Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the characters attributed to said show…

Author’s Note: Quick little note…I know I told everyone that the Journal would precede the regular chapter, but since there was no opportunity for Trunks to sit down and read through it as the chapter begins, I have to put it out after the regular chapter. So look for the Journal soon.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

His heart was pounding. He could hear its steady pumping in his ears, feel it in every part of his body. Louder, faster…it beat, drowning out everything, growing louder with each passing second. Above him, pure, white moonlight streamed in through the hole in the roof, hitting his upturned face. And as Kannassan soldiers surrounded him, he felt a sharp, sweet surge of power race through his body like a lightening bolt. His heart grew louder, pumping blood faster and harder. Losing all sense of who and where he was, he surrendered himself to it.

"…must cut off his tail! The moonlight will make him change!" The raised voices and panicked shouts of the Kannassans came to him from what seemed like a great distance, but he barely them heard through the roar of the blood in his ears. They were too late. His change was already happening. He could feel his muscles growing, feel his senses sharpening. All there was, was this incredible rush of power surging through every pore, every vessel, every muscle of his body, swelling them with energy until he thought they might burst. His body tingled with electricity and he felt more attuned with is power than he had ever felt before. To abandon himself to such raw power was at once both frightening and exhilarating.

He had done this transformation only one time before, under the watchful eyes of Kakkarot, and under controlled conditions. It had been Kakkarot who had taught him how to control his power while in the Oozaru state, and now it was Kakkarot’s teachings that he fell back on as the transformation took hold of him. How easy it would be to lose all sense of one’s self and run rampant. The desire to rage and destroy coursed through him, but he fought it, fought the call of his Saiya-jin blood as his features shifted and changed.

He was vaguely aware of his clothes tearing from his body as he grew. A violent shudder rippled through him, leaving his muscles pumped and taut. Looking down, he saw the black body of the giant ape he had become and he roared his pleasure. This was his father’s legacy to him; this was his true Saiya-jin power.

Throwing his head back, he roared again, primal and deafening, beating his massive fists hard against his chest. The desire to frighten them, to make them think he was out of control overwhelmed him and he gave into the craving, roaring mercilessly and thumping his huge feet down on the ground around them. These were the creatures that had made his mother suffer. These were the creatures that had thought to impregnate her with Bardock’s child as some sick retribution for crimes long past. Rationally he knew it was only one Kannassan that had sought to do that, but the rest had allowed it to happen. They had stood by and allowed a creature such as Hachuu to exist and function, following his orders, never questioning. They had followed blindly, and those were the most dangerous kind of people.

Stomping his feet brutally against the ground, he watched as the guards scattered like rats in every direction, stumbling and falling over themselves as they beat a retreat away from him. They were like small ants scattering from their hill. The sight of the mass exodus drew a sharp burst of laughter from him. The metal building crumbled beneath him as he took a giant step forward and he watched as around him chaos reigned supreme. The sight of his power left him excited and yearning for more, but he had to be careful. Control could be easily lost if one gave into the power. He must keep his head at all costs. His mother, his friend…they were all here, nearby, and he couldn’t risk crushing them to death. Nor had he been raised to be a cold-blooded killer. No matter what he perceived their crimes to be, he couldn’t blindly kill. They were all but innocent of any crimes save ignorance, and no matter his personal feelings on Hachuu and his actions, he could not forget who he was and what he believed to be true. He was not a slayer of innocents. His duty—his only duty, was to help his mother and that was what he would do.

Seeking out the familiar energy of his mother, he was heartened to feel it strong and sure in the near distance. Emitting an earsplitting roar as more Kannassans came forth to hurl electro spears at him, he tore through another cluster of buildings. He might not kill them, but they’d be rebuilding for a long while. He’d see to that.

Trunks watched as they hurtled their tiny spears at him, and fought back the urge to laugh. As if they had any chance of hurting him. Another step, and another building came down around the fleeing Kannassans. The only chance they had was to take off his tail, and as far as he could see, they had no real way of accomplishing it. Certainly, Bardock’s had been missing, but based on the condition they had found him in, he had not been Oozaru when it had been taken. Trunks would have bet every dime he had on that.

A few more moments of wreaking havoc and he would go and seek out Gohan and his mother. He would protect them; ensure that they made their escape and get them off this damn planet. He would not allow Hachuu near his mother. He’d kill him before he’d let him get anywhere near her. He might not have his mother in his own bleak future, but he had her in this past and he would do what he had failed to do in his own time—protect her.

**********

Bardock struggled to stay on his feet as he and Gohan made their way down endless corridors towards the prison blocks that held the women. Dammit, he felt as weak as a newborn pup. His head felt like it might spin right off his body, and the feeling left him feeling sick to his stomach. Whatever Hachuu had done to him had been more than effective. Cursing, Bardock fell to his knees. He didn’t need this right now. He was a Saiya-jin warrior, not some lowly weakling. He had to get off this planet; he had to get the women off this planet. Between his body and his head, he wasn’t sure what was going to quit on him first. It was sheer force of will that was keeping him going now. And the mystery of how his grown grandson and a very grown Prince Trunks had managed to show up in this time was heavy on his mind. He could hardly fathom it, yet here they were. He had a million questions buzzing through his brain, questions he had to have answered. It would be the only way to assuage the burning curiosity of how they had seemingly crossed all time and space. Yet the irony was that he hadn’t the time or energy to ask one. He wasn’t sure he could even get his mouth to form a sentence, let alone give sound to the thought. All he really wanted to do was lie down and press his aching, burning head to the cool black floor below him. He had just about persuaded himself from that course of action when suddenly a sharp burst of pain was jolting through his head, stealing his breath from him, and making him gasp for every breath he took. The pain had been his companion since the first day on the damn planet. He had come to know well what the pain meant. The pain was the herald for the confusing and frightening images he seemed to have no control over. They came and went when they wanted, driving him mad and leaving him shaken to the core with the things they showed him. He didn’t want them, he didn’t want the pain, but as it engulfed him, Bardock knew he had no other course to follow.

Curling into a ball, he clutched at his head as the blurred pictures began to roll through his mind, at first hazy, but then sharpening, and coming into focus. He saw mere flashes of images as they sped by, and though he felt like he might be able to reach out and touch them, touch the people in them, he could do no more than look on as they sped by. Some he could make out, others were strange and confusing. He saw them all; saw people he had never seen before in his lifetime. There were pictures of a beautiful blue planet, of Koola…wait—was that an M scrawled across his forehead? God! What was all of this? What did it all mean?

Uttering a hoarse cry, Bardock shook like a leaf as yet another image seared through his brain like a hot brand. His head felt as if a heated blade was being driven into it, and his brain felt like it might burn to ash under the onslaught. Clutching his fists to his forehead in a desperate attempt to force it all away, he tried to breath, to inhale, to do anything that might help him gain some semblance of control back. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to anything that he was seeing, yet there was something important being said to him. He knew it. He had to make sense of it. Shutting his eyes, he took great gulps of air as the newest image became clear to him.

Before him, in a place he couldn’t recognize, stood a proud Vegeta. Fury radiated off him in great waves and a vivid, scrawling black M was emblazoned across his forehead, glowing an unholy red as he faced him down. Wait! Hadn’t that been the same thing he had seen on Koola? What was it? What did it mean? How had they come to have such a mark?

"What is this?" Bardock forced the words past his raw, dry throat, taking another shuddering breath as he did so. "Vegeta…" He didn’t understand. The not knowing was going to drive him insane. What was wrong with him, what had Hachuu done to his mind? Why couldn’t he make it go away? Feeling a cold panic rising up through his body, Bardock tried to swallow. He had to get control of himself. There had to be an explanation for what these pictures were. He couldn’t lose it, not now, not when he had to save Bulma.

"Grandfather…" The voice was hesitant and it came to him from a great distance away, as if he were at alone at the far end of a tunnel, isolated away from everyone else. Like a man lost in the darkness, Bardock struggled towards the sound of it. The voice was a calm anchor he could cling to, a beacon in the black void that surrounded him. He had to reach it. It might be the only that would keep him from sinking into the abysmal depths of his anguished mind.

Dropping down to his knees, Gohan laid a gentle hand on the quaking man’s back. What had they done to him? Aside from some lash burns and the bloody stump of his tail, Gohan could see no other obvious injuries to Bardock. Yet the man was as weak as a babe, and his body shook as if the hounds of hell were baying at his feet. Peering at the pallid, sweating face, Gohan was taken aback by the lines of fear and confusion that were etched into the face. Seeing such a profound look of bleak emptiness scared the hell out of him. Not to mention that looking into the tanned face was like seeing his father again. Gohan felt the painful grip of reality twist at his heart, reminding him clearly that this wasn’t his father. This was his grandfather, a man that he had no real memories of. He had to get a grip and get them moving again, or they would all be captured. "Grandfather, are you alright?" He spoke softly into Bardock’s ear, clutching his shoulder softly.

Bardock felt the light grip on his shoulder and fought the urge to shake it off. He didn’t want to be touched; he didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted to curl into a ball and die. Hot flames were licking at his brain, and the mere effort of even opening his eyes was more than his exhausted, beaten body could handle. Thankfully the images had faded into oblivion, for now, seemingly done with him for the moment, but he knew they would return for him as would the pain. He had little doubt of that. If only he could get them off this planet before they came to claim him again. It really mattered little, he realized. Pain or not, somehow he would find his way through. He was a Saiya-jin warrior; he had his honor and his pride. Those would keep him going. More than his honor was the knowledge that Bulma was counting on him…and Chi-Chi. They would carry him through as well. Chi-Chi carried his son’s brat, his second grandson

With superhuman effort, Bardock pushed himself up, nodding once at the boy that looked at him so anxiously. Shrugging off his hand, Bardock took a halting step forward, forcing one foot ahead of the other as he moved forward. He would do it; he would see them all off the planet if it killed him. "Let’s go," he rasped curtly, ignoring the voice in his head that told him the effort might just kill him at that.

"Alright," Gohan said hesitantly, black eyes shining with concern. The man was not well. Still, they had little option. He had just turned to follow his grandfather when a deafening, bestial roar drew his attention away. Turning, he smiled. Trunks had done it. He had gone Oozaru and was buying them the time they needed to make it to the women. The thundering book of a foot touching the ground shook the room, and Gohan lifted his arms to maintain his balance.

Bardock swiveled his head, a quick grin splitting his parched lips as the room shook around him. "So the brat did it," he murmured. He hoped that Trunks had been truthful about being able to maintain his control. "He can handle himself, right?" He asked roughly, staring at Gohan. "I don’t have the time or the energy to try to get him back under control." He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the gravity of their situation left little time for niceties. He would be kinder later, when they were away from danger.

"He’s as in control as you’d be," Gohan replied confidently. "Dad trained him, trained us both actually. Trunks will get the job done."

Bardock stared into the unwavering eyes of the boy before slowly nodding. "Good! "Come on! Let’s get the women, and get out of here." Staggering forward, he propelled himself along, seeking out Bulma’s ki and listening joyously to the animal roars that sounded behind him. They might just stand half a chance after all.

**********

Bulma paced her small cell in agitation. It had been days since she had been in contact with anyone—days! Much to her dismay, her connection to Vegeta remained closed to her, and though she had gained some small relief from recording a bit of her Journal, she found that it had not gone far in aiding her distress over that loss. The desire to see Bardock, Chi-Chi, hell the need for any human contact was about to overwhelm her. She had no idea if they were alive or well, and the same could be said for Vegeta. He might as well be dead to her for all the feeling she was getting. And the inability to feel him in any part of her had sent her into a full-blown panic. She had to get out of here; she had to know if her friends and loved ones were alive!

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she sighed deeply. If only she could feel Vegeta, feel his presence within her, she’d be all right. She knew it. They had been one for far too long for her to feel anything else but anguish and fear at the sudden emptiness in her heart. God, how had things gone so wrong so quickly? A few days ago they had all been safe and sound. She had slept in his arms every night and awoken to his face each and every morning. She had cared for her son and worked on her inventions, and though there had been concerns with the meetings being carried out, and the discussions of the reunion of the Saiya-jin race, she had been content. Now she was prisoner of some maddened race with a grudge against Bardock. And what of her son? Had Vegeta managed to find him? Was he safe? Or was he suffering somewhere, wondering why his mother wasn’t there to comfort him. The thought was enough to drive her mad and she moaned in despair that he might be suffering in any way. She was his mother, it was her job to protect him and keep him safe, and she was failing miserably.

Running a trembling hand through her tangled blue hair, she jerked at the sound of what seemed to be explosions in the distance. What in the world had that been? Racing to her door, she plastered her body against it, pushing and pounding and finally cursing as it refused to budge. Solid and black, it yielded to nothing. "Dammit!" She shrieked angrily, rubbing her sore hand in frustration. "Will someone let me out of this damn place!" Sinking to the floor, she resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands and sob. She had to be tougher than this, she had to stay sane. She had Vegeta to fight for, and Trunks…

The sob came anyway, unbidden and unwanted, searing her throat as she tried to hold it back. Frustrated, she cursed at herself, swiping at her eyes furiously. This was not going to help anyone, least of all her. If Vegeta could see her now, he would sneer at her and call her a pathetic weakling. He would be right, too. If she had learned anything from knowing him, or Bardock, or Kakkarot, it was that where there was a will, there was a way. They never gave up, no matter what, and neither could she. Her little boy needed her, quite possibly her husband. She had to find a way to fight back. She had only to use her brain. She was a genius after all, responsible for half of the galaxy’s most modern ships and technology. Hadn’t she found a way to end Frieza’s life? They had defeated Frieza against incredible odds. She couldn’t let the Kannassans get the better of her.

Standing, Bulma stalked across the room, pacing back and forth, racking her brain for anything she might be able to do. It seemed unlikely that she would be able to cobble anything together in the room. If they came for her, however, and took her somewhere…

Yes, that might be her only possible chance. The key was finding someway out of here. If she could make some type of escape, perhaps reach Bardock and let him out, then she could encourage him to fight and get them out of this place. Mind made up, she sat down to wait. They would come at some point and give her a meal. When they did, she would figure something out.

She had just settled down on the hard cot, when with a huge blast, the door to her cell blew open across the room. Shrieking, she dove to the floor, covering her head with her arms as she did so.

"Bulma!" The voice was deep and anxious—hoarse, and it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

"Bardock?" Lifting her head, Bulma stared hopefully up through the smoke that lingered in the air, leaping to her feet as she saw him leaning heavily against the door, panting. "Bardock!" She screamed in joy, throwing herself against him. "Oh God, you managed to find a way out!"

Grunting at the impact of her body against his, Bardock fought to maintain his balance. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself back against the wall, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. She was safe! Thank the Gods. That knowledge, coupled with the feel of her warm body in his arms brought him immense peace of mind. "Are you alright?" He rasped into her hair before slowly releasing his hold on her. "If you are, we have to get out of here."

Bulma pulled back, sweeping wide blue eyes over him with concern and shock. The man that stood before was a far cry from the man that she had come here with. His strong body shook with the effort it took to stand, his handsome face was sweating and pale, and his eyes, black as night, shone with the desperate, haunted gleam of a man trapped in a private hell that only he understood. Feeling herself begin to shake, she balled her hands into tight fists. What had they done to him? "I’m fine," she managed to say in an ill attempt to hide her horror at his appearance. "But you look awful."

Tenderly, she reached up, running a hand over his pale, bare chest, murmuring incoherently at the sight of the red, burning lash marks that marred the usually tanned, healthy flesh. They were untended and the pain of them had to be killing him, yet he stood stoically, watching her trustingly through veiled eyes as she examined his wounds. Swallowing hard against the hard, painful lump in her throat, she spoke faintly, "What have they done to you, Bardock?" Bulma traced a fingertip lightly—so lightly her touch might have been a feather— over each and every wicked, scarlet mark, showing him her pain and sympathy for what he had been forced to endure. She knew what it felt like to have these burned into your skin, she knew the pain and suffering that they caused. Looking up at him, she stared deeply into his glowing black eyes, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out in both memory and dismay.

Bardock watched as she lifted tremulous, sapphire eyes to his face. Her worry and horror at what they had done to him shone from the blue depths like a beacon, and he forced himself to offer up a small smile in hopes of easing her mind. "Don’t waste your tears on me, Bulma. Nothing’s happened that I can’t take. I’m a Saiya-jin warrior, not a weak baby. I have well earned any punishment that Hachuu wishes to dole out."

"No…" Bulma shook her head fiercely, breaking off as she felt another hard lump lodge itself deep within her throat. Even for a Saiya-jin, this kind of beating would have been a painful experience. Vegeta’s back bore the scars of a beating with an electro-whip. Courtesy of Frieza, she was certain. She had always told herself that he was a Saiya-jin, that he could handle such things, but seeing strong, fierce Bardock quivering with agony gave her some inkling of the true pain that Vegeta must have felt. He would have been far younger, too, a mere child when it had happened to him. The thought that Vegeta would have had to endure this—choking, she turned away from Bardock, trying to gain some control over herself. She had to push such thoughts out her head. This wasn’t Vegeta standing in front of her, this was Bardock, her friend, and he needed her.

"Bulma," Bardock whispered raggedly. "I swear I will survive this."

Laying a hand on the damp skin of his forehead she nodded, "I know. But I’ll feel better when I get you into a tank." Biting her lip, she let her hand drop. His skin was feverish to touch, and his eyes seem to be growing duller with each passing second. They needed to get him out of here and into a regeneration tank as soon as possible. "I’ll fix you up as soon as we get out of here. I promise…"

Wanly, Bardock lifted his hand to cup her jaw, reveling in the silk of her cool porcelain skin against his hot rough fingers. "Your concern moves me…" Breaking off, he coughed hoarsely, body convulsing violently with each wracking cough

"Bardock!" Bulma cried, wrapping an arm around his suddenly sagging body. Her hand went to his waist in an attempt to steady him. It was then that she noticed the bloody remnants of his tail. "Oh my God, your—" The sound of a deafening roar jerked her attention from him and she lifted her head. She had heard that sound before, but it had only been when… staring intently at Bardock, she frowned, "What was that?"

Lifting his head, Bardock managed a small, half-smile. "That was Trunks."

**********

Moaning softly, Chi-Chi turned her head towards the door. How long had she been here? She wasn’t certain. All she knew was that she had not eaten in days, and her pregnant body was rebelling. They would not let her see Bulma or Bardock, and no amount of pleading would encourage them to feed her or ease the terrible thirst that engulfed her. Every part of her body ached, and she had long since given up on trying to move.

God, her baby…Kakkarot’s baby…she had never even mentioned it to him. Why? Maybe if she had, he would have kept her close to him. Maybe he wouldn’t have betrayed her in such a horrible way. He had acted as overbearing as Vegeta, damn him, and now because of it, she and their unborn child were going to die. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this sick or drained.

"I swear to God, Kakkarot…" She rasped out loud through parched lips. "If I do survive this, you are going to die. I will kill you with my bare hands—"

Breaking off, she felt yet hot tears burn her eyes and spill down over her cheeks. She could taste the hot salt of her tears on her lips, but hadn’t the energy to wipe them away. She imagined herself a flower, once beautiful and alive—vibrant, now wilting and dying, neglected. What was worse, her child would be dying with her. It would never know what it was like to be held by its parents, or to be loved and cherished as Gohan had.

"Oh God, Gohan…" Chi-Chi whispered, yearning for her son. Was he all right? Had Kakkarot managed to get him back? He would live on after she was gone, a testament to her existence. Her perfect boy…and as much as she wanted to live for him, she wished she would just die. She couldn’t take feeling like this anymore.

The door blasting in made her flinch violently, but she had no energy to scream, or cover herself. Perhaps she would get her wish; perhaps her death would come far more quickly than she had anticipated. Turning her head, she watched a boy appear through the smoke. He was a tall boy, broad-shouldered, black hair cropped close, and there was something so achingly familiar about him. A tail lashed in agitation behind him, and his eyes, wide and black, were filled with concern and worry. So he was a Saiya-jin. Had she met him before? Was that why he seemed so familiar to her? Where had she seen him before? There was something that reminded her of Kakkarot, though she couldn’t place her finger on what it was.

"Are you alright?" The boy asked worriedly, hurrying over to her. God, what had they done to his mother? It had been years since he had seen her living, and his first sight of her made his heart stop. Forcing himself to breath, Gohan took stock of her appearance. Her beautiful face was pallid and filled with a sad resolve that he couldn’t ever remember seeing her wear. His mother had always been loud and pushy, demanding, never backing down…to see her so…so broken filled him with despair. Thick black hair— hair that he could remember from his childhood hanging long and full about her shoulders, shining and silky, lay snarled and limp against her face. If her eyes hadn’t been open, he’d swear she was almost dead. "What have they done to you?" He moaned quietly. She couldn’t die! He had just found her, he wouldn’t lose her again. He’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to her now.

"Who are you?" She whispered, unable to swallow at the sight of the heartbreak swirling in the depths of his wide black eyes. He was a beautiful boy, yet he seemed so sad, so wounded. "Am I dreaming? Are you really here to help me?" Struggling to sit up, she was relieved when he stood and swept her up into his arms.

"It’s alright," he said soothingly. "I’m here now. You’re going to be alright, I swear it." Fighting back his fury at what she had apparently been put through, Gohan carried her with ease to the door. Looking out, he saw Bardock leaning heavily against a very agitated Bulma, who was speaking intently to him. Seeing her, he felt his mouth curve up into a grin. Had it been only a few days ago that her future counterpart had died in his arms? The heartbreak of that still burned keenly within his soul, but there she stood, young, beautiful as ever, and full of life.

Trunks bellowing voice caught his attention and he spoke urgently. "We’d best get to him so he can get us all out of here." Trunks could carry them some place safe, and then once they had managed to get him back down to size, they could make an escape.

*********

"What is going on, Bardock?" Bulma’s voice had raised another level, and he winced as she leaned closer to his ear. "How can that be Trunks? Trunks is on another planet. Is this my baby? Is his father here?" The questions were coming faster with each second, and Bardock almost felt a moment’s regret for blurting out that Trunks was there. Better to let the brat answer all of the infernal questions as opposed to him. He could barely stand, not that he really had any answers either. The only two that did would provide them when the opportunity was right.

"Bulma," he said firmly. "I promise that you will get your answers. But it will have to be from these two boys…and later. Right now we have to get out of here, unless you enjoy being held against your will?" He spoke sarcastically, watching her intently as his words hit home.

She stared at him for a moment, blue eyes blazing as she seemed to fight some inner battle with herself. Finally, after a moment, she nodded, "Alright, but you had better bet I’ll be getting some answers once we are out of here." Noticing his sagging body, she tightened her grip on him. "We need to get you out of here, too." She said quietly. The sooner they got him into a regeneration tank, the better.

Looking at Gohan, Bardock swept his black gaze over Chi-Chi’s prone form, lying silent and unconscious in her son’s arms. "Is she alright?" He asked gravely.

"I don’t know," Gohan replied. "I just don’t know. She’s so weak."

"Let’s go then and get to Trunks like you said. The sooner we get out of here the better. Remember, don’t look at the moon once you we are out in the open." Bardock turned back towards the area they had left Trunks. Though they were still inside and unable to see him, the sound of his rampage reached their ears clearly, telling them that he was heading in their direction.

"Do you really think that I will let you go so easily?" The voice, full of malice and hate, turned them all back, and Bardock sneered at the figure of Hachuu who had appeared in the hall.

"Do you want to die?" He rasped coldly.

"What do I care if I live or die? The only thing that matters to me is that you join me in hell!" Hachuu spat out. "You’re death is what I have sought, and I will have it, Bardock of Vegitasei. I swore that oath on the bodies of my family which you murdered." Slitted eyes glowing like hot torches, Hachuu balled his fist tightly against his robes.

"If it were you and I, then I would grant you your wish," Bardock shut his eyes. "I would offer up my death for your losses. What I did under Frieza’s command is unforgivable. But I cannot let these innocents around me pay for any crimes I have committed against you."

"I care not for these—innocents, as you so riotously put it." Taking another step forward, Hachuu sneered viciously. "How innocent can they be if they associate with you? And how hypocritical of you, slayer of innocents, that you would even seek to protect them."

"I will fight to the death for them," Bardock warned. "I’m not the same man I was then. You should know and understand the price that innocents pay. Do you really wish to become the same type of monster that I was? Do you want the blood of innocent beings on your head?"

"Fight to the death?" Hachuu laughed incredulously, side-stepping the question. "How do you plan on doing that when you need the aid of a woman to stand?" Hachuu tipped his head back and chortled. "You Saiya-jin are far more arrogant than is healthy."

"And you underestimate the Saiya-jin race," Bardock intoned sharply.

"Grandfather," Gohan cut in. "I can deal with him, I have—"

"Stay out of this, boy!" Bardock ordered harshly. "This is my battle, my honor. Not yours." Pushing away from Bulma, he felt her hand, cold and clammy, clutch at his as a horde of Kannassan soldiers surrounded them. "For them I will fight, Hachuu, and I will destroy you."

"I doubt that." Hachuu replied flippantly. "I have done enough damage that you haven’t a chance of being able to use any of your power. You will fall at my feet like the Saiya-jin pig that you are, and I will slay you. Then I will kill these companions. You are all Saiya-jin scum."

"The women are not Saiya-jin, nor are they the blood of Bardock," Gohan said somberly. "They do not deserve to die for Saiya-jin crimes. Besides," he smiled coldly. "If Bardock falls, then you will face me—Gohan of Chikyuu, Bardock’s grandson."

"Well this is a fortuitous day indeed," Hachuu grunted, shrugging off his robes. "That I might see both Bardock and his blood kin laying dead at my feet."

"We will see, Hachuu," Bardock straightened to his full posture. "We will see…"

*********

"How long until we reach Kannassa?" The cold, menacing voice shot a chill through Sauzza’s spine, and he turned to face his Lord and Master. It was taking some time to get used to the change that had occurred within Koola. Even now, his eyes were drawn to the M that scrawled across his forehead. And his power level was incredible. As mighty as Koola had once been, his power had now reached unbelievable heights, and Sauzza new without a doubt that it was some unholy alliance between he and Babidi that had produced such results.

The change had brought on a new attitude as well. Though he had always been cold and ruthless, Koola had always shown favor to those that he deemed loyal and trustworthy. At least as much as his personality would allow. He had always been ruthless, and certainly not above killing his men. But still, there were a select few, himself included that had never needed to worry about Koola killing them until now.

Since Koola’s apparent transformation, two of his most loyal men, two of Sauzza’s very own squad, had been coldly killed and tossed aside as if they were nothing more than common trash. Instinctively, Sauzza new that he no longer held any favor with Koola. His life was now as forfeit as the underlings that Koola regularly dispensed to their deaths in mundane battles.

"I asked you a question, Sauzza? Do you plan on answering it?" Koola’s voice was low and raspy, the usually amused, polite tones replaced with a deathly malice that left Sauzza shaking. What had Babidi wrought with his magic?

"I’m sorry, my Lord Koola. Of course… We will be reaching Kannassa within a matter of days. We are on your fastest ship."

"That is not fast enough. I want to be there, now. " Koola growled, electricity crackling around him. The feel of the energy invigorated him, and he sneered menacingly. "Perhaps I should use my instant transmission and drop in ahead of time. I want the mate of Vegeta in my hands now." The bitch would finally suffer for Frieza’s death. Better than that, she would be the ultimate tool in bringing down the Saiya-jin bastard that stood in his way. If Vergerom’s words to be believed, Vegeta was enthralled with the whore. Making her suffer would inevitably cause Vegeta great pain. The bastard would be too caught up in her suffering to even think of worrying about anything else. Perhaps he would willingly sacrifice himself and the rest of the Saiya-jin scum that had been responsible for his family’s demise.

"But Lord Koola, I thought that you had to have some familiar energy to focus on to teleport?" Sauzza asked cautiously, not wanting to irritate the Reiketsu-jin anymore than he already was.

"Dammit, you’re right." Koola hissed, smashing his fist into the metal wall of the ship. He had known that, so why had he forgotten it? Fixing his cold, dead eyes upon Sauzza, Koola snarled. "Put this ship at full speed." Whirling Koola stalked to the door. "I will go and see if I can persuade the old Namekkian to share the dragonball password with us. Their warrior seems to be self-healing. " His lip curled up in irritation. It was a feat he was still unable to understand. No matter the beating that he took, the next day he was back to normal. Nail, he believed the warrior was called, seemed to know no fear, and the old bastard seemed disinclined to come to his aid when he was being beaten. Perhaps it was time for a death to shake things up. He had hundreds of the stinking green bastards in his prison block. Perhaps he would kill one a day until the Namekkian guardian broke, or perhaps the old Namekkian would respond to a stronger incentive—a child’s suffering. They had the small Namekkian brat…what would the loss be should the little creature die? It would just be one less Namekkian he had to deal with.

Smiling cruelly, he swept from the bridge of the ship, leaving a shaking Sauzza in his wake.

Fighting the need to sit down, Sauzza put on his most imposing face, commanding the deck officers. "You heard what Lord Koola desires. Put the ship at full throttle, immediately. " Spinning, Sauzza stalked off the bridge, seeking refuge in his cabin. He needed to meditate and think about the new course his life seemed to be running. How fast things changed, and how fast things had changed on this ship. He had always had to face Koola’s wrath if he had failed, and he had been prepared for that since he never failed, but now…now he feared Koola completely.

**********

"Dende, Koola will be coming soon," Guru sighed wearily. Looking from Nail to the small Namekkian boy, he stared at them sadly. "I fear he is no longer satisfied with taking his aggressions out on Nail. He grows tired of waiting for the password. His power has grown tremendously, as has his evil."

"His desire for the Dragonball password will keep you alive, Guru." Nail interjected, glancing casually at the seven balls that sat clustered together in the corner. "Without you, the Dragonballs will cease to exist. He knows this."

"Yes, but it isn’t myself that I am concerned for," Guru said heavily. "He has taken many of our people as slaves, he has beaten you, Nail, daily…and I fear now for Dende."

"What do you mean, Guru?" Dende swallowed hard, not liking the ominous tone Guru had chosen. "Do you think he will kill me?" He didn’t want to die. He knew he should be brave like Nail, and he would if he had to be, but all he really wanted was to go back to his planet and live in peace with his people as he had before all of this had happened.

"He is mystified with Nail’s ability to heal after each beating," Guru licked his dry lips, wetting them. "He doesn’t understand how, nor does he realize your abilities, Dende. I fear there is no satisfaction beating something that doesn’t seem to suffer. I sense that he will look to use you next in his quest to get the password from me."

"Do you really think that he will kill the child?" Nail asked, aghast.

"His evil and cruelty know no bounds," Guru sighed heavily. "I think he will use whatever means he sees fit. With no true caring of right or wrong, who knows what he will use."

"I will not let him touch Dende!" Nail said fiercely. "I will die first, Guru!"

"It might come to that, Nail." Guru said sorrowfully. "I fear what he will do next, and yet I cannot give him what he desires. To give him such power…" Guru shook his head gravely. "It would be far more than the Namekkians that suffer should he gain the use of the Dragonballs."

"We will do what we must, Guru," Dende said with a small voice. "I will stand up to Koola as best as I can." He had to remember the bigger picture. The entire universe would fall into blackness if Koola managed to gain the Dragonballs. None of them could allow that to happen.

"Yes, Dende," Guru said, patting the child on the head. "We will indeed."

***********

"Drink Kakkarot, it will make everything so much better," her voice was soft and smooth, laced with a seductive poison. He could hear it laced through her tone, knew her words for the lies they were. He wanted to resist her and shove her away, and though he tried—tried hard to summon some of his power back, he found himself instead sagging to his knees, strength draining from him as she took hold of his mind. They had taken every ounce of his will, damn them! He wanted to fight them, wanted to grab his son and his friends, and get the hell off the planet, but he couldn’t. He had no power left within him. All he could do was try to keep his mind under lock and key as he felt her sifting through the memories, images, and thoughts that comprised his life. They couldn’t have them! He wouldn’t let them.

As the bearer of the cask drew closer to him, his eyes sought out Vegeta, hoping that he might see some spark of fight in the Prince. The sight left him cold and he felt his heart fall to his stomach. The Prince knelt on the ground across from him, head bowed. From the distance separating them, Kakkarot could see the tremors that wracked Vegeta’s proud body, and saw clearly the clenched fists that he ground forcefully into the ground. Whatever hold they had over him was strong. What in the hell were they supposed to do? Did the witch really expect them to fight and kill each other? Vegeta might enjoy that, but he had no desire to battle the other Saiya-jin, not now. Yet as much as he wished he could say that he didn’t want any battles with Vegeta, there was something. He couldn’t deny the thought was appealing, though, in some small part of his brain. He realized that he there was a part of him that wanted to battle Vegeta and see who was the strongest.

Too late, he knew he should have never allowed those thoughts entry from the recesses of his mind. The Queen had them faster than he had ever thought possible, and already she was using them against him. Shuddering Kakkarot collapsed as in his mind’s eye, he saw Vegeta sneering at him…belittling his status, his family, and his intelligence. As if she had broken down a dam, he felt thoughts and memories, old resentments he had hoped buried for all time, rushing out in a tidal wave of vivid images that flashed hectically through his brain. He heard the witch’s satisfied grunt as she assimilated all that he had to offer. Dammit, why couldn’t he stop her from such a violation?

"Interesting…" Areca murmured in his ear and he felt the guards clasp his arms more tightly, their sharpened, dagger-like nails digging into the flesh of his skin, holding him firmly in place. He was a Super Saiya-jin, yet he couldn’t battle against the hold they held over his body and mind. What good was power if you were unable to stop an intrusion such as this? Instinctively he reached out towards his wife, searching for her presence in his mind. They had never been blessed with the connection that Vegeta and Bulma shared, but he could always count on feeling her within him. He had come to count on the comforting feeling, even seeking it out in moments of despair. She was a lifeline for him when he needed her to be, and he needed her now more than he had ever before. Maybe if he could find her, she would give him the strength to fight. His search came up frighteningly empty, and he had no idea if it was something the witches themselves were causing, or that Chi-Chi had met some horrific fate on Kannassa. She needed him; his son needed him…so why couldn’t he break free? Clenching his fists, he struggled with all his might to break free of their hold, finally sagging in a cold sweat as the mental grip grew tighter.

Kakkarot flinched as he felt something cold and wet press against his lips. Compressing his mouth in a hard line, he kept his head down, refusing to look at the Queen or the flask that she wanted him to drink from. He felt her hand slide through his hair, felt the pointed nails as they scraped lightly over his scalp, and then she was jerking his head back harshly, his hair wound tightly within her grip.

"Drink," she commanded. "I will not tell you again."

Kakkarot said nothing, made no move, merely kept his lips tightly compressed, staring up at her defiantly.

"Fine," she sighed in vexation. "Then you leave me with little choice." Tightening her grip on his hair, she shut her eyes, making no other move. He stared up at her in bewilderment, uncertain of what she was doing.

His eyes widened as he realized with a jolt that she was inside his mind, seeking out all the fears and pain that she might be able to use against him. Her presence left him nauseous. He could feel the bile rising up from his stomach, burning its way up his body as she presented him with images of his wife. Chi-Chi lay bruised and broken, her lifeblood drained from her small body. Weakly she reached out to him, her slender hand broken and shaking. "Kakkarot, help me…why won’t you come?" Fighting back the urge to throw up, he inhaled sharply, trying to clear the horror of the sight out of his mind.

Rationally, he knew that the images were being presented to him. She had seen his fear that Chi-Chi was suffering, and had recognized his fury and guilt at being unable to help her. She had manifested it into the sickening images that he had just seen. They weren’t real, they weren’t real…sucking in another deep breath as she showed him more horrific sights. She seemed so real, her voice…he could still hear her calling to him for help. The look of betrayal that had shone from her black eyes as he watched her had cut him to the quick. He wanted to help her, he wanted to find her and keep her safe. He loved her with his whole heart. Didn’t she realize that he would do anything for her? The images twisted within his mind, mixing with all of his memories until he was no longer able to discern what was truth and what was the witch’s doing. That he had been unable to find Chi-Chi earlier when he had searched for her only compounded the jumble of emotions.

Dazed and confused, he opened his mouth, calling her name over and over. She had to know that he would be there for her. She had to know that he hadn’t deserted her. He thought he might have heard her answer or perhaps it was merely Toma that he heard, shouting his name. Someone yelled his name, he knew that, and then he felt the cold, wet mouth of the cask as it was pressed against his lips, filling his mouth with a bittersweet liquid.

"Drink, Kakkarot. Drink so that you might save her." The grip on his hair tightened again, drawing his head full back. He felt the liquid trickle down his throat, and though he tried to stop it, tried to make his mouth spit the disgusting juice out on the ground, he found his will gone. The liquid slid down his throat, and then her grip was gone. Her mouth pressed against his ear and he heard her whispering something into his ear. "It is your Prince that makes her suffer, it is he that would keep you from her and turn her against you." They were the last words he heard before he collapsed into a heap on the ground, belly hot and burning as the potion ran through his system. "Chi-Chi…" he managed to moan once before he slid into a black oblivion.

*********

Dimly, though the painful mental grip they held over him clawed his brain like a jagged pair of talons, Vegeta managed to hear Kakkarot’s voice. Managing to lift his head, he saw the witches pour something down the younger man’s throat before he finally slumped over, unconscious, to the ground.

"Kakkarot," Vegeta croaked out, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He was aware of the Queen as she approached him, was aware of her reaching out towards him, pointed fingernails like daggers as they came close to his face. As the icy touch of her hand brushed against his skin, Vegeta recoiled, shooting her the most venomous glare he could muster. "Don’t touch me, bitch."

"Now, now…" Areca smiled chillingly. "You will soon be fighting for my favors, Prince. Is that anyway to speak to me?" Her eyes flared wide and he groaned as a stabbing pain shot through his body. "I am far more powerful than any of my underlings that you have encountered before."

Through the piercing jolts of pain that lanced through his muscles and stabbed into his skin with the force of a thousand heated daggers, Vegeta found the will to speak. "I fight for no one, least of all you." The thought of touching her was revolting, and he felt an icy dread lick its way down his spine.

"I wonder…" She paused, kneeling before him, staring deeply into his cold, black eyes. "I think there are several you would fight for." Turning, she shot a calculating glance towards the purple-haired brat that watched wide-eyed from the old man’s arms.

Vegeta followed her line of sight to his son and felt his world go black. She knew. She knew that Trunks was his son, and she would use the boy against him. He knew it. Wasn’t that what all his enemies did? Hadn’t that been the first lesson his father had taught him? Yet he had gone ahead and willingly taken things that he knew would gut him should any harm befall them. He could not allow the brat to suffer, and more importantly, he could not allow his hand to be forced by her manipulations.

Trunks watched him wide-eyed, but unfrightened from his safe perch in his grandfather’s arms. Seeing Vegeta look his way, Trunks reached out his arms, shouting for his father. "Poppa!"

The boy wanted to be with him, wanted to help him battle. Even at the tender age of four, his Saiya-jin blood ran strong and potent through his veins. Painfully, regretfully, Vegeta turned his head away from the boy, forcing his gaze back towards the Queen. "Do you think I care for the useless brat?" He bit out through clenched teeth, staring at her contemptuously. "I can easily beget another heir. His life means little to me." The lie burned through his system, and he felt bile rising up into his mouth. God he couldn’t even pretend anymore. Had he really become this weak? The thought made him sick.

"Then why come after him?"

"His mother had some desire to see his face again. I could care less." Shame filled him, and he knew she could see the lie for what it was. Hell, the bitch could look straight into his mind. He was unable to keep the fact that his son’s life meant everything to him buried deep within his brain where it belonged. It was yet another weakness that seemed to permeate his very being, a bi-product of his time with Bulma and a life of softness, raising a family. Why he was even bothering to pretend was beyond him. Perhaps it was old habits dying hard. In the past, the only way he had ever been able to protect anything of his was to feign disinterest. Growing up under Frieza’s perverted command, being forced to endure Zarbon and Dodoria’s tortures…if they had any inkling that he cared for something, they took it, or hurt it, or destroyed it in some unthinkable way. It had been his biggest fear when he had gotten involved with Bulma. But she had been a force too strong to deny, and he had almost lost her in his inability to hide his emotions for her. He had almost lost her several times. And it was a member of this despicable race of people that had taken her from him the first time.

"Ahh, yes the mother…" She paused. "Now there is a woman you would fight for." A small, wicked smile played at the corners of her lips. "Yet you fear her affections lie elsewhere. How sad for you that she cares for someone else." She stared at him with fascination for a moment. "And how very interesting." His mind was full of ammunition to use against him.

"Shut up!" He rasped again, voice hitching despite himself. How had she found that deeply buried fear? He had believed that demon long since slayed, yet there it was rearing its ugly head again. That the bitch had managed to resurrect it filled him with fury. "Keep your filthy mouth shut! You know nothing!"

"I seem to have found a sensitive subject for you," Areca stood, amused, and turned back to face the prone form of Kakkarot. "I believe it is time to see if Kakkarot is ready. The elixir has had ample time to work on his system. I believe you will find him…properly motivated for your fight." Motioning to the guards that held Vegeta, she strode towards Kakkarot. This would prove a very interesting fight indeed. She would hardly be the loser in any event. Either man would give her the strong child that she needed. Her line would continue on, flowing with the blood of great strength.

Vegeta felt himself being hauled up and he shoved at the women that held him. They may have drained him of his strength, but he would be damned if he let them manhandle him like common trash. What did it matter if they made him fight Kakkarot? He could handle that. He would beat Kakkarot to a pulp, kill the Queen, and send the rest of them into chaos. Then he would gather his child and blow up the miserable planet on his way to rescue his woman.

Bulma… God what he wouldn’t give to hear her voice in his brain or feel her soft body against him. Why fight the weakness now? Why deny his feelings to people who already knew they existed? The little images they had given him had left him cold, and though rationally he knew it was only a product of the witch’s manipulations, he had been left with the desire to show his damn woman once and for all that she belonged to him and only him. She would writhe beneath his body and she would answer his desires, not anyone else’s, least of all Bardock’s. Fury flooded his body again, running hot through his blood, as the picture of the two entwined together flashed before his eyes. Cursing, he pushed it away. It wasn’t true and he knew it. She loved him, and he didn’t need to be giving these disgusting excuses for women any more ammunition to use against him. Still, to go so long without feeling her, or hearing some trace of her voice…

If only he could get some sense of her well-being. He hadn’t been able to feel her for days and the fear that something had happened to him ate at his soul. She had to be alive. He refused to contemplate anything else. He would know if she weren’t. He would know it in his soul.

On impulse, he reached out to her again, and his heart quickened as he felt a fleeting sense of her. Searching, he sought to see if she were safe, if she could hold on while he dealt with the problems that had arose on the planet. He came up empty, but still, that he had found her at all sent his spirits soaring. She was alive. Now all he had to do was get off this planet.

**********

Bulma clasped Bardock’s hand tightly, fear shooting through her. "You can’t fight him, Bardock!" She whispered urgently into his ear. "You are not up to it!"

"I don’t have a choice, Bulma," he snapped, perturbed that she doubted his strength. "I am a Saiya-jin warrior in my prime, I can accomplish far more than you think!" Gently, but firmly he removed her hand from his. "Now quit trying to coddle me and let me go fight!"

"Damn you stupid, stubborn, Saiya-jin!" Throwing her hands in the air, Bulma stepped back, eyes blazing. "You are just like Vegeta, never knowing when to quit! Fine! Go and get yourself killed! See if I care!"

"Bulma," sighing heavily, Bardock cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Has Vegeta ever let you down?" His black eyes searched the endless blue depths intently, until finally—reluctantly, she shook her head.

"No," she whispered quietly. "He’s always been everything he said he was."

"Then have faith," With a small smile he turned from her, moving to face Hachuu.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Hachuu?"

"Your death?" Hachuu smiled benignly. "I have waited for many years to have my time of vengeance. I confess I had hoped to see you suffer far more than this." He spoke fervently, the volume of his voice rising with each syllable uttered. "You deserve far more than you are getting for the cruelty you showed my people, and…" He added in an afterthought. "My family." Eyes glowing, Hachuu’s fist rose before his face and his eyes glowed with an unholy light. "But I will not argue with seeing you dead by my hands." Dropping his fist, he stepped back, the storm in his eyes receding, disappearing into the deep depths of his reptilian eyes. Calmly, serenely, he spoke again, "I would not see this opportunity wasted for all the wealth of the galaxy."

Bardock nodded grimly, aware of the thundering footsteps that pounded closer with each second. Trunks was coming. He felt a strange peacefulness settle inside him. Even if he were to meet his death here, he could count on Gohan and Trunks to get the women off the planet safely. Perhaps it was fitting that he meet his destiny here on this planet where he had shed so much blood. Perhaps it was time that he went and joined Negi in the afterlife. "Then let’s get to it. I have far better things to do then stay on this disgusting planet another day."

Growling low in his throat, Hachuu launched his big, bulky body at Bardock, who took the hit full on. Locking his arms around the Kannassan’s mid-riff, he let Hachuu’s forward momentum propel them both backwards into a crowd of soldiers.

"Call off you dogs," snarling low in his throat, Bardock somehow found the strength to shove the smelly Kannassan off of him. "This is between you and I." God, he had forgotten how they stunk when their adrenaline was pumping and running through their body. The stench was enough to make him want to heave. Scrambling up, he lowered his aching body into a fighting stance and waited, content to let Hachuu make the first aggressive move.

*******

Gohan watched his grandfather anxiously, his mother cradled safely in his arms. She had yet to regain consciousness and the fear that had first gripped his heart at first sight of her was now running rampant through his body. What if she died? What would he do if she died?

But she didn’t die. The small voice— his voice, wisped through his brain and he nodded in silent acknowledgement of its truth. She hadn’t died. She had been alive to help fight the artificial humans. It had been that ongoing battle that had finally seen her life stolen from her. He was worrying about the wrong situation. She would live through this, though how or what she had suffered was something he didn’t know. He knew next to nothing about this time in her life. She had never spoken of it to him, or at least not that he could remember. Trunks had made mention that his mother had remained oddly silent as well. Seemingly it had stayed a secret between the two of them, though why they would have felt the need to never speak of it was beyond him. He wondered how much his father had known? Had he been privy to his mother’s secrets? Had he known Bulma’s? He would never know.

Drawing his attention back to the fight, he watched as Bardock and Hachuu exchanged brutal punches. By rights the Kannassan shouldn’t hold a candle to Bardock’s Saiya-jin strength, but as depleted as he seemed to be, Bardock was struggling. Gohan ached to help his grandfather, to prove himself to the man that he had heard so much about from his father. Bardock had been idolized by his youngest son, as Gohan had idolized Kakkarot. Some of the best nights of his tumultuous life had been spent at his father’s knee listening to heroic stories about his grandfather. Kakkarot had told him of his Uncle Radditz as well, and how he had fallen at Koola’s hands trying to save their father.

What had happened here on Kannassa, though, to so upset the race? This had been a part of the story of Bardock that his father had left out. Had he not known? Or had he chose to overlook the negative aspects of his father’s life. Whatever it was, it had happened under Frieza’s command, and it was something that he supposed his father had been able to understand and forgive. After all he had served his own time under Frieza’s thumb. Gohan could well remember something his father had once told him shortly before he had died, and he wondered how true it was for Bardock.

"I did things under Frieza’s command that I can never forgive myself for, Gohan. But I have learned to go on, and atone where I can."

"It was true he knew nothing of what his grandfather had done to this creature that so wanted to spill his blood, but Gohan knew his father and he knew Bulma…both had spoken of Bardock as a good man, a decent, honorable man. Whatever massacre had occurred here so many years ago, it was in the past. Bardock was a different man, a man that had atoned for his sins by changing and doing good with his life. And as much as he wanted to step in and help his ailing grandfather, he knew instinctively that this battle was a point of honor for the man. His help was not wanted or needed unless Bardock fell. If Bardock fell, then as his blood kin, the duty to uphold Bardock’s honor would fall to him.

Though he had no real desire to kill, he would do what he had to protect his mother and Bulma. He would honor his father and grandfather, and he would defeat Hachuu. Based on what he had seen of his mother’s condition, Hachuu and the Kannassans had no honor where dealing with women was concerned, anyway. The thought brought him again to what his mother must have endured during her full time here. He and Trunks had changed things irrevocably. This younger version of his mother would not suffer whatever hell the mother from his own time had. And as the sound of thunderous footsteps made their way to him, Gohan could easily say for that he was profoundly thankful.

**********

Bardock threw punishing punch after punch. He had tried to summon up the energy for a ki blast and had come up sorely lacking. His body had been through too much, and every hit his aching chest took was like being lit on fire. It was a miracle that he was still on his feet. He would be lucky to defeat the mad Kannassan. Seeing Gohan left him with renewed hope. The boy was the perfect blend of his father and mother. His eyes shone brightly like Kakkarot’s—like Negi’s, and Bardock felt something twist in his gut at the sight of him. If he died here on Kannassa, if he was never allowed another chance to see the small boy that held his heart in his hands; that stared at him with the eyes of his son and dead mate, he could go to his death having seen what the boy would grow into.

Dammit, he wanted to see that boy grow into the young warrior who had blasted into this time to save him. He wanted a chance to train him, to see Kakkarot train him. He wanted to see the grandchild that lay secure in Chi-Chi’s womb. This was his family, his legacy—Negi’s legacy. He could not let his life be forfeit here, no matter that he owed that debt to Hachuu, no matter that his death might ease his pain.

Purpose renewed, Bardock launched himself at Hachuu with a roar of fury. He had paid his dues and his debts time and again. He would not allow his past to control him any longer. His time with Frieza was long passed, and the horror of his past deeds died today. Somewhere within the depths of his soul, he found some small well of power and he dipped into it, letting it flow through his body.

Adrenaline pumping through him, he was vaguely aware of the roof being ripped off the building and was only dimly aware that the call of the moon no longer held any meaning to him. His tail was gone. The soldiers that surrounded them scattered in every direction as Trunks roared an earsplitting bellow. Bardock saw nothing but Hachuu as he pummeled the Kannassan’s body and face with hard, vicious hits, pummeling him until he realized that the Kannassan was no longer fighting back. Looking down, he saw the bruised and bloody face staring up at him, one eye swollen shut, and he felt his fury ease. The Kannassan was defeated. Hachuu was not a born fighter. He was a political animal, not a warrior. His entire attack had been based on Bardock’s weakened state, and somehow, Bardock had managed to overcome it. He would live to see another day.

Staring dazedly up into Bardock’s face, Hachuu’s features twisted bitterly. "How," he rasped wetly, blood seeping from his mouth. "After everything you have done to me, to this planet…how is that the Gods have turned against me?"

Heaving with exhaustion, Bardock stared down into Hachuu’s face, sweat blurring his vision. "How could any God condone your vengeance when it comes at the price of your own soul? You hate me for what I did, for the monster that I was. Knowing nothing of what I was, knowing nothing of what I became, you were willing to trade your beliefs for my death."

"You fool," Hachuu’s voice caught on a mocking laugh. "You think you have won. You think you will leave this planet unscathed. Well, Bardock of Vegitasei, you might have won this battle, but I have cursed you. Until the day you do finally die, you will live with the gift that I have bestowed upon you."

Bardock reared back, staring down at the Kannassan in horror. They were telepathic and able to see the future. The images that had been tormenting his mind—

Gaping at Hachuu, Bardock opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to breath. He had been seeing glimpses of the future. The gift that had been bestowed on him was the gift of sight.

"Bardock…" Trunks deep voice boomed down at him as he scampered back from Hachuu, cold dread settling in every part of his body.

"No—" Violently he shook his head. "I don’t want it!" A hand on his shoulder startled him and he jerked in startled response. Bulma’s worried face stared down at him and he recoiled, remembering the things he had seen and felt: Kakkarot and Vegeta, the battle he had seen! What did that mean? Struggling to breath, he pushed away from her, fighting to stand.

"Bardock, are you alright?" Her worried voice barely registered as he tried to assimilate all the knowledge that he had been given. What was happening to him, to all of them? What had he seen? What did it all mean? Crying out, he gripped his head, the sound of Hachuu’s mocking laughter cutting into the his brain. The sound of it would drive him insane. Crying out, he slammed his fist into the ground next to Hachuu’s face. "Shut up!" He yelled. "Take it back, I don’t want it."

"You will live with the knowledge of all that is to come for the rest of your life, Bardock of Vegitasei. Already my gift is changing you," Hachuu struggled to sit up. "I may not have your death, but perhaps I have dealt you a far graver punishment than death could have ever given you. You will see your death before it comes, and perhaps…" He turned his cold, empty eyes to Gohan, "Perhaps you will see the deaths of those you love."

Bardock gaped at him in mute horror. The mind-numbing pain was coming again. He could feel it, lurking in the far recesses of his mind, sliding forward and demanding that he fall to its mercy. "No…" he moaned in denial. He felt as if he walked the edge of a precipice and below him laid a black emptiness that there would be no return from. He could feel it as it grabbed at him, sending images racing past him at lightening speed, far faster than he could even begin to fathom. Mind whirling, he saw the blackness that was coming to engulf him, and though he wanted to fight it, he had no more strength to give. Yet there was peace in the blackness…or so he hoped. Slumping over, he gave into the dark and let it claim him.

"Yes, Bardock, live with it," Hachuu spat. "Live with it for the rest of your days."

"Enough!" Trunks bellowed. "You are defeated. Be glad that you aren’t dead." The knowledge of what this man had put his mother through burned within him, and he longed to crush the man’s bones between his hands. Yet he couldn’t. He was bound by honor. This Hachuu had not perpetrated the tortures on his mother. This was not the same man and to kill him, while perhaps doing the universe a great service, would bring no retribution for what had occurred in another time. Things were indelibly changed now.

"Trunks," Bulma turned her worried gaze from the still form of Bardock towards the large black ape that towered above her. He was absolutely breathtaking and the power that radiated from him took her breath away. She had seen Vegeta like this on a few occasions. She could remember how awe-inspiring the sight of the transformation had been then, and how frightening. Yet he had held perfect control over power that she knew had to be immense. To see her son achieving the same thing…she shook her head, unable to comprehend any of it. How this could be Trunks was beyond her. Trunks was no more than a small boy trapped on another world. And Gohan—turning her head, she looked at the boy that held Chi-Chi. There was no denying it, the face belonged to Gohan, albeit a far older Gohan, but Gohan all the less. How was any of this possible?

"We need to go," Trunks boomed down to her. "Gohan," he called to the figure that had retreated into what remained of the building, hiding from the effects the moon’s pull would have on him. "Go through your transformation. We are less likely to face any resistance if we are both in Oozaru form. You take your mother and Bardock, I’ll get Mom." Whatever had happened to Bardock had rendered him helpless. He lie limp on the ground, lifeless. Trunks wasn’t sure what had happened. Perhaps he had used up every bit of his reserve strength. Whatever it was he knew one thing for certainty: He wanted the man as far from his mother as he could possibly get him.

Gohan nodded. "Right! Here…Bulma" Motioning her into the confines of the building, he dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out several capsules. "I grabbed a handful of them in your hanger back on Chikyuu. I’ll let you pick which ship you want to take us out of here on." Grinning at her shocked look, Gohan laid his mother gently down. Glancing at his grandfather, he saw that the man had seemingly used up all his reserves in defeating Hachuu. "I’ll take care of you, grandfather. I’ll get you healed up, I promise." Moving away from Bulma and his mother, stepping out into the open night air, Gohan tipped his head back towards the moon and let its power take him.

************

Babidi sat in the small room that Koola had afforded him on the ship. With great interest he watched the face of the Reiketsu-jin through his crystal ball. Beside him, Dabura stood, silent. The demon was still angry with him for the decision to make Koola a slave. Like he cared. Dabura was far inferior to Koola’s amazing strength. If he weren’t careful, he’d command Koola to kill him.

But therein lie the problem. While Koola was a wonderful slave in all his arrogance and cruelty, not to mention that his strength was unmatched. He was, unfortunately, far more willful than Babidi had counted on. So far Koola had denied every command that had been issued to him. Granted, Babidi had not put all his effort into getting him to abide by his wishes, but it certainly looked as if he were going to have his hands full. Thankfully, Koola couldn’t kill him, not if he wanted to keep the power he had gained.

Irritated, Babidi turned towards Dabura, "If you have nothing to do but stand behind me and peer over my shoulder, why don’t you go and meditate. See if you can get yourself any more power." The last thing he wanted Dabura to see was that he might have been a bit hasty in his choice of slaves.

Dabura stared silently at the small, wrinkled wizard before finally bowing. ‘As you wish, master." Turning abruptly, Dabura strode away, cape snapping behind him.

Babidi chuckled. Yes, he had certainly gotten Dabura worked up. Good, perhaps a competition with Koola would stoke the flames of fire within Dabura. Strong as he was, his power paled to that of Koola’s.

Turning back towards his ball, Babidi rubbed his small chin in contemplation. Maybe he should take this time and work on Koola’s obedience. His attitude needed a definite adjustment. After that, he would contact Gero on Chikyuu and see if any progress had been made in locating Buu. Awakening Buu was his ultimate goal. Using Buu was his once absolute. Buu was the tool that he would use to bring the universe to its knees, and Koola, fool that he was, would help him achieve it.

************

"You are a third-class fool, Kakkarot and it is time for you and your pathetic excuse of a family to die." Smiling cruelly, Vegeta lifted his hand, palm out.

"No, Vegeta!" He had to stop him; he had to find a way!

"You have always been pathetic, Kakkarot. A loser in every way. The Saiya-jin blood that runs through your veins is weak and useless. After I have finished you, I will go and find that fool woman that you call a mate. Your bitch will die at my hands as well and she will die knowing the failure that you are" The deep voice dripped with scorn and arrogance.

He felt an icy fury run through his veins and he stood straighter. "If you think that I will let you near her or my child, you are sadly mistaken, Vegeta. The fury in his blood mounted, demanding that he show Vegeta once and for all who was the strongest. He was tired of taking the Prince’s insults. He was tired of letting every insult, and every low shot roll off his back. It was time for some payback. It was time to humble the proud Prince.

"Do you think you can stop me, third class?" Tossing his head back, Vegeta laughed deeply. "That is amusing." Crossing his arms over his chest, Vegeta stood, ramrod straight. Slowly, his mouth curled upwards, a cold smirk lending his features an evil cast. "By all means, Kakkarot, see if you can stop me. I welcome the challenge. It will make spilling your blood all the more sweet."

His rage was burning him, scalding his blood. He would show the bastard that he was no trifling fool. He was a Super Saiya-jin as well. His blood was as good as any that flowed through Vegeta, despite what the arrogant bastard thought. Perhaps he had not been blessed with a royal title, but his father’s blood was as strong as any Saiya-jin that had ever lived. Clenching his fists, he stepped forward. The time for Vegeta’s comeuppance was at hand, and he would be the herald that brought it forth.

Panting, Kakkarot came to. Lungs burning, he struggled to breath. While his heart thundered in his chest, he looked wildly about, finally settling his eyes on Vegeta who stood watching him warily. A strong bitter taste filled his mouth and he surged up to his feet. Furious, though he hardly knew why, Kakkarot lunged towards the Prince, the desire to spill his blood pumping hot and fast through his veins.

"You are nothing but low-born trash, Kakkarot, not fit to shine my boots. Your wife is nothing more than a common whore. " Vegeta’s voice rolled through his brain, scorching the membrane like burning acid, until he screamed from the fury the pain caused him.

He was tired of taking insult after insult from the bastard. Time and again Vegeta had thrown verbal assault after verbal assault in his face. He was tired of taking it! He was tired of having to swallow his own pride. He was a Saiya-jin warrior, just as Vegeta was. He had suffered under Frieza as well! The rage swelled within his heart, and the need to beat Vegeta to a pulp nearly overwhelmed him.

Vegeta watched as Kakkarot lunged towards him, screaming his wrath like a banshee and making the fine hairs on Vegeta’s neck stand on end. Whatever poison they had given him had seemingly worked. Kakkarot was practically frothing at the mouth, raging like a wounded animal cornered. He had never seen Kakkarot quite this way. Smirking, Vegeta felt something primal ignite within him, answering the challenge that Kakkarot seemed to be issuing. He had been waiting for the chance to show the third-class once and for all who the true Super Saiya-jin was. This gave him the perfect excuse.

Lowering himself, he prepared for the onslaught. "Are you going to attack me, Kakkarot, or stand there like a idiot?" Lip curled, he stared into the cold blackness of Kakkarot’s eyes.

"Watch your mouth, Vegeta," he warned. "You have no right to talk to me that way!" The rage was washing over him now; his control was fast slipping away from him. He thought he might drown in it as it flooded every part of his mind and body. He had never desired a battle as he did this one. The fury demanded that he destroy the man who was such a threat to him.

"What way?" Vegeta smirked wickedly. "You’ve always been a fool, Kakkarot. Is there any reason I should pretend otherwise?

With a sharp, piercing scream of fury, Kakkarot launched himself forward, fist raised. "I told you to shut up, Vegeta!"

"Are you going to make me, Kakkarot?" Vegeta chuckled mockingly again, sidestepping the blow. "How fitting that you should try." Apparently Kakkarot had gained nothing but an aggressive rage from the potion that was coursing through his blood. While he might normally be a challenge, his anger would blind him, and he would be unable to strategize as he needed to. His defeat was imminent.

"I’ll do more than try!" Flaring to Super-Saiya-jin, Kakkarot fired a ki blast which Vegeta easily deflected into the sky. Answering in kind, he made his own transformation to Super Saiya-jin, leaping aside as Kakkarot slammed down with his elbow.

"Nice try, Kakkarot," Vegeta smirked. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to defeat me."

"Do you think?" Smiling coldly, Kakkarot regarded the Prince smugly. "Is that why I always got the better of you in our training sessions?"

Vegeta made no answer. Angrily, he shot towards the taller man, shocked when Kakkarot made no move to deflect the fist that connected hard with his jaw. Flipping over Kakkarot, he landed lightly on his feet behind him.

"Tell me," Kakkarot asked coolly, keeping his back towards Vegeta. "What was it like to be Frieza’s bitch?"

Vegeta’s teal eyes flared wide and he felt the blood drain from his face. "Wh-what did you say?" He asked incredulously, fury flooding like molten lava through his system. Surely he had not just heard Kakkarot insult him in such a base way. No one was that stupid, not even Kakkarot. "How dare you speak to me that way?" Screaming in pure, unbridled rage, Vegeta blurred from vision, launching himself full speed and meeting Kakkarot in the air. Fists met flesh as they exchanged a volley of brutal hits for what seemed like hours, neither giving, neither missing.

"You bastard! How dare you speak to me that way? Do you think I enjoyed Frieza’s attentions? Do you think I enjoyed serving him?" His voice broke as he continued his vicious onslaught, delivering blow upon blow. "He took my pride from me, humiliated me, and forced me to serve his every command." His deep voice boomed in outrage and shame. "He forced me to bow before him like some common slave. I hated him, just like I hate you!" Spinning round, Vegeta delivered a brutal roundhouse kick, sending Kakkarot flying back several feet into a tree.

"Oh come on, you could have stood up to Frieza anytime, Vegeta. You were too scared. How shameful is it that?" Swiping his fist across his mouth, Kakkarot shot forward into the air. He was growing tired. Vegeta was not giving an inch, and he could feel his edge slipping as the fight drug on. He had to do something.

"Enough!" Vegeta roared in fury, blasting ki blast after ki blast at Kakkarot in a frenzied rage. When Kakkarot was fully surrounded, he smirked. "You fool, I will kill you." Bringing his hands together, Vegeta watched as the cluster of ki blasts rushed towards Kakkarot, igniting in one massive explosion.

"When the smoke had cleared, Kakkarot hung in the sky, arms crossed. "You will have to do better than that, Vegeta."

"Fine!" Vegeta screamed. "See if you can handle this!"

"I can handle anything you throw at me, I guarantee that, Vegeta." Kakkarot smirked coldly. The Prince had lost his cool. A few more insults and Vegeta would slide over the edge into a black raging oblivion, where all that existed was his anger. He would lose all sense in his desire to kill. His temper would make him foolish and ineffective.

"Fine," Vegeta spat, barreling up into the sky. Hovering. he cupped his hands together. The sky darkened and the wind howled around him as he gathered all the energy he could summon into one deadly blast.

Below him, Kakkarot cupped his own hands, and began the cadence of the blast that had become his signature move. The winds whipped around him as he focused his energy into his Kamehameha Wave.

"Ka…"

"Me…"

"Ha…"

Above him, Vegeta drew the last of the energy that he could. Targeting his blast so that it would focus all its force on Kakkarot, he began. "Final Flash!" He screamed, blasting a huge beam of burning blue energy towards the third class.

Kakkarot watched Vegeta’s blast streak towards him. Timing was everything and he knew that Vegeta had put everything he had into the blast.

"Me…" he intoned deeply, watching Vegeta’s blast cross the halfway mark.

"Haaaa…" He screamed, releasing a brilliant ball of energy from the palm of his hand. He watched as it streaked forward, colliding with the Vegeta’s Final Flash. Kakkarot felt the impact as they met, and he grunted, focusing all of his energy on holding Vegeta’s blast at bay, finally able to direct it away from him into the forest. The explosion lit the sky and around him trees and dirt and rubble blew with hurricane force.

Above him, Vegeta hung limply in the sky, body drained from the energy attack. He had put all he had into it. Sweat ran down his forehead, beading on his face and dripping down to the ground below. He watched as his blast exploded harmlessly in the forest and cursed, sheltering himself from the fallout. After the squall his blast had created quieted, he lowered himself to the ground amongst the wreckage, facing Kakkarot.

"Was that your best, Vegeta?" Kakkarot made a clucking sound with his tongue. "You seem to be losing your touch? I wonder if living with Bulma has finally taken its toll?"

"You bastard," Vegeta heaved, flying towards Kakkarot at full force. "I have had enough of your insolent tongue!"

"Really?" Kakkarot locked arms with him, pushing against him. Face to face they glared at each other. "Funny, I’ve been feeling the same way about you." Making a sudden, blurring move, Kakkarot head butted the Saiya-jin, and before Vegeta could react, is leg spun around in a brutal kick, catching Vegeta square in the arm. He heard the tell-tell sound of bone snapping as he landed like a cat on his feet.

Blood streaming from his nose, clutching his immured arm, Vegeta growled furiously whirling around to deliver his own brutal kick. Kakkarot managed to sidestep it, catching the boot in the jaw.

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Kakkarot grinned at Vegeta. "I think you’re done, Vegeta. Do you really want me to kill you?"

"I will never be done," Vegeta screamed in outrage and fury. On the attack, Vegeta engaged the third-class in a flurry of punches and kicks, defending himself well even with his broken arm.

"You have always been foolishly stubborn," Kakkarot said, blocking Vegeta’s furious punches, "And this time, it’s going to cost you." Smashing his fist into the Saiya-jin’s broken arm, he watched as Vegeta fell to his knees in agony. "Did that hurt?" He asked mockingly. Eyes gleaming, he leaned down, bringing his mouth close to Vegeta’s ear. "Rest assured, my Prince…I’m only warming up."

*********

"The moon is going to be gone any minute, Gohan." Trunks turned his long snout towards the huge ape that walked beside him. "I think we’ve gone far enough out to be safe."

"You do realize once we’ve transformed," Gohan pointed out. "That we are going to be buck naked."

"Thanks for mentioning that," Was it possible for an ape to blush, he wondered.

"It’s alright," the husky voice seemed tiny to him, but the familiarity of it blasted through his senses. Glancing down, he peered cautiously at the woman that rode in the palm of his hand. His mother, yet not. "I keep coveralls on all my ships. There have been far too may times that I have been forced to get dirty tinkering on one of them. There are bound to be tee shirts as well. They should do until we get back to the Peace Keeping Ship."

"Thank you," Trunks said politely, grateful that she had something he could cover himself with. He didn’t much relish the idea of sitting around for hours naked as the day he was born.

"Are you really Trunks?" Bulma asked shyly. How could it be possible that this was her son? It made absolutely no sense, but Bardock had told her it was. And she had seen the grown version of Gohan with her own eyes. She would know once she looked at this boy’s face. She had seen nothing of him but this giant, hairy ape. She longed for the transformation to wear off so that she might look upon his face and know the truth for herself.

"Yes," he murmured.

"How is that possible?" Bulma asked him. "I don’t understand."

"I promise I will explain everything to you just as soon as we get off this planet. For now, I’m going to put you down, and uh, transform. I think the moon’s time will be up here soon." Trunks bent, depositing his mother upon the rocky terrain. Beside him, Gohan did the same with his unconscious burdens. "Go ahead and get the ship ready. I was using the ST3000."

"That’s as good as any ship to get us off of here," Bulma replied, forcing her mind to the task at hand. He had said he would explain. She would have to believe that he meant that. Was this some weird time-space continuum? Had dimensions shifted to allow her adult son to come back in time? Growling, she reached into her pocket, grabbing at the capsules that Gohan had handed to her. Pulling them out, she strained to see the numbers on the side in the waning moonlight, looking for the ship they had used. Finding the correct one, she clicked and threw it, watching as a sleek, silver vehicle appeared before her.

"Go ahead in and get things ready, and could you, uh…" Trunks paused, embarrassed. "Could you please toss out those coveralls you mentioned?"

"Sure, kid," Bulma grinned. "Though if you’re Trunks, it isn’t anything I haven’t already seen." Smiling, she darted into the ship. She hadn’t realized that apes could look shocked. Making it into the ship, she hurried to storage, quickly yanking out two sets of coveralls. Throwing them down the ramp, she hurried back to the cockpit. She had just settled herself into the captain’s seat when a familiar fleeting presence shot through her mind. Joyfully, she reached for the contact, afraid that she might lose it, recoiling when she felt only cold, deathly anger.

Vegeta…she said hesitantly, trying to contact him. Her blood ran cold as she got another fast impression. It was a fury that seemed to be eating him from within. There was so much blackness… suppressing a shudder, she concentrated intently, taking deep, steadying breaths to calm her pounding heart.

He gave no answer and before she could try again, the feelings and impressions were gone. Shaken, she stared wide-eyed at the dashboard. W—what had that been? She had seen him in a fury, but she had never felt the rage that she had just touched. What was happening to him?

"Vegeta," she said worriedly into the silence of the cockpit. "I hope you’re alright."

**********

"You have enraged him. He’s out for blood," Areca remarked as she watched Kakkarot throw Vegeta through a tree. "Perhaps we should have moved the battle away from the village. They have destroyed half the buildings."

"Yes, I managed to find deep-seeded feelings of inferiority and anger between the two of them. They were both quite easy to work up. It must be the Saiya-jin blood. Mixed with the elixir…" she paused, smiling. "Let’s just say it was an explosive combination."

"Hmm," Areca said thoughtfully. "There seem to be fine men all around. But I wonder why it is they are golden?" Turning, she cast a furtive glance at Toma and Radditz who stood watching the battle anxiously from the sidelines. "My offspring will be the strongest ever born."

"Saiya-jin," the guard mused. "A warrior race and hot blooded at that with the capabilities of transformations to contain their power. Look at how powerful they are. Proof of that are the two that battle before you."

"You have done well, I will let you take the loser of this battle." Areca smiled and crossed to her throne; sitting down upon it she smiled imperiously at the two men who traded vicious blows. Pity that they weren’t truly fighting for her favors. They seemed to be oblivious to her very presence. Neither man seemed to have much interest in mating, only fighting. Proof of that was in the wreckage of her village. She supposed it was a small price to pay for such fine blood. The men could rebuild the village as soon as she had a child in her womb. They would make fine slaves.

"You have honored me, my Queen," the guard bowed low before taking up her sentry position before the throne. What a coup she had just achieved. Both were fine specimens, stronger than any man she had ever seen. Either way, she was not going to be disappointed. Perhaps her own child would be strong—stronger than even the Queen’s. Sliding the treacherous thought from her brain, she watched the battle silently, a small smile playing on the corner of her mouth.

"Yes," Areca smiled benevolently, sharpened teeth glimmering in the flickering light of the torches that surrounded them. "I know."

************

Toma watched them fight anxiously. He had never seen them like this. Kakkarot’s eyes glowed with a blood lust that he had never been witness to in the entirety of his life. The sight frightened him and that was saying a lot since nothing ever truly had.

And Vegeta had answered the call, responding to the fury within Kakkarot with a raging storm all of his own. They had beaten each other senseless, traded blast upon blast, and still the battle raged on. Whatever it was that the witch’s had ignited within the depths of their souls had worked.

"If they keep this up, they’re going to kill each other," Radditz said into his ear.

"This battle has been a long-time coming," Toma replied, heart leaping into his throat as he watched Vegeta careen into the ground with a massive explosion that shook the ground. "They have been working towards this moment for a long time."

"This isn’t exactly the best time for it," Brennon remarked, settling Trunks securely on his arm. "And what in the hell am I supposed to tell Bulma if that boy dies?"

"I can think of no way to stop it," Toma said, though he could concede the point of bad timing. His best friend—no, his brother sat on a planet surrounded by people who would see him dead. He had been just as guilty that day, he needed to be there helping Bardock, facing the enemy with him, not stranded here, surrounded by ugly women, watching two hot heads fight.

Yet Kakkarot was no hot head, not normally…and he was the youngest son of Bardock, as Radditz was the eldest, Toma reminded himself. He had a duty to Bardock to ensure that both brats made it off the planet alive. Not to mention his duty to his Prince. Toma was at odds with himself, wanting to leave and go aid Bardock, and knowing his true duty lie here, seeing this out. Sighing heavily, he crossed his thick arms over his chest.

"There is no way," Radditz said, "We have to wait until one of them gives."

"In that case, we’ll be here for a long while," Bulma’s mother shifted Gohan in her arms. The boy had fallen asleep. His small black head rested against her neck, and unconsciously she patted his back. She had found the small action soothed her as much as it seemed to help the small child. She had clenched him tightly on several occasions as she had watched the two men battle, but he had remained asleep. She wished she could afford the same luxury. How nice it would be to slip into slumber with no cares in the world.

Despite himself, Toma chuckled. "Perhaps we need to start making some kind of contingency plan. Whatever they forced down Kakkarot’s throat can’t last indefinitely. And at some point, one of them is going to give. Vegeta has a broken arm for Gods sake."

"He’ll never forgive Kakkarot," Radditz said pointedly. "I know Vegeta. If he loses this battle to Kakkarot, he will never forgive him. He will be out for Kakkarot’s blood. If my brother were himself, he’d understand that."

"Then we’d better pray that it ends in a tie." Toma said somberly, running a hand through his short crop of hair. "I guess all we can do is wait it out and hope for the best." And pray…he wanted to add. Pray to the gods that this didn’t end in some horrible tragedy.

*********

They had made it. Shortly after she had fired up the ship’s engines in warm-up, the moon had set and he and Gohan had reverted back to their original forms. The Kannassans had not bothered to give chase, or perhaps they had thought to wait until the moon had disappeared from their sky before they tried to get to them. There had not been time for them to attempt any mind control, and he had half-expected them to try. Either way, it had been an easy escape. They had both been exhausted from their transformations, but somehow they had found the energy to gather up Chi-Chi and Bardock and carry them aboard the ship.

His mother had been waiting for him, motioning them to a small area in the ship that held three bunks. He had not even seen it on his first trip in the ship. Of course he had been preoccupied and the need for the med bay had never arisen.

He guessed she had not been disappointed with her first real look at him. After he had deposited Bardock on the bunk, he had turned to face her. Staring down into her young face made his heart hurt as he remembered the older woman he had left behind. The mother whose life had been taken while he was away.

She had studied him for the longest time, silently contemplative. Tears had welled in her bright blue eyes as she caressed his face in awe and wonder. Her fingers had left no part of his face untouched as she had explored every hard angle and soft plane his face held.

"God, Trunks—" she had choked after a few minutes. "You look just like him."

"I hope that’s a good thing," he’d replied teasingly, resisting the urge to lay his exhausted head on her shoulder and weep. Seeing her alive, he couldn’t give voice to what that meant to him.

"It is," she’d sniffed, pulling away from him and dashing away tears. When she had managed to compose herself, she looked at him. "How?"

"It’s a long story," he’d mumbled tiredly. "Maybe you should get Bardock and Chi-Chi taken care of and then we can talk."

"Yes," she agreed. "And you look exhausted."

"Changing took a lot out of me…"

She nodded, turning to stare down at the inert body of Bardock. "I need to put him in the regeneration tank, though I have no idea what’s wrong with him. Other than the obvious," she’d added in afterthought. "Hopefully the tank will give me some readouts."

"What about my mom?" Gohan had asked, turning towards the woman who lay unconscious on the bunk.

"Yes," Bulma brow furrowed. "I have no idea what they’ve done to her. I might have to have the computer run some tests."

"Maybe they starved her," the words had burst from his mouth before he could stop them, and he still wasn’t certain why he had blurted it out. Her computer would have told her the problem. Perhaps it was the horror of what he had read in the Journal, and the knowledge that she carried a life within her. Whatever his reasons the words had effect as they had both turned to stare at him.

"It’s just a guess," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I don’t really know."

"But it’s a good guess," his mother replied. "Hachuu struck me mad enough to do something like that. If that’s the case, she’ll need to get nutrients intravenously to get her back to normal. It might take some time."

She didn’t know the half of it, he’d realized. And thankfully, she would never know just how mad Hachuu had really been. He was a bit surprised that she didn’t know about Chi-Chi’s pregnancy. Somehow she hadn’t found out in this timeline. But why?

"We’d better get them settled. Once we do that, you’ll want some explanations." He’d said.

"You mean how my grown son turned up?" She’d looked at him curiously. "Yes, I think that would be nice."

And so now, an hour later, here he stood, watching her from the shadows as she stared silently into the glass regeneration tank that Bardock floated in. Was he ready to face? How could he possibly give words to the horror that was going to occur, and the reasons for his flight into the future? Reaching down into the pocket of the coveralls, his fingers met the cold metal of the capsule that contained the Journal. He had left it in his small cabin when he had disembarked on Kannassa. It had been waiting for him, exactly where he had left it, when he had gone to retrieve it. He longed to read it, but first he had promised her answers.

Stepping out from the shadows, he approached her, voice low and gentle, "You care for him?" After what he had read, it seemed a foolish question, yet this was a different woman who had not had to endure the same horrors. He had watched the way she had looked at him, searching for any sign that she might have any serious love for the man, yet all he had seen was sadness.

She glanced up, blue eyes wide and startled. Seeing him, she smiled, turning back to the tank. "He’s a good friend. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him." Resting a hand on the tank, she studied Bardock’s scarred face.

"What’s wrong with him?" Trunks asked, moving to stand beside her.

She shrugged, raising blue eyebrows as she answered. " I have no idea. The readouts are telling me that internally there is nothing wrong. The only thing I am getting that might give me a clue are some really strange neurological readouts, but…" she shrugged again. "I don’t have enough training in medicine to tell you what they mean. There doesn’t seem to be anything abnormal…just a lot extra activity. Like he’s trapped in a dream, or something along those lines. Coupled with this comatose condition, it might be something…serious. I just don’t know."

"What about Chi-Chi?" He turned his blue gaze to the woman who lay slumbering on a bunk. She was covered with a silver thermal blanket, and tubes wound its way from a computer to her arm."

"She’s far worse than I could have ever imagined," Bulma let her hand slide off the cool glass of the regeneration tank. "Trunks…" she paused. "She is pregnant…and they were—" she turned her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "Your guess was right," she said after a moment. "They were starving her. She is in terrible shape. I’ve hooked her up to an IV and the computer is on a schedule to feed her in small amounts. It’s going to be slow going and I just don’t know…" Sighing, she collapsed into a chair. "I sent Gohan into the cockpit. He was pretty upset when he found out she’s expecting."

"I bet," Trunks sat down beside her, clasping her hand loosely. Scared as he was, he knew this woman, even if it were the younger version of her. He felt comfortable with her, and safe. "I’ll go and talk to him in a minute. How about you? Are you alright?" To his eyes she looked tired, and if he looked deeper, there were shadows in the depths of the blue eyes. Something was bothering her, something besides the conditions of Bardock and Chi-Chi. He knew his mother too well, and their seemed to be little difference between this young version and the older one he had left behind.

"Other than needing your father, I’m fine." Squeezing his hand, she turned her face to look at him. "I think," she said after a minute "That I’m ready to hear some of those explanations now."

Trunks looked down at their linked hands before nodding slowly. "Alright, but it isn’t going to be easy to hear. I’m going to warn you now."

Bulma stared at him intently for a long, silent moment. His blue eyes, carbon replicas of her own, never wavered as they stared back at her, telling her in no uncertain terms that his story was not pleasant. Biting her lip, she nodded. "I’m ready."

"I come from the future, which is something you have probably already figured out." Trunks sat back in his chair, running a hand through his short lavender hair. "I am who your Trunks will grow into."

"But how did you get here? Time travel isn’t possible, at least not yet."

"You make it possible," Trunks smiled. "I came in a machine you designed and built." Reaching into his pocket, he brought out his small case of capsules. He had nearly had a heart attack after he had transformed, thinking that they had been stashed in his Capsule jacket, which had been shredded as his body grew. It had taken him a moment to realize that he had left it, along with the Journal and his sword, in the ship. Flipping the case open, he handed it to her. "This one," he pointed. "This is your time machine. You create it in the future." Taking another capsule out, he clicked it, dropping it on the floor. A small refrigerator appeared before him, and he reached in, pulling out a cold drink. Grabbing another grape soda, he handed it to her. "Our favorite," he smiled shyly. "Before I left, you made…I mean, Mom, made sure that I was well stocked."

Accepting the drink with a smile, she popped it open, taking a long sip. "I needed that," she confessed. "I can’t tell you the last time I had a grape soda. And the Kannassans weren’t exactly great in their choices of beverages." Setting the can down beside her, she ran a finger over the capsule he had pointed out, studying it. "I knew it had to be me," she grinned after a moment. "There is no one else who could have figured the quantum physics out."

Trunks choked on his soda, nearly spewing it across the room. Surprised by her comment, he coughed as she pounded him on the back. After a moment, when he was able to breath, he looked at her strangely.

"It’s true, Trunks. There is no one who can rival Capsule Corporation or me. I’m not trying to be egotistical, but the fact remains the same. Surely that hasn’t changed?" She stared at him intently.

"Well no," he conceded. "But your reasons for building this wasn’t to further technology. You built because you didn’t think you had any other options."

"What do you mean?" Closing the capsule case, she handed it back to him. "I’ll want to see that when we have more space to open it up."

"Of course," he replied. Pocketing the case, he turned his blue gaze to her. "Before you left the planet to meet with the surviving Saiya-jin, a scientist emerged on Chikyuu. You might have heard of him…his name was Doctor Gero."

Her eyes lit in recognition, and she shook her head. "Yes, I did hear of him. He was blasted by the scientific community for questionable experiments with viruses. Actually, I think he was around a lot longer, because when I rebuilt the Corporation, I found several notes on him. I suppose you know about your grandfather…my real father who was killed by Frieza?" She asked questioningly. "I ahd always planned on telling you about your heritage…I can only assume that I got around to it."

He smiled. "You did."

Speaking of grandfathers, how is your other one in the future?" She looked at him expectantly.

The smile faded, and he glanced away. "I—" God, how was he supposed to tell her this? "He—" Correnia had been blown away by Koola during the battle, but she had yet to realize how serious a threat to the galaxy Koola really was. How did one tell a person that their home planet had been destroyed? And worse, what repercussions were there for tampering with the past? He could see nothing negative coming from it, since there was nothing positive about the place he came from. Still…

Bulma stood, eyes narrowing. "What’s happened? I can see it on your face…what’s happened to my father?"

"You need to sit down," he said gently.

"No, Trunks! I want you to answer me now!" Her eyes blazed a brilliant blue at him, and he winced. He had only seen that look when she had been in a full out fury. Taking a deep, calming, he began. "There’s going to be a battle not too long from now…a few months at the most. Koola, Frieza’s brother—"

"I’m well aware of who Koola is, Trunks. Get to it!" She snapped, regretting her angry words as she saw his face fall. Forcing herself to calm down, she laid a hand on his head. "Please…" she said softly. "I need to know."

Nodding, he pressed on, voice low. "Koola has gained fantastic power…and he is trying to take over the galaxy. There is a final battle on Correnia, but before he can be killed he manages to send a massive blast into the core of the planet. It—it blows up within minutes. Grandpa…Grandpa elected to stay with his people, as did Grandma."

She stared at his bowed head for a long quiet moment, trying to digest what he had just told her. "Is this where the story gets tough?" She asked hoarsely, crashing back down into her chair as her legs gave out from under. Trying to breath, she gulped madly for air, head spinning.

"Here, put your head between your knees," Trunks said, pushing her head gently down. "Remember it hasn’t happened in this timeline. You can still change it."

"My planet…" she croaked, shocked, gasping as a fierce pain gripped her heart, nearly rending it in two. "How could this happen? Was I there?"

"No," he said truthfully, rubbing her back.

"Why?" She asked in a small voice "Did I tell you why?"

"No, you never said." Trunks watched as slowly, she lifted her head. Her pale face was streaked with tears. Taking another calming breath, she laid back against the chair.

"God," she said at last, voice trembling. "When you said it would be hard…" her voice trailed off, and he sighed, wrapping an arm around her quaking shoulders.

"I’m sorry," he said. "I wish I didn’t have to tell you these things."

"I know," she whispered bleakly, her head resting against his shoulder as she tried to comprehend the horrific future he had just laid out for her. "I guess…I guess I will have to digest that bit of news later. How would she ever begin to accept that her parents and planet had been destroyed? He had said not too long from now…could she even think of stopping it? Was there enough time? Cold and numb, she sat back up. "Finish your story. We might as well get this all out in the open. We can decide later what to do with the information you are bringing."

"Alright," clearing his throat, he took another sip of his soda, giving himself a minute to regain his thoughts.

Reaching for her own drink, she followed suit, sipping from her can. "You mentioned Gero. I had heard of him. He was doing experiments on live humans…among other things. The article I read wasn’t too specific about what the other things were…seems like there was nothing concrete."

"The other things," he said bitterly. "Are the artificial humans. They were terrorizing Chikyuu while you were still on planet, but not too much. It seems Gero was well aware of the Saiya-jin presence on the planet. He didn’t want to take a chance on losing the artificial humans while he was still fine tuning them. After you left…well that is when he truly begins his rampage. He hears of the Dragonballs and seeks to use them for his own purposes.

"He did once, but you and father were able to steal them from him before he could use them. You locked them in a special safe you built, and hid them away. To this day, I don’t know what happened to it."

"Vegeta," she said. "He would be audacious enough to go and steal them back."

"It cost him his life," Trunks blurted out, knowing no other way to tell her but the most direct.

"What?" Bulma leapt to her feet. "Did you just say that—"

"Mom," Trunks stood, gripping her by her shoulders. "In my timeline you and I and Gohan and a few thousand humans are all that are left alive. In my timeline, Dad is dead."

Bulma stared at him, blue eyes wide and shocked. If he had thought she had taken the news of her planet badly, that reaction was nothing to the look upon her face now. Face ashen she shook her head, backing away from him. "No, she said finally. "He can’t die…he can’t be dead…I can’t—" Staring into his grim face, she realized that everything he said was true, that his reasons for coming to the future were far graver than she had ever imagined. "Oh God," she mumbled, mouth dry as cotton. "I think I’m…"

Eyes rolling back in her head, she pitched forward, and Trunks had barely enough time to catch her. Picking her up, he moved to a free bunk and laid her down gently upon it. He had known that this was going to be a shock for her. In less than a half-hour she had learned that her parents and husband were going to die, and the planet she had been raised on was going to be destroyed. Sighing heavily, he looked down at her. "I’m sorry," he whispered softly. "I wish that I had never had to come and give you such bad news." She still didn’t know that she was dead, or the true depth of Gero’s horror. He supposed he had best save that for later, when she was up to hearing it. Now—now he would let her sleep. After all that had happened it was the best thing for her. There would be time enough tomorrow to finish the discussion. Perhaps the discussion of Gero would be best saved for when he had gathered everyone together, his mother, his father, Kakkarot…

Plopping back down into his chair, he leaned his head wearily against the back of the chair. "He should really go and check on Gohan. His mother had told him that he was upset…but he was so tired, so worn out from the time on Kannassa. And sitting here like this, in the dim quiet of the med bay wasn’t helping anything.

He would leave Gohan alone for now. There was nothing he could say that would help ease Gohan’s distress anyway. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers closed around the capsule that held his mother’s Journal. There was so much more to learn. Perhaps something he read in the Journal would help him out. He had come too far forward in the future, and she had been the one to set the time. She had sent Gohan with a Journal that detailed the events that took place before they had come back to Chikyuu. All the clues seemed to point to the idea that she wanted him to change things.

The only way he was going to know what to change was if he read, and though there was a small part of him that was terrified about what he might read, the bigger part of him wanted—no needed to know. She had remained very quiet about most of the events that had occurred during this time. Some of it, like what had happened with Bardock, he could understand…but so much more had to have happened. He had to know.

Clicking the capsule he tossed it in the air, catching the book that materialized in a puff of smoke. Settling back, he opened the book and began to read.

********

Vegeta clutched his broken arm tightly, gritting his teeth against the pain of it. Blood dripped from various cuts all over his body, and one particularly nasty cut above his eyes oozed blood into his eye, clouding his vision. His anger had dimmed little, but now he felt the cold shock of a battle gone terribly wrong and faced the dawning realization that his greatest fear had come true: Kakkarot had managed to find a way to surpass him. He had seen it coming, and he had tried to forestall it by training extensively, but the third class had found a way regardless. The knowledge ate at him, and he felt a spark of shame within his depths that he had allowed it to happen.

"Are you ready to die, Vegeta?" Kakkarot called. Standing a few feet away from him, Kakkarot wore the smug look of a man who knew his opponent was beaten. Vegeta found the look, like the man who wore it, sickening. He would wipe it off the third class, if was the last thing he did.

"Fuck you, Kakkarot!" He called angrily. "You are the one that will die today!"

"That’s pretty cocky considering the shape you’re in," Kakkarot replied casually, voice a rough burr in the warm air. "Say what I am going to tell Bulma after I kill you?" He rubbed his chin, seeming to concentrate, before chuckling in amusement. It was a hoarse, ugly sound full of mockery. "Well, anyway…don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take of her for you. I’ll look after all her needs. It will be my pleasure." His tone was openly suggestive and before he had even gotten the words out of his mouth, Vegeta was upon him, kicking and punching, growling like an animal possessed.

"I will see you burn in hell!" Vegeta raged, snapping the Saiya-jin’s head back with a brutal left punch.

Slowly, deliberately, Kakkarot’s head came forward until he was but an inch away from Vegeta’s face. "I think you will be there long before I go," he taunted.

Before Vegeta could form an attack, Kakkarot arms shot forward in a blur of motion, gripping the Prince’s injured shoulders in an unrelenting hold.

Pain shot through Vegeta’s broken arm in excruciating waves, but he stood firm. Throwing his head forward, he slammed it against Kakkarot’s, sending the Saiya-jin staggering back several feet, freeing himself in the process.

In a blur of motion, he phased out of sight, reappearing behind Vegeta and locking him in a bear’s embrace. "You are wounded, Vegeta, and it is affecting this battle." Tightening his hold in small, agonizing increments. "Give it up."

"Never," Vegeta cried, straining to break free. Hearing the tell-tell snap of ribs as they gave out under the immense pressure that Kakkarot was applying. His vision swam dangerously until finally, mercifully, he extricated himself from Kakkarot’s grip. Weakly. He flew forward, landing a few feet away from the third class. A sharp stabbing pain shot through his body and he could taste blood in his mouth.

Kakkarot was right, he realized with a near maddened despair. He had lost too much energy to be fully effective. Whatever they had given Kakkarot had done far more than awaken his aggression. In doing so they had apparently opened the doors to new levels of strength for him. Cursing in rage and shame, he tipped his head back to the sky and flared his ki, searching the depths of his soul for any reserve power. He had to atone for his shame on the battlefield. He was the Saiya-jin Prince, he was the strongest, not Kakkarot whose seemingly endless power came from some herbal potion the witches had given him. He would not be humiliated in this battle. Kakkarot might have the upper hand in strength, but he had his pride.

"Are you giving up, Vegeta?" Kakkarot called.

Vegeta turned his head to stare harshly at Kakkarot. "I am the Prince of the Saiya-jin, you third class bastard!" He spat. "And unlike you, I have my pride. I will never give up!" Roaring with fury, he launched a ki blast at Kakkarot before rocketing forward. Connecting with the third class, they pushed against each other, elbows pressed together as each tried to make the other give.

"This has to be excruciating for you," Kakkarot grated out, holding his position against the Prince. "Why are you being such a fool?"

"I’m just getting started, Kakkarot!" Vegeta’s deep voice shook under the strain of maintaining his position, and despite the pain in his arm and chest, he held firm. "I’m just getting started!" Flaring his ki, he pushed forward, sending Kakkarot careening into the side of a rock wall. Pursuing, Vegeta grabbed him by the tail, and swung him into the ground. Before the third class could recover from the pain in his tail, Vegeta pressed his booted foot against his arm, pressing down. "Looks like we are going to be even," he smirked coldly.

"Get off of me, Vegeta!" Kakkarot moaned as the sharp jolts of pain continued to shoot through his tail and up his spine. Paralyzed. He stared hatefully into Vegeta’s face.

"Why would I do that, Kakkarot?" Vegeta’s deep voice was sarcastic as he continued to press down. Hearing the crunch of bone, he pressed harder, feeling the bone give in under his weight. Kakkarot cried out in agony before managing to bring his other arm up to knock Vegeta off his feet.

"You will not win this battle, Vegeta!" Kakkarot roared. "Damn you, I will not let you win!" Clutching his own arm, he leapt to his feet.

Vegeta stood, smirking. "How does it feel, you third class buffoon to know that you can’t win, no matter what you do." Vegeta stalked towards him.

"Oh there’s a way I could win, Vegeta." Kakkarot smiled coldly. "I just haven’t stopped so low to use it."

"Bring it on!" Vegeta smirked arrogantly, digging his feet into the ground. He would defeat the third class and redeem his honor. He was the Prince of the Saiya-jin, the mightiest of their warrior, and all would know it today.

* * * * *

Coming: The end of the battle, and finally Bulma and Vegeta are reunited; Plus we hear the rest of Trunks sad tale


Table of Contents
Chapter 3
Interlude - Mirai Bulma's Journal Part 2