Ch 23

“Vegeta,” he heard a voice call from the entryway. He scowled and rolled over, pulling the covers with him and burying his head under the pillow. “Vegeta, get up.”

Vegeta finally opened an eye and unclenched his jaw, pushing himself up and turning his head towards the door to his chambers. “What is it?” he hissed, glaring at the figure standing there. Zarbon stood, obviously just having risen himself, with his armor in disarray, no arm sheaths or jewelry, and his hair tangled in the ponytail at the base of his skull.

Zarbon rubbed a fist against his eye and yawned, showing Vegeta his perfect white molars and the dark blue insides of his mouth.

“Someone’s here to see you,” he replied, standing straight and tall right where he was.

“What time is it?” Vegeta demanded, sitting up all the way and wrapping the sheet around his hips.

Zarbon leaned outside the door for a moment and looked at something, then turned back to Vegeta and sighed. “It’s about a quarter to six, Earth time,” he responded.

Vegeta growled, putting a hand to his head. He hadn’t slept well, in fact he hadn’t been able to sleep at all until about three hours ago. Then some numskull had to go interrupting him. Was he doomed to never sleep a natural slumber throughout an entire night? “What do they want?” he snapped, standing from the bed and walking over to a closet, pushing the button that made the door slide open and reveal several bodysuits and sets of armor.

Zarbon leaned against the frame of the door. “I think I’ll let you talk to him yourself. He wanted to come even earlier, but the guards were able to hold him off for nearly an hour before he became too annoying.”

Vegeta’s head snapped around at that. “What?” he asked in real confusion, glancing at Zarbon before reaching into the closet to pull out a bodysuit.

Zarbon sighed and walked over to him, gently taking the bodysuit out of his hands and replacing it in the closet. Vegeta began to open his mouth, but paused when Zarbon pressed another, older, and more ragged suit into his arms. “Wear this. You don’t need to be ruining your good clothes,” he said, and walked back to the doorway as Vegeta dressed, clearing his throat as the Saiyan picked up a chestplate.

“What now?” Vegeta grumbled as he looked at Zarbon and set the armor back down.

Zarbon rubbed a temple and closed his golden eyes as he spoke. “Don’t wear armor. He can’t hurt you and it’d look like you’re giving him too much credit in front of the men.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s not keep him waiting,” he said, leaving the armor on the bed and pushing past Zarbon into the corridor.

“Heavens no,” Zarbon said with a roll of his eyes. “He’s impatient enough. Honestly, it’s been horrible.”

Vegeta scowled and nearly turned his head to ask more, but they had reached their destination and there was no need. “Vegeta!” a voice said brightly. “Finally! They didn’t want me to see you.”

Vegeta’s face slackened in surprise. “Kakarott!” he said. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

Goku’s wide eyes took in the room around him. “I wanted to come say hi. This is a pretty nice ship you’ve got,” he replied, emitting a low whistle. “Anyway, Radditz didn’t want to train with me right now because he’s busy helping Mrs. Briefs. So I thought maybe you’d like to spar?”

Vegeta snorted. “You’re asking me to spar with you?” he said mockingly, raising his nose into the air. “What would make you think that I’d do such a thing?”

Goku leveled his gaze and smiled a smile suddenly devoid of his characteristic innocence. “Because you want to get stronger, Vegeta,” Goku said calmly.

Vegeta nearly took a step back in his surprise and heard Zarbon take in a sharp breath. “Are you implying that you’re stronger than I, the Prince of the Saiyans?” Vegeta said angrily, voice beginning to rise in volume.

Goku shrugged, looking at him out from underneath his bangs. “I don’t know. We didn’t really get to fight fair last time,” he said, glancing at Zarbon. “And even though he’s stronger than both of us, he’s not going to fight me right now,” he finished.

Vegeta threw his own glance at Zarbon. Why had he never gotten around to training with his aide? “So you want to see how strong I really am, eh?” he said to Goku with a haughty laugh. “Very well. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Zarbon scowled. Kakarott seemed nice enough and very brainless, but he would have to reevaluate the situation. He had managed to change

Vegeta’s mind and control the Prince’s mood in a matter of moments. Perhaps the Earth-Saiyan wasn’t as stupid as his first impression dictated. “Will this tie up the remainder of your day, sir?” he said lightly.

Goku laughed. “Oh, no! We don’t have too long at all. Mrs. Briefs will have breakfast ready at eight. That’s why I tried to get you to come out earlier before, because we’ll only have a couple of hours now.”

“Breakfast? With that woman?” he said, paling.

Zarbon had to suppress a smile. Mrs. Briefs seemed to be the only person capable of inspiring complete horror and fear within the little Saiyan. As for himself, he was looking forward to eating her food once again. “Very well, sire. Shall I have a bath prepared for you before the meal or would you prefer to go there directly?” he asked with a little bow.

Vegeta stared at Zarbon as if his green hair had turned into a mass of orange snakes. “I’ll go there straightaway,” Vegeta mumbled, scowling down at his gloves.

“Very good, sir,” Zarbon said, voice too sweet. Vegeta’s scowl intensified and Zarbon had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Sometimes it was just too easy to get the man riled! “I shall see you at the meal, then.”

“Yes, Zarbon, of course,” Vegeta muttered, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. Knowing him, Zarbon would probably head straight back to his room, grab more sleep, and then spend an hour primping. He turned to look at Kakarott and sighed; he wouldn’t mind going to bed at all right now. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled as he watched Zarbon’s back retreat down the hallway.

“Great!” Goku said loudly, making several of the attending soldiers cringe. “But aren’t you going to wear armor?”

Vegeta glared at the other Saiyan. “No. I won’t need it,” he replied bluntly, also trying not to wince from Kakarott’s voice. The fellow seemed to have no decibel control whatsoever.

Goku’s eyebrows lowered marginally. “Are you sure?” he said softly, as one might say to a child in the middle of making a mistake.

Vegeta snorted and raised his nose into the air, closing his eyes partway as he proclaimed “I am absolutely certain,” he sniffed, turning his head away.

Goku shrugged. “Okey-dokey. Whatever you want,” he replied. “Follow me. I know a great spot.”

“Very well,” Vegeta answered, putting his hands on his hips and wrapping his tail around his waist.

Goku looked at the tail. He used to have one of those. There was something important about it, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it might be. “Ready?”

Vegeta shrugged. It was as good a way as any to get a free tour of the countryside. “Why not,” he mumbled.

“Great! This is gonna be fun!” Goku crowed, and began to run down the hallway towards the entrance to the ship. Vegeta gave his soldiers a strange glance, embarrassed to have to show such haste in front of his men, but found himself dashing after the orange gi anyway.

---

“Father,” he said, kneeling and bowing his head.

There was a great sigh from the throne atop the polished steps, the drumming of black-nailed fingers echoing throughout the chamber.

“Son, you disappoint me,” a deep voice said sadly. “After all, you two grew up together. This is how you treat family?”

Freeza clenched his teeth. “He was in my way, Father,” he hissed, pulling his dark lips back from his perfect dentition. “You taught me to take care of anyone who got in the way.”

“Now, now,” the huge form on the throne chastised, clicking his tongue. “Don’t get angry, my boy. I suppose I did teach you that, in all fairness, but why did you decide Cooler had to go?”

“He was trying to take over my empire,” Freeza snarled, rage bubbling in the hot pit of his stomach. Just thinking about his brother made him furious.

“Was he?” King Cold mused, his fingernails still clacking against the armrest of the throne. “Are you sure you weren’t just jealous?”

Freeza felt his spine stiffen with indignance. “Father, there was nothing to be jealous of. My empire was bigger. He wanted it. He even came onto my bridge and started giving orders!” he said, pouting.

King Cold sighed again, resting his chin in the palm of one of his hands, elbow propped against the throne as the other hand continued to tap away. “Did he? That’s interesting. Did he give you a reason?” he probed, one eye narrowing slightly as he looked at his son.

Freeza felt the blood rush to his face. “He said I was unfit to rule,” he muttered, clenching his fists to go along with his teeth.

“Do you know why he would say such a thing, Freeza?” the King said softly. “I simply must know, you understand, for this whole situation is exceedingly peculiar.”

Freeza scowled and turned his face to the side, avoiding his father’s eyes and staring at the ground, his dark lips gathered in an angry pout. “Cooler was overstepping his bounds,” he snarled at the floor.

King Cold’s eyes narrowed to slits, his hooked nose overshadowing his downturned mouth. “Answer my question,” he said quietly, voice cold with unsaid threats. Freeza shut his eyes and continued to face away. “Very well,” King Cold sighed, taking his gaze from his offspring and looking mildly around the chamber. “Dodoria,” he said, pointing a black-nailed finger at the pudgy pink alien, “What was the occasion?”

Freeza’s red eyes shot open and widened, glaring at Dodoria murderously. Dodoria swallowed hard, more sweat than usual beading at his brow. “What, my lord?” Dodoria said, hooded eyes blinking in surprise.

King Cold’s expression grew even less kind. “What was the occasion that caused Cooler to think Freeza unfit to rule, Dodoria?” he said softly, leaning his great horned head forward a little as he drummed his fingers upon the armrest of his seat.

Dodoria took a deep breath, feeling the pit of his stomach turn to ice as he was overtaken by nerves. The situation hadn’t been good to begin with, and now it was becoming even worse. “Lord Freeza was distressed by the loss of some of his soldiers,” Dodoria replied nervously, wringing his hands secretly behind his back.

King Cold raised a brow ridge and began to tap one of his pale cheeks. “Oh, really,” he replied. “And who would those be?”

Dodoria threw an anxious glance at Freeza and swallowed again. “Prince Vegeta and Zarbon, sir,” he mumbled.

The King exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his throne, resting his chin against his chest as he seemed to mull the information over. “Zarbon was your first officer, was he not?” he asked his son.

Freeza bared his teeth. “Yes. He was my best,” he spat.

King Cold nodded, pressing a finger against his temple. “Unfortunate, that,” he said quietly. “Zarbon was an outstanding warrior and had many administrative talents as well. But the other one confuses me. Isn’t Vegeta a Saiyan name?” His gaze rested heavily upon his son, but when he received no answer he turned it upon the trembling Dodoria.

“Yes, Lord,” Dodoria said, voice beginning to quaver.

“But I thought all the Saiyans were supposed to have been killed long ago,” the King said, a hint of a growl beginning to manifest itself in his booming voice.

“They were,” Dodoria blurted, panic rearing up inside of him and tearing away his judgment. “All except for three.”

King Cold sat forward in his chair once again. “Three? What in the heavens for?”

“They just happened to be off-planet when Vejiitasei was destroyed. One of them was the Prince, but they’re all dead now,” Dodoria rambled, beginning to shake as he stood in front of his lord and the father.

King Cold’s expression softened slightly but lost none of its dangerousness. “They’re dead now?”

Dodoria nodded his head vigorously, the folds of flesh wobbling to and fro with the movement. “Yes, Lord,” he said quickly.

“No,” Freeza hissed, grabbing the flesh of his own forearms and squeezing until his nails reddened the skin.

King Cold looked at his son, mouth turning down in the corners. “What was that?” he drawled, staring down his child.

Freeza blushed and didn’t meet his father’s eyes. “I don’t think Vegeta is dead,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

Dodoria gasped in surprise and quickly shut his thick-lipped mouth, squeezing his eyes closed and wincing as King Cold made a disapproving rumbling noise deep in his throat. “Why not?” the King asked sharply.

Freeza turned his head to the side and would not answer. The King’s gaze slid over to Dodoria, who shuddered. “The three Saiyans were all sent together with Zarbon. None of them returned, sir,” he said, the words nearly tumbling themselves about in their rush to get out of his mouth.

“There were too many of them to die. Zarbon is too smart and too strong to die on such a low level planet,” Freeza growled. “He knows better than to disobey me, so if he is alive Vegeta is as well.”

King Cold grunted in disgust. “Honestly, Freeza, I don’t understand how a monkey could mean so much to you. There are some positively horrid rumors floating around about you and this Vegeta fellow, you know. Why do you want him back so badly?”

Dodoria sighed in relief, the muscles in his broad back relaxing as the King asked the question that had been on his own mind for so long. He had never really understood the interplay between Freeza and the Saiyan, and he had spent quite a few hours in the mess hall mulling it over with Zarbon. The other alien had always merely flipped that thick green braid over his shoulder with a toss of his head and muttered something about power complexes. “We haven’t heard anything from them in over a year, sir,” Dodoria offered. “We sent some troops there a while ago and they were destroyed as well.”

King Cold nodded as he looked upon his silent son. “Interesting, Dodoria,” he murmured, stroking a forefinger across his thin dark lips as he leaned back in his throne once again, the motion disturbing the heavy cloth of his cape and the rustling sound resonating through the cavernous hall. “Interesting indeed.” He sighed and brought both his hands onto the armrests, relaxing his fingers. “Freeza, I’m afraid that I have to agree with your poor deceased brother. There’s something wrong with you, and I fear that you’re not well. Perhaps you should take a little vacation?”

“I am fine!” Freeza screeched, turning around and powering up to his highest energy state. Dodoria cried out in fear as the ground around his master disintegrated, dusty bits of tile floating up into the air and disappearing in puffs of smoke. King Cold closed his eyes and shook his head sadly, looking down at his offspring.

“Freeza, you are grounded,” he said simply, rising out of the throne to present his son with his full height.

Freeza’s face drained of all its anger, his white features turning blank with surprise. “What?” he blurted, his shoulders relaxing.

King Cold sighed and walked over to his boy, grabbing him by the upper arm. “You heard me,” he said, voice tired. He rolled his eyes at Dodoria, who was standing there with his mouth hanging wide open. “You’re grounded. No intergalactic conquering for you for at least four months.”

“But, Father!” Freeza protested, too shocked to physically resist. “I’m centuries old! There’s no way you can ground me!”

King Cold gave his son’s arm a tweak and continued to lead him out of the room. “No matter how old you are I will always be your father,” he said sternly. “It’s time for you to sit and think about what you’ve done. You’ve killed your only sibling, dispatched your best officer, and talked back to your father, not to mention this unhealthy obsession with Saiyans. You just need a bit of time.”

“But,” Freeza continued, eyes wide.

“Ah,” Cold interrupted. “No more discussion. Now go to your room or I’ll have you put in a stasis tank.”

Freeza scowled, his full lips coming together in a pout, and left the room muttering to himself.

Dodoria stared at King Cold in utter, mind-blown shock, his mouth hanging open and jaw working uselessly. “Sir, what...”

Cold turned around and looked at him, crossing his arms over his massive chest and swinging his horns through the air as he shook his head. “Dodoria, my son has taken complete leave of his senses. He needs some time to collect himself. Now, do you know what the real story behind this Vegeta person is?”

Dodoria swallowed, uncomfortable and sweating once again now that he was under Cold’s scrutiny. “He was the boy-prince of the Saiyans when we killed them all. Then a year and some ago Freeza sent the three Saiyans with Zarbon to Rihon 8. The other two were to die, but Zarbon was to bring Vegeta back alive.”

Cold scowled as he walked back to his throne, sitting down gracefully as he folded his cape underneath him. “Why?”

Dodoria shrugged, the pink spines on his shoulders rolling every which way with the movement. “I don’t know. Then none of them came back. The last we heard was Zarbon’s transmission about radical weaponry.”

“And Freeza tried to send scouts?”

Dodoria nodded. “Yes, and they were instantly destroyed. We tried to reach their scouters and even recall the pods, but nothing worked. It was as if they were simply wiped off the face of the universe, the whole lot of them.”

Cold rested a chin in one of his hands. “Is this anything like the Rigel problem you had several years ago?”

“Possibly. The weaponry could be similar, I suppose. They’re only a system apart.”

Cold leaned back against the throne, tapping his fingertips together below his chin. “Interesting. I’m surprised Freeza gave up after only one scouting mission.”

“He didn’t,” Dodoria blurted without thinking, the blood rushing to his face once he realized what he had done.

“Whatever do you mean?” Cold said, suddenly more interested.

Dodoria swallowed and shifted uncomfortably, his boots suddenly seeming to pinch his broad feet. “He was about to order more to go there when he received your majesty’s summons,” he said nervously.

“Even with the radical weaponry?”

The pink folds of Dodoria’s fat cheeks wobbled about as he nodded his head, the sudden realization that Freeza had basically condemned him and his men to death when they reached Rihon 8 finally hitting him. “Apparently,sir,” he answered quietly.

“Hmmm. I seem to have thrown quite the wrench in his little plans,” Cold replied, examining a fingernail. “Oh well. Perhaps the cooling-off time will be good for him. If not, you can go there after I’ve released you.”

Dodoria’s eyes widened their maximum as he heard the words roll out of Cold’s mouth. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, bowing and taking his leave. Oh well, perhaps the coming months would give him enough time to find a way to combat the weapons on Rihon 8. Then at least one of Freeza's soldiers could report back alive. Dodoria would do everything in his power to ensure that it was himself.

---

Zarbon found himself humming as he wandered about the ship, checking in on troops and technicians idly to make sure they did their jobs. The day had been most relaxing, what with Vegeta occupied by that Goku/Kakarott fellow. In fact, it had been almost enjoyable. He stopped for a moment in the metallic hallway and admired his reflection, fingers smoothing out the skin underneath this eyes. Yes, a few more days like this and those unsightly worry lines might actually go away. He smiled at himself and posed, startled when a beeping went off, the tone indicating his presence was requested. He sighed, patting himself on the cheek, and went to the nearest communication panel, contacting the bridge. “Yes?” he said, pushing the button.

“Commander Nappa is on the air, sir,” the officer said as the image came to life on the miniature screen. “He seems upset that you missed your appointment.”

Zarbon scowled. “Appointment?” he asked sharply, putting his hands on his hips. “What appointment?”

The officer shrugged, little beads of sweat popping out on his mottled purple flesh. “The Commander insisted you two had set up now as a time to converse, sir,” he stammered.

Zarbon sighed. Part of his relaxation exercises had been to blast a few unruly soldiers out of existence and now the entire crew was reminded of his power. They alternately seemed to forget that it was Vegeta, not him, who was dangerously volatile. “Is he absolutely certain?” he asked, unhappy to have his nice day ruined by Nappa’s ignorant babbling.

The officer nodded. “Yes, sir, he insists,” he replied.

Zarbon groaned and put his hand on his temple feeling the tension begin once again. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Keep him on the line. I’ll be there directly.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied, and terminated the signal. Zarbon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. At least the soldiers were treating him with the proper respect now. Unlike Vegeta. Oh well, if it wasn’t one Saiyan it was another. He lifted up off the floor and zoomed towards the bridge.

“What is it, Nappa?” Zarbon snapped as he stepped onto the bridge, attaching his cape onto his shoulder guards to look more official.

“You’d better not keep me waiting next time,” Nappa growled. “I have rank too, you know.”

“And you constantly remind me of it. So, I repeat, what is it?” Zarbon replied, voice exasperated.

Nappa’s meaty face twitched for a moment in alarm, his eyes darting from side to side. “Dear heavens, he’s forgotten,” Zarbon breathed to himself as he watched the Commander’s face exhibit his mental strain.

“We found where Freeza is,” Nappa finally said, a grim, triumphant light in his eyes.

Zarbon nearly took a step back in shock. The musclebound Saiyan had finally been useful. “Really? What’s the news?” he asked politely, genuinely pleased at Nappa’s good performance. He remembered that Nappa had been the Saiyan military commander at one point in time. Most of the Saiyans weren’t that stupid, so Nappa must have had some sort of talent to keep his position. He would have to remind himself of that in the future.

Nappa’s cruel face twisted into a grin, his canines glistening beneath his moustache. “Cooler’s dead,” he said simply.

Zarbon felt his brain flip-flop in surprise. “What?”

Nappa smirked, obviously pleased with himself. “Apparently Cooler died. On his own ship. Of poison.”

Zarbon’s golden eyes stared at him blankly. “Dead? Of poisoning? Who?” he babbled.

Nappa turned his head from side to side, the smirk still hung on his face. “Our fellows think Freeza did it. It seems that Cooler tried to take command of Freeza’s ship after we left. Freeza went a little crazy when he thought you and Vegeta were destroyed, and he tried to send his entire fleet after us. Cooler intervened and ordered his brother off of his own bridge. Now he’s dead and who else could possibly be to blame? Who else could get close enough to Cooler?”

Zarbon didn’t know what to be more shocked about; the fact that Cooler was dead or that Nappa had actually made an intelligent deduction.

“How did you find this out?” he breathed, putting a hand on the console.

Nappa’s smile fell a little. “Atlia has spies,” he said, a tad grumpily. “It’s all over the intergalactic waves, at any rate.”

Zarbon sighed, relieved that Nappa hadn’t done anything as stupid as contact some of his old companions in Freeza’s army. Thank goodness Atlia was capable. “So what happened to Freeza?”

Nappa’s grin returned, this time touched with genuine glee. “He’s at his daddy’s palace,” he said evilly.

Zarbon paled. What would King Cold do to his son? Would he execute Freeza for murdering his brother? He hated to think about the King getting angry. “Wow,” Zarbon breathed. “That can’t be fun.”

“Yes,” Nappa said with relish. “He was even summoned there. His entire fleet had to turn around and go home.”

Zarbon shook his head in amazement. At least that would get Freeza off their backs for a little while, if not forever. “I’m glad you had good news,” he said after a moment. “Well done.”

“You should know to expect nothing but the best from me,” Nappa said, apparently thinking he was acting haughty. Instead it just looked like he had a bug crawl up his nose.

“Uh, sure,” Zarbon mumbled. “Is Atlia around?”

Nappa blinked. “I suppose. Where’s Vegeta? I want to tell him the happy news.”

Zarbon glanced over his shoulder. “He’s off sparring with Kakarott. They’ve been gone all day.”

Nappa’s face was suddenly huge in the view screen. “WHAT?” he bellowed. “You let him go off alone?”

Zarbon raised an eyebrow. “Of course. He’s a big boy and Kakarott’s no threat.”

“You’re on an alien planet with strangers and you let the ruler of the entire empire go off alone with the son of a third-class soldier?” Nappa howled.

Zarbon reddened; it had been a bit lackadaisical of him. “Well, yes. Kakarott isn’t your typical Saiyan, Commander. In fact, I would hesitate to call him a Saiyan at all. He doesn’t even have a tail.”

Nappa shuddered and visibly winced. “What a disgrace,” he growled. “But if he was a true Saiyan you would have less to worry about. Saiyans have allegiance to their Prince, but an Earthling, well, you’ve seen how the Earthlings treated Kakarott, if he no longer has a tail, and then look what happened to Radditz.”

The corner of Zarbon’s eye began to twitch. He really hated it when Nappa said sensible things; it made him feel like he had less of an advantage. “But, Nappa,” he began, scarcely believing he was defending himself to the meat-headed man.

“We don’t know about Kakarott, Zarbon,” Nappa hissed. “It was foolish and dangerous of you to let the Prince go off alone. Is it dark there yet? And where is Radditz during all this?”

Zarbon felt his mind shatter and break into a million fragments. Where had his head been all day to just let things go like he had? He sighed; that was where exhaustion got you. “No, it’s not dark here, and Earth doesn’t have a moon at present anyway. The Namekian blew it up. I haven’t the faintest what Radditz is doing. All I know is that he’s the reason Kakarott chased down Vegeta. Radditz wouldn’t spar with his brother this morning.”

Nappa’s eyes widened. “Radditz isn’t at the side of his prince?” he gasped. “What in the world is happening? Is that planet making you all goofy?”

Zarbon cocked his head. Perhaps Nappa was right. Earth was a comfortable planet, and he was finding it easy to become sidetracked. “I don’t know what’s happening,” Zarbon admitted without energy. “All I know is that there’s some sort of weird tension between Radditz and Vegeta, Kakarott seems to want to fight everybody...”

“At least he’s a Saiyan in that regard,” Nappa interjected.

Zarbon paused. “Ahhh...yes,” he continued irritably. “I don’t understand you Saiyans and your screwed up sense of loyalty. All of you have gotten a lot stronger, but Kakarott, who calls himself Goku, by the way, is nearly as strong as Vegeta.”

“Impossible!” Nappa snarled. “Vegeta is a super-elite! Kakarott is just a third class!”

Zarbon shrugged. “Maybe, but a scouter doesn’t lie.”

“Oh, right, you mentioned the scouters last transmission.”

“Yes, the Earth woman seems to be able to repair them, which brings me to the next point, which I was going to contact you about anyway. We may be here on Earth even longer than expected.”

“What?” Nappa howled and Zarbon could see his hands balling up into fists at the edges of the screen.

“We have to stay to make sure the trade and technology agreements go through. I think I’ll send the troops home and keep a few pods. This should be enough for the three of us to handle.”

Nappa curled his lip. “I don’t agree, but there’s nothing I can do from here,” he grumbled. “Do you still want to talk to Atlia?”

Zarbon waved his hand as he glanced at the timekeeping device on the console. “No, actually, tell him I’ll call him later. It’s getting rather late.”

“Fine,” Nappa said, and signed off abruptly.

Zarbon blinked at the console for a few seconds before terminating his side as well. Looking at the time once again, he realized that Vegeta had been gone far too long for common sense to tolerate. Had something happened? “Look after the ship,” he commanded a nearby officer.

“I need to do some scouting.”

“Very well, sir,” the officer said with a bow.

Zarbon nodded his thanks and strode out of the room, his eyes fixed upon the corridor that would lead him outside. He needed to find Vegeta and the quicker the better. He stepped out into the late afternoon light and sighed. It was time to find the woman and ask her for the scouter. It was time to find Vegeta.

---

22 / Bulma’s Hideout / 24