Chapter
6
He felt the light on his eyelids intensify and turned his head, the thought
of awaking seeming extremely unpleasant. “Come on,” a voice drifted through his
consciousness. “You need to get up so we can assess your injuries.” He ground
his teeth and turned his head to the other side, refusing to open his eyes. The
light intensified again and he heard someone sigh. “You really don’t want me to
force you to get up,” it said, and Radditz reluctantly opened his eyes. He
winced a little as the light forced its way into his pupils, but soon realized
he was confronted with two other eyes, as blue as the sky and glittering with
life. It must be the pretty woman, he decided, and willed his eyes to focus on
her cream-colored skin. A soft hand gripped his wrist, and he felt something
cold pressed against the inside of it where the veins ran close to the surface.
A beeping ensued, and he lifted his head to see the woman pressing a small
device to his skin and watching it make noises. “You seem do be doing fine, but
how do you feel?” she said after a few moments, turning those blue eyes back to
him. He swallowed and scowled at her, not remembering to answer. “Do Saiyans
not have manners?” she asked and gently let go of his wrist.
“I feel better,” he replied, voice hoarse, and reached up to run a hand through
his unruly hair. What was wrong with him? he wondered as he felt blood rush
into his cheeks. Was he in rut or something? “Do all humans look like you?” he
blurted without thinking and mentally kicked himself when he saw her eyebrows
raise in surprise.
“What do you mean?” she asked, folding those pale, smooth hands in her lap.
“I mean do they all have your coloring?” he continued, wishing that he had
never opened his mouth. He didn’t like to talk, not really, and yet he found
himself chatting away like mad to this strange woman.
The woman smiled, her full red lips parting to show perfect white teeth. “Of
course not,” she replied. “Don’t Saiyans have variations in coloring?”
He merely blinked at her, and she sighed. “Judging by you and Goku, I’d say
not. But this is beside the point. What’s your name?”
He looked at her, dumbstruck for a few seconds. “I am called Radditz,” he
answered. “Son of Bardock, older brother of Kakarott. Saiyan warrior
third-class.”
“I’m Bulma Briefs, and you’re staying in my house at Capsule Corporation, which
my family owns and runs. Goku found you in your pod some time ago, badly burned
and barely alive.”
“Burned?” Radditz gasped, not able to picture his face, which he had always
thought handsome, marred with horrible scars. He reached a hand up to his face,
but he felt nothing out of the ordinary.
Bulma laughed, a light melodious sound, and shook her head. “No, there wasn’t
any scarring, thanks to a little chemical therapy and plastic surgery. You look
as good as new, and in another week or so you should feel the same.”
Radditz scowled and looked down at his hands. “Why are you doing this?” he
asked. “I could get out of this bed and kill any one of you, and yet you have
me here, healing me, with no guards posted or anything.”
Bulma shrugged. “We humans are the trusting sort.”
“Then you’re going to be disappointed,” he said, and laid back on the pillows.
Zarbon awoke with a start, something he noticed he had been doing lately, to a
noise in the room. He halfway wished he was deaf just so he didn’t have to
constantly deal with the random noises of the dungeon, but then again it was
really the only sense of his that he could use without limit at the moment. He
gathered his strength and rolled to the side, looking over the edge of his
slab. Vegeta was standing by the cell’s wall of bars, staring at something on
the ground. “What is it?” he asked the Saiyan, who was motionless.
“Food,” was Vegeta’s terse reply.
Zarbon’s eyes opened wider. For all of the weeks they had been in the dungeon,
food was only delivered once every three days, and even then it was usually
rotten and of very small portions. “So?” he said, and prepared to roll over
again when he saw Vegeta bend and pick up the tray. The Saiyan had a pronounced
limp as he walked over to the bunks, although he was obviously trying to hide
it. “What did you do to your knee?” Zarbon asked as Vegeta handed up the tray
of food.
“Nothing,” was the answer, and Zarbon sighed as Vegeta disappeared out of
sight. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and let his gaze wander to the tray,
taking in a sharp breath when he saw the platters there. Piled on top of the
tray were plates of food, including meats, vegetables, and even something that
looked like cheese. Zarbon smiled in delight and took a handful of everything,
stuffing it into his mouth as quickly as he could.
“Don’t choke,” he heard Vegeta say testily, and he swallowed his food with a
grin.
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of watching me die,” Zarbon replied, and
smiled again as Vegeta grunted. His contentment was short-lived, for no sooner
had he put another piece of meat in his mouth a guard opened the cell door,
motioning Vegeta over with the barrel of one of the ki-piercing weapons.
“Time to fight,” the Arlian said, obviously wary of the Saiyan. Zarbon heard
Vegeta exhale sharply as he stood and limped over to the guard.
“You can’t make him fight like that!” Zarbon protested. “It isn’t fair!”
“Shut up,” Vegeta hissed, not turning around to make eye contact. “It takes
more than a stupid injury like this to stop me,” he said, and walked out into
the corridor, followed closely by the guard.
“Dammit,” Zarbon grumbled, and picked up another helping of vegetables.
Vegeta pursed his lips as he found himself in the arena once more. The stands
were a little more crowded, but other than that the situation seemed to be
identical to before. He was once again outfitted with the long metal stake and
metal shield, and once again the rules were declared. Vegeta quickly assessed
the other warrior and waited for his opponent to act. He could feel his injured
knee trembling with the effort of supporting half of his weight, but he
couldn’t allow his enemy to know of his wound. The price of making a mistake
was too high for him to allow himself any comfort. He shifted his stake in his
hand and took a quick step forward, which spurred his opponent into action,
just like he thought it would. He smiled a little, but as ribbons of pain wound
their way through his leg he found he was in no mood to prolong the business.
Perhaps if he just won it quickly they would just give him more food and send
him on his way.
The Arlian had nearly closed the distance between them, and as the insect-man
stabbed at him with the stake Vegeta tossed his shield at it while grabbing the
Arlian’s weapon with his newly-freed hand. The Arlian stopped in surprise and
unwittingly lowered his weapon, and Vegeta wrenched it around so that it caught
the straps behind the shield. With a final flick of his wrist, the Saiyan sent
the Arlian’s shield flying, leaving the bug-thing wide open. The Arlian blinked
in shock and backed up a few steps, which gave Vegeta the time necessary to
adjust his grip on the smooth metal stake. He launched it like a javelin,
piercing the Arlian’s throat and knocking it backward into the sand with a
crunch. Vegeta slowly walked forward and looked down at the Arlian, watching
the spark of life fade in the beady red eyes. Satisfied, Vegeta looked
expectantly at the guards, who had all come armed with their special weapons
after what had happened last time. The crowd was going insane with applause,
and Vegeta felt his scowl deepen as the guards carted the corpse out of the
arena, handing him his stake and shield as they did so. Vegeta’s lip curled in
anger. How many of the stupid bugs was he going to have to kill today? If they
were going to throw unskilled warriors at him he may as well be able to use
some more flashy techniques. He kept his mouth shut and watched from under
lowered brows as another Arlian appeared before him.
The Arlian wasted no time, charging at him with a battle cry, and Vegeta was
forced to sidestep the attack, although he was able to stick his stake out and
trip the Arlian, quickly dispatching him with a stab to the back. Vegeta barely
had time to pull his weapon free of the hard exoskeleton when another Arlian
launched itself at him. Vegeta snorted and ducked under the larger creature’s
swing, unable to get the stake into such close quarters to take advantage of
the situation. He did swing upwards with his shield, however, and smiled as he
heard a crack. Staggering back a few steps, Vegeta watched with satisfaction as
the new Arlian’s jaw dripped fluid, making wet clumps in the sand at its feet.
“How many more of you do I have to kill today?” he asked the Arlian with a
sigh, and heard the Arlian snarl in return. A stake sailed at Vegeta’s head,
and as he blocked with his own weapon the two metal rods spun out of their
owners’ grasps. Vegeta bared his teeth in frustration and lunged forward,
catching the Arlian’s fingers in his grip. The Arlian screeched as he squeezed,
pulling off the digits with a mighty yank and smiling as he felt fluid splash
onto his face and chest. The Arlian fell to its knees and Vegeta hobbled over
to a stake, picking it up and swinging it baseball-style into the back of his
opponent’s head. The Arlian toppled over, dead. Vegeta leaned on the stake as
he looked coldly at the dead prisoner, feeling his knee throb with pain. He
wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer, and he couldn’t guess how much
longer they would keep him there.
He was startled from his reverie by a battle cry, and he raised his eyes only
to be encountered with another screaming, charging bug. Vegeta sighed and was
about to dismiss the fellow when he spied the gleaming battle-axe his new
adversary was wielding. Swearing under his breath, Vegeta threw himself on the
ground, barely ducking under the mighty swing. As he rolled over and stood up
he found himself calculating that this opponent would be his last of the day.
He began to dash to his adversary’s flank when the pain in his damaged knee
flared up, and he fell just as the axe began to slice low, taking the hit right
across the top of his thigh, injuring the skin instead of breaking his shin
like the blow had intended. He grunted with pain, standing wearily, eyes full
of sand and sweat. He felt anger rise in him as he tired of the stupid game and
watched the Arlian charge him yet again. Something snapped inside of him, and
he dashed towards the Arlian, grabbing its arm and twisting with all his might,
so much so that the arm came off in his hands. Vegeta dropped the arm with the
weapon. “Thank you so much for coming in breakaway segments,” Vegeta sneered,
and placed his hands on either side of the Arlian’s throat. The Arlian gurgled
as the Saiyan’s iron grip managed to crush the hard exterior of its neck,
finally leaving its existence with a loud snap. Vegeta, still enraged with
pain, picked up the axe and stake and threw them, killing two more guards
before they opened fire on him, grazing him in the calf and bicep before he
fell. Too injured to stand, the guards came forward and retrieved him, dragging
him through the sand and out of the arena as the applause of thousands of
bloodthirsty bugs echoed after him.
“Good god,” Zarbon gasped as Vegeta was thrown unceremoniously in his cell.
“What did you get yourself into today, little prince?”
“Shut up,” Vegeta snapped, rolling over to place a hand on his bleeding bicep
and hoping it wouldn’t leave a scar. It would be unbecoming of a prince to have
too many scars.
“How many did you fight?” Zarbon continued, ignoring Vegeta’s snarling.
“How many did I fight or how many did I kill?” Vegeta countered angrily as he
sat up.
“Kill, I guess,” Zarbon replied, showing his face over the side of his stone
bunk.
“About six.”
“Then they gunned you down,” Zarbon said, smiling. “Leave it to a Saiyan not to
know when to quit.”
Vegeta bared his teeth at the other alien. “You’ll be glad of that quality when
it comes time to leave here,” he said. “Now did you play the glutton and eat
everything?”
Zarbon smiled again and disappeared, returning a second later and handing down
the tray. “Of course not. Can’t let my liege starve, especially when he’s the
one bringing in the food, can I?”
“Most certainly not,” Vegeta growled and tore into his meal.
“Can he take visitors yet?” Goku’s voice asked anxiously over the phone.
Bulma sighed as she pictured the look on his face, all wide-eyed and dancing
from one foot to the other in impatience. Goku had never really gotten the hang
of talking on the phone; he still sometimes thought that just because the other
person could hear him they could see him as well. “Actually, Goku, I think he
is well enough for you to talk to him. You’d better not bring ChiChi or Gohan,
though. This guy’s a warrior born and bred, and if any of you were to piss him
off you’d have trouble on your hands.”
“Okay, Bulma,” he replied brightly, and she knew that he hadn’t heard anything
after she said it was okay to talk to Radditz.
“I’ll see you soon, then,” she said, and hung up the phone, placing it on the
stand in the small room. Bulma turned to look at the man in the bed, glancing
quickly at the machinery to which he was attached to make sure everything was
still normal. “He’s coming right over,” she said to Radditz, crossing her arms
over her chest and looking at him sternly.
Raddtiz’s mouth pressed into a line and he just kept staring at her quietly
from underneath those dark, heavy eyebrows. “Very well,” he mumbled, not moving
even to blink.
Bulma shifted uneasily in his gaze as she searched for her watch. “It should
take him about an hour to get here,” she said. “I don’t know how you feel about
talking to you long-lost brother, but I have to warn you that he’s not what you
expect. Goku has been Earth-raised, and doesn’t have a clue about your race.
The person you knew as Kakarott died over twenty years ago when he hit his
head.”
Radditz shook his head. “Kakarott lives in there somewhere, whether Goku knows
it or not. He has Saiyan blood, and that’s all it takes,” he replied gruffly.
Bulma scowled and shrugged. “Think what you like,” she said nonchalantly and
stood up. “Whatever’s going on between you two is none of my business.”
“It might be,” Radditz blurted, then cursed himself for opening his mouth
again.
Bulma turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? What makes
you say that?”
Radditz’s nostrils flared in frustration and he took a deep breath. “You’re the
one with all the technology, apparently, and I may need you to complete my
mission.”
Bulma’s curiosity was piqued. “What mission?” she asked, intrigued, but was met
with the stony silence she was coming to associate with the Saiyan warrior.
“Come back with Kakarott when he shows up. Then you’ll both know everything,”
he replied, and finally shut his eyes.
Bulma frowned at the warrior and gave the machines one last look. Satisfied,
she grabbed the phone from the table and left the room to order a big lunch for
her guests.
“Bulma!” Goku cried as he landed in the yard. “Bulma, I’m here!”
Bulma stuck her head out of one of the second-story windows and waved an arm.
“Just a second, Goku,” she shouted. “I just have to finish typing a report.”
Goku smiled back and waited until the door nearest to him opened.
“How is he?” he asked anxiously, stepping into the building.
“Better, but he still needs rest,” Bulma replied, shutting the door behind him.
“Don’t pester him with too many questions.”
Goku nodded solemnly and followed her down the corridor to the infirmary. When
she opened the door he saw her parents already inside, her mother chatting away
merrily at the alien, who appeared not to be interested or even listening. The
alien’s eyes flickered when he caught sight of Goku, but the rest of his sharp
features remained motionless.
“Isn’t he a good-looking young man, Bulma?” Mrs. Briefs chortled, and Bulma
rolled her eyes. The alien’s cheeks reddened slightly, the black eyes sliding
away from Goku to rest tentatively on Bulma. Goku cocked his head to one side
as he observed it all, unsure what exactly was happening.
“Go ahead, introduce yourself,” Bulma said to no one in particular.
Goku jumped forward, extending a hand to Radditz. “I’m Son Goku,” he said
brightly, holding his hand there for some moments before it became apparent
that the alien was not about to shake hands or even move.
“I am Radditz, son of Bardock and brother of Kakarott, subject of the prince of
Vejiitasei,” the alien finally replied, scowling at Goku.
Goku swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable. “So, Radditz, what brings you
here?” he said with a forced laugh, unable to shake the notion that the
situation was rapidly leaving his sphere of control.
Radditz’s scowl deepened and he almost seemed to sigh. “My mission is to
retrieve Kakarott and go to the aid of my Prince, who has been captured on
Rihon 8.”
“That’s only part of the story, isn’t it?” Bulma interrupted. “I want to know
why Goku’s here in the first place if he’s a Saiyan!”
Radditz looked at Bulma and reddened again. “I shall start from the beginning.
Kakarott, you were sent to Earth by your fellow Saiyans to clear the planet of
all life so that it could be sold to our employers. The majority of Saiyan
children are dispatched in this manner; it often only takes one of our children
to conquer weaker planets such as this one, especially in oozaru form.”
“What form?” Goku interjected, hands balling into fists.
Radditz’s eyes opened wider in surprise. “You mean you don’t know? You never
looked at the full moon?”
Goku’s weight shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. “No! Tell me,
please,” he asked, desperate to know about his true background.
“When a Saiyan sees the light of the full moon, a chemical is released at the
base of his tail that causes him to transform into a giant monkey. That is our
oozaru form. But that is beside the point,” Radditz snapped angrily, tiring of
giving a history lesson. “What happened after you were shipped offworld is why
I’m here. Mere moments after you left our father was killed trying to stop
Freeza from destroying our home planet. Unfortunately his efforts were in vain
and Freeza, whom we were working for, destroyed Vejiitasei anyway. Only four
Saiyans were left alive: me, you, Nappa, and Prince Vegeta. Many years later
Nappa and I realized what actually happened to Vejiitasei, but since Vegeta
seemed to be in Freeza’s favor, we knew there was nothing we could do about it.
Then the order came for all three of us to be sent to Rihon 8 with Zarbon,
Freeza’s top henchman. It was to be the end of the Saiyans. However, I devised
a plan to send Vegeta here against his will while Nappa and I tried to defeat
Zarbon. The plan backfired and I was sent instead, leaving Nappa and Vegeta
with Zarbon on that horrible planet.”
Bulma shook her head. “I still don’t understand why you had to come here,” she
said.
Radditz squeezed his jaw shut for a moment, trying to think of the best way to
explain it. “I had found out through an old database that my brother, Kakarott,
was sent to this planet, but that it had never been cleared. That meant that he
was either dead or there was another reason for his failure to complete his
mission. At any rate, I felt there was a chance he was alive. One more Saiyan
in our group could have enabled us to defeat Freeza and avenge our race, since
Freeza seems to fear us. But since my plan failed I must try to get to Prince Vegeta
and rescue him. He’s the only chance we have of ever winning.”
“He’s strong then?” Goku asked, his interest in the conversation returning.
“One of the strongest in the universe,” Radditz replied. “So will you acknowledge
your Saiyan heritage and come with me to aid our prince?”
Bulma suddenly stepped in between the two men, arms spread wide and a scowl on
her face. “Why in the hell should he help you?” she snarled. “You just told us
that he was sent to destroy all life on this planet, and then you want us to
help you?”
Radditz blinked at her, face not revealing his shock. This Earth-woman had
spunk. Perhaps she would pass that on to her offspring... “He’s a Saiyan,” was
his short reply. “And as a Saiyan, it is doubtful he will pass up a chance to
fight.”
Bulma looked over at Goku, and noticed with alarm that he had that screwed-up
expression on his face that meant he was thinking. “You can’t be considering
this,” she said to him, opening her arms. “This is insane.”
“But Bulma, if they really need our help,” Goku said, face almost pained as he
looked back at her.
“No way, Goku. They just sound like a bunch of murderous aliens to me. This
Freeza fellow might have been right to wipe them all out,” she said with a
violent shake of her head.
Radditz followed the exchange with interest. Although he didn’t have his
scouter, he could tell that Kakarott had the inherent Saiyan strength, and yet
this frail earthling was telling him what to do. He wondered vaguely if she
held some sort of important command position, but then he heard Freeza’s name.
“Freeza is a xenocidal bastard,” Radditz spat, scowling.
Bulma turned to him, hands on her hips. “And Saiyans aren’t?” she countered.
“You just told me that children were sent to destroy all life on certain
planets. How is that not xenocidal?”
“It wasn’t our choice, it was our job, as directed by Freeza,” Radditz replied
coldly, determined not to let the woman get the better of him.
“But if you didn’t agree with him why didn’t you rebel?” she asked, voice
heated.
Radditz shifted his weight in the bed, trying not to notice how her face was
flushed and her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t say we didn’t agree with him,” he
growled. “But even if we did we didn’t have a choice. If Nappa or I did
anything wrong Freeza would have killed Vegeta.”
“So?” Bulma snapped. “Thus far he doesn’t sound like anything special.”
Radditz finally reddened in rage. “No one speaks ill of the Prince,” he hissed,
starting to rise out of the bed. He didn’t care how beautiful she was, or if
she could breed with him or not, loyalty to his lord was bred into him and no
one would mar his liege’s name.
Goku put a hand on Bulma’s shoulder, looking meaningfully past her at the other
Saiyan. Waves of power hit him like physical blows as Radditz began to radiate
energy, and Goku gasped. Bulma heard him and immediately grasped the situation.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I don’t know him, so I guess I can’t judge,” she said
with a waving of hands. “All that I’m getting at is that we don’t know any of
you or what your real motives are, and we have no reason at all to trust you or
help you.”
Goku tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Radditz, what will you do if I refuse
to help?” he asked quietly, staring at his brother.
A cold smile spread across Radditz’s face. “I would have to make it so you had
no choice,” he replied with a dark chuckle. “I need someone to aid me in
retrieving Vegeta. It will be you, regardless of what you want.”
“Just how healed is he?” Goku whispered in Bulma’s ear.
She turned her head a bit so he could hear her. “Almost fully,” she said with a
little groan. Radditz was the biggest man she had ever seen, with the exception
of the Ox King, and the Saiyan was nothing but muscle. She had confidence in
Goku’s abilities, but Radditz was a ruthless space pirate with far more battle
experience and a larger physique. Bulma felt a cold lump settle in the pit of
her stomach as she weighed their chances. “Even if you force Goku, how do you
expect to get off the planet?” she asked Radditz. “Your pod was severely
damaged.”
Raddtiz’s smile deepened but remained chilly. “That’s were you come in. I can
tell from my surroundings that you have fairly advanced technology, and you
apparently own it all. Once Kakarott is taken care of how do you expect to stop
me?”
Bulma shuddered and leaned back against Goku’s solid body. “You’re a monster,”
she gasped, putting her hands to her collarbones.
Radditz shrugged and got out of bed. “Does it matter?” he said as he cracked
his knuckles. “Vegeta will soon be safe and we’ll once again have a chance of
beating Freeza. Now come on, little brother, what will it be?”
Goku stepped around Bulma, positioning her behind him. “I don’t want anyone to
be hurt,” he said in a low voice. “Just leave us in peace.”
Radditz laughed heartily. “Peace? Have all your years on this planet made you
soft?”
“She’s right, you are insane,” Goku growled. “Forget it. I’ll never help you.”
“But I’m family, Kakarott, the only real family you have,”Radditz replied with
his cold smile.
“My family is here. My wife, child, and I are earthlings!” Goku shouted, and
Bulma could see the veins starting to stand out in his neck.
Radditz scowled and crossed his arms across his massive chest, his unruly hair
spilling down to his knees. “Fine. It’s obvious you have no loyalty to your
heritage. But your son, however, is still young enough to be trained properly.
You may go, but I’m taking your son with me.”
“No!” Goku yelled,baring his teeth, and Bulma took a step back. “Not Gohan!”
“I’ll get help,” Bulma said, and dashed out of the room. Radditz took a step as
if to stop her, but was halted by Goku’s hand on his chest.
“Leave her out of this,” Goku snarled, glaring up at his brother.
“As you wish, for now,” Radditz replied menacingly. “But that only means that
it’s your turn.”
Goku grinned. “You’ll have to catch me first,” he said, and ran across the
room, threw open the window, and disappeared all before Radditz could blink.
“This will be your last game, Kakarott,” Radditz growled, and followed Goku’s
lead.
*~*~*~*~*