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Resolution on a Lonely Planet	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 5386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
He felt foolish as he sat upon the floor with his son from the future. This form of training was elementary; a skill Vegeta had learned when he was merely a child. But humans were far behind most species in their forms of training and martial arts. Hell, Kakarot had barely known how to fly until his teenage-years, and even then the lazy saiyajin relied on that ridiculous nimbus cloud. Vegeta had been able to rip apart living beings ten times larger than he was by the age of four.

Vegeta smirked when he saw how eager his son was. How human of the boy to be excited over simple telekinesis.

Dressed in a loose, long-sleeved shirt and tan sweat-pants, Vegeta crossed his legs and arms, hiding the twinges of pain that thoroughly reminded him of previous days of extreme training. The saiyajin prince was hydrated again, his stomach full, and body well-rested, but Vegeta still hadn’t obtained a higher level of super-saiyajin. He would play Trunks’s game and then continue his training. He planned to discover the darkest, most dangerous depths of this hyperbolic time chamber…even if it killed him.

“We’ll create a middle-space where our minds can meet,” Trunks explained as he pulled his long hair into a pony-tail. “That way neither of us will have the advantage of being the host mind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vegeta muttered.

He could sense his son rolling his eyes, but Vegeta had already lowered his lids in concentration. Clearing his mind of all distractions and useless thoughts, the saiyajin prince easily slipped into a meditative state. Floating in darkness, yet surrounded by swirling blasts of colorful, non-existent light, Vegeta felt the odd sensation of something trickling into the imagined space; as if a chill had run up the back of his neck. The flame-haired prince “stared” forward into the darkness as something blue and lavender shimmered before him and took the form of his tall son.

“Yep, it looks the same as when Gohan and I used to do this,” the young man commented as he stared around the open, never-ending atmosphere. “I always thought it looked kinda like space—solar systems and galaxies and—AH!”

The image of Vegeta leapt forward and struck, his fist skimming Trunks’s cheek. The boy’s once-large, curious eyes quickly took on an animalistic sharpness and Vegeta’s extended arm was grasped firmly. Even though the two were not truly touching, their levels of concentration and telekinetic strengths were astounding. They could feel the hits, calculate each others’ energies, and even smell the sweat that was already beginning to bead.

Vegeta allowed himself to be tossed over his son’s broad shoulder and he wasted no time in pushing daintily from the invisible floor. Vegeta rammed into Trunks harshly and smirked as the boy flew back, massaging the pained arm. There was a brilliant explosion of purple and the demi-saiyajin rushed forward, his hair fanning wildly behind him and then narrowing to a point as it was thrown back by his speed. Fists connected, kicks slammed into flesh, and two warriors panted in each others’ faces as the mental battle grew more frenzied.

The fight intensified and Vegeta was becoming both impressed and frustrated with his son’s ability to not only keep up with him, but match him with every strike. Leaping backwards, both saiyajins screamed at the same time as their energies soared, the black space of their minds alighting with blinding, yellow light. The opponents glared at one another, before both cracking identical smirks.

“Your hair looks ridiculous,” Vegeta chortled.

Trunks’s long locks stretched from his scalp wildly, the weight of the golden hair being forced up by his amazing power.

“It won’t look as ridiculous as your face when I win this.”

“Oh-oohhh!”

Vegeta had to admit, he always enjoyed it when his opponents played along with his little game of trash-talking. So often he had found Trunks too soft and overly emotional, but it was moments like these that made the saiyajin prince feel a surge of pride at his son’s arrogance. The boy was much like his mother in that respect: seemingly clueless, simple, and naïve, then suddenly sharp and downright harsh.

“Well then,” Vegeta mused, “game on.”

The mental spar went on for quite some time. While their bodies did not physically hurt, their brains were becoming exhausted much in the same way as a hand-to-hand battle. No real ki was thrown, but in their minds, it was a light-show of energy. Their emotions were intense and the darkened shadows of their imagined ‘arena’ created an almost haunting, foreboding effect.

Landing hard on the ‘ground,’ Vegeta winced and panted. Trunks came to a stop a few yards away.

“I see the point of this now,” the prince barked. “Whoever gets bored first is the loser?”

Trunks chuckled even though there was no humor in the exhausted laugh. He closed his eyes and tried to pull his long, blond hair from his face, but the sweaty strands returned to their original spot. Opening his eyes, his green irises burned with fire.

“One of the main reasons Gohan started me off with this kind of training was to prepare me for the androids,” the younger fighter explained. “He wanted to show me what to expect.”

As Vegeta opened his mouth to respond, the image of his son flickered before disappearing completely. Instantly crouching into a defensive position, the powerful warrior scanned his surroundings, opening his mind in search of his son’s power-level.

A delicate hand landed on his shoulder and Vegeta spun, a ball of energy already exploding from his fingers. The brilliant, fuchsia ki just barely missed the smooth, flawless face of Android 18.

“What?!”

Vegeta leapt back, his eyes darting in all directions as he expected his son to appear from the shadows. Yet, the only person within their little “mind-world” was the beautiful, blonde android. In her blue jean jacket and striped shirt, she gave a flirty wave and mockingly smiled.

“Any fighter can imagine another person and bring them into the mind-training,” the silky voice of 18 explained. “But it takes real skill to actually become that person: Energy, personality, and exact fighting style.”

Vegeta relaxed his body and straightened, but he was still nervous. The last time he encountered this android, it had not been a wonderful experience. The prince’s left arm tingled and he shook off the fear creeping within him. Trunks was right. Any fighter of small skill could imagine themselves as another person or creature. Hell, Vegeta could fill the space up with ghostly shadows of his past enemies…but it would take extreme skill to control each one precisely. To match an image’s exact skills and unique powers was something the prince had never done with this form of training.

“You can still feel my power, yes?” the gorgeous, blue-eyed warrior asked. “And I mean ME, as in the Trunks that is sitting a few inches in front of you in the time chamber. But…you cannot feel 18’s power level.”

Vegeta blinked in surprise. When they had been fighting earlier, Vegeta could sense both his son at rest and the imagined super-saiyajin matching him blow-to-blow. The intelligent boy had somehow managed to mask his power-level, too!

“But don’t worry, Vegeta,” 18 purred. “We’re still in this between-space of imagination. I can’t access your thoughts and you cannot access mine.”

“Ha!” Vegeta barked, finally breaking the eerie silence that had been filled with his enemy’s mocking voice. “As if you could read my mind.”

18 laughed and folded her arms. “Your mental barriers are beyond strong,” his son’s illusion replied. “But let’s see how well your concentration lasts when you go up against an android.”

Vegeta crouched and smirked, his lips slowly pulling back into a crazed grin. “You made a fool of me once, robot. Now I’ll rip you apart!!”

The combatants charged each other, their fists and legs lashing out wildly as their powers clashed. It was amazing. There was not a single move that appeared familiar in Trunks’s repertoire as he posed as the cold, lightning fast android. Vegeta would have been impressed if he hadn’t already forgotten that this image he was fighting was actually his son. All he saw was his defeat at the hands of the smirking, cool woman.

The saiyajin prince became crueler and harsher in his attacks. A few solid punches to 18’s face sent streams of blood soaring through the air. Their energies sparked and sizzled, lighting the darkened environment with brilliant flashes of color.

‘I won’t be defeated again!’ Vegeta screamed within his mind. ‘The saiyajin prince stands above all!’

One exceptionally powerful blow struck 18 directly in the nose, sending her sailing into the distance. She landed in a heap and flickered strangely before disappearing completely.

Vegeta stood still for a moment, gauging the situation, before thrusting his chest out proudly. Powering down, the saiyajin’s black hair blended with the quiet land and his dark eyes followed some twirling lights as they danced in the imaginary space. His days of being held back were over. He had his life taken away by Frieza—every inch of his pride torn apart by Zarbon, Dodoria, and the Ginyu Force. Kakarot had stolen his rightful place as the first and original super-saiyajin. Vegeta had trained so hard in preparation for the androids…and he had been humiliated and broken in the end.

But now he could feel it. The next level of super-saiyajin was in his grasp and he would be the first. He had defeated this android and Cell would be next. Vegeta was no weakling. He would show these Earthlings true warrior pride.

As Vegeta prepared to disconnect his mind from the image-training, the ‘floor’ shifted strangely a few feet away. The darkness appeared to crack open and a shadow moved within the creaking ground. A child’s voice began to cry, the hiccupping gasps echoing off the imagined space where Vegeta stood.

“They destroyed everything!” the high-pitched, sobbing voice wailed. “Mommy, Daddy! Where are you?”

Vegeta smirked and crossed his arms. “Really? Trying to evoke some sympathy from me? Boy, do you not know who I am? I’ve done far worse than these tin-toys of your time.”

The voice continued to cry and the lump in the floor quivered with each, quaking gasp. With a mocking groan, the short saiyajin strode up to the crack in the ground and peered down at the hidden ‘person’ within the floor.

“You lost so now you’re trying to get me to pity you and your sad life?” Vegeta teased. He waved his hand and turned to walk away. “Couldn’t even face me in defeat. Has to hide behind masks of bitch-androids and crying children. If the entire human race is depending on you to be their savior, I’m afraid they’re shit-out-of-lu—”

“One thing Vegeta,” the voice of Android 17 hissed. “Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Vegeta spun to face his new opponent but only caught a flash of metallic, blue eyes and the barrel of a hand gun before his world exploded.

Vegeta instantly found himself experiencing a terrifying, turbulent sensation of being hauled downward by some immensely powerful force. The left side of his head screamed in agony; every dull thump of his heart causing his skull to throb and bleed. He was pulled from the dark, space-like world of the image-training and for one brief second, his wide eyes met Trunks’s shocked face as he grew fainter and fainter. Vegeta was falling from him…falling from the darkness and suddenly into light.

Jutting rocks scraped his body and the wind was knocked out of him as he slammed into what felt like a mountainside or cliff. Vegeta’s world spun and swirls of skeletal trees and a slate sky blurred together until he finally crashed onto solid ground. He choked on blood…so much blood. How had this happened to him? Where was he? His head hurt so badly. It was silent all around him. The day could have been peaceful, pleasant…yet mounting fear began to build within the saiyajin prince as he found he could not move.

Harsh, wavering breaths escaped his parted lips and Vegeta’s eyes stared blindly into the canopy of naked, dying trees. This world felt so familiar and deep within the recesses of his addled mind, a dull terror began to grow. He felt trapped in a nightmare that was all too real. A dark part of his mind knew that there was something horrifying about this situation, but Vegeta’s conscious thoughts were hazy with confusion.

The sounds of the prickly bushes to his right helped rouse the seemingly paralyzed prince as the dry leaves trembled and slowly parted. Blurred and obscured, the body of a lanky, tall figure appeared. With watering eyes and an aching head, Vegeta could barely make out any details of this person besides a shocking scalp of neon-yellow/green hair. The hunched, morbid body was clad in black, but to Vegeta its twisted details appeared out-of-focus, making the saiyajin unable to truly identify who or what it was. Colorful shoes rested on the cool ground and the figment stood, unmoving as it seemed to stare forward with a slanted, blurred grin. But in this phantom’s hand was Android 17’s gun. The spindly body twitched unnaturally as if suddenly noticing the helpless being on the cold, hard ground of the vast forest. It crept forward, almost flickering and shuddering like a recording on a scratched film reel.

Vegeta couldn’t comprehend who this…creature was or why he felt so terribly horrified, but his mouth opened anyway: gaping, huge. A scream tried to escape, but he could not make a sound. Lying in the dirt of some strange forest, the saiyajin prince was paralyzed as the hazy figure lurched forward. Its blurred mouth was moving, but the words were muffled. Still Vegeta tried to scream. Absolute, mind-numbing terror gripped him and the worst part was he didn’t know why. He just knew that he didn’t want this monster anywhere near him.

Wavering gasps of air escaped the defeated warrior’s wide mouth and his pained body trembled violently, but no one was going to save him from the tall, obscured thing that stood over him. The sun became blocked by the spiked hair of the shadowed man and slowly, the nightmarish thing bent down, one long finger reaching toward Vegeta’s face. He screamed and screamed, but no sound escaped him. He felt a fingernail trace the giant, fractured wound along the left side of his head. And then the gun lifted. The gun was the only thing that appeared completely clear within Vegeta’s nightmare, every groove and detail shimmering brightly in the fading sun.

The cold metal of the weapon traced Vegeta’s forehead, trailed down along his nose, and then outlined his open, quivering lips. And the saiyajin prince could do nothing. The stranger’s blurred face suddenly jerked forward. For a few seconds the blurred blue eyes were clear and a glimmering rod in his eyebrow lifted as the young, savage man grinned, the hoop encircling his lower lip stretching along with his cruel smile. The gun was shoved into Vegeta’s mouth.

“Get up,” the man whispered darkly. “I said get up, monkey. Unless you wish to die in the dirt where you belong.”

Unable to move, Vegeta could only stare into the eyes of this madman...this person he did not know. The thin man gave a playful shrug and pulled the trigger.

Vegeta screamed then. His fingers dug into the arms of the person gripping his shoulders and he could not stop the terrified sounds escaping his aching throat. Someone was shaking him, talking to him, but the saiyajin prince was not there. The nightmare still had a powerful grip on him and Vegeta’s body was in a rigid state of shock as Trunks tried to calm him.

“NO! NO!”

Wrenching his body away from the person hovering over him, the saiyajin prince screamed horribly, his eyes mere pinpoints as he gazed into the curved ceiling of the hyperbolic time chamber. But all he saw was that face, blurred again, but obviously smirking. He found he couldn’t remember any specific attributes of the monster from his shocking nightmare, but that long, devilish grin remained with him. And that gun: a human toy that normally made him laugh.

The terror was real, though. This complete, absolute fear was familiar and Vegeta’s body twisted and shook as his screams slowly became choking whimpers and groans of despair.

“Father,” Trunks said softly.

He held the black-haired saiyajin in his arms, ignoring the fingernails digging into his muscled forearms. Trunks was incredibly shaken from the entire ordeal. When his image-persona had taken on the form of Android 17, he never would have expected such a reaction from his father. A gun would never scare a warrior of Earth much less the saiyajin prince. Yet, when he had fired the weapon, Vegeta’s reaction was instantaneous. The bullet had barely grazed the prince’s head, taking off only a few inches of black hair from the left side of his head.

But their fantasy-land of training became shattered. Trunks could only watch in absolute shock and horror as the dark land around them lurched and broke, shattering like a mirror. Something invisible grabbed his father from behind and hurled him backwards. But the most horrifying part of it all was Vegeta’s blank expression. It appeared as if he had entered a second dimension of an imaginary land…perhaps one within his own head. Trunks ran after him, but his father was swallowed by the crumbling darkness and the young demi-saiyajin could only watch helplessly as the stricken warrior began to fade.

“No! Father!”

Trunks reached his hand out and was stunned to feel his senses connect with his father’s mind. The prince normally had solid walls blocking anyone from viewing his thoughts or even picking up on any passing emotions, but the lavender-haired warrior found he could nose his way partly into Vegeta’s psyche. Whatever was happening to his father weakened his mind terribly.

Trunks couldn’t pick up on any direct thoughts coming from the saiyajin prince, as it appeared his mental barriers had become extremely frazzled, but he did catch a glimpse of something downright terrifying as it traipsed through the addled warrior’s mind. Viewing the strange figure from a distance, Trunks stood dumbstruck as he observed the over-exaggerated features upon the twisted invader. The limbs were too long. Skeletal fingers hung from stretched hands and spider-like legs carried the humanoid phantom forward. Trunks held his breath as the fuzzy, bleary figure moved deeper into the hidden corridors of his father’s mind. Darkness surrounded the monster…an air of evil so sinister it held Trunks where he stood.

The creature cracked its neck and slowly peered over one bony shoulder. Trunks gasped as its face remained blurred along with the rest of its faulty body…everything hazy except for a large, toothy grin. It held a gun in one hand. Trunks had faced monsters his entire life, but he found he could not move forward. Simply watching as the gangly figure lurched into the darkness, the young warrior from the future backed away and exited Vegeta’s mind, rushing to return to the real world as soon as possible.

Breaking the mind-link, Trunks opened his eyes to see his father screaming, his body shoving against the couch behind him as he fought the thing that invaded his thoughts. The prince’s dark eyes were wide-open, but unseeing. Staring at the ceiling above, Vegeta writhed and twisted on the carpeted floor, his fingers digging into the carpet and couch padding as unsettling cries escaped him.

To Trunks it looked like his father was being possessed by some unseen force, but he knew it was the nightmare occurring in his mind that made him contort his body as if trying to back away from the evil that had descended upon him.

‘He’s trapped in a night-terror,’ Trunks thought grimly. “I guess I get that from you,” he said sadly as he approached his father and gripped his shoulders tightly.

The young warrior from the future knew about his own episodes of awaking in the night, screaming as if he were being killed. It had happened more often in his youth, but Trunks would still be startled awake by his mother from time-to-time, even in his adult-years—out of an awful sleep that left him shaking for hours. Trunks existed in a time where people lived in a constant state of terror. He’d witnessed helpless people strewn across destroyed cities, their bodies burned, limbs missing, or blood staining the broken pavement. He and Gohan had learned to accept the carnage that the androids had brought to their lives and together they had fought to save as many as they could. During the day, Trunks viewed death and destruction as something to fuel his vengeance against Androids 17 and 18, but at night, when he would dream, his hopelessness and terror became all too true…too real.

And now it seemed that the arrogant, stoic man who was his father had also buried his past deep within himself. The monsters and horrors he had witnessed (or perhaps brought on himself) still caught up with him in his sleep.

Trunks shook the smaller saiyajin harshly, yelling his name. When Vegeta wouldn’t calm down, Trunks placed the palm of his hand against the prince’s sweaty forehead. He connected minds once again for only second, and sent a small jolt of energy through his father’s skull. It was a technique Gohan had used on him when Trunks had one of his fits, and it was usually quite effective.

Vegeta’s screams silenced at once and he sat straight up, eyes-wide as they glared into the ceiling. Trunks’s hands rested on his father’s quivering shoulders and he said his name softly. With a twitch of his head, Vegeta blinked and then looked directly into his son’s face. There was no blurriness; Trunks’s expression clearly spoke of his concern. There was no long, stretched grin. That cursed android 17 had…no…his son’s false image had the gun. Only…that final figment wasn’t a product of his son’s imagination. Vegeta’s own mind had created that false villain. But….something told Vegeta that whatever he had witnessed may not have been a simple, passing nightmare.

“Who was that?” a curious voice asked. “Or…what was that?”

Vegeta glanced down at the hands squeezing his shoulders and he pushed the larger warrior away. Standing, Vegeta had a moment of dizziness and he uncharacteristically gave into the vertigo. Sitting upon the couch, Vegeta clasped his trembling hands together and leaned onto his knees, shaking his head in confusion.

“I don’t know.” The softness of his voice surprised Trunks. “It doesn’t matter,” Vegeta snapped. “Old, dead memories stay dead, so forget about it.”

He seemed to talk to himself more than to his bewildered son. Trunks had never seen his father so shaken.

“Father…you were awake. Or at least, your eyes were open. I saw that tall, lanky thing in your psyche. That wasn’t…normal.”

Vegeta growled lightly and glared at his hands as they squeezed together. He felt utterly humiliated. His son kept seeing him at his weakest.

“Look, kid, it’s not like this hasn’t happened before. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Trunks was silent for a moment. He could tell that his father was becoming angrier the more they talked about the strange episode, but the young swordsman was intrigued.

“I…I get them, too.” The words did not cause a reaction from Vegeta at all. “I think it’s just proof that we’ve seen a lot of awful things in our lives—probably more than Goku or any of the other guys. We’re saiyajins…so we just don’t talk about it. It’s only in our nightmares when our real feelings come out.”

“Ok, enough!” Vegeta stood and stormed away from the blathering, soft-hearted fool. “You proved how pointless that image-training is. Tomorrow we fight.”

Swiftly, the annoyed prince disappeared into his room, leaving Trunks standing in the middle of hyperbolic time-chamber smiling sadly and shaking his head.

…………….

Speaking to Vegeta so directly had brought forth a surge of emotions in Goku. As he, Gohan, and Mr. Popo sat outside the hyperbolic time chamber, the third-class saiyajin frowned as unfamiliar and unsettling thoughts and feelings overwhelmed him.

Piccolo had been fighting Android 17 and it seemed that this new monster, Cell, was quickly arriving to the scene. The stress of that entire situation weighed greatly on the protective warrior, but for the past two hours, Goku could not keep his thoughts away from Vegeta.

The usually forgiving, kind-hearted saiyajin had been reminded of the graphic details of Vegeta’s torture at the hands of humans when he met up with him on that ledge only hours ago. After the incident that had changed his views of Bulma and Dr. Briefs, Goku found himself becoming more and more frustrated with the WHYs and HOWs something so dreadful had come to be.

What had happened to Vegeta stirred a great amount of disgust within Goku. But alongside the disgust there flourished an unsettling existence of fear. Four men had tortured someone they viewed as a disposable alien simply because two felt they deserved revenge, one was bored, and the last needed inspiration for a story. These were human beings; a species Goku had always believed he had been a part of. But through his discoveries of what happened to the saiyajin prince, Goku had learned that some humans even viewed him as animal not capable of emotions. It was shocking and so very painful. And it made the brave warrior scared.

Goku’s childhood had been filled with fun adventure. He had always found the capability to love every earthling, regardless of their crimes. Even Goku’s childhood enemies brought forth a kind of playful affection in the smiling, quirky warrior—an affection that made him appreciate his opponents’ strength, for without his challengers, Goku would never have gotten stronger.

However, Goku matured with every battle he faced, and he was beginning to realize that the hate and evil he was exposed to left their marks, as well. Vegeta’s tortures three years ago brought forth a nagging reminder of the darkness Goku was starting to understand: that desire to hurt truly evil people and act out of revenge. Over the years of meeting the saiyajin prince, battling Frieza, and witnessing the unbelievable atrocities committed against Vegeta…Goku was not only beginning to fear his future enemy’s behaviors…but his own, as well. Goku had learned of selfish, brutal behavior from many enemies, but nothing could have prepared him for Frieza’s twisted ways.

As Goku watched Vegeta shed tears over the violence he had faced and committed under Frieza’s rein, Goku began to understand—he began to understand how contagious hatred and rage could be. Goku realized his heart was no longer as pure as it had been. He stopped fighting the saiyajin monster within when Frieza brutally killed Krillin right in front of him and his young son. Goku wanted to destroy Frieza then—more than he had with any other enemy. And the scariest part of the entire experience: a large part of Goku enjoyed the freedom of that hatred and fury.

During the three years of training for the androids, Goku’s one-track mind was often distracted from the dark events of Capsule Corp. as he gleefully trained with Piccolo and Gohan, but there were many times where the sudden image of Vegeta’s broken, pale body would burst into his thoughts. Goku had ridden along the streams of shattered, haunting memories within Vegeta’s mind as screams, cries of pain, and whimpers of anguish stood out as strongly as the crystal-clear flashes of blood, gun-shots, and rape. Goku was not the one who had received these tortures…but it certainly felt like it at times.

And that changed the kind-hearted saiyajin. An innocent laugh from Gohan and the blossoming friendship with Piccolo almost seemed wrong as his memories were haunted by Vegeta’s nightmares. The goofy planet Earth with its quirky villains and wild adventures was suddenly not as friendly a place anymore. And it killed Goku inside. The childish, carefree persona that had always been within him had quieted down. He had always believed in giving people second or even third chances, but he could see why Vegeta had always demanded that an enemy be killed right away. One had to protect himself and protect his future.

Trunks knew this. Because of Goku’s playful attitude, the Red Ribbon Army had been left standing. All of the friends Goku had fought alongside were brutally killed and his son had been left to defend the planet. But even Gohan met his end in the future timeline. Goku’s blindness had allowed Androids 17 and 18 to conquer the planet he dearly loved and turn it into a wasteland.

And now it seemed that even those without special powers or the energy to fly were capable of extreme violence. Goku’s naivety was becoming less and his anger had grown stronger. A part of him was thankful that he hadn’t been the one to find the two men who were about to shoot Yamcha near that cabin. He was fairly certain they wouldn’t have lived. This was the fear Goku now experienced; the anxiety that he would no longer feel the need to protect planet Earth or the humans that resided there.

But it wasn’t just the fear of his awakened anger that made the childish Earth saiyajin upset. He had lied, as well. Goku betrayed Vegeta. To ensure that Trunks was born in this time, Goku had withheld information from the saiyajin prince. Everyone knew what had happened to Vegeta, except for the proud prince himself. Bulma kept Vegeta in her grasp, it seemed, and it was obvious that she had no problem starting a family with him. But when Goku looked at Vegeta, all he felt was shame. It just wasn’t right to keep the truth from a man who had already suffered so much. While the knowledge of what had happened to him would be awful to confront, it would be worse to live a lie.

“Dad! Cell, he’s—”

“I know, Gohan.”

The wild-haired saiyajin opened his eyes and stood. Gohan and Mr. Popo remained behind him, training their senses to the land far below where Android 17 and Piccolo had been fighting. There was now the strange energy of their newest threat, Cell. A conglomeration of all the Z-fighters’ DNA was mixed into one being to create the evil that slowly made its way toward the weaker powers. Goku and Gohan tensed as they felt Piccolo spring into action, attacking the threat head-on.

“We have to get down there and help him!” Gohan cried. “That monster is too powerful. Piccolo is not going to make it!”

Goku glanced at his panicking son and then lowered his eyes as he concentrated again. Cell….that creature was far more powerful than anyone realized. Even Goku didn’t stand a chance against it. His first inclination had been to teleport to the scene and join the fight, but again, Goku was struck with how much he had changed over the past few years. The battle against Frieza, the story of Trunks’s sad life, and his encounter with the darkest of evils had matured him. Launching into a fight against Cell now would be nonsensical and dangerous. And as selfish as it sounded, he knew that he needed the hyperbolic time chamber to achieve the level of super-saiyajin that could win against Cell. Getting killed by the creature now was senseless. In only a few hours, Vegeta and Trunks would be ready for battle and hopefully they would put an end to it. And if they failed, Goku knew that he would likely be the only one to succeed.

Gohan let out a frustrated cry as Piccolo’s energy dropped. The namekian was getting brutally beaten. And the androids…the androids were still just standing around!

“Move!” Goku yelled. “Get out of there!”

But of course they couldn’t hear him. And to make matters worse, Tien’s ki suddenly appeared. Not only were they about to lose Piccolo but their three-eyed friend, too. Gohan’s energy flickered wildly and Goku glared at his son.

“We have to stay here, Gohan. If either of us goes down there…Cell will kill us. Everything will be lost.” But the boy’s power continued to rise. “When Trunks and Vegeta come out of the time chamber, they’ll be able to take on Cell. Just hold on for a few more hours.”

“A few more hours?!” the nine-year old hollered. His long, black hair flailed in the current of his pale energy. “Piccolo and Tien will be dead by then!”

As they argued, their friend below was being pummeled. His life-force continued to fall. Goku’s frustration grew. He had never sat back and simply allowed one of his allies to die before, yet he knew it was necessary. To defeat an enemy as strong as Cell, he needed to start being a little more ruthless. This was one being that had to be killed quickly. Goku closed his eyes and turned his back on his fearful son, guilt washing over him as he realized what he was thinking. If Cell spent his time toying with Piccolo, it would buy Vegeta and Trunks more time. The tall, wise namekian would have to be the sacrifice.

Piccolo’s energy plummeted suddenly. Both Goku and Gohan froze as the dwindling power within their friend was carried closer to Cell. There was a moment of hesitation before their senses screamed within their minds. The giant, green insect had released a powerful blast, and it appeared that it had been aimed at Piccolo.

Goku’s dark eyes widened with shock and grief. He had stood there. He had stood there and done nothing as one of his closest friends and Gohan’s mentor was killed a few miles away.

Gohan’s young voice cried out and his small body shook as rage coursed through him.

“You can stay here and wait all you want!” he hollered. “I’m going!”

Yet he didn’t move at first, as if testing Goku’s reaction. When the full-blooded saiyajin glared over his shoulder at his furious son, he immediately saw the challenging fire in the boy’s eyes.

“I’m going!” Gohan repeated. “Good-bye!”

Blasting from the tiled deck of the Lookout, the demi-saiyajin headed for the openings throughout the domed pavilion where they stood. Goku’s immediate reaction was shock, having never been so disrespected by his normally pensive, polite son. But his surprise was quickly subdued by indignant anger. Goku reacted before he could actually stop and think about what he was doing. The stress of the entire situation and his previous worrisome thoughts about Vegeta exploded into an aggravated rage and his quick saiyajin senses took over.

Gohan barely had time to blink before Goku’s orange-clad body appeared directly before him, a harsh fist sailing into his cheek. A startled cry escaped the boy and Gohan landed on the ground painfully, his small frame sliding past an extremely surprised Mr. Popo and coming to a halt a few feet away. The rotund genie appeared at his side, cautiously avoiding eye-contact with the angry saiyajin he had known for years.

“D-Dad…” Gohan’s voice wavered and he stared up at his angry father, suddenly unable to recognize him.

Goku had never been a disciplinarian, usually leaving the rule-making to Chi-Chi…but his anger had gotten the better of him. He felt so old suddenly. Exhaustion gripped him and he felt regret at having struck his kind-hearted, brave son, simply for wanting to save a life. Gohan had always been smarter than Goku, the full-blooded saiyajin knew that, but he also understood that the child would not survive even two seconds against Cell with the power-level he currently held. While the nine-year-old was more intelligent when it came to books and education, Goku was far wiser in the world of reading his enemies and knowing how cruel an evil creature could be.

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Goku stated simply. “You would have been killed.”

“I’d rather die in battle like Piccolo than sit up here safely!” Gohan yelled. “Dad, you’ve never done anything like this before. Why turn your back on your friends now when they need you the most?”

The tall warrior pressed his lips together firmly at the hurtful words and turned away, proving to his son that he just couldn’t answer the heated question. He wondered when the nine-year-old had grown so mature. When had Gohan stopped being the scared, crying toddler who couldn’t let go of Chi-Chi or his leg?

“Do you not see how much your father is hurting?” Mr. Popo’s deep voice asked softly. Gohan turned to the turbaned man. “We are all sad about what is happening down there. Your dad feels your pain, too.”

“Then why are we just sitting here?” Gohan shrieked. His power-level rose with each punctuated word. “It’s better to go and fight that monster head-on. We can’t let him get away with what he did!”

Goku’s heart leapt into his throat at the words. ‘No, Gohan,’ he thought sadly. ‘Don’t start thinking that way. Revenge will only lead you to more sadness and grief.’

“That may feel like the right thing to do now,” Mr. Popo explained, “but you will have died in vain if you attacked Cell at this moment. Piccolo would never have wanted you to get hurt or killed, Gohan. And your father understands that, as well. Remember the pain you feel now and use it to become stronger in your training.”

Gohan heard the words, but they didn’t bring him much comfort. Piccolo had been killed, Tien was about to die, as well, and his father had punched him. Tears began to well in Gohan’s eyes as he felt overwhelmingly hopeless, but his focus was quickly drawn to the energy glowing around his father’s tense form. He could feel the man’s sadness wafting from the golden rays and Gohan slowly realized how much his father truly hurt. There was something else to this entire situation than just Cell and Piccolo’s demise. Gohan had felt that spark within Goku on Namek when Piccolo had been shot by Frieza and Krillin had been killed. It was a quaking anger, as if an earthquake was rumbling just beneath the surface of Goku’s stoic demeanor.

Gohan stood slowly, suddenly ashamed of himself for the disrespect he had shown his father. It was suddenly so clear. He was brought back to that moment when his dad had first turned super-saiyajin. A fury the likes of which Gohan had never seen or felt gripped him as the man he knew as his father stood, unrecognizable, before him. It was happening again. Goku was….changing. It was not as drastic as his super-saiyajin transformation…but deeper—on an emotional level.

“Dad,” Gohan whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he responded, not turning to face his son. “I am sorry that I hit you. I know how deeply you care about your friends and loved ones. Because of that, I won’t let Piccolo’s death be a waste. But Gohan…we need to train our bodies and our hearts if we want to defeat Cell. Fighting him now out of revenge won’t make us any better.”

Yet Goku still couldn’t look his son in the face. Fury gripped the usually kind-hearted saiyajin as he tried to push down the rage within him. He wanted nothing but to go down there and tear the wicked insect apart, but he knew he had to believe his own words. Goku could not allow himself to fight on the same level as his enemies, with hatred and darkness leading him into battle. There was only one person they could rely on now; one person who could defeat the enemy below using the same dirty, villainous tricks as Cell.

‘Vegeta…it’s up to you…’
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Resolution on a Lonely Planet