Ch 15
“How many more do we have to get
before you’re satisfied?” Zarbon’s voice crackled over the radio. Vegeta
scowled, leaned forward, and pressed the dismiss button. The signal cut out and
he smiled, leaning back into the thick padding of his pod. He was just closing
his eyes when the signal sputtered to life once again. “You had better stop
ignoring me, Vegeta,” Zarbon said, voice angry. “It’s for your own health, you
know. Do you think you can go without sleep forever?”
Vegeta curled his lip at the
communicator, wishing Zarbon would just leave him alone. He was very cranky; he
hadn’t slept well since he was knocked out on Kijar. The damned voiced and
those strange eyes wouldn’t let him be. “Fine, you annoying little pest,” he
finally snapped. “This next one will be our last. We should have enough by now
that they’ll keep each other in check so we don’t have rebellion on our hands.
Then we’ll head back to Arlia and make our final travel plans for Earth.
Hopefully we’ll see some fighting there. This trip has been woefully boring,”
he snarled.
He could almost hear Zarbon’s
eyes rolling. “Whatever. Just try to get some rest, all right?”
“I would, if you’d stop
bothering me!” Vegeta shouted, and pressed the dismiss button once again. He
fell back into his seat with a grunt and closed his eyes, doing his best to
shut out the echoes in his head.
Zarbon also leaned back into his
seat, but he did not rest. They were lucky to have won so completely on Arlia,
otherwise this whole plan would be a lot less stable. Atlia, although he was
fairly sure the Arlian didn’t like Vegeta, was the type that would be loyal to
the bitter end, and hopefully Anpane would be as well, if only because she was
hoping for a chance to get one of them into her chambers. Zarbon sighed- Kijar
certainly wasn’t a bad place. It was strange, sure, but he supposed that
appetites only grew when perpetually deprived. He would have to resanction the
class structure and prevent that inbreeding, then the problem would solve
itself. A bleeping interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced at his screen. They
were only an hour and a half from planetfall. He looked out his window and
watched for the planet to come into view, and after twenty minutes he was
rewarded. He saw, as his ship slowed down from hyperspace to traveling just
under the speed of light, that the planet was absolutely enormous. He could see
vast oceans of blue water, golden and green land masses, and the atmosphere was
twinkling in an unusual fashion. He sighed and stretched, then looked closer at
the twinkling. It wasn’t twinkling at all- it was a series of explosions in the
upper atmosphere. He looked around in alarm. There was no way either their
ships or themselves could withstand a hit from an upper atmospheric weapon. He
leaned forward and tapped his frequency into the communicator. “Vegeta, wake
up!” he shouted. “We have trouble!”
“Then take care of it!” Vegeta’s
voice snapped.
“Take a look out your window,”
was Zarbon’s curt reply. “Don’t tell me you like playing with upper
atmospherics!”
He heard Vegeta laugh. “I’m not
concerned. Continue on the present course,” he said.
“You’re out of your gourd,
Vegeta,” Zarbon snarled. “At least the civil war on Arlia was over when we got
there!”
“Shut up, Zarbon. I told you I’m
not concerned,” Vegeta replied, and Zarbon heard the blip of signal
termination.
“That
stupid bastard,” Zarbon muttered angrily to himself. “He’s going to get us both
killed.
“No, the man was sleeping with the other man’s daughter, but they’re actually
cousins, although they don’t know it,” Mrs. Briefs was explaining to Radditz as
he consumed his breakfast. There was a banging noise and both of them turned to
see Bulma enter the room, panting.
“I’ve just finished talking to
God,” she wheezed.
Mrs. Briefs shot a worried look
at Radditz. “Dear, I think you need to get more sleep,” she said gently,
getting up from her chair and walking over to her daughter, resting a hand on
her forehead. “Your temperature seems normal. Did you eat anything strange
yesterday?”
Bulma batted away her mother’s
hands with annoyance. “No, I mean I’ve just finished talking to Kami,” she said
testily.
Mrs. Briefs took a step away and
folded her hands together at her stomach. “Did you have a nice talk?” she said,
at a loss.
Bulma scowled and planted her
hands on her hips. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. I just wanted you to
know that we have to wish Goku back. It’ll take Goku a couple of months to get
back from wherever he is in the afterlife, and if he doesn’t get back before
the year is up, he’ll just stay trapped there.”
“So we have to wish him back
now?” her mother asked, surprised.
“Yes!” Bulma said, exasperated.
“Now come help me!”
“Be right there, honey. Where
will you be?”
“The back lawn. Krillin is out
gathering the last dragon ball right now.”
“Okay, see you there,” Mrs.
Briefs replied and watched her daughter scurry off. Sighing, she turned back to
Radditz and began to clear away his plates.
“How many wishes do you get?” he
asked.
“Just the one, I think,” she
said absently.
“Can you only wish one person
back at a time?”
Her
brows knitted a little as she tried to remember. “No, I think you can wish as
many people back as you want, but they all have to be in a group. You can’t
just rattle off a list of people that died and expect them to come back. They
have to have something in common, and they can’t have died more than a year ago.
Now just rest and I’ll be back in a few hours for lunch,” she said, gathering
up his dishes and leaving the room.
Radditz sat there in his bed, muscles tense. How long had it been since he left
Rihon 8? Not quite a year, the way he figured it. There was still a chance.
Goku was a Saiyan and Vegeta was as well. Both had died within the last year.
There was definitely a chance. He moved to stand, snarling at how atrophied his
muscles were. His wound stretched with the motion and he felt tender skin tear,
things inside of him rupturing as he stood. He yanked the tubes and needles out
of his arm, then smashed the machines as they began to make noise. Trickles of
moisture began to work their way down his side underneath his robe as he
staggered to the doorway. Glancing in each direction to make certain no one was
there he levitated a few inches above the ground and took off to where he
thought Bulma and the dragonballs would be.
“Vegeta!” Zarbon screamed as the atmospheric weapon struck the side of Vegeta’s
pod. The side of the vessel was blown away and he saw Vegeta come out and hover
for a moment before dropping towards the ground like a stone. He slowed his own
pod and set it to land automatically, then opened the door and zoomed after the
falling Prince. Sweat broke out on his brow, praying that Vegeta was all right.
If anything happened to him now the whole plan would be ruined, and his life
would be forfeit once again. He put on another burst of speed and got himself
underneath Vegeta just before the two of them hit the ground. He laid Vegeta
down gently and examined him quickly. His armor had taken the impact of the
shrapnel from the disintegrating pod, breaking a shoulder guard and cracking
the chest plate, but the rest of him seemed unharmed. The Saiyan was
unconscious, and Zarbon figured he must have exhausted himself generating such
a powerful and instantaneous ki shield. Zarbon glanced around and stood,
hooking his fingers into Vegeta’s armor and hefting him up with a grunt. “Whew,
you’ve gotten heavier since we first landed on Arlia,” he muttered, and took to
the air.
The
battle was indeed a civil war. From what Zarbon could gather, it looked as if
one side was fighting for global unification and the other sides were smaller
states who wanted to keep their independence. They had air-attack vessels and
the atmospherics to combat them, but other than that there was no weaponry that
Zarbon would concern himself with. So long as he stayed on the ground until
Vegeta woke up they would be fine. He hauled the Prince into a stand of bushes
and crouched there, his cape covering Vegeta, and waited.
He watched the bald man land and take off at a run towards the house. As soon
as the small figure began to dash past him he burst from his cover of the
bushes and tackled the fellow, crashing to the dirt. “Radditz!” the bald man
gasped, and Radditz pinned him with his knees. Clutched in one of the small
man’s hands was what the Saiyan assumed was a dragon ball.
“Give that to me,” he hissed,
trying to ignore the pain in his abdomen and the flow of blood down his side.
Krillin shook his head. “No way,
we have to wish back Goku!” he protested, grinding his teeth and squirming.
“I want him back as much as
anyone!” Radditz growled, and snatched the dragon ball away. Krillin took in a
lungful of air in order to scream, but Radditz raised a hand above his head and
knocked the little man out cold. Standing slowly, he brushed aside his hair so
he could see where the others had gathered with the other balls.
He descended upon them like a
storm, knocking out Tien, Chao Tzu, and Yamcha easily as he sped around them.
He heard terrified shrieks, and when he had finished his attacks he crouched on
the ground, panting and clutching a hand to his bloody side.
“Radditz!” Mrs. Briefs shouted,
and began to run over to him.
“Stay away!” Radditz snapped,
glaring at her and sending her retreating back to her daughter’s side.
“But you’re hurt!” she
protested, holding Bulma’s shoulders. “You’re undoing all those months of
healing!”
“It doesn’t matter!” he shouted,
throwing his dragon ball down by the others. “Now summon the dragon!”
“No!” Bulma screamed, fists
clenched. “Never!”
Radditz got up shakily and
stumbled over to where she stood. He placed a huge hand on her cheek and ran
his thumb over her skin. “Bulma, summon the dragon,” he said sternly, gazing
down into her angry blue eyes.
“Didn’t you hear me, moron?” she
spat. “I said never!”
His face twisted in rage and he
suddenly grabbed her behind the neck and squeezed. “Listen, human, I don’t have
time to play your games. I have to make a wish before I die,” he hissed,
lifting her up and brining her face close to his.
“Just do it, Bulma!” her father
shouted, popping out of the house and scampering over to his wife. “It doesn’t
matter!”
Tears began to roll down Bulma’s
cheeks. “But Goku...” she sobbed.
Radditz bared his teeth. “Don’t
worry, I’m bringing him back too,” he growled. “Now do it!”
Bulma sobbed and hit him feebly
with her fists. “No!” she moaned.
Mrs. Briefs extricated herself
from her husband’s grip and dashed over to the dragonballs. “Arise, Dragon!”
she shouted, throwing her hands into the air. Radditz whipped around, watching
the thick, black clouds cover the sky. The wind picked up and his mouth fell
open, dropping Bulma carelessly on the ground as lightening pounded the earth.
Suddenly the clouds began to swirl and a bright light shone high in the
heavens, crackling with electricity as it wound its way down to earth. It uncoiled
above the dragon balls, shining with fire and green scales as its red eyes
stared at the small group below it.
“What is your wish?” it boomed,
white teeth flashing in the radiance emitted by the lightening.
Mrs. Briefs looked at Radditz
blankly. “Bring back to life all the Saiyans killed within the past year,”
Radditz cried out, and watched as the dragon shut its mouth.
A few moments passed, the
silence as dark as the black clouds swirling above. “Your wish has been
granted,” the dragon thundered, and was gone with the dragon balls in a
blinding flash of light. Radditz glanced around, locating Mrs. Briefs, and he
smiled at her thankfully before clutching his side and toppling to the ground.
“Get him back in bed!” Mrs.
Briefs shouted, running over to his side.
“But he killed Yamcha and the
others!” Bulma cried, picking herself off the ground.
“Look, child,” Mrs. Briefs said.
“They’re not dead- they’re unconscious. Now get this man to a bed.”
Bulma stared at her mother
coldly as her father walked past her. He pulled a gadget out of his pocket and
made some calls. “They med techs are on their way,” he said gently, and knelt
by his wife.
“Dad!” Bulma protested, bending
her knees in emphasis.
Dr. Briefs glanced over his
shoulder at his daughter. “Goku has been wished back and no one was really
hurt,” he said. “I trust your mother’s judgment.”
Bulma sighed. “You people are
impossible. How many murderous aliens do you think you two will have to adopt
before someone gets killed?”
Mrs.
Briefs shot a concerned look at her daughter. “Honey, show some compassion.
We’ll take care of whoever needs taking care of.”
Nappa gasped as air filled his lungs, his eyes blinking rapidly in the light as
he looked at the sky. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over the crown of his
bald head, staring around him in wonder. Where was he? He stared down at his
hands and patted his torso, feeling to see if anything was wrong. The last
thing he remembered was the excruciating pain of being blown to bits. He had
been dead, he just knew it, and yet he seemed to be alive now. He began to
mutter questions to himself and stood. Not seeing anyone in the vicinity, he
took to the air.
He had to fly for quite a while
before finding a settlement. He landed outside the small, dusty village and
sauntered inside, wrapping his tail around his waist and alert for any sort of
attack, his ears straining for the sound of the clicks of weaponry. He wandered
through the twists and turns of the paths until he found himself in a sort of
plaza. In the middle was a statue, large and made of bronze, resting on a huge
marble pedestal. He blinked rapidly, not believing what he was seeing. If he
didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he knew exactly who the statue was
of. Shaking his head in disbelief and glancing around for signs of life he
wandered over to the front of it and fixed his eyes upon the plaque embedded in
the marble. “Our Lord Vegeta of the New Saiyan Empire, Liberator and Protector
of our people,” he read aloud, blinking in surprise. He looked up at the statue
and realized his first impression hadn’t been wrong; the statue was indeed of
Vegeta, looking very regal in his armor and a flowing cape. He was
contemplating what it all meant when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Spinning around,
ready for combat, he was confronted with a pair of insect-like eyes.
“May I help you, sir?” the
Arlian asked, its exoskeleton creaking as it found a comfortable standing
position.
Nappa swallowed his impulse to
attack when he noticed the bug-thing was armed with whatever he had been shot
and killed with. “What is this Lord Vegeta business?” he asked, gesturing up at
the statue.
“That is a depiction of our
ruler, Vegeta, who killed the tyrant king and his elite and freed our people
from bondage,” the bug replied. “Master Atlia is the one who governs our planet
under him as part of His Grace’s empire, and between the two of them our planet
is kept peaceful and safe from Freeza’s threat.”
Nappa frowned. Had Vegeta really
managed to take over an entire planet all by himself? “So where’s this Atlia
guy?” Nappa growled, wondering whether or not he should blast the overgrown
insect into oblivion.
“At the capital, of course,” the
soldier replied.
“How far away would you say that
is if you could fly?” Nappa asked, chewing on one end of his moustache.
The soldier made a humming noise
as it thought. “Well, it’s probably about three hundred miles from here, in a
straight line heading towards the northeast. Does that help you out, sir?” it
said amiably, pointing the direction.
Nappa nodded, examining the
thing. It was nice enough, and if it was true that Vegeta was ruling the planet
it probably wouldn’t be prudent to start blasting his subjects into oblivion.
Maybe he would get the opportunity later, if something could be done about
those horrible weapons. He saluted the bug in thanks and took to the air,
angling to the northeast.
Considering the speed at which
he flew it didn’t take him long to arrive at the capital. He immediately
located the palace and stormed in, pushing past protesting bugs and making a
beeline for what looked like the throne room. If Vegeta was here, that’s where
he would be, he decided as he pushed open the heavy doors, shoving insects
aside as they shouted at him. He strode into the room and crossed his arms. “I
demand to see Master Atlia,” he shouted, scanning the room for someone to force
to help him.
A bug draped with a blue sash
walked over to him and made a little bow. “Master Atlia is occupied right now,
but if you would like to make an appointment...” it said politely.
Nappa snarled and grabbed it by
its sash, hauling it into the air. “If you don’t take me to Atlia right now I’m
going to blast my way to him!” he said, then winced as he heard the clicking of
weaponry. Crap- he had forgotten about that.
“Don’t shoot him!” he heard
someone shout. “He has a tail like Lord Vegeta!”
“You’d better shoot me or I’ll
kill the lot of you!” Nappa growled, dropping the bug and striding up to where
the empty throne stood.
“What’s all this commotion?” a
raspy voice shouted, and Nappa turned to see who approached. It was another
bug-man, but this one was draped with a red sash, complete with ornaments, and
had a gold band wrapped around his forearm.
“I’m looking for Atlia,” Nappa
replied with a sneer.
The insect regarded him coolly.
“I am he,” it said. “What can I do for you?”
Nappa glanced around, noticing
that the weapons were still aimed at him. “Call your soldiers off,” he replied.
“I need to talk to you.”
Atlia nodded and the weapons
were lowered. “Speak,” he commanded. “And I shall do my best to answer.”
Nappa sighed. “Where in the hell
am I?” he blurted, rubbing the back of his head with a large hand.
Atlia looked as amused as an
insect possibly could. “You’re on Arlia, a planet that Lord Vegeta initially
referred to as Rihon 8.”
“Rihon 8, eh? Guess he didn’t
want it cleared,” Nappa mumbled, tapping his cleft chin.
“Apparently not, because now it
functions as his main seat of power for the New Saiyan Empire,” Atlia replied.
“So Vegeta got himself an
empire. I think you have some explaining to do,” Nappa said testily.
Atlia regarded Nappa’s tail.
“First I’d like to ask you about yourself,” he said politely.
Nappa blinked. Of course these
people wouldn’t have any idea who he was. “I’m Nappa, the commander of the
Saiyan armies before Vejiitasei was destroyed. I came here with Vegeta but was,
er, destroyed in our first few minutes by those weapons you have. I don’t know
why I’m back, but I am, and I need to find Vegeta,” he replied with a frown.
Atlia
nodded. “Come this way,” he said, and motioned for Nappa to precede him into a
room off of the throne chamber.
Nappa gave a whistle of
appreciation. “That’s quite a story,” he said. “So Vegeta’s just been traveling
around these past few months, gathering planets?”
Atlia nodded. “He has roughly 23
planets, not including Arlia, under his control at present.”
“That’s not bad,” Nappa
conceded.
Atlia shot Nappa a glance.
“Actually, it’s extraordinary, considering he’s only been gone several months.
He’s most charismatic, and we Arlians are already experiencing the benefits of
his talents,” he said.
Nappa raised an eyebrow. “Like
what?”
Atlia took a raspy breath.
“Well, the second planet he conquered, Kijar, sent us a fleet of ships in
exchange for our communications technology under Vegeta’s command. Now both
planets have space travel and extensive communication. We’ve also begun a
system of trade, and our economy is starting to improve. Fewer families live in
poverty than before Vegeta showed up.”
“So you people are loyal to him?
I mean, I can’t believe this is working,” Nappa said. He liked this Atlia
fellow, except for the appearance.
Atlia nodded once to show his
agreement. “It is amazing, but we Arlians are loyal to him after what he did
for us, and our military has begun occupying the other worlds until their
loyalty is just as certain. The fear of Freeza and the promise of economic
growth are strong motivators, however,” Atlia replied.
“I see,” Nappa said, about to
continue when there was a knock at the door and a soldier entered.
“There’s a transmission coming
in, sir,” the soldier said.
Atlia waved a hand. “Have it
sent through,” he replied, and directed Nappa’s attention to a screen located
in one wall of the room. The soldier closed the door and the two waited for the
static to clear. Finally the image stabilized and Nappa found himself looking
into the pale, fine-boned face of Zarbon.
“Atlia,” Zarbon said. “Thank
goodness. We could use some help.”
“What in the hell is that prissy
alien doing on your screen?” Nappa roared, getting out of his chair.
Zarbon’s eyes focused past Atlia
and came to rest on the Saiyan. “Nappa!” he said in surprise. “I thought you
were dead!”
“I was,” Nappa growled. “I don’t
know why I’m not anymore. But it’s not important! What have you done to the
Prince?”
Zarbon sighed. “I see being dead
didn’t teach you any sense,” he said acerbically. “He’s here, but he’s
unconscious, and the planet we’re on is in the midst of a civil war. Vegeta’s
ship was destroyed, and we need troops and transportation. Heck, Nappa, come
yourself. We could use your help,” he said, looking at Atlia.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
Atlia asked, ignoring Nappa’s stammering.
Zarbon glanced behind him. “No,”
he replied, “And if the need should arise I still have my pod. It’s where I’m
calling from. It can fit the two of us, but it wouldn’t be comfy. I think
there’s a wormhole in this sector that we could utilize to get back to you, but
it’d still take a while in the pod. Send one of Anpane’s ships too. Kijar’s
closer to where we are anyway,” he said, continuing to glance periodically over
his shoulder.
“What happened to the Prince?”
Nappa demanded, pounding a fist on Atlia’s desk.
Zarbon rolled his eyes. “The
Prince has a...condition...caused by your little friend Radditz on Earth. His
pod was blown up by an upper atmospheric upon our arrival, and he was barely
strong enough to fend it off. He used up all his energy, and so now he’s taking
a little nap,” he replied snappishly.
“We’ll send aid immediately. We
have your coordinates locked in and we’ll be there as soon as we can,” Atlia
said, saluting Zarbon.
Zarbon smiled gently and nodded.
“Many thanks, Atlia. See you soon, Nappa,” he said, and terminated the signal.
Nappa began shouting at Atlia
the second that the bug-man turned around to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me
that bastard was with Vegeta!” he screeched, fists rolled into balls.
Atlia shrugged. “It didn’t seem
necessary. Zarbon swore fealty to Vegeta in the arena, and has been the
Prince’s right hand ever since,” he replied. “Now would you like to be off? The
ship will be ready in an hour. I can offer you a bath and food before takeoff,
if you’d like.”
“Very well,” Nappa grumbled, and
followed the Arlian out of the room.
14 / Bulma’s Hideout / 16