Kings, Tyrants, and Demons

Author\'s note: Ugh! I\'m soo sorry about the wait. I have just recently gotten done with all of the essays. Only a dissertation left which I have the entire summer to work on. So hopefully I\'ll have more time for fics, although I do need to find a job or this girl won\'t be eating! Thank you to all of you who reviewed I can\'t tell you how much I appreciate it. And a special thanks to Pixelgoddess for acting as my beta on call and to b-chan for the quite steamy fan pic she did for me. Have to say it did inspire me! Now on to the story!



Chapter Five: Of Uncharted Waters and Their Failings


The black confines of space were in some ways a comfort. He had spent the first half of his life cocooned in metal staring out at the stars flying past him. He suddenly wondered how the teen was coping. What might be considered a ‘home-coming’ for him could be something lonely and desolate to the demi-Saiyan who had grown up with the lushness and peaceful ways of Earth. He had no way of knowing; the teen had been almost mechanical in demeanor ever since they blasted off.

Goten seemed to have made it a point not to get underfoot. In fact, if anything, he was more of a boon than a bane; though he wasn’t much of a cook he cleaned without being asked, took catalogues of the stores, and did some minor configurations on the central computer. But most of all he obeyed with out a word of protest; hardly speaking unless spoken to.

For this Vegeta was extremely thankful despite the knowledge it was unnatural, but given the circumstances he wasn’t sure what more to expect. Yet, until this moment he didn’t have time to be bothered with Goten’s mental stability as he was too worried about getting them safely off the ground and settled into space. They had just recently traded the larger, but less practical, Capsule Corporation spaceship in for a modest but well equipped Perlumian Hopper. It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, the snob in him would have preferred the sleeker Mitheria model but as the Earth saying went, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’. It would suit their needs. Bulma, bless her, for all of her genius just couldn’t compete with hundreds of years worth of technology; the globular ship simply was not made for stealth, and that’s what they needed right now more than anything.

They had been incredibly lucky so far. Utei, the small planet they had left behind yesterday, was unremarkable and hardly more than a junkyard very rarely having visitors. It was out of the way and difficult to get to and for such an insignificant planet was not worth the effort. The only reason Vegeta knew of it at all was because years ago whilst on one of Frieza’s many space stations he had overheard one of the mid-level’s grumble about it. The details were fuzzy but apparently a bet was made and the loser cut and ran and was followed to Utei to quickly be dealt with. But the 5,000 credits were hardly worth the trip as it was days away from any sort of civilization.

This boded well for the Saiyan, and indeed once he landed he had to agree with the mid-level. It was a shithole. And evidently decades behind the times as the first thing to greet him was the emblem of the Planet Trade hanging pristinely and incongruously amongst the corroded bits of machinery and scrap metal. He could not repress a shiver as the icon of his former life drove the nail into the coffin of his present.

He must have been staring because the dock master had cleared his throat and asked him, rather brusquely, to move along. Normally he would never tolerate such behavior, but considering their current circumstances he held his tongue and with nothing more than a sneer, left Goten behind and went on his way.

After walking only for only a few minutes he wondered why in the hell Frieza would bother with such a dingy planet. He reasoned that it had to be a marker to define the boundaries of his empire, for surely it held no other use. But then there was no making sense of the tyrant’s logic. The egomaniac would plant flags on pebbles if it suited him so it was well enough that he was dead, not that he would share that information with the natives of Utei.

He received absolutely nothing but obstinacy from the shipyard until he dropped quite casually that he was on ‘imperial’ business, which is probably why he got as good as a ship he did. Not the Mitheria, sadly, but the second best; which to be honest, as ships go, wasn’t much. But the little Hopper would have to make do.

Whilst flying the three weeks to Utei Vegeta had busied himself by tapping into planetary databases trying to learn what had happened once the Planet Trade had dissolved. Although it was true that he had been in space several times after Namek had met its end he had only done minor scans at the time having absolutely no interest in the galaxy’s current state of affairs. It was then that he found out he was wanted, not that he was surprised. In fact, all of the elite soldiers had a price on their heads but looking at the amount posted next to his profile he smirked. He had made quite a name for himself. Being a prince of a feared, if extinct, race did bring with it a certain amount of notoriety as did his methods at the time.

The figure had not changed over the years. It was such a staggering sum he mused turning himself in for the cash. When he had first discovered this well over a decade ago, he had laughed at it with no small amount of pride. Of course he had a home to return to at the time. Not anymore, and it was no longer a laughing matter. He may be one of the strongest beings in the universe but the sheer number of potential enemies was a force not to be ignored; besides he was carrying precious cargo.

“Where are we going?”

The question startled the Saiyan; it was the first time said cargo had outright asked anything since they left Earth. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge the youth’s presence.

“I don’t know,” came the short, but honest answer.

The teen shrugged and turned to leave.

“Are the supplies put away?”

“Yes, the catalog is hanging in the corridor. Did you want to see it?”

The prince paused, finally, “No.”

Goten nodded and disappeared through the back towards his new living quarters. The older man watched him leave. He knew full well that the supplies had been documented and stored but felt compelled to ask the demi-Saiyan about it anyway. The boy didn’t talk, but to be fair, neither did he. What a mess the two of them were. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had done the right thing by allowing the young man to come along. He highly doubted that his company was therapeutic.

The nightmares had not ceased to plague the boy as often times he could hear him moaning and thrashing about in his slumber. As for him, sleep was a luxury he didn’t often allow himself. At least Goten could reassure himself that the events in his life, though tragic, were not his fault. He could not say the same.

The agony and inner turmoil he suffered was unspeakable but he’d live with it. That was his punishment; to live. But he refused to wallow and shaking his head returned to the task of mapping out their next destination which, as he had just told Goten, was still rather uncertain. It appeared as if the systems once united, if enslaved, under Frieza’s rule had dissolved into utter chaos. So it was somewhat of a challenge to find a safe harbor.

He had learned much over the past weeks tapping into various databases. Seemingly more than a few planets had tried their hand at independent rule only to find themselves captured by more powerful neighbors. Some survived but many were exploited to the point of poverty. There were those lucky enough to regain autonomous power and live in peace but they did so awkwardly, being unaccustomed to their own control. Yet this was the minority, most planets, and systems for that matter, were at war. The reasons varied; trade disputes, boundaries, heritage rights, ancient blood feuds, slaves, and sheer stupidity; the list went on and on. He had to suppress a groan, the last thing he needed was to get caught in the crossfire especially since war left many impoverished and seeking easy money. Bounty hunting, for example, had become a popular occupation.

Yet there were those with grander ideas. The prince’s eyes scanned over a list of those who had tried, unsuccessfully, to take Frieza’s place as supreme ruler. It was short. There wasn’t anyone powerful enough or had the know-how to fill such a lofty role and as such the upstarts had quickly been put down. Once upon a time he would have gladly taken the place of his former employer. Had he been successful then he knew, like those on the screen before him, someone would have come along and cast him to the Abyss as well. Now however was a different story; he had the power and wisdom but not the drive. The irony was not lost on him.

After deciding on a primitive planet, the name of which he could not pronounce, in the system a week ahead of them he leaned back to stare at the ceiling. This was what life was going to be like; searching for a remotely safe planet for supplies until he found somewhere isolated enough to settle down and never be found. Now, he genuinely regretted bringing the boy with him. This was no way to live. He had been a soldier hardened to this type of lifestyle, even so he found this nerve-racking. It would be so much easier if he could just blow away those who confronted him. But ever since that day…he would never train again. He had reached a pinnacle of power so great that even when he was thirstiest for it could not fathom its depths. It had not been glorious or exhilarating as one would expect it to be. Rather it was a suffocating and nauseating experience. He could only remember flashes but even the memory made him want to turn up the contents of his stomach. It was too much. He never thought there could ever be too much power, but there it was and the consequences of which left him drained of the will to fight ever again.

It defied his very Saiyan nature.

Invariably this line of thought brought him to the loved ones he left on Earth, two in particular to which he was bound. One, according to Saiyan decree, he should consider dead and the other he nearly killed himself. He still loved them both despite everything and the guilt of his actions haunted him endlessly. Yet he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t regret what he had done to Kakarott. In fact, he was impressed with himself for allowing him to live. His casual dislike for the low class warrior had turned into a black hatred that had not dimmed during his flight through the stars. The bastard had robbed him of his heir in the gravest way possible. While he still loved Trunks, he could never consider him a son again.

Vegeta acknowledged that life on Earth had changed him profoundly but not so much as to utterly disregard his lineage, not where this was concerned. It was defying custom enough that he allowed them to live; he could bend no further. Though his battle lust had left him, he had meant what he said. If he ever did encounter his arch-rival again he would kill him, despite the repercussions on his former child.

Piccolo on the other hand. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was too excruciating, he literally could not physically face the reality of the situation. Regardless of the distance, the bond between them was still very much intact but he dare not tap into it despite his natural desire to do so. His mate was alive; the knowledge would have to be enough to sustain him, at least for now. Perhaps someday he would delve further but at the moment it was an impossibility. Apparently the feeling was mutual. He was painfully aware that Piccolo was neglecting his side of the bond as well. It hurt as part of him hoped that the Namek would try to find him, but logically he knew it was for the best. He had in essence murdered Kami and Nail. Though the two had been absorbed by Piccolo they were still separate personalities who made Piccolo who he was. He could not fathom the complications his actions caused or their effects on his mate. He was confident that the Namek was strong enough to deal with it, but alone and far removed from the source of the problem; him.

Yet it wasn’t just Piccolo and Trunks that he missed. He missed Earth. It had been his home for nearly twenty years and despite his grumbling had gotten quite attached to it. And strangely, he missed Bulma. The woman had been his mate for over a decade and when that ended they had remained close friends. While he didn’t harbor romantic feelings for her he did miss her presence. He’d always talk to his mate first, but if unavailable or if the rare situation called for an outside opinion he would turn to her. He had doubted that she would ever want to speak to him again considering that he blew up Capsule Corporation and disowned their son. Which was why he was shocked when he received a message from her while aboard the Capsule Corp ship three weeks ago.

The beginning of the message was about Goten, which didn’t surprise him in the least. The boy’s sudden decision to leave with him was bound to ruffle feathers. He could only imagine Kakarott’s reaction and he could not help but smile bitterly. ‘Take my son will you? Well then I’ll just take yours.’ Of course, bonds aside, the idea of bedding the boy made him physically ill. The thought caused a wave of blistering rage at the low born scum who defiled his son…former son. He had saved the message. It appeared that his masochistic tendencies had strayed outside the bedroom as from time to time he would torture himself and read it even though he knew it by heart. Now being such a time as he slid in the small disc with a defeated sigh.

‘Vegeta,

I don’t know where to begin. Right now I’m still reeling from the events of last week. But I’ve grappled with it enough now to contact you. I hope you open the frequency at some point to retrieve it.

I could sit here and go on about how angry I am with you but its rather pointless now isn’t it? I’ll just get to the point then. I don’t know where the hell you’ve fucked off to, but what is Goten doing with you? Gohan has been going nuts and I’ve had to hide all the capsules containing a ship from him so that he doesn’t try to find you. Don’t ask me why, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and allowing you to explain yourself. Did you take him? Is he ok? Please, Vegeta, you’re a grown man and can do what you like, but Goten is still a boy who belongs with his family. Kami, at least let us know he’s ok. If he came with you on his own, well I guess there isn’t much we can do though explaining that to Gohan won’t be a walk in the park.

His father is worried about him too. He’s alive, not that you care. Trunks is well…Vegeta please, he’s your son. He’s so angry with you right now, but I’m sure you could patch things up. I’m not pleased about Goku either, but I love our son and I know you do as well. And as angry as I am with you right now, I understand why you did what you did and can forgive you for it. Please come back and try to work this mess out. I’m begging you not only as your ex-mate and the mother of your child but as a friend. I don’t care about Capsule Corp, I was thinking of remodeling anyway. See? I can still retain my humor. We haven’t seen Piccolo and I don’t know if you’ve stayed in contact with him but I’m sure he’ll turn up. Your place is here, Vegeta. Your family is here. It won’t be easy but we can make this right. We’ll forgive you, I know I have.

Please, please , respond to this,

-Bulma’

‘We’ll forgive you.’ But the problem was he couldn’t forgive himself. He had replied with one choppy line before shutting down the frequency for good.

‘The boy is fine and he invited himself. I will look after him. I cannot return. I’m sorry.’

Looking over the message one last time, he let out a long sigh and deleted it. He had been moping for over a month and it had to stop. He couldn’t live in the past anymore. It would destroy him and he did promise to look after Goten which he couldn’t do as a weakling drowning in his own melancholy. He left the best part of his life on Earth and much of what was inside him was dead. The agony would be a constant ally and though he may not live, he would survive.