Ch 14

Freeza studied his brother from across the table, the goblet held mere inches from his lips as he smiled pleasantly. Cold hatred filled his heart as he looked at Cooler’s own gentle smile, his identical dark lips curved like Freeza’s own. Months of work had boiled down to this moment. He had to make arrangements, bribes, have people killed, and all as quietly as possible so as not to alert his older brother to his impending demise. Their father, King Cold, had never liked his boys to fight, and so they had learned, through the years, to disguise it all in courtesy and cold smiles. Freeza felt his stomach as he felt their rivalry burn through his veins. Whose empire was bigger, stronger, better, Freeza’s or Cooler’s? Who would inherit the powerful empire their father controlled in his faraway galaxies? Freeza knew there was more than enough free space for everyone, but it didn’t matter. He had always wanted Cooler out of the way, and not because he wanted his empire. After Cooler was dead he would dissipate the oaths and alliances and set them all free, only to have his legions swoop in and destroy everything, wiping the memory of Cooler from the face of the universe. Yes, all that had always been part of his motivation, but the events of before- nearly a year?- had redoubled the hatred burning in his breast. His brother had strong-armed him into leaving for dead his best two soldiers. Zarbon, so pretty and so effective, and then the little Prince, who had the capability to become one of the strongest warriors in the universe, the little Saiyan who he had raised himself. Both of them his playthings, his favorite toys. How marvelous it had been, toying with Zarbon’s strict sense of decorum, and forcing that same sense onto the savage little Saiyan, breaking the boy in with cruelty and nightmares. And Cooler had put an end to it all. What was power without the people to control? He widened his smile at his brother and narrowed his eyes slightly, willing his sibling to drink the wine. “Has the meal met your standards?” he asked kindly.

“Quite,” Cooler replied courteously. “Please give my regards to your chef.”

Freeza nodded, setting down his glass. The entire jug of wine was poisoned, the crop of fruit from which it was made had been grown to contain a poison that was tasteless, odorless, and extremely effective. Freeza knew that if it came down to a fight he would never win against his brother, and although poisoning was honorless, it was worth anything to take revenge. He also couldn’t take the risk of just poisoning Cooler’s glass- that would have necessitated some sort of powder or other substance, which would have been too easily detected. Freeza was smarter than that, although he ran the risk of poisoning himself if he drank the wine. Unfortunately Cooler was also intelligent, and hadn’t touched the wine, always waiting for Freeza to take the first sip. Sweat threatened to form on Freeza’s forehead and under his arms as Cooler looked at his glass of wine. Unable to wait any longer, Freeza snatched up his glass and poured some of the liquid into his mouth, careful to block off its passage into his stomach with his tongue as he simulated swallowing. Cooler laughed in disbelief, exhaling, and took a hearty swig of his own. Freeza smiled at him, tight-lipped, still holding the liquid in his mouth. A little of it would be absorbed by the inside of his cheeks, but hopefully it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. Cooler grinned back, but his expression soon wavered and his eyes bulged in his head. He began to cough violently, his entire body convulsing. Freeza stood and smiled at his brother as Cooler grabbed his throat and slid to the floor. He had made sure it was the wine that was poison and not the water, for he knew that alcohol was the only substance that was absorbed directly into the bloodstream from the stomach, and thus killed quickly. He could almost hear Cooler’s liver melting as he looked down at his noiselessly writhing brother.

“You...bastard...” Cooler choked, saliva running unbidden down the side of his white cheek.

Freeza spit the wine he had been holding in his mouth onto Cooler, the purple liquid spilling over his brother’s body and staining the pale flesh.

“That’s for taking away my toys,” he said coldly. “I’m sure our father will be disappointed to hear of your demise.” His face contorted into a horrible mask of rage, and he kicked his brother in the head for all he was worth. Cooler made a gurgling sound, the saliva running out of his mouth being replaced by a reddish foam. Freeza began to laugh and kicked him again. “Burn in hell, Cooler,” he said, eyes sparkling with glee as his brother contorted and twisted in his agony. Finally the body was still, the eyes wide and glassy in the horror of death, and Freeza reached down, picking up Cooler’s still form by the wrist. “Take this out with the trash,” he said with a smile, and handed the corpse to one of the servants. Wiping off his hands on the tablecloth, he mewed a small burp in appreciation of the fine meal and sauntered off to his chambers. A few more months, that was all. He would launch his armies against Cooler’s forces tomorrow, and once that was taken care of he could begin his quest to find the remains of Zarbon and little Vegeta once again.


Vegeta burst into the room like a thundercloud, dark and crackling with anger. He watched Zarbon jerk awake with the noise and sit up, staring at the Prince in disbelief with golden eyes wide. “Vegeta!” the pale green-skinned man gasped. “What time is it?”

Vegeta snarled, curling his lip in disgust. Zarbon had several of the purple-fleshed maidens in his bed, all completely devoid of clothing and sleeping soundly. “Dawn was four hours ago,” he spat, rage filling him. “What is this nonsense?” he demanded, gesturing at the women.

Zarbon grinned sheepishly. “We were trapped on Arlia for a long time, Vegeta, and I figure if you’ve got it you might as well flaunt it...” he said, moving to rise.

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Vegeta bellowed, unconsciously powering up. “I’ve got a universe to conquer and you decide it’s a good morning to sleep in because you were up all night playing with some useless alien females?” he screeched.

“Vegeta,” Zarbon said gently, trying to calm him, and slid out of bed, wrapping a sheet around his midsection.

Vegeta glared at the other alien, suddenly struck by how physically imposing Zarbon was. Usually he was covered up with armor and adorned with all his silly feminine trappings, but bare-skinned like this Vegeta could see all his mature muscles. Zarbon came over to him with a hand out in order to placate, and fury filled Vegeta, jealousy raging through him at the other man’s height, broad shoulders, and mature muscles. Vegeta had just hit physical maturity in the Arlian dungeons, and although he had become a physical adult in his teens, Saiyans didn’t usually gain their heavy musculature until well into their twenties. Vegeta wouldn’t look as heavy as Zarbon for a few months yet, if he lived that long. “God damn you, I don’t have this kind of time!” he shrieked, energy crackling around him. “We have to find Radditz!”

Zarbon’s eyes were even wider now, and the women in the bed were beginning to awake, fear spreading over their petite features. “Vegeta, you have to power down,” Zarbon said calmly, approaching Vegeta. “If you don’t your body will fold and I’ll never get the chance to help you out or train you, and all of our work will be for nothing.”

“Gaaah!” Vegeta screeched, his vision clouding over in rage. He was completely out of control.

Zarbon turned to the women in the bed. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “Now!” They didn’t need any more encouragement, and hurried themselves out of the room immediately. Zarbon dashed over and locked the door behind them, then ran over and slapped Vegeta as hard as he could. The Saiyan spun under the blow and collapsed on the stone floor, eyelids fluttering and his body twitching a little. Zarbon sighed and sat down, pulling the young man into his lap. The circles under Vegeta’s eyes were darker, and he could feel the muscles spasming beneath the skin. Vegeta was in bad shape. He berated himself for dallying on the planet just for fun, and stood up, cradling Vegeta gently. If a blow like that could knock Vegeta out cold the Saiyan must be nearly dead. Time was of the essence. Laying Vegeta down on the bed, he hurried to dress, and sent a message to Anpane informing her of their departure, which also contained several veiled threats and cautions against rebellion. That done, he gathered up Vegeta once again and leapt out the window, heading for the pods. Hopefully Vegeta could rest on their way to the next planet.

“Bulma, honey, I don’t understand why you won’t help me out,” Mrs. Briefs said as she moved around the kitchen table to stand by her daughter.

Bulma stood and walked to the opposite end of the table. “Because he gives me the creeps, Mom!” she said.

Bulma’s mother frowned. “Do you think that your father never gave me the creeps when we first met?” she said, her voice still bright.

Bulma stopped and blinked. “Huh? What does this have to do with Radditz?” she asked, puzzled.

Mrs. Briefs sighed and rested her hands on the table. When she looked at her daughter again she wore her customary cheerful expression. “When your father and I were first dating I thought him pretty strange. He’s not too tall, for one thing, with those huge glasses, and he never had any fashion sense. He looked liked he had never seen the light of day before, and yet he had somehow worked up the courage to ask me out. He was so not popular, but something made me go with him even though he made me nervous. Well, honey, you and I both should be glad I did, because I had a wonderful time with him. I found him to be intelligent and funny. Then one night while we were out he turned to me and said ‘I think I have a process that will revolutionize the world as we know it. I’d like to start a business, and I’m fairly certain it will be enormously profitable. Would you be my partner?’ And do you know what I said to him?” she said, glancing significantly at her daughter.

Bulma sighed. “No, Mom,” she said. She didn’t see the point of this.

“I told him I wouldn’t. He was shocked. You should of seen the look on his face. I think he had been counting on it, since I was an accounting major. Anyway, his hands started to shake, he mumbled an apology, and started to shuffle away, but I grabbed those trembling hands of his and turned him right back around, and said that I only would if he asked me to marry him first. I thought he was going to spill over with tears of joy, and a few weeks later he showed up with the largest diamond I had ever seen. He had sold his first batch of capsules, and we were married shortly after that. A few years later we had you and the rest is history,” she said calmly, and sat down in a chair by the counter.

Bulma sat as well and scratched her head. “Well, that’s a lovely story, Mom, and you know I’ve always been grateful that you two get along so well, but I really don’t get your point,” she admitted glumly, tired of being lectured.

Mrs. Briefs sighed. “The point is, honey, that the person you least expect to be happy with might be the perfect one for you. You and Yamcha seemed perfect for each other, and he was like my son. It’s sad for everybody that it didn’t work out. But I think maybe it didn’t work out because you were too comfortable with him. He didn’t keep you on your toes. That’s why I think you should give Radditz a chance.”

Bulma shuddered. “I think he’d keep me on my toes in the wrong way. He’s so brutal and scary. Don’t forget that he was willing to kill his own brother, Mom.”

“He never ever wanted to kill Goku!” her mother protested gently. “Radditz is very family-oriented, honey. He would love nothing more than to settle down and have kids.”

Bulma stared at her mother, wondering if the older woman had taken leave of her senses. “Mom, he’s a homicidal warrior alien. I have a hard time believing he’d want to play house with some earthling.”

Mrs. Briefs shook her head. “Now, now, don’t be so quick to judge. Just spend some time with him and find out what he’s really like. I promise you, he’s quite charming, and sharp to boot.”

“Everything about him seems sharp.” Bulma sighed and stood, planting her hands on the counter and hunching her shoulders as she looked down at her mother. “But I’ll try to give him a chance. Not for a boyfriend, mind you, but maybe as a friend.”

“Thanks, dear. It means the world to me,” Mrs. Briefs replied, and watched her daughter walk out of the room.

Vegeta opened his eyes slowly, even the faint light from the stars bothering him as his eyelids were raised. He blinked gingerly and shifted in his seat, realizing that he had just been draped across the inside of his pod. His arms struggled their way out of the red entanglement of his cape, and he rubbed his eyes. The pod still smelled of stasis gas, and so he was still groggy as he wriggled his way to sitting upright. He leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window and groaned, feeling as if he had been run over by a space cruiser. What had happened? Where was he going? He felt blindly around the control panel, his eyes not focusing clearly for some reason, until he found the communication keypad and punched in the code to hail Zarbon’s pod. There were a few minutes of silence and blackness, but finally Zarbon’s face appeared on the viewscreen, blinking rapidly as if he had just awoke. “Well, well, look who’s up,” Zarbon said roughly, voice scratchy from sleep.

“What in the hell is going on?” Vegeta garbled. He still felt incredibly heavy and sluggish, and he was having a difficult time formulating words in his head, not to mention the struggle to make his lips speak them.

Zarbon smiled. “You nearly killed us all by powering up too much back on Kijar. I knocked you out to save you, and then realized how cranky you would be when you woke up with a headache, so I won some sort of drug from the Queen and administered it to you. I figured between the smack, the slime, and the stasis you’d actually get some rest, and by the looks of you I was right. You won’t die on my watch, little Vegeta.”

Vegeta felt gently under his eyes, noticing that although the bags were still there, they were considerably smaller. “Don’t call me little,” he snarled, his head beginning to clear. “How long was I out?”

Zarbon shrugged. “Check your pod’s time manager. I was in stasis as well, so I have no idea how far out we are from the next planet.”

Vegeta leaned over and punched in some commands into the pod’s central computer. “Shit,” he moaned, and saw Zarbon’s image shift out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he heard Zarbon’s voice say, and soon the sound of tapping buttons reached his ears. There were a few moments of silence and then a sharp intake of breath, and he knew Zarbon had seen it too. “The moons are gone- what’s happening?” Zarbon said in disbelief.

Vegeta’s mouth settled into a grim line. “Probably some sort of internal struggle. Arlia was in a state of war not too long before we got there, or are you too stupid to remember?”

Zarbon shrugged off the insult studied him, occasionally glancing out the window at a passing star. “You think that’s what it is?” he asked, then scowled as Vegeta nodded. “I don’t want you trying to overthrow them all in your state,” he added.

Vegeta snarled. “My state is more than adequate,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zarbon inclined his head. “I know better than to argue with you about that, although we both know the truth. We could just forget about this system and move onto the rest,” he suggested, face solemn.

Vegeta shook his head. “No, we have to do this methodically. We don’t necessarily have to do all the work.”

“What are you talking about?”

Vegeta smiled. “We already have two planets under our belt- one has weapons and the other has transportation. Why not put them to use?”

Zarbon raised a fine eyebrow. “Right, but the Arlians are too scarce to be sent right into battle, and the Kijarans seem too small to do any good.”

Vegeta’s smile faded. “The Kijarans will have the aid of weapons. Is their aim any good, Zarbon? You’ll have to tell me, since you know them so intimately,” he said acidly.

Zarbon shook his head in disbelief. “Bitter? Well, at least you can’t berate me for my ‘feminine’ looks any more,” he snarled. “Besides, I wouldn’t know about their aim. I only know mine is flawless,” he said with a smile.

“Feh,” Vegeta snorted. “Radio Atlia and Anpane at once. I want Atlia to have more control over the operation. He’s had experience choreographing battles. Have Anpane send ships to Atlia with people willing to be troops, and he’ll arm them on Atlia and send them out from there. Better send Arlian and Kijaran scouts first, though. We don’t want to side with the wrong people,” he said, then paused. “Dammit. If only we had more soldiers. How did Freeza ever get his army so big?” he muttered to himself.

“He sent out offers for mercenaries,” Zarbon volunteered.

“I didn’t ask you for advice,” Vegeta snapped.

Zarbon shrugged. He was getting used to the little Prince. “I’m just saying that Freeza increased his army by publicizing offers for mercenaries. People began showing up from far and wide. He got many followers that way- money can buy loyalty whenever other methods fail. And I’m not saying you’d have to do such a thing, I’m just telling you that’s what Freeza did, so pull your tail out of your ears and calm down,” he said crossly.

“Watch your tone,” Vegeta said coldly, then sat for a few moments in silence. “Very well. Have Atlia dispatch the message immediately to sectors of space not controlled by Freeza. I don’t want to alert him just yet. Offer to pay the soldiers whatever you think prudent. Hell, if we send the male ones to Kijar I’m sure the female population will be more than hospitable.”

Zarbon nodded. “Very well,” he replied. “But who’s going to be in charge of coordinating such an effort? Atlia’s too busy at present.”

Vegeta frowned, tapping his chin for a few moments with a gloved finger. “Have that wife of his do something. He seems like the type that’d jump at the chance to involve his wife in his work,” he said with disgust.

“Something you’ll probably never understand,” Zarbon commented dryly.

“Shut up,” Vegeta snarled. “We’ll avoid the system for now and let our troops take care of it. We’ll finalize things on the return trip. Plot the next set of coordinates,” he commanded, and leaned back to wait for the stasis controls to take over his consciousness once again.


“You’re missing a good show,” he rumbled as she walked into the room, burdened with trays of food.

“Am I, now?” she replied brightly, setting the trays down on the bedside tables.

Radditz glanced at her disapprovingly. “There are robots to help you with that sort of thing,” he said. “There’s no point in straining yourself.”

“It’s no strain, dear,” Mrs. Briefs said gently, leaning over and patting his arm. “What’s the show about?”

“People who think they’ve sighted aliens. The entire audience is ridiculing them,” he replied with a small smile.

“Well, a lot of people don’t believe that aliens would ever consider this planet important enough to visit,” she said gently, placing a few plates of food in front of him and running a hand over his thick black mane.

He unconsciously stretched his neck under her touch, pressing his head against her palm like a cat as her hand passed over him, closing his eyes a little in satisfaction. “The interesting thing is that the ships that they’re describing sound just like Lebrokkian vessels,” he said, voice fuzzy with unexpressed mirth. “You earthlings don’t realize how rich your planet is. A person could just walk around and eat off of the land with little difficulty, even though you’re all doing your damnedest to kill everything off.”

Mrs. Briefs sat down next to him, fixing her eyes on the television. “Not everyone tries, Radditz,” she said softly.

Radditz shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, it seems like the perfectly natural thing to do. In all my years as a mercenary it seems to me that it’s a common trend to try and destroy one’s home planet. You humans are actually doing a pretty lousy job of it, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Mrs. Briefs sighed, not liking the insults to her race but loath to stop his talking, since he did it so rarely. They had discussed a few things in detail, but it was usually more like a game of twenty questions rather than a free-flow of ideas and feelings. Besides, she wanted him to continue feeling comfortable around her, and she wasn’t sure if reprimanding him would help that cause. “Yes, I suppose it could be worse,” she replied softly, plucking at imaginary fuzzballs on her jeans.

Radditz turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes studying her intently. “Have I said something inappropriate?” he demanded.

Mrs. Briefs waved a hand in the air, smiling absently. “No, no, not at all...” she insisted, trailing off.

Radditz scowled. “I don’t believe you,” he said darkly.

“Well, it’s just than some people, like Capsule Corp., try and make sure everything they do helps our environment,” she said softly.
Radditz nodded his head. “Then you’re lucky. Most planets don’t even notice the destruction until it’s too late. Then we have to suffer because the resale value of their planet is shot.”

“So Earth is very valuable?” she asked gently, glad that he was shooting his mouth off. She would have to capitalize on the opportunity.

“Of course. Why do you think Kakarott was sent to destroy all the life here? This planet would have made us all rich.”

Mrs. Briefs filed the information away in her brain. “Who all rich?”

Radditz blinked, forgetting that the woman had no way of knowing how Freeza’s empire was run. “Vegeta, Nappa, and me. Freeza gave a percentage of the sale of a planet to the mercenaries who cleared it. That’s why Vegeta was one of the wealthiest men in Freeza’s empire. We Saiyans cleared more planets than any other group. Vegeta got the biggest cut, of course, since he’s the Prince, but Nappa and I were left with a pretty handsome sum ourselves. Not that it mattered, because we weren’t really doing it for the money anyway,” he said with a sigh and stuffed his mouth full of potatoes.

Mrs. Briefs was intrigued. It was the first time he had even mentioned this Nappa fellow, and although Vegeta had come up before Radditz had never discussed him in detail. Then there was this Freeza character, whom they had all apparently worked for at some point in time. “Then why were you doing it?” she asked.

Radditz swallowed his mouthful and smiled wickedly. “Because Saiyans love nothing more than to fight,” he replied. “The joy of conquest is our purest form of ecstasy.”

“That’s all you like to do?” she asked, surprised. It sounded like an incredibly boring life to her, but then again, most people thought her accounting work would be infinitely boring as well.

“Of course. It’s in our blood,” he said with a snort. “Look at Kakarott. He wasn’t even raised Saiyan, and he loves fighting more than anything.”

“What about love?” she asked, a little disturbed.

“Oh, we also love food,” he said, gesturing at his meal. “And I guess mating is up there, but none of it holds a candle to battle.”

“You seem to care a great deal about mating with my daughter,” Mrs. Briefs reminded him.

Radditz’s cheeks reddened. “Well, I think it’s more important to me than most. I know Nappa has had his fun, but it’s still not on his priority list, and Vegeta, who’s the strongest of us, doesn’t care about it at all. My father had a penchant for reproduction, and I suppose I carry that unfortunate trait.”

“Lucky for you,” she said. “Without that urge you’d be extinct.” She watched as he stiffened, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

“What? What did I say?” she asked in alarm, afraid that he would either shut up and stop talking or stand up and destroy her for her impertinence.

“Mrs. Briefs, we are already doomed for extinction. Freeza destroyed our home planet. Only Kakarott and I are left,” he said, voice cold.

“Oh, Radditz, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. But what about Vegeta?” she said, putting a hand to her throat. She felt absolutely awful.

“Like I’ve told you before, he’s probably dead,” Radditz replied haltingly.

Mrs. Briefs could tell that he was on the verge of clamming up. “You left him there on that planet, what was it, Rihon 8?” she urged, trying to encourage him. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened there and how you got to be there?”

“After I’m finished will you let me eat?” he said with an impatient sigh.

She nodded vigorously. “Of course, dear. I’m sorry.”

He grunted and looked at his food wistfully. “Okay, it went like this...”

13 / Bulma’s Hideout / 15