His Majesty's Pet/You Left Me Here

Dry as bone came the wind, blowing through his hair, spraying his face with sand. Vegeta pushed off the ground and took to the air. Ahead of him were spires of rock, blue as oceans. The desert went on for endless miles in all directions. The morning was soundless and bleak.

The air sweltering around him, the prince pressed forward. The sun hovered in the east, but it was already so hot. He clicked his scouter for any signs of life, and found none nearby. ''Huh? That can’t be right. Lord Frieza said this was the most dangerous planet he could send me to. There have to be people here.'' Canyons and steppes dotted the region, with only rocks and dust and sparse vegetation to clothe them. Everything was boiling grey. There wasn’t any water or trees, nothing showing any color to indicate life. This place is a graveyard.

After roughly an hour of flying about the planet, Prince Vegeta found that he had run out of energy. Exhausted and sweating profusely, he made his way to a nearby plateau and set down. As soon as he hit the ground, he collapsed, letting out a small cry of pain. Zarbon had wounded him bad, and it didn’t appear like his bones were going to heal on their own–at least not quickly. Even if he had found a native species here, he wasn’t sure he had the power to destroy them. Lying there, panting, Vegeta stared at the purple-tinted sky, watching torn clouds drift by.

He thought about the last time he had seen Lord Frieza before learning about what had happened to the Saiyans.

You will do this, or I will kill your father, the Arcosian tyrant had told Vegeta. ''You are a member of my elite forces now. You will stay on my ship and leave your planet behind. Your purpose is to serve me, your emperor!''

The boy felt his sore shoulder and winced. His wrist throbbed, and he knew it was at least sprained, if not broken. ''Stupid Frieza didn’t even kill my father. It was a comet. Man, that’s lame. A comet taking out the greatest warrior race in the universe!'' He shivered with shame.

Vegeta was startled from his thoughts when a loud metallic sound echoed through the desert. A second later, two white space pods came shooting into view, flying right over Vegeta. The prince sat up just in time to see a larger ship following them. This one looked like Frieza’s own ship, but it was smaller, and it was painted black and orange-blue. The boy clicked his scouter on and got readings for several dozen power levels coming from inside it. Some were meager–in the 10s and 20s–and some were respectable–in the high hundreds and low thousands–and there was one… one beyond all the rest. It went off the charts at 24,000, and Vegeta turned his scouter off to prevent it from exploding. That guy’s even stronger than me, Vegeta thought. Whoever he is. That made the boy clench his fists. He hated that there was anyone out there stronger than him. He wanted to be the greatest warrior in the universe, a Super Saiyan without equal. I have to be.

After a few seconds, the ships were gone–up into the atmosphere and away. The boy limped to the edge of the plateau, staring at the indigo sky. ''Who were those guys? More of Frieza’s lackeys? But what would they be doing here? Frieza told me this was my world to conquer.''

It didn’t make sense, but they were flying Planet Trade Organization space ships. Vegeta glanced east, where the ships had come from. After three heartbeats, he was in the air, racing. It didn’t matter that he had spent his energy, that his body was buzzing with pain. He needed to know where they had come from and what they had been doing.

When Vegeta made his way to where the ships had come from, he beheld two trails of smoke, like slithering worms, making their way into the sky. Air-dashing over to them, the boy found a ruined settlement. It looked to be a military complex–for there were scores of dead beings, clothed in armor and holding energy weapons, draped across the area, broken and bloody.

They were tall–seven or eight feet tall–blue-skinned, pinheaded creatures with three slits for eyes and pink-scaled openings around their mouths and ears. Every one of them he could see was dead. They had rows of vehicles, perhaps land-tanks and mortars, lined about their settlement. Yet where once monstrous hulking bits of armored metal loomed now lay puddles of ruination more akin to melted wax than fearsome defense vehicles.

He clicked his scouter’s range options, narrowing it to the settlement, thus strengthening the signals. At once, the prince picked up on three, maybe four life signals coming from across the village. There was a wide gulf that split the settlement in two, from which below, in the canyon bed, a fast-rushing river was foaming and chipping away. Beyond the far side, the power levels had descended on the other side of the canyon and were moving away, though at a reasonable pace.

There were only three power levels when he reached them at the bank of the rushing river. One was horned, brown-skinned, with wide, cracked tusks, and yellow eyes. He was washing his boots in the water. The other two lankier, green-and-black aliens. All three wore the same style of armor as the prince. The man with the tusks even wore a faded crimson cape.

“They’re long gone now,” one of the green lizard men was saying. “We’ll have to catch them at Lighuri Finh .”

“Won’t be a problem. Boss don’t need us until next week, said so himself.”

“That’s right. We’re good. We’ve got time…”

There was a single noticeable difference between Vegeta’s armor and theirs–their armor was painted with insignias of a fist spread, three fingers out, blood on the tips, the knuckle furry and spiky, the fingers curved like knives. He didn’t know what that meant.

The two lizards took off their armor and began to wrestle, while the other man watched. Vegeta snuck up behind him silently. He chanced another reading with his scouter: 8000. I’m stronger than him. But he was tired, and he hurt, and he wasn’t sure he had enough energy left to kill the man. He was stronger though. That fact burned in his mind, sharpening his pride. The only other option was to run away. The Prince of all Saiyans would never do such a thing.

Grunting, the Saiyan pooled all of his remaining energy between his gloves, knowing he had only seconds to do it. The strain on his body made his knees weak. He knew the energy was growing brighter, that the man would notice, that…

“Hey, who’s there?!”

A flash of light engulfed the officer, lashing out with primal Saiyan fury. He screamed and was swept into the river. The other two stood up, their bodies sweaty too, not quite right. “Damn it… where’d Yulrich go?!”

“The brat! There! See?” the other one moaned, his tongue slithering out from between sharpened teeth. “Don’t let him get away.”

He shot a homing finger beam at each of them, his index finger extended. The one of the right took it to the heart and fell over dead, blood trickling out from where once his tongue had. His friend retaliated by batting the other finger beam aside and unleashing a wave of blue energy that utterly decimated the rocky shore, vaporizing a section of the river and carving a deep, unnatural hole in the rocks.

Vegeta shuddered. His armor was smoking, but he was in the air. Having dodged most of the alien’s attacks, Vegeta’s chest heaved. He gained more distance, scanning the beast’s power level. 2100. I’m better than that! He roared in pain and weariness, trying to conjure up additional energy.

The boy’s pride burned like a flickering candle in the echo chamber of his mind. He had to feed it. The surge of shame brought with it a surge of rage, and power too. A little bit formed in his hand, but not enough. The alien was shouting at him, saying things indistinct. The boy, breathing hard, backed away. His opponent kicked off into the air, another fist of blue energy leading him on.

He didn’t have the strength to dodge it again. Screaming, Vegeta threw his last bit of energy at the man. The alien gave another bellow and threw his energy too. Vegeta’s hit first, washing over the side of the man’s head and neck, burning him. He screamed, his eye shriveling yellow under the energy’s burns, charring black, steaming and melting and running down his face.

The alien fell from the sky, landing with a back-breaking thud in a sandy crater. But his attack was still in the air. The boy groaned in panic as he tried to dodge. His energy gone, his speed was almost nothing, and he was hit immediately in the ear by a thick blue blast, dropping him like a fly.

He remembered the sound and the heat, the energy rolling over him like a tide of lava, and falling, the wind in one ear, painful ringing in the other.

Vegeta’s scouter broke when he hit the ground. He didn’t get up.

Blackness in his vision washed over him, erasing memory and thought, and when next he opened his eyes, the sky had darkened.

“Damn it, Dodoria!” the plumber complained miserably, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

A space rat had died in the walls somewhere.

At the end of the hall, a vending machine with a dusty little window stood against the corner of the walls, like a rotting tooth. Kuriza was instantly drawn to it. Two adolescent Nyarins were huddled before it, poking with their claws at the numberpad hungrily.

Their fur was bright blue, almost aqua, with stripes of black layered horizontally down their bodies. When he came to them, they turned, wide-eyed–the boy’s indigo and the girl’s a bright pink–and bowed, mumbling their loyalty to him and his father’s cause.

“Are the space funyuns still in stock, soldiers?” he asked, ignoring their groveling.

“Um yeah, I think so, my lord,” the boy replied.

“Could you order one for me, please?” the boy begged them suddenly, lurching forward childishly. “They’re my favorite, please, I’m so hungry.”

“Okay…” The girl entered the numbers into the pad, and a bad thudded down the machine out through the exit hatch, landing in her claws. She handed Kuriza the bag of space funyons, her tail twitching. “You owe me five woolongs, sir.”

His eyes were narrowing. This bag wasn’t as easy to open as one would expect. Though he tried, his grip was slippery and useless, and though the bag twitched and squeaked, he could not open it. This is impossible! How can anyone be expected to open such a contraption?! I ought to go to the space funyons factory myself and blow it up! They deserve no less for this painful disgrace! “Soraaaaaah!!” the young Arcosian screamed suddenly, shooting a red finger beam through the top of the bag. The finger beam pierced through, incinerating about half of the bag, and went rushing down the corridor around a corner, where, a moment later, the sound of collision, and a poor sap complaining about his leg could be heard.

Kuriza plucked a single space funyon from his bag, gingerly cradling it between two fingers. As he brought it to his mouth, the ring-like chip exploded in a rush of smoky ash. “Ngh…!” Kuriza stuttered, biting his tongue, a vein pulsing on his forehead. He took a sharp breath, staring madly at the floor. “Your names…” he breathed, not looking up, “what are they…?”

“Asaio, sir.” the boy said, falling to a knee again. The girl rolled her eyes. “A-and my sister’s Aranya.”

“You two are going to come with me on a mission, do you understand? Soon. Daddy’s still organizing it. But be ready.” The prince threw the ruined bag of space chips aside. Someone else could clean that up. “Where is Vegeta? He must come too.”

“On a mission for Lord Frieza, sir,” Asaio said resolutely. “He left two days ago.”

“When will he be back?” the boy said carelessly. “Ginyu’s coming too, didya know?” His face flushed with excitement suddenly. “He’s taking us on a secret mission.”

“We don’t know when he’ll be back.” Aranya’s voice was unimpressed with the prince, even he could tell. “It could be days or weeks.”

“I’ll ask Father.”

“Good for you.”

Prince Kuriza shot her a cold look. “Say that again, Nyarin. I dare you.” She thinks me a fool. His confidence shattered instantaneously, like a Death Beam through the heart, but he didn’t let her see. The Prince had been trained in courtly manners–he had been taught to conceal his real emotions when needed. “Go on.”

“Aranya, please…” her brother whispered a little too loudly.

She glanced his way and nodded, falling to a knee again. “My apologies, Prince Kuriza.”

“Wait in the training room for further messages,” the little prince said as elegantly as he could before marching off, the scraps of his dignity that remained compelling him onwards.

On the way, he ran into Orlen, who looked a lot like Appule, except he had fangs, and that made Kuriza scared of him, so he didn’t like him as much as Appule.

The door to Daddy’s room always whooshed open with a comforting, mechanical breath.

“Papa, where’s Vegeta?”

Lord Frieza was lounging in his hover chair. “Is that all my useless servants have taught you of courtly dignity?” His father’s eyes shone viciously.

“F-father, please…” Kuriza cried. “I just want to know when the Saiyan Vegeta will be returning.”

“He should be back by tomorrow,” the emperor replied stoically.

“Thank you, Father. I will await him on your ship, s-sir…”

Daddy rolled his eyes. Kuriza marched out with all his courtly strength. Back in the hall, he was met by Burter and Jeice. “Well…?” the big one hissed.

“I’ll be here for another day. Are you happy now?”

“Ummm… we’ll have to entertain you somehow…”

“I want to see a fight.” The Arcosian was earnest. “I want to see my daddy’s soldiers bleed.”

Burter looked at him like he was some kind of freak or something.

“But first, you’re gonna take me the nearest Space Sonikku, cuz I’m starving!”

“Aw, come on, we’ll be stuck in space traffic all day!”

“Burter!”

“That’s me, I’m the Blue Hurricane!”

He paused, turning, staring. “Take me now, or I’ll kill you.”

He wasn’t dead. Leaning over the corpse, the lizard hissed softly, mimicking the wind. Dried blood hugged half the prince’s face. His belly squirmed with hunger pains and his ribs ached. Wincing, he peered across the battle-ravaged shore. He wasn’t done yet. He’s blind. He won’t last much longer.

Feeling lightheaded, Vegeta limped over to the two. Nothing clouded his thoughts–the will to live, to overcome, was more pressing than his pain. The wind was picking up, and he had to blink the sand from his eyes. The blind alien was positioned on top of the dead one, staring down upon the stiffening corpse and not seeing, but when he heard Vegeta approaching, he raised his ruined face to the boy.

“Y-you… bastard!” he whispered, barely audible. Something went aglow in his peeled lizard eyes.

“Don’t get mad, lizard brains, wherever he went, you’re going there too!”

The alien disappeared into the shadows. The boy pivoted, sensing the moving blur with his peripheral vision. He went to block to the right, and felt something hit him hard from behind. Stumbling, the boy managed to keep his feet. He spun around his attacker, who was wildly punching again, jumping in the air to elbow him hard on the neck.

I’m impressed his form has remained this composed since he lost his sight. He’s passionate–he has a true warrior’s spirit. He deserves a true warrior’s death.

Jumping into the air, Vegeta pursued aggressively, ignoring the pain. His foe had only managed to turn around when their fists met. Parrying, ducking, prodding with his fists, the Saiyan pushed the man back across the shore to the bank of the river.

Sensing his back was to the wall, the green-skinned alien faked a punch one way and went the other with tremendous force, crashing against Vegeta’s cheek. His ears ringing, his eyes watering, the boy broke through the alien’s block, his fists shooting like daggers in the dark, battering the man’s armor, cracking it, pushing him back. Just as the alien went to headbutt him, he ducked and landed and kicked off the shore, side-kicking the man so hard that his chestpiece split and fell to the mud in two broken pieces as he was flung back.

Bloody and beaten, the soldier tried to rise again, a glimmer yet in his eyes. Vegeta stepped back, twisting his torso, and bringing his hands together. His roar was one both of anguish and expulsion, the whitish, purplish energy flying from his fingertips, racing towards the alien as he declared proudly, “Final Burst Cannon!”

There was no scream, nor any sound but that of vaporizing power. The river rushed into the smoking crater, and moonlight bathed the quiet world in serene light. His fingertips tingled as he looked up at it. It wasn’t quite halfway full.

Falling to his knees, he allowed himself to grimace for the first time. The waves of pain were hammering inside him, and all he saw when he closed his eyes was Zarbon’s boot. The stars hung bright, as if suspended in ice. It grew cold. His crimson cape was fluttering in the moonlight. He grit his teeth, knowing he was out of energy, knowing he couldn’t go on, but the shame of being so weak, unable to even return to his pod, gnawed from inside him like the pain of broken bones. Every part of him was numb, throbbing with pain. The prince tried to reach for his remote control and found he had not enough strength.

His muscles were on fire. The boy ignored the pain. Super Saiyans don’t feel pain! He kicked off into the air and before he could take another breath, Vegeta had fallen hard on his face, tasting blood and seeing black. Two days, his mind repeated over and over, the words losing clarity in the numb echo chamber that was his mind. Two days. Frieza was standing over him, smiling, handing him a piece of candy. Burning shame guided him into darkness.

His ribs hurt a lot. The sun was high in the sky when Vegeta woke. Returning to the village, he pulled the remote control out, sitting against a rock, breathing hard. The short walk alone had nearly drained what energy he had left. Many of the corpses had been left behind. The pirates had not even bothered to incinerate them. Bloody yellow eyes stared up at him; the boy couldn’t hold the gaze for long.

His belly rumbled, and he wondered what this planet’s natives tasted like. The ones on that last planet… they weren’t so bad, all things considered.

Had he his scouter, maybe he could have flown back. Blind and tired, the boy knew there was no chance he would ever find it on his own. Lying back against the rock, the prince steadied his breathing. This was day two. If he could just get into his pod, if he could just get back before…

Mechanical screeching cut through the air. Standing, his chest aflame with pain, Vegeta grit his teeth. An arc or greenish-black energy came shooting from the down the other side of the path, near the river. Impacting against Vegeta’s space pod, the energy washed over the metal, boiling it, exploding the roundish window and covering the craft in a swirling ball of smoke and fire.

His mouth agape, the young prince dropped his now-useless remote control.

He landed just in front of Vegeta, touching down without a sound. The boy struggled to get back to his feet. His wounded chest burned, and each breath was a little torment. It was the man with the tusks and long bushy hair. The captain’s boots were missing, and his cape was torn.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

8000. That number was pure fear. The boy knew he had no hope of approaching anywhere near that power in his current state. Hell, he’d be lucky to be able to raise his power level to a thousand. I’m no better than a low-class Saiyan right now… That thought brought about another wave of painful shame, burning him from the inside out. “Killed them, didn’t you? I saw the blast from a few miles away. I’ve been looking for you ever since, but without my scouter–”

The boy, holding his chest gingerly, laughed weakly. He had blown that man’s scouter off when he had been sitting on that rock. He’d gotten him good. At least I made it annoying for that ugly bastard. I didn’t go out easy like everyone else…

“What are you laughing at, monkey?!”

“I-if I was at my full power… I’d kill you. It would be easy.”

The man’s head was shaking back and forth. “No way. You caught me off-guard, s’all. That’s all. I’m not scared of you. No way! If we had a proper fight, I’d make you squeal as I beat the grey matter out your nose, monkey! You can count on that!”

The boy said nothing. He had no energy left.

“I could kill you now,” he said, “but then it wouldn’t hurt for very long.” The alien turned, kicked off into the sky, and was gone.

“No… wait…” he breathed, extending his hand after the alien who was disappearing into the glistening sky.

A feral wind blew through the people-less town. The feeling was not unlike the one he’d felt learning the fate of his people. Foolishly, Vegeta had raised his hand, as if to call after the fleeing space pirate. You’re a sad fool, he thought to himself, shivering. He tasted sand, spitting it out sourly along with old blood from the corner of his mouth. Can’t even beat a single space pirate. Only 8000… The Last Legendary Super Saiyan would have never faced such a humiliation…

Doubt beckoned him, as urgent as the pain. He tried to blink it away, but his vision was blurring.

“What’s your name?” Kuriza asked, beaming.

“Orlen, sir!” the alien replied nervously, not daring to look the prince in the eyes. He was saluting like a space mall cop.

“And you?”

“Asaio, sir!” The blue-furred Nyarin was remarkably more composed than his older, oranger compatriot.

Moving onto the next one, Kuriza’s eyes grew large, and he pointed excitedly. “I know you… you’re Vegeta’s friend!”

“Uh, yeah… sure,” Nappa grunted. “We’re the last Saiyans in the universe, heh. I’m the General of the–”

The boy’s slender hand went up elegantly, like a pale-lit flame, and silence resumed. “You stink, monkey.” He spun on his heels and faced Burter. “I want to see them bleed,” he said politely. “I wish to be entertained, Burter.”

“As you wish, my prince,” the mercenary hissed. “Nailo!! Nailoooooo!!! NAILOOOOOO!!!!”

A lizardly alien strolled briskly into the training room from a nearby door. His scales were black and green, his face sleek and sharp, his armor black and white and emerald. His face had a dull look about it, and he approached with what appeared to be mild disinterest.

“You called for me, Burter?”

“Fight these three soldiers, okay? You’re stronger than them, aren’t you?” Burter gestured to Nappa, Asaio, and Orlen.

Nailo scoffed. Aha, he’s an arrogant one! Well… maybe he’s just being confident. I’ll have to see. “Course I am.”

He stepped into the ring; the three soldiers, only one of whom was elite (Kuriza knew this well), were eyeing one another nervously. Cracking his neck, the lizard elite assumed a blatantly disrespectful form. The others huddled together, formulating a strategy hastily as the prince and Burter watched on eagerly.

A door slid open behind them. The three warriors faced Nailo. Kuriza’s blood was rushing hot with excitement through his chest.

“Is he going to win, Burter?” the boy asked, looking up.

“Heck yeah! Look at him go! He’s got speed! Wow, he’s fast! Heheheh, but not as fast as me! And besides, he’s far stronger than any of them. And you know what they say, kid–the guy with the higher power level always wins!”

Someone touched Kuriza’s shoulder. The three fighters had surrounded Nailo. He hadn’t even moved yet, contrary to Burter’s mania. “My prince…?” Zarbon interrupted politely, bowing. “Your father wishes to see you.”

“Can’t it wait until after the fight?”

“I’m afraid it cannot, my lord.”

The disappointed Arcosian nodded in obedience. “Burter, make sure he doesn’t kill any of them.”

“As you wish, sir,” the big blue man said, bowing.

Zarbon scarce looked at the boy again, though his tone remained sweet as Wintaar’s milk. In the conference room, Captain Ginyu, Dodoria, Gichamu, and his father waited for them. Zarbon closed the door behind them. There was a tiny nokashi candy strip lying on the table in front of Kuriza’s chair. Sitting, he slipped it between his fingers, bringing it below the table, not looking at his father, and instantly using his well-practiced technique of getting the candy out of the wrapper without tearing it.

“Name’s Gerrin,” Dodoria grunted, starting things off as if everyone already knew what the hell he was talking about. He threw a holo-disc on the table roughly. It rolled before landing in front of Lord Frieza and turning itself on in a brilliant blue waterfall of rising digital blocks that quickly formed into the body figure of a warrior–the so-called Gerrin.

“He defected five days ago,” Zarbon said elegantly, taking his seat on his father’s right. “Intel confirms he’s with them.”

“Where have they taken him?” Papa’s tone was threatening as ice. The restraint in it only made him more terrifying. Kuriza slipped the chewy candy into his mouth.

“Who knows? We don’t know where Kiwano’s keeping ‘em. Could be anywhere.”

“He’s a slaver,” Ginyu spoke up. “He’ll have a network spread throughout the empire. He probably has connections beyond the border as well. If he’s smart–and from what I’ve seen of this fellow, he’s one tough space cookie–his base will be located somewhere outside of imperial territory.”

“It will take the intel crew at least another week to pinpoint Gerrin’s location. The last sign of him was at the Citadel –”

“He could be anywhere by now,” complained Dodoria.

“Shut up.” His father’s fingers drummed against the magnificent space mahogany table. His jaw felt tired. Still, his teeth pressed harder into the sweet chewiness. “Ginyu, take your team to the Citadel and see if you can find anything.”

“Uh, Lord Frieza… don’t you remember, I was supposed to take Prince Kuriza and–”

“Take them with you. Take as many of them as you want.” He stood, grasping his cup of wine, and walked over to the viewing window. The vast expanse of space greeted Papa with open arms. He was short in comparison to the height and depth of the window he stood before. “Kiwano was once as loyal as any of you.” His tail flexed in annoyance. “I want him to be dealt with quickly, quietly, and with as few casualties as possible. Somebody better clean this mess up, or it’s all of your heads… Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Lord Frieza,” Captain Ginyu said quickly. “We’ll find those traitors! You can count on the Ginyu Force!”

“Find this one,” Frieza said, turning to the twitching hologram. “Bring him back to me. I wish to interrogate him.” Papa’s wine was swirling in the glass he held. He looked almost as bored as Nailo.

“Of course, Lord Frieza.”

“You will leave at once.”

“Papa, but what about Vegeta?!” Kuriza spoke up suddenly. The room went quiet; all eyes were on him.

“Has he not returned yet?”

“No, Lord Frieza,” replied Zarbon.

His father’s gaze was so full of anger and annoyance, it made the boy tired. He had already given Kuriza a piece of candy, so what more could he ask for? Kuriza perceived this, and while the blow stung, he held his ground. “You promised me I’d get to go on a mission with him and the others!”

“I-I, well…” Ginyu stuttered ungracefully, looking to Lord Frieza in desperation. Stupid horned fool.

“We’ll wait,” Frieza agreed. “But not for long.”

Kuriza bowed his head. Their eyes had left him. They were discussing more politics and boring information. He wished there had been a second piece of candy.

The water from the stream tasted of dirt. The only things living in it were insectoid brown-shelled animals that burrowed deep in the bottom of the river. They didn’t taste that bad when he cooked them.

Three days and three nights he huddled by that river. It took him two to regain the strength to even go hunting for those mud bugs. The days sweltered and filled the air with sandstorms. His eyes burned. The nights were bitterly cold, and there was little he could do to alleviate that.

The first alien to die had only been half-vaporized by Vegeta’s last Galick Gun. From his torso and up, his corpse remained, flung into the bushes like a doll. His body had landed upside down, his head rolling down in an awkward position that instantly made it obvious that he was dead–that and his half-vaporized torso rising high into air. His dark eyes were open but rolled to the left, not looking at Vegeta.

The pain had to be endured. There was no alternative. He thought of nothing else–nothing but how he would get better, how he would get faster, the training he’d do, the people he had yet to surpass. They would all fall before him when he ascended to his rightful place as the next Legendary Super Saiyan. But still, there were too many. He was a Saiyan–the prince of the most fearsome warrior race in the universe. That obligation only added urgency to his desires.

On the morning of the sixth day, thirsty and half-starved, the boy was standing on the edge of the riverbank, peering in, trying to catch a glimpse of a shining brown-green-shelled bug beneath the rushing current. He held his lower chest gingerly–the pain coming from the broken pile of bones that had been his ribs had not felt any better since Zarbon had kicked him. In fact, the boy had been in agony ever since that moment, and if anything, the pain was only getting more difficult to endure by the day.

He was preparing to jump in when Vegeta heard the sound of footsteps descending the cliff behind him which led back up to the village.

“Well, well, well. You aren’t dead after all.” Nailo’s lipless mouth parted, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“Wh-what are you doing here…?”

“Looking for you. Lord Frieza was worried about you.” He paused, hopping to the ground and walking over to the boy. “You promised him you would clear this world in two days. It’s been a week. What happened?” The way in which he looked down on Vegeta, his dark eyes piercing his body with cool ire, left no uncertainty about his opinion of the boy. Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re jealous. Get in line. There’s a lot of people who want me dead. You’re not special.

“The planet was already cleared when I got here,” he winced. “There were space pirates here.”

Nailo hardly seemed to care. “Were there now?”

“Look,” Vegeta said, pointing to the decomposing corpse in the bushes. “There’s one of them right there.”

Nailo approached the corpse hissing softly. “You managed to kill him?! How?!” Choked with rage, the officer turned to Vegeta. “Answer me!”

The wounded Saiyan shrugged. Jealousy is weakness. “He was weak.”

Nailo was for some reason unconvinced. “He’s wearing our armor–”

“The insignia…” the boy added.

“Oh.” It was in an instant that Nailo’s rage turned to confusion. In confusion lay a certain degree of powerlessness. “Do you know who they were? Why they were here? What they wanted?”

“Nope.”

Nailo was grinding his teeth, staring at Vegeta as if he wanted to blow the boy’s head off. “Why didn’t you come home if you killed them all?”

“I didn’t. The last one blew up my pod before leaving.”

“Did he now?” Again, the man was unconvinced.

“He said I’d die in more pain if he marooned me here.”

Nailo snorted humorlessly. Returning to Vegeta’s position, he shifted awkwardly in his stance, raising his hands at the boy a few times, but dropping them almost instantly immediately after. Vegeta had not the strength to do anything, so he just stood there like a dumb animal. What is he doing? He looks nervous. What’s he up to?

“Do you have any information about these pirates? Anything at all that you remember?”

“Yeah,” the boy said, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at Nailo. “I know where their hideout is.”

“Oh yeah? Where is it?”

“Take me back to Frieza.” Vegeta folded his arms and looked away, feigning coolness. In reality, he was panicking. The fear nearly suffocated him. It was all he could do to keep the man unaware. “I’ll tell him directly.”

“Tell me,” the lizard said sternly.

“I won’t.” Vegeta’s defiance was his only shield. There was no doubt now why Nailo had come here–he had not been sent to save the boy, but to make sure he was dead. That’s Zarbon for sure. He sent Nailo to kill me… He should have foreseen this, planned for it, but even now, he didn’t know what he could have done differently even had he known this was where he’d end up.

“Vegeta, please. I outrank you. Would you dare defy a direct order from your superior?”

“Just do it.” His eyes were living flames. The boy had no patience while he was in pain. “Or are you too scared?”

“Tell me where–”

“Kill me already!” Sand stung Vegeta’s eyes. He blinked too many times to count; still, the sand would not dislodge from beneath his lids.

Smiling lazily, Nailo grabbed him by the neck and held the boy at eye level. The boy fought against Nailo, groaning in pain as waves of pain cascaded through his body. “You’re smarter than you look, monkey. If this is how you want to play it, you better know that this won’t save you. You’re just prolonging the inevitable. I will succeed in my mission, monkey. I always succeed.”

He struggled; Nailo’s face was before him, his mouth hissing softly. His throat hurt; he could barely breath. The boy leaned in, trying to headbutt Nailo, but he was too far away. That was fine. Grimacing, he thrashed against Nailo’s grip and spit on the man’s face.

The blood-tinged spittle landed across Nail’s brow, dripping down like a melting veil. He sneered widely and leaned in, his head shooting forward at an unnatural angle, and Vegeta remembered no more.