so hopelessly stupid, my friend. “I know you planned to escape,” he said. “Well, it’s a good idea. Just–not for you, I think, my lord. My pardons, but it’s getting late, and I think I have to go.”

Kiwano cried out, trying to stand again, but falling to a knee. Sharlyk’s claw found the remote control again, and he clicked the right button. Before the first emitter sounded, he was gone. He could only wonder if Vegeta and Nailo would make a move on him now. He welcomed such an exchange of fists, for Sharlyk knew he would easily crush them if they attacked first–even if they did so together.

As he fled through the empty corridors and stone passageways in the temple ruin, at no point did Sharlyk feel like he was being followed. It was a startlingly relieving realization and also slightly anticlimactic. He wished he could have shown them his true power.

I can’t beat Kuriza. He wouldn’t let me escape if he knew what my power level was. If I don’t go, I’ll die. It was an easy choice in that case.

“Stay out of my way.”

“You can’t take him on by yourself,” Vegeta snorted. “His power level’s higher than yours.”

“He’s wounded. He’s measuring below 15,000 currently.”

“I’m go–”

“Stay out of my way, monkey. I mean it.”

Nailo vanished, moving too fast for Vegeta to follow. The only rule in war is that there are no rules. Vegeta kicked off and was gone too.

The man on the throne had also disappeared, leaving Kiwano the Slaver alone in the dusty temple with them. It smelled faintly of mould and dirt, and he found it an altogether underwhelming place to wish to die in. A droning metal screech echoed from outside, shaking the stones. A wet, squelching sound answered in a roar. The screech repeated three times, each time lingering annoyingly long, piercing Vegeta’s ears, making him wince. And then it was all gone, and silence resumed.

Nailo pounced on Kiwano. His strikes were elegant and precise, always with his feet, which Vegeta thought to be dangerous. What a show-off. The lizard’s goading him into making a mistake. Vegeta came in from the right, swinging a punch at Kiwano while Nailo assaulted him from the left, holding his entire attention. It was a free hit, almost certainly going to leave lasting damage for as much stronger as he was than them.

A flash of light overtook Vegeta’s vision. He stumbled back, up through the air, and crashed against the ground on his stomach, cutting his nose. Dazed, the boy tried to stand, but was jerked up by Nailo’s firm grip. “Stay back. Come at him again and I’ll feast upon your bones before this is through!”

He let Vegeta go. He wiped blood from his nose. Whatever, man. I’ll let you two wear each other out, and then…

“Vegeta…”

Aranya’s skin was tinged darker blue with spots of blood, not all of it hers. “What happened?!”

“It was a trap. Sonic emitters…” Vegeta gazed at her blankly. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Everyone else is dead. I would have been too, if not for my speed…”

“Are you okay?” he asked her, feeling heat in his cheeks. It was light in his head.

“Fine. That’s Nailo fighting Kiwano, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we help him, eh?”

“U-um… he said–”

“Let’s get this over with!” She helped him up, clapping him on the shoulder empathetically. His heart was beating faster.

“F-fine…”

He went right; she went left. Yet, as they closed in on Kiwano, who was being battered back by Nailo’s precision. The only reason he hadn’t been killed yet was because that while Nailo was quick with his punches, he lacked real power behind those punches. That was his ultimate fault. He’s too impatient.

“Enough!”

A flash of greenish-yellow energy flared between Aranya and Vegeta and the battle. Kiwano swung high. Nailo dodged forward to the right, surprising with an acrobatic spinning kick, hitting the man in the side of the head. Kiwano the Slaver, pink as Dodoria, staggered back, falling against the temple wall. Nailo spun around, flicking his wrist, and conjured up the yellow-green shield. They stopped. He’s going to want to kill me now. She’ll have to stop him… she’ll have to…

It was fear most that he was unaccustomed too. Nailo’s piercing gaze was of the rawest rancor. “I told you… he’s mine…”

“Nailo, you’re breaking protocol!” Aranya said in a calm voice. “Stand down!”

“Never!”

You stupid lizard. He never saw Kiwano coming. The man was drunk, wounded, dazed, but he wasn’t going to be messed around like this. He feels no fear. His leap was impressive in height, and the fist-slam into the ground was almost expected, yet it all came too quickly for even Vegeta and Aranya to react.

A fissure shook through the air, ratling Vegeta’s eardrums, making him queasy, sending him through shoots of vertigo and back in maddening throbs. He could hardly see, making only out the forms of Nailo and Kiwano as the Slaver savagely roundhoused the lizard alien in the face, knocking him back. He moved before Vegeta could breathe, and Aranya hardly had raised her block before he slammed down upon her head with a rising kick followed by a savage gut blow. She dropped like a flower petal, blood streaming from her lip.

Oh no… he realized as Kiwano turned to him. The chest punch shattered Vegeta’s armor like a plate of glass, and he flew into the far wall, landing with a thick, bone-crunching thud.

There were spots in his vision as he sat up. His father’s voice, low and threatening, a predator waiting to strike, was in his ear, berating his form, criticizing his sloppy anticipation, his lack of a coherent defense. Blood leaking from his nose joined a streaming surging from the side of his mouth. He spat it all from his tongue. Stupid lizard. I can’t believe Zarbon chose you. You’re dumber than Recoome at a space ballet recital. Zarbon’s really that dumb, isn’t he?

Adrenaline flamed in his veins. Vegeta felt nothing but rage, the heat in his skin forming beads of sweat across his body. His aura was robust, as his father would say. A good, healthy sign, Father used to say. Yet this alone did not give the prince hope.

Nailo had regained his form, but he was hurt bad. They both were. That meant more desperation. Less defense, more blood.

Kiwano punched Nailo in the chest, causing the lizard to scream a breath of purple life’s blood. He stumbled back, getting battered with three quick knuckle bounces across his head as Kiwano pursued with surprising accuracy for a man so drunk. Vegeta’s scouter showed over 20,000. He’s regained most of his power. He has amazing stamina. But I’ll show him what a Super Elite can do.

Nailo jumped, detonating energy in the air around him, causing Kiwano to moan with pain, his spikes running with blood, his skin smoldering. The man’s punches were sloppy, but in Nailo’s eagerness, he allowed himself to get hit by them. Hissing in pain, the lizard leapt back, showering Kiwano again with ki. Again, Kiwano, the Drunk was unable to block the attacks, taking vicious damage that tore through his arms and shoulders and chest, cutting him badly. He swayed like a drunkard would, as Zarbon often would, as Zarbon was well-known to do. You’re dead now, Kiwano. I’ll kill you for Lord Frieza, and Zarbon will have to tell him the news. That’ll be the best part. Well… Vegeta eyed Nailo, whose body was covered in blood and bruises and many sore spots. It was amazing how composed he remained after taking that earlier beating. He has unyielding pride. A true warrior’s pride. That much Vegeta could respect about Nailo. But maybe I shouldn’t waste any of my energy.

I’m back above Father’s maximum. I can kill them now. He grit his teeth, silently gathering all of his remaining energy–what little remained. A jolt of pain shook his body again, coming urgently from inside him, burning, withering away at his stamina, and he couldn’t guess what it was. The pain was acute, threatening his life. I really need a rejuvenation tank… but it can wait until after these two are dead.

Faltering for a moment, he allowed the two to continue their bloody duel. They traded sucker punches, spraying blood upon one another, swaying in place, beating each other to a pulp, until finally, Kiwano kicked Nailo back, ran forward, hit a flying kick into his neck, and elbowed the lizard to the floor. As Nailo hit the floor, he used his remaining energy to kick himself back up into a standing pose from which he lunged up at the bigger alien, whose pink belly swung, clenching sweat and blood. His armor was chipped and broken badly in places. His look was not entirely conscious. He staggered back, taking a real good one to the chin. Nailo came in with an unexpected left hook immediately after hitting Kiwano with his right, and this harder hit exploded against the man’s nose, causing tendrils of blood to spray into the air like flames.

“Now you’re dead!” Nailo’s energy beam was viperous, green-tinged and thin, glowing in his hands. He didn’t put on a show for Vegeta, nor did he act without confidence. He threw the attack at the Slaver, whose block came not strong enough. The energy washed over him, encasing him in light and heat, and he screamed like a girl. A death scream.

Nailo stood, holding his shoulder, which was bleeding from under his armor from a deep flesh wound. Breathing hard, he dropped his hand and leaned forward. Kiwano screamed on beyond the light fading. Falling to his knees, his body smoking, his skin blackened to a blood-shot color. He fell to a knee again, a hand on his thigh. Moaning loudly, he formed a ki blast, hitting Nailo twice in the shoulder, each blast tearing through the lizard’s skin. Then, Kiwano fell onto his back, breathing hard.

He’s done.

Vegeta materialized in front of Kiwano, the Slaver. “Don’t.” The lizard’s voice shook with pain. Fresh blood was trailing its way down his black scales from his shoulders as well as his face and chin and neck and ear.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Vegeta said to him suddenly, a bold, head-spinning feeling overwhelming his senses. He grit his teeth. I’m the greatest warrior in the universe. I’m a Super Saiyan! I must be! He shuddered. “You are nothing to me.”

“Bastard… I know you did it…”

“Fuckin bitches!” Kiwano screamed, shaking on the ground, “I knew I shoulda had the Leima Bivo tonight, not the usually trashy Sailor’s Goc. Is that really how I’m going to go out, on pisswater poison? Fuckin’ hell!”

Vegeta’s eyes remained locked on Nailo’s as he raised a hand. Another wave of pain ravaged his body, causing him to shake, gasp, and hold himself for half a breath. Nailo noticed and sneered. Vegeta shivered, feeling sweat pools trickling down his forehead. What’s going on? Why is this happening to me now…?! He raised his hand again and aimed it without looking. Swallowing, he held the gaze. Nailo’s sneer was gone.

“Galick Gun!”

He didn’t take long to charge up his energy. I have excellent control as well, lizard-face. Before Nailo could react, Vegeta had split open Kiwano’s skull with his purple energy beam, illuminating His Fatness in rich, sumptuous color. Kiwano squawked like a space duck and exploded into a meaty pile of armor and gore.

The Prince’s scouter shone red, recording every second. Nice try, Nailo.

“Y-you… space rat!”

“I’m sorry, lizard-face, but you weren’t fast enough.” Vegeta shrugged, folding his arms, turning his head to the side disrespectfully.

“Y-you… maggot, I’m sending a message t–”

Nailo’s scouter burst into flames. Vegeta’s finger beam had snaked in with pinpoint precision, leaving Nailo entirely embarrassed. He stuttered, trying to speak, but couldn’t.

“To Zarbon, right? Yeah, I know.”

“What?”

It was his brother he thought of at that moment. Zarbon wanted him more than anything. You’re never getting Tarble, you ugly scaly idiot! His blood surged with rage, with a numbing, calming feeling spreading through his mind. He knew he shouldn’t go this far, but his adrenaline built upon itself on its own, beyond his control, and his anger became blind fury.

“You’ll never find him,” the Prince murmured, appearing in front of Nailo, kneeing him hard in the chest, and spinning around behind him to punch him across the right side of the head before elbowing him on the back of the head.

“What are you…” the lizard whispered breathlessly to himself. “N-no… stay concentrated…”

He assaulted Vegeta with a quick series of kicks from both feet, as he had once attacked Kiwano. Vegeta countered with an explosive wave, stunning Nailo, and pressing forward with a series of blinding punches to the man’s face. Nailo weathered them poorly, swinging wildly, trying to block and shoot ki blasts randomly, but Vegeta, who was not even half of Nailo’s height, dodged easily through the air, continuing his barrage.

Nailo teleported behind Vegeta, punching him hard in the back, and kicking him up into the air. “You damn traitor, I’ll–”

Vegeta spun in the air, instantly regaining his momentum, flipping, sending off an afterimage, and bouncing to the left, falling away from his image projection. Nailo came rushing down upon it from above, eagerly pursuing. Too impatient.

Vegeta’s hand was full of golden energy. It surged upwards into Nailo’s face, splitting a hole through the back of his mouth, out the back of his neck, pushing upwards, out the temple roof, causing a portion of the ceiling to collapse in on itself. Nailo staggered in midair, twitching soundlessly. Dust spilled around them.

“His name is Tarble. He’s my brother. And he’s going to outlive both you and your master.”

A spit-drip, blood-tinged and ripe, was leaking down Nailo’s broken jaw. Around the exit wound, his scales had been charred a deathly hue of black, leaving no blood. His amber eyes fixed upon Vegeta, narrowing in pure hatred. Vegeta shrugged and turned around.

“Later, lizard-face.” His hand swung over his shoulder, his index finger aiming back at the elite. Without looking, Vegeta released a razor-thin finger beam.

He waited until he heard the body hit the floor before approaching the throne.

It glimmered impossibly white, milky as the heart of a cloud. Though it radiated light, Vegeta was surprised to find it radiated no heat. The throne alone of this ancient ruin seemed something worthy of the epochs of time.

Vegeta’s breathing slowed. He saw spots again, and blinked them away hastily. He sat in the throne, looking out over the temple grounds. Two corpses painted the ground with their muddy alien blood, disgracing the natural gold of the place. The last rays of light were peering through the nearest glassless window (more like a hole in a cave than anything else, for all its barbarism). Everything had been draped in a darkened gold, like the sands of Planet Vegeta, of home.

Aranya yet slept. He was bound to let her sleep for a little while longer. He needed to compose himself. He didn’t usually like to give himself credit, but in this case… I did it. They ground each other to oblivion and then I swooped in for the kills. What a joke. I expected more from that lizard. And they call him an elite. Pure space trash, more like it.

There was an odd movement of something black in his peripheral vision–something hanging on the edge of sight. Vegeta glanced for it but saw nothing at first. His gaze returned to Aranya, and again, a flash of blue this time, like flames wrapped in ink, shuffled impossibly fast from the right to the left of his vision.

He caught it the third time. The creature’s size alarmed him. It stopped, and his scouter began calculating a number, starting at first at forty-five thousand. The number rose to fifty-three thousand, and the scouter beeped. Vegeta’s fear caught in his throat. He quivered on the throne. The number rose to 59,000 and his scouter’s screen cracked. His ear was growing hot. The machinery was whining. His gaze held. The creature’s did as well. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and Vegeta was throwing the burning scouter from his ear, stumbling from the throne, and the creature was gone, and did not return, and Vegeta hardly remembered what had just happened.

Vegeta sat up, wiping his nose. His heart had never beaten so fast. It was getting hard to breathe. That thing… that wasn’t the space-badger… he didn’t have those eyes… it wasn’t from here… it wasn’t alive… it wasn’t real… He caught his breath, holding it, forcing himself to calm down. It’s not real. I was hallucinating. It’s just a side effect of the fight. Nailo did manage to get a few good hits in on me.

He swallowed, but his heartbeat did not slow. If anything, it grew more urgent, led on more and more by anxiety.

Kuriza and Burter chose this exact moment to enter the temple. Just great… Vegeta bit his lip until he tasted blood, hoping a little pain would jolt him into normalcy. The effects were minimal, if anything.

“Hello, Vegeta,” Lord Kuriza said softly, bowing gracefully before the Saiyan. He had come to a rest at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne, and was sitting on his hands and knees, looking a little dazed, he knew.

“L-lord Kuriza,” Vegeta stammered, struggling to stand and bow.

True to his grace, the Arcosian waved Vegeta’s attempt at showing loyalty aside. “It’s quite alright, Vegeta. You don’t have to get up. I see that Kiwano is dead. Nailo is too, unfortunately.” I should have incinerated his body.

“Y-yes, my lord, that’s right.”

“Can you tell me what happened? We were, sadly, left behind the main force when those horrible sonic blasts went off. They destroyed our scouters. You were lucky to have been out of the emitters’ range.” Kuriza nodded to Vegeta’s smoldering scouter on the floor not far from them.

“Ye-yes sir, Nailo and me both. We both fought him, sir, but he managed to kill Nailo.”

“Did he?” Burter asked flatly.

“Yes sir, they punched each other up a lot. I helped as much as I could but I was no match for them at full power,” he said begrudgingly. This will be more believable if I do it this way, he knew, recalling one of his father’s earlier battle strategy lessons focused on prisoner negotiations and breaking free of captivity of a stronger foe. This applied not only to physical exercises, but mental ones too. Father never got around to teaching me the mental ones. He said I wasn’t ready yet… not for a few more years.

“Go on then,” Kuriza said, stuttering slightly, as he was taken aback by Vegeta’s silence.

“We fought against him together, but his power level was higher than before–28,000 or 29,000, I don’t remember. I destroyed his scouter and he destroyed mine back as payback…”

“I assume they weakened each other to such a degree that their forms wavered?”

The Saiyan nodded with feigned disinterest. “Nailo almost had him. I was sure he did. But he got cocky and tried a final energy beam to take Kiwano out. He used up all of his energy… and didn’t kill Kiwano with the attack.”

“That’s usually a bad idea,” Burter sighed.

“Noted,” Kuriza said.

“I mean, it hurt Kiwano a lot. He screamed like a little girl.”

“Like the Captain, huh?” Kuriza said, his countenance suddenly bursting into glee.

“Um, yeah… like that… Anyways, Kiwano had a little energy left. He made one last beam of energy and threw it at Nailo… I didn’t realize Nailo was out of energy, and he didn’t dodge before I could get there… it went right through his mouth…”

“Yeah, sucks for him,” Burter said with a little sadness, but much more casualness.

“Aranya’s alive. He knocked her out. She was wounded from those sonic things, I think.” Vegeta’s eyes shifted to this new topic, hoping desperately Kuriza would allow them to move on.

“Very well,” Kuriza said. “Father will not be pleased by the number of casualties we’ve taken. We’ve lost every soldier we brought along with us.”

“That shows you how much they’re worth,” Burter interjected.

“And now this makes two elites dead, in addition to most of the Ginyu Force, who were maimed severely, putting them out of action for weeks.”

“And Orlen,” Vegeta said.

“Oh yeah. Him too. Father will not be pleased.”

Vegeta shrugged. “You know, something Nailo used to always tell me was you kill or be killed. I think he was right. I mean, if I were Lord Frieza, I’d be happy to see him exposed for the weakling he really was. If he wasn’t good enough to survive, how could he be good enough to serve Lord…” Vegeta swallowed, almost saying Zarbon. “Frieza? Same with her brother.”

“Yes, you’re right, Vegeta,” Kuriza said with a wide smile. “You’re a very clever monkey, Vegeta. I’ve not met many of those before!”

Vegeta’s cheeks reddened. His eyes trained the darkening corners of the temple as nightfall drew closer. No more eyes, he thought. Where’d they go? No way I dreamed that.

“Uhhh… Kuriza, that wasn’t very nice. This little Saiyan just killed Kiwano, the Slaver!” Burter interjected. “You should respect him. He’s a seasoned warrior.”

Burter’s eyes narrowed, studying Vegeta coolly. Vegeta looked up at them like a prisoner in the crosshairs of omnipotent warriors. Not in a million years could he ever hope to challenge either of them. That fact unnerved him a little bit, made him feel almost as scared as if the Legendary Super Saiyan were real and Vegeta had to fight him as he was.

“You’re right, Burter. My apologies, Prince Vegeta,” the Arcosian smiled innocently, reaching for Vegeta’s hand. This time, the Saiyan boy took it, and got to his feet, masking all feelings of pain easily and naturally, as Nappa had taught him. “I will relay this information to my father. He will be displeased by how many failed. In spite of that, you prevailed, Saiyan. Well done. You’ve brought honor to my father’s empire.”

He clasped Vegeta on the shoulders, looking him in the eyes deeply, and Vegeta thought this was really weird, so he looked away. The embrace ended coolly, with Kuriza nearly tripping himself as he stepped back and nearly fell over his tail. “There,” he said eagerly, looking up at Burter. “I did it, didn’t I? I did it all formal like you wanted… wasn’t that good? I thought I did very good! What do you think, Vegeta?”

“Well…”

Burter surveyed the room, resting his eyes on the glowing white throne for a moment before moving on. “Your second-in-command is wounded, Kuriza. You should really tend to her. The outpost isn’t far. They have rejuvenation tanks. We can contact your father afterwards.”

“Alright,” Kuriza said, bowing again. He disappeared for the briefest of moments before reappearing in the same place, Aranya’s unconscious body in his arms. “Okay, I will follow you, Mr. Burter. Lead me to the rejuvenation tanks. Can we go now?”

“What about the bodies, sir?” Prince Vegeta interjected.

“Leave them. Father wouldn’t want them.”