Ch 22
Zarbon walked down the ramp and
into the dusk, sighing as the warm breeze tickled his skin and tousled his
hair. It had been a long, strange, day, and he wasn’t doing well in putting all
the pieces of the puzzle together. He was starving, for one, and tired for
another. Perhaps he would take the blue-haired woman’s mother up on her offer
of food. He started for the main building when he realized he hadn’t seen
Vegeta for a while. Stopping dead in his tracks in the grass he stood, putting
his hands on his waist and scowling at the shrubbery. When was the last time he
had seen the Prince? He had been there after they returned from the unpleasant
incident in the infirmary a few hours ago, he was present when they took turns
screaming at Nappa over the communicator, he was there when Zarbon went to
fetch some documentation on the Earth, and then he was gone. So an hour, then.
Vegeta had been gone for roughly an hour. Zarbon raised a hand to his face and
tapped a cheek in thought. There were so many things to consider; Kakarott, the
third-class Saiyan who was nearly as strong as his Prince, the blue-haired
woman with all her technology, Radditz, and then the importance of the woman’s
family. Had her mother said they had hosted an emperor before? It surely seemed
as if they were used to dignitaries visiting them, and if that was the case,
who were they in the larger scheme of things? And then there was Kakarott’s
brat- a half-Saiyan. Humans and Saiyans interbreeding. Was that why Radditz was
so protective of the woman? He felt his eyebrows gather downward in the middle
of his forehead and quickly smoothed his features, primarily to be sure not to
give anything away to the enemy but also to prevent any unsightly wrinkles.
“Vegeta, where are you?” he breathed, turning his head and scanning in every
direction. After a few moments he gave up; Vegeta could be at the polar ice
caps, for all he knew. Perhaps Radditz would be awake. The heavens knew that
the Saiyan had been on Earth long enough to divulge plenty of information.
He wandered into the room and stopped, seeing the unruly tower of Vegeta’s
hair. The Saiyan was standing with a gloved hand pressed to the glass of a
tank, scowling eyes locked on the woman floating in the blue, thick liquid
inside. “Not thinking of taking her for a pet, are you?” Zarbon said softly,
walking up behind Vegeta after the silence became too strange for him to bear.
Vegeta snorted but did not
glance at him. “Gods, no. She’s got the most foul temper I’ve ever seen,” he
grumbled.
Zarbon smiled. “Never been
around yourself much, have you?” he asked jovially.
Vegeta’s scowl plunged deeper.
“Don’t you have anything else to do other than bother me?” he said, voice rife
with irritation.
Zarbon stiffened. Vegeta was in
a mood. Perfect, just what he needed. “Hmph. I just wanted to see if Radditz
was up yet. I’d like to talk to him about this planet.”
Vegeta still did not turn,
instead watching the woman’s long hair float about her in finely spun clouds in
the liquid, her features pale and flawless through the glass. “Talk to
Kakarott,” he said quietly. “The fool has lived here all his life.”
Zarbon cocked his head. Vegeta
was right, if anyone would know anything about Earth it would be an Earthling.
Kakarott really couldn’t be called a real Saiyan, and he certainly didn’t act
like one. He sighed and wandered over to Radditz’s tank, quickly checking the
time left. Fifty more minutes. Glancing over, he saw that the woman only had
five or so left. Maybe that was enough time for him to grab something to eat.
Casting one last look at his Prince he sighed and walked out the door.
Vegeta heard Zarbon go but did
not turn around. He appreciated the time alone to think, and had ordered all
the med techs and the woman’s bumbling old father out of the room a long time
ago. There was something soothing about watching the sleeping bodies cradled in
their watery beds, floating blissfully in oblivion. He watched the woman’s
slender neck bend slightly as her head bobbed in the fluid, the fine hair
swirling around her like cobwebs. The image of her blue eyes was burned into
his skull, and he burned with fury as he remembered them. How dare her do that!
He looked at her neck again, thinking of how fragile it had felt beneath his
hand, the skin soft and the bones delicate. It would take nothing to just reach
out and snap that neck, and then he would be free, liberated from the stare of
those blue eyes. He pressed his other hand against the tank as well and leaned
against it, teeth exposed in a snarl as frustration wound its way through him
like a corkscrew. As he stared, he noticed the eyelids flutter. Small bubbles
escaped from around the mouthpiece of the tank and the eyes opened, blue within
blue. She was looking right at him, and the look stopped his circulation cold
in his veins. What was he going to do now? She looked around her, eyes wide and
panicked-looking, and suddenly pressed her palms against the glass next to his.
Her eyes darted to and fro, and he realized she was looking for the exit. He
watched for a while as her alarm grew before reaching over and pushing a
button. She faltered inside the tank as the draining process began, and as soon
as the liquid was under her chin she ripped the mouthpiece off and stared at it
for a moment before raising her eyes to his. The fluid finished draining and
she stared at him, pointing at the mouthpiece. “This thing is amazing,” she
said breathlessly. “How do you make it?”
He watched as she tried to take
a step and stumbled, his hand shooting out and catching hers roughly so that
she did not fall. “None of your business, yet,” he said coldly. “Take it easy.
You’ll be weak for a couple hours after being stuck in a tank.”
She leaned against his hand and
staggered forward, clutching the other side of the portal for balance.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, limbs feeling numb. Her heart had started to race with
fear when she saw him staring at her from outside the tank, his glowering face
wavery from the liquid she was immersed in. She could still feel her muscles
twitching from the energy that had rocketed through her system when she stuck
her hands inside his aura. Bulma had never been inside a warrior’s ki aura
before, she had never felt the strange calm of power coursing through her veins
on the inside of the aura, never felt the searing pain of the edge of the aura
itself. Was that strange invigoration what they felt every time they powered
up? Was that why they always had to fight? She blinked, still not used to the
bright lights after her time recuperating. Did they also feel the pain as the
front edge of their ki seared their circulation as it manifested itself? She
stared at Vegeta, at his dark, sharp features, and realized with awe what
strength he must have inside of him, what sort of discipline he must contain to
withstand that awful power and the pain it brought. She opened her mouth to
comment, to question, when she was seized by a fit of coughing. Some liquid
must have gotten into her lungs, and she jerked forward with the force of her
fit, her hair clinging to her cheeks in their stringy wetness. Space tilted
suddenly, and she realized through the clenching in her chest that she was
falling, that she was still fatigued and wouldn’t catch herself before she hit.
She closed her eyes and waited, still coughing, when warm hands snatched her
up, soft fabric moving across her collarbones as solid muscle anchored her. She
gasped for air and felt a sharp rap on her back, liquid suddenly bubbling up
from between her lips. The warm, strong hands turned her around and she was
faced with Vegeta’s black, burning, death-filled eyes. He scowled more deeply
and raised a gloved finger, wiping away the fluid from her mouth as one might
do for a child. She blushed and lowered her eyes, embarrassed.
“Don’t you listen, fool?” he
said, voice soft but barbed.
She felt an eyebrow twitch,
trying to keep the anger from leaping up inside of her. “What?” she growled.
He smiled, the curve of his lips
mocking. “I told you that you’d be weak.”
She pushed away from his warm
hands angrily but reluctantly, for the air in the room seemed cold on her wet
clothing and he seemed to generate enough heat for several people. “I’m not
used to being ordered around. Remember, your station has no meaning here.”
He stiffened a little, his tail
unwinding and lashing to and fro. “Such idiocy is obviously a side effect of
your thick skull,” he said coldly, raising his nose a little into the air.
“Look who’s talking,” she
snapped back, then sighed. Already fighting with the guests. Guests with
technology she wanted. If they had had these tanks to begin with, Radditz would
have never been in such bad shape. “Listen,” she began, ready to capitulate.
“About these tanks...”
“Talk to me about technology
when your brain isn’t waterlogged,” he replied, and turned on his heel with a
snap of his red cape. The angles of his body were full of anger and danger, and
she decided she wouldn’t press her luck as he strode out of the room.
Zarbon poked his head into the
kitchen and turned it from side to side. It didn’t look too different from the
food preparation facilities he had encountered on other planets, although bits
of it seemed rather antiquated. There was a table in the middle of the room,
and his mouth instantly began to water as he saw piles of food on its surface.
He glanced around and stepped into the room fully, feeling sneaky and not
knowing why. Quickly going over to the food, he closed his eyes and took a deep
breath, his nostrils filling with steam and scent and eliciting a deep sigh. “I
thought you’d get here eventually,” a high voice chirped, and Zarbon stood up
straight, hands behind his back and cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he saw
the woman’s mother stand up from behind a counter.
“Terribly sorry,” he mumbled,
and turned to leave.
“Oh, now, don’t be silly,” she
said, sweet voice stern. “You sit yourself down and eat. You must have had a terribly
long day.” She picked up a tray loaded with what looked sort of like vegetables
and carried it over to him.
“Uh, yes, it was rather long,”
he admitted, fidgeting with his cape behind his back. Here he was, one of the
elite fighters of the universe, and a little Earthling woman was making him
feel like a child again!
“Then sit down,” she ordered,
setting down the tray and picking up a plate. “There’s plenty of food. Don’t
worry about saving any for anyone else, there’s more on the way.” With that she
began to heap the platter with food from a variety of piles.
Zarbon spread his hands in front
of him. “No, really, we have provisions on the ship, and I really must be
getting back anyway, and,” he began, when a delicate hand shot out and pressed
him down into the chair.
“Eat, young man,” she said,
putting the plate down in front of him and handing him a four-pronged eating
utensil.
Zarbon fought down the confusion
roiling inside of him. “Um, thank you, uh...” he started, glancing up at her
with golden eyes and blinking.
“Mrs. Briefs, dear, we’ve
already met,” she said, walking over to a cupboard and taking out a glass. “You
know, you have beautiful hair.”
Zarbon blushed again. “Thank
you,” he said graciously, inserting a bit of food into his mouth and surprised
at how tasty it was. She liked his hair, and he was starting to like her
already. Maybe this Earth trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“Are you okay?” she cried as she
dashed into the room, nearly colliding with the metal railing as she crashed
into his bedside area.
Yamcha chuckled bitterly and
smiled up at her. “Yeah, I’m as well as can be expected,” he said, face
suddenly serious. “How are you? Did that bastard hurt you?”
Bulma shook her head. “Not
really. It was my stupidity. You know how I always seem to get into trouble,”
she replied.
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled. “And
then you get angry at me for worrying about you! Heck, Bulma, you even cut
yourself shaving.” He reached up and put his large hand on hers.
She smiled uneasily. “Yeah,
well, I’m an adult and can take care of myself,” she grumbled, glancing away.
He looked at her soberly. “You
wouldn’t have to worry about it if you’d just let me take care of you,” he said
quietly.
She slid her hand out from
underneath his. “Dammit, Yamcha, I don’t want to be taken care of!” she said
testily. “I just want you to let me be me and enjoy it, not worrying about me
constantly or thinking about how you can live my life for me. I want to be left
to my own devices, can’t you respect that?”
He merely looked at her for a
few long moments, watching her breathe. “I love you,” he finally said. “I want
what’s best for you.”
She scowled. “How do you know
that what’s best for me is you?” she countered.
He glanced away, retrieving his
hand and letting it rest on his abdomen in a spot that wasn’t covered with
bandages. “You’re soaking wet,” he murmured. “You’d better go change before you
catch cold.”
She straightened and clenched
her fists at her sides. “You’re impossible,” she said, and left the room.
She was headed towards her
quarters like a thunderhead across a summer sky, rumbling with energy and
blocking out the delight of a warm day, when Vegeta passed her in the hall. He
didn’t say a word, or even look at her for more than a split second, but she
could almost hear his mocking laughter as he moved on down the corridor. Her
ire burned higher. Two horrible, stupid men, and another one waiting in the
tank. What on Earth was she going to do with all of them?
Zarbon patted his stomach as he
walked along and hummed to himself, luxuriating in the fullness he felt. The
food had been wonderful, much better than on the ship, even though their cooks
weren’t shabby as far as space staff was concerned. Maybe Mrs. Briefs would
consider a spot on their ship? He chuckled to himself as he pictured her
standing in the flagship kitchen in her apron, waving a spoon and brightly
giving orders to a motley crew of aliens as they traveled through hyperspace.
His laugher was stopped short when he heard a commotion from the ramp ahead of
him, the figures silhouetted in the light of the ship. Shouting reached his
ears, the stacatto syllables of Standard assaulting his eardrums and spurring
him into action. With a curse he levitated and zoomed forward to the entrance
of the ship, his face drawn in a mask of fury and full of readiness to end
lives. Was it one of the Earth warriors daring to attack the ship? He thought
it could be, they hadn’t really shown any concrete signs of sanity so far and
he wouldn’t put such an action past them. A smile crossed his face at the
thought, and he realized he really wouldn’t mind pounding one or two of them
for their stupidity. Mrs. Briefs wouldn’t like it, but sometimes sacrifices had
to be made. He had reached the throng and began to reach for his power but
stopped in shock as he realized what was going on. His troops were gathered
around a little old man with a black cat clinging to his shoulder, peering out
from behind large glasses and emanating the stink of burning plants. One of the
soldiers reached out to grab him and he snatched up something from his pocket
and tossed it. Zarbon backpedaled as soldiers hastily moved out of the way of
the small object, gasping when it seemed to explode above one of the soldier’s
heads. Suddenly a large crate-looking thing appeared out of thin air and landed
on the soldier, pinning it to the ground. The soldier grunted with the impact
and several of its crewmates ran over to help. Zarbon pounded a foot on the
metal walkway and planted his hands on his hips. “What in the HELL is going on
here?” he bellowed, scowling darkly.
“This old man was trying to
break into the ship!” one of the soldiers crowed, pointing to the fellow.
Zarbon shouldered his way
through the troops and stood in front of the old man, scowling. “What were you
doing?” he snarled, golden eyes glittering.
The old man adjusted his white
lab coat and sighed through his thick moustache. “I just wanted to take a tour
of your magnificent ship, that’s all,” he grumbled, looking around slyly. “This
thing’s quite a masterpiece.”
Zarbon ignored the compliments,
anger boiling through his system. “Who are you? What were you thinking? What
did you just do to one of my men?” he snapped. Some of the soldiers started
forward, those that had teeth baring them, but Zarbon held up a hand to halt
their advance.
“I’m Doctor Briefs, Bulma’s
father, owner and president of Capsule Corporation,” the old man replied,
straightening up and patting the cat perched on his shoulder.
Zarbon sighed. Great, the guy
was some sort of president. That would explain why Mrs. Briefs had mentioned
having hosted emperors before. This man must be her husband. “Capsule
Corporation?” he asked after a moment.
The man nodded, his mop of
grey-lavender hair going every which way with the movement. “Yes indeedy. We’re
the largest technological corporation in the world. Yep, we’re the leaders. Our
main product is the capsules, which my wife and I started to market many
decades ago. I just threw one of our general storage capsules at one of your
fellows. He didn’t seem friendly, you know,” he replied.
The muscles around Zarbon’s eyes
tightened as he felt the beginnings of a stress headache. “You mean to tell me
that big box was housed in that little tiny thing you threw?” he asked skeptically.
Perhaps the man was truly mad.
Dr. Briefs nodded. “Yup. Our
special patented technology makes it possible.”
“You make your entire living off
of selling storage vessels?” Zarbon said disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow
while lowering the other.
Dr. Briefs smiled. “Oh, heavens
no,” he chuckled. “We can encapsulate anything. We also build aircars,
refrigeration units, communications, radar, satellites, motor homes, planes,
heck, anything you can name that has anything to do with technology we manufacture
and encapsulate.”
Now that was interesting.
“That’s pretty incredible,” Zarbon said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can
you prove it?”
Dr. Briefs smiled. “Of course,
son!” he said, and reached into his pockets once again. Some of the soldiers
gasped and some started forward, but once again Zarbon’s glances demanded
silence. The human took out a small cylindrical container and depressed the
plunger on the top, throwing it over the side of the ramp. There was another
mild explosion and when the smoke cleared a hover vehicle sat on the grass.
Zarbon’s eyes grew wide. “Very
well, I believe you,” he murmured, amazed. The implications of such technology
were limitless. Earth seemed to be getting more valuable by the second.
Dr. Briefs beamed and nodded his
head. “Glad we’re agreed, thank you,” he said proudly. “Now may I see your
ship?”
Zarbon blinked. “Uh, well, it’s
nothing much,” he said. “Just your standard model.”
Dr. Briefs shook his head. “We
don’t have deep space travel here yet,” he said sadly. “We’ve been modifying
Radditz’s pod, but we don’t have anything this advanced at this point in time.
Could you give me a tour?”
“What’s going on here? Why are
you all standing around gawking like fools?” a sharp voice cut through the air.
Zarbon groaned. Just his luck that Vegeta would choose that moment to show up.
Zarbon watched as the crowd
parted to let through the Saiyan. Vegeta cast a look around at the throng, eyes
assessing the situation. “I was just asking this fellow here for a tour, my
boy,” Dr. Briefs began. One of the soldiers snarled and lunged at the old man,
hands extended and aimed for Dr. Briefs’ neck. Vegeta bared his teeth and
darted forward, snagging the soldier by an armor strap. His fingers closed
around the strap and pulled, the material expanding as the soldier’s momentum
carried him forward. The material contracted again immediately, causing the
soldier to land in an unceremonious heap at the Emperor’s white boots. The
soldier stared up at Vegeta in horror, trembling.
“Zarbon, make sure this soldier
is dealt with,” Vegeta said coldly, his eyes glinting.
“Yes, sir,” Zarbon said with an
evil smile. Several soldiers might have to be “dealt” with, if they seemed like
they were inclined to endanger the Earth mission. He felt his heart leap in
anticipation. He had been so busy trying to keep Vegeta’s head above water he
hadn’t managed to find time to kill anyone in a good long while. Perhaps he
could even get the soldiers to fight a little before he ended their lives.
Dr. Briefs gasped and rushed
over to Vegeta, wrapping his hands around the Prince’s armor straps and giving
a little pull, make a sound of delight as the material stretched. Zarbon felt
the blood leave his face as annoyance manifested itself on Vegeta’s features.
“This is fabulous stuff!” Dr. Briefs breathed, testing the material again. “How
far does it stretch? Does it harden after it stretches? Does it ever break, or
does it tear instead? How about manufacturing costs?” the old man asked,
tapping Vegeta’s breastplate and glancing around at all the other armor as
well.
Zarbon released a breath as
Vegeta’s features relaxed. “Zarbon, show him how it accommodates size change,”
Vegeta ordered, and Zarbon inhaled deeply, feeling part of his mind click as he
initiated the transformation. Blood rushed in his ears as he felt his frame
expand and his muscles bulge, sliding easily into his natural powerful saurian
form. The armor changed size with him and he heard Dr. Briefs laugh with glee.
“That’s wonderful!” Dr. Briefs
exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Do you understand the implications of
such a material? I can think of the possibilities already!” he crowed, prancing
around Zarbon.
Vegeta shot a dark look at his
aide, who returned to his mammalian size. “Did you request a tour?” he said
quietly.
Dr. Briefs stopped in his
tracks. “Oh, yes, that would be marvelous,” he said, blinking behind his
glasses.
Zarbon smiled. They had
technology to trade for the capsules. The tour would indicate what other
technology they had that the old man would be interested in. Zarbon felt pride
overflow his heart as he mused that perhaps Vegeta would become the ruler he
had trained him to be after all. The Saiyan certainly could be crafty when he
desired. “I would be more than happy to show you around, if his Excellency
Vegeta would care to accompany us,” he said to the human.
“Oh, yes, you seem like a
charming young man,” Dr. Briefs said to Vegeta. “Did you meet my daughter Bulma
yet?” he asked brightly.
Vegeta’s eyes widened a little
and he blinked, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. Zarbon swallowed
hard and went to the rescue.
“Yes, we were introduced,”
Zarbon said quickly. “Dr. Briefs, why don’t you show us one of your capsule devices.
Perhaps a food-containment unit?” he asked politely, smiling.
Dr. Briefs smiled underneath his
moustache. “Why of course, young man. Feeling a bit peckish?”
Zarbon chuckled, his teeth
clenched. “Oh, no, your wife saw to that,” he replied. “But perhaps Vegeta
would like something to drink?”
Vegeta tilted his head a little
but nodded anyway. “That would be fine,” he said, although he was not in the
least thirsty. He also knew that
Zarbon didn’t play games without
good reasons. That didn’t mean he wanted everyone else to see the game as well,
and he turned to his troops. “All of you, report to your stations inside the
ship at once. Make sure everything is prepared for this Earthling,” he
commanded, and soldiers went running. He turned back to Zarbon and nodded.
“Can do,” Dr. Briefs replied,
and brought out a rectangular box that revealed several capsules when opened.
He squinted and selected one, pressing the plunger and tossing it down the ramp
a few feet. It exploded and there stood a box about waist high, a generator
humming away on the back. “Isn’t it the cutest little fridge you’ve ever seen?”
the doctor crowed. “It even has its own eco-friendly power source!”
“It’s lovely,” Zarbon assured
him, noting the startled interest in Vegeta’s eyes. The Saiyan was beginning to
understand the implications as well.
Dr. Briefs tottered down the
ramp, nearly upsetting the cat on his shoulder as he bent down to open the
fridge. “What would you all like?” he said loudly, shoving his head inside.
“We’ve got fruit juices, soda pop, iced tea, beer, the works.”
Zarbon and Vegeta glanced at
each other, neither having the slightest idea what sort of beverages soda pop,
beer, tea, or the works were. “Uh, I’ll have juice,” Zarbon muttered, reaching
up and brushing away some stray hairs.
Vegeta snorted. “I’ll have tea,”
he said, raising his nose into the air and looking down it at Zarbon.
“Good choices, lads,” Dr. Briefs
mumbled from inside the contraption and pulled out some bottles. “Going for the
beer, myself. Been a long day!” He handed one to Zarbon and gave the other to
Vegeta. Each opened their bottle in turn and sipped cautiously. Zarbon wrinkled
his nose at the sweetness of the juice.
Vegeta laughed and peered
through the glass at the liquid it held. “You know, old man, this isn’t half
bad,” he said with a smile, swirling the tea. Earth was getting better all the
time.
“That’s what my daughter
drinks,” Dr. Briefs said with a chuckle. “So you’re in luck. The house is
absolutely crammed with it. Bulma consumes it like there’s no tomorrow.”
Vegeta’s smile faded at the
mention of the woman. “Did you say you wanted a tour?” he asked, changing the
subject and distracting himself from the anger he felt when he thought of her.
Dr. Briefs popped the top off
his bottle of beer. “Why yes, of course!” he exclaimed, raising the bottle to
his lips. “Sell my right arm, I would, to see what sort of gadgets you fellas
have. I’d bet that I’d still be able to install a stereo system that could
knock your intergalactic socks off, though, no matter what you guys have in
there right now.”
“Well, perhaps we can work
something out,” Vegeta said wryly, gathering his cape up to keep it from
dragging. “Come this way.”
Goku stood and waited as the
water drained out of the tank, extending his senses eagerly to test out what he
thought would be true. He smiled as his experiment returned the expected
result: Radditz was far stronger than he had been, probably a bit more than
half as strong as himself, and could get even stronger. He stood to the side
and cocked his head as his brother uncurled himself and squirmed out of the
tank, shaking his mane and blinking his eyes beneath his scowl. His gaze found
Goku and he seemed a little startled, casting about from side to side. He
turned his head towards the empty tank and sighed. “Bulma’s fine,” Goku said
gently. “She got out of her tank an hour ago.”
Radditz stood, flexing a bicep
as he tested out his body’s motility. “Shouldn’t you be home with your
lifemate?” he said quietly.
Goku sighed. “Yeah, but I went
home earlier to visit. ChiChi’s putting Gohan to bed now. I convinced her to
let me come see you for a little while,” he replied.
Radditz grunted and ran his
hands through his hair to get its heavy black mass away from his face. “Hnh.
Someone as strong as you gets ordered around by such a weak creature,” he
commented.
Goku raised an eyebrow. “Huh?
ChiChi doesn’t order me around unless she’s really angry. We try to agree on
stuff, mostly. Besides, I love her. Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t do
something for Bulma if she asked you to?” he countered, eyes wide with
confusion.
Radditz shot an annoyed glance
at his little brother. “Tch. That’s different,” he grumbled, running his
fingers over the scar on his abdomen. The wound had been so severe that even
tank time had not been able to remove it.
Goku cocked his head. “Oh? I
guess I don’t see how. You do love her, don’t you?”
Radditz bared his teeth. “Love
is for weaklings.”
“Then I guess I don’t understand
why you’re so confused about what to do with her and Vegeta,” Goku said,
scratching his head. “But hey, at least you’re feeling better!”
Black eyes slid over to Goku and
locked there. “What do you mean, confused?” Radditz spat.
The younger Saiyan shrugged. “I
dunno. You love Vegeta and you love Bulma, and Vegeta keeps wanting to hurt
Bulma. You want to protect her but you also don’t want to upset him either. It
sounds pretty tough to me.”
“It’s really none of your
business.”
Goku shrugged again. “I don’t
know. Bulma’s my friend. You’re my brother. I wasn’t sure about you at first,
but when you saved my life when I fought Vegeta I knew you were a good guy.”
“Saiyans are not ‘good guys’,”
Radditz snapped.
Goku sighed. “Okay, sorry.
You’re still really weird, if it makes you feel better. But I didn’t come here
to talk about that. What I wanted to know is whether or not you wanna come live
with my family. You are my brother, after all, and Gohan asks about you,
although it drives Piccolo crazy. Not that ChiChi knows everything about
Piccolo either, of course. I figure if you’re living with us it’ll be easier
for you and I to spar. You’re lots stronger now, and I bet you could get even
stronger. I know I did. So what do you think?”
Radditz stared at the ground for
a while, brows knitted as he tried to ignore the tuneless whistling Goku
launched into as he waited. “No,” he finally replied. “I have things to tend to
here.”
Goku’s shoulders slumped. “You
can’t save her from him,” he said softly.
“I know, but I have to try,”
Radditz replied.
Goku nodded his understanding,
coming over and reaching up to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If it’s
not Vegeta, it’ll be Zarbon, and he’s stronger than all of us.”
Radditz shook off his brother’s
hand and turned his head away. “All I can do is what I must,” he said solemnly.
“I just pray it will be enough.”
21 / Bulma’s Hideout / 23