Unlikely Bond
By Bdegrees

Chapter 4
Questions Unanswered

Bulma watched her son, who sat in front of the computer, typing furiously and stopping every now and then to jot down notes. He was taking this turn of events pretty hard. Probably, she considered, a result of his lack of experience with such situations. In his eighteen years, he had only ever been directly involved in the Buu fiasco. What he didn’t know was that his father had gotten out of worse binds than this. Hell being one of them.

He wasn’t just worried about Vegeta, she knew that, but his best friend and baby sister as well. Trunks had a tender heart, and she knew he blamed himself for what had happened.

Crossing the room she put her arms around her oldest child and hugged him tightly. Trunks paused in his work to place a hand on her arm.

“Don’t worry about a thing, baby,” she murmured, kissing the back of his head. “Your father has seen worse than a unruly group of Saiyans.”

“I know...” he replied quietly. “But...Bulla...”

She squeezed him tighter.

“He won’t let them harm one hair on her head. Besides!” She stood up, looking to Gohan who sat opposite Trunks going through several sheets of data. “He has Goku to help him, and those two always work well together.” The room was quiet, and the two Saiyans looked at each other incredulously. “Well...” she finished, “…when they have to, anyway....”

The trio was interrupted when the door to the lab was pushed open. They turned, seeing it was Mrs. Briefs.

“Look who came to visit!” she squealed happily, proceeding into the room with a large tray of goodies, Piccolo in tow.

“Piccolo!” Gohan greeted, his voice a mixture of happiness and relief. Piccolo gave a short nod in return before he spoke.

“I sensed a great disturbance, but there was nothing there when I arrived. I can no longer sense Goku or Vegeta. What has happened?”

Gohan glanced to Trunks who, if possible, began typing faster. He moved from the table to join Piccolo near the door.

“They were abducted.” He spoke quietly. He knew Trunks had superior Saiyan hearing, like himself, but felt that hushed tones would make the rehashing of the situation sound less harsh. “By Saiyans.”

Piccolo frowned.

“Saiyans? How is that possible?” Gohan shook his head, shrugging.

“We don’t have any real facts. Just that a group claiming to be Saiyans, who seemed to actually be Saiyan, appeared and grabbed Bulla. Goten and Pan tried to fight them, but they took Goten as well. Vegeta and Trunks sensed the energy surges and went to help. They got there first, but Vegeta sent Trunks away from the battle. My father arrived to help, and somehow they were both overpowered.”

“Unbelievable....” Piccolo stated, folding his arms. “I’m sorry, Gohan. Is your daughter safe?” Gohan nodded.

“Trunks sent her to get my father. She’s at home with her mother right now. She’s not hurt but a little upset.”

“Understood. What plan are you working on to retrieve them?” The two turned to Bulma and Trunks.

“Well,” Trunks began, since he was the only one of the two who had heard their conversation, “using the same technology that my mother invented for the dragon radar, I’m programming this computer to detect the individual signatures of my father and Uncle Goku.” He turned away from the screen. “I had to retrieve that information from the regeneration tanks that my parents fashioned after the Saiyan-style tanks. Seeing as our fathers are the only ones ever to have used them, they’re the only two I can actually scan for.”

“But they are no longer on Earth,” Piccolo reminded him. Trunks nodded.

“I know. That is why I’m networking this computer to the one on the old Capsule 3. My father used it to search for Uncle Goku in space. My mom is working on getting it flight worthy, again. Then I can reroute the power from the gravity generator to the radar. I should be able to get quite a wide range. My mother built such a sophisticated system to handle the gravity unit that I can essentially turn it in to one giant radar satellite.”

Piccolo turned this information over in his mind. It was at least one option.

“The ships weren’t styled for luxury, since only Vegeta and Goku ever used them,” Bulma continued. “up to three people should be able to be comfortable enough for a two to three week period. But I think we will definitely find them by then.”

“I will meet with Dende and see if there is anything he can do to assist,” Piccolo stated. “I will return when I have news.”

“Thank you, Piccolo,” Gohan spoke honestly, walking with him back to the door. Piccolo inclined his head again in farewell before leaving.

“Alright, boys,” Bulma announced rolling up her sleeves. “I’m off to the hangar. As soon as you two are ready to upload, feel free.”

“Right,” they replied in unison. Gohan gave Trunks a hearty clap on the back before he settled across from him again. Trunks took a deep breath, looking back to the code on his computer screen. He hoped this was going to work. He had to make things right….

~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of food, even alien food, got the better of Goku, and he finished off the meal that they were provided all by himself. He had offered to share at various stages of its diminishment, but Vegeta declined, sometimes rather forcefully and with colorful language. Goku was now stretched out sideways across the bed, staring at the ceiling. Vegeta stood unmoving by the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Goku rolled his head to the side and watched his companion. He wanted to ask what the other was thinking, but he feared the verbal backlash. Oddly, it seemed that without their ki energy, Vegeta just might have more actual physical strength than the taller of the two.

Rolling onto his side, Goku propped his head up with his hand. He needed to know what Vegeta was planning. Without his strength he had little idea on his own how to get the kids back.

“Vegeta,” he began, earning a look of extreme irritation. “What do we do now?”

Vegeta continued to glare for a moment. He didn’t want to admit that at the moment, he really had no idea.

“We could always play cards, Kakkarot,” he sneered. Goku grimaced. He didn’t have any cards. “I’m not serious, fool,” Vegeta grumbled as if reading his mind. “Now shut your wind-hole before I do it for you.”

Goku frowned.

“That’s not very nice....”

Without warning, the door to their cell slid open. Instead of the young Saiyan Daikkon, it was an older man. His face was weather-beaten and scarred, his dark brown beard peppered with gray. His eyes were narrowed menacingly as he looked between the two.

Vegeta crouched down into a defensive stance. Goku rolled back over to sit up on the bed, but made no other move.

The man moved swiftly into the room toward Vegeta. Vegeta threw a punch that was quickly deflected, and in a flash the man had the prince pinned to the wall by his neck. Vegeta struggled again the restraint, digging at the hands at his throat, the tips of his boots barely scraping the ground.

Goku jumped to his feet, the guard at the door shouted something incomprehensible.

“Let him go!” Goku demanded, grabbing the man by the arm and yanking with all his strength. The Saiyan barely registered Goku’s attack, but turned and shoved him to the ground. Goku landed with a loud thud, his hip bone jolting with pain upon connecting forcefully with the hard floor.

The Saiyan turned back from Goku to Vegeta, who still struggled against him.

“The children,” the man snarled at Vegeta in their native tongue, tightening his grip, “are halflings!?” Vegeta’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, and he gasped for greatly needed breath. “Half-breeds!” His attacker pulled back his other hand and gave a crushing punch to Vegeta’s midsection before his fist opened and closed down on Vegeta’s shirt, giving him the leverage with which to haul the powerless prince over his head and throw him across the room. Vegeta crashed into the opposite wall and dropped in a heap on the floor.

Goku watched with his mouth agape, waiting for a sign of movement. He realized he had been holding his own breath when he saw Vegeta take a sharp, gasping inhale. He wished, however, that Vegeta had been knocked unconscious. He knew from experience that no matter how outmatched or outnumbered, Vegeta refused to give up. Even when his opponent has such an unfair avantage.

Vegeta rolled onto his back and pulled himself to his feet. He spat blood on the floor; he’d bitten his tongue upon colliding with the wall. Slowly, he crouched back down, his hands drawing back, ready for the next move. Goku knew that stance, and it said one thing: Bring it on.

“You are more pathetic than we first assumed, your highness,” the man sneered in disgust. “Not only did you abandon your people and hide amongst the humans, you bred with them as well. How could you share the blood of the noble Saiyans with such an unworthy race? You have no honor.”

“Do not talk to me about honor!” Vegeta rasped. “You show your cowardice by refusing to fight me Saiyan to Saiyan. Using spineless methods of stealing our energy. You know nothing of honor!!” The old Saiyan shook his head in disgust.

“I want nothing of what you think is honor, King Vegeta. You, whose people suffered while you contentedly played the part of Frieza’s whore!”

Goku couldn’t imagine what the Saiyan could possibly have said to earn such a reaction from Vegeta. The attack was soundless as Vegeta crossed the room in the blink of an eye and landed as many as ten solid punches before the other could react. But when he did, this time it left Vegeta unconscious. Goku’s hands balled into fists as the Saiyan turned his eyes upon him. He spoke so Goku would understand.

“The male....is yours?”

Goku gave a slow, unsure nod.

“Yes,” he replied. “My son....”

“So you are a third class as well.”

Goku never understood the meaning of that, but he had heard it enough times in his life not to doubt the truth of the statement.

“Yes.”

The Saiyan kept his eyes on Goku for a moment longer than was comfortable before turning and striding from the room.

When the door shut, Goku dropped to his knees and pulled Vegeta into his arms. He placed the prince on the bed, wishing to Kami that he had a senzu bean at this moment.

Goku turned, surprised when the door opened again. He sighed in relief when he saw it was Daikkon.

“I apologize for General Horenz,” Daikkon spoke as he crossed the room to stop at Vegeta’s side. “He’s not a man of words.”

“Are many Saiyans?” Goku asked sadly. Daikkon’s expression was regretful.

“No, I suppose not. But surely you must know that there are exceptions, as you appear to be one yourself.”

Goku shrugged.

“My brother said it was because of a blow to the head I suffered as a child. I suppose I’ll never know. But you,” Goku returned. “You don’t seem to be the average Saiyan, either.”

Daikkon remained quiet a moment as he attended to Vegeta’s wounds.

“I suppose not,” he replied quietly. “But my mother was not your average Saiyan as well, I guess.”

“Wow,” Goku laughed. “I never really thought about it, but I guess there are Saiyan women!” Daikkon didn’t meet his eyes as he spoke.

“No. There are not.”

Goku sobered up quickly.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“Don’t be. My mother died an honorable death. She is surely in Kathor now, with the great king.”

Goku’s brow creased with confusion.

“Ka...kathor?”

Daikkon did smile now.

“What humans would call Otherworld, or Heaven I suppose. Where the mighty and righteous Saiyans spend eternity.”

“Oh! Otherworld!” Goku exclaimed. “Yeah, it’s nice. Hm...I didn’t know Saiyans believed in the afterlife.”

“Very much so,” Daikkon told him, placing a bandage on the last of Vegeta’s wounds. “You are an odd Saiyan who does not speak our language and who asks such questions.”

“I was raised on Earth, by humans,” Goku explained. “I didn’t meet my first Saiyan until I was in my twenties. And, huh...” he rubbed the back of his head as he remembered. “That didn’t go over so well.”

“Very interesting.” Daikkon stood. “I would love to share more with you.” Goku’s voice became serious.

“Well, we don’t intend to be here very long. Vegeta will find a way to get us out of here.”

Daikkon’s expression was grave, and he shook his head.

“I’m afraid that escape might not be possible for even the son of the great king.” He spoke solemnly. “Not when those around me are as determined as they are. They will stop at nothing to secure their plans.”

“What are their plans?” Goku whispered in earnest. “Daikkon, I know you don’t want harm to come to us. Please, what are they planning?”

Daikkon’s eyes darted back and forth between Goku’s, and Goku could see the struggle within him.

“I...I cannot say. Just know that you are in no mortal danger. They...they need you alive.”

Goku frowned.

“Why?”

“I believe the children no longer factor into the equation...or, at least I hope....” He seemed pained a moment before he continued. “But you are the last of the third class. And you are of full blood.”

Goku brought his hands out to his sides in exasperation.

“But what does that mean?” he insisted. Daikkon regarded him with wide eyes a moment.

“I will bring you a vid screen to speak with your children. We will talk more then.”

Before Goku could utter another syllable, he was gone.




TBC

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