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Breaking the Prince (Part 2)	By : Doog Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2235 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters. I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Nine
“R-remember this well, you trash. There aren’t going to be any more miracles. Next time we meet, you’re all dead. Be sure to enjoy yourselves to the fullest until then...” The pod door swung upward, sealing Vegeta off from his enemies. The emergency sequence he had set in motion launched the pod automatically.
Vegeta’s malicious smile melted along with his adrenaline. The promise of immediate safety, regardless of the long term consequences, drained him of all resistance as he fell into unconsciousness.
****
Instead of the immediate alertness that would have accompanied the pod’s stasis-ending gas, Vegeta’s return to awareness was slow, and above all, painful. Initially, the sum of his torment made each injury indiscernible from the next. Slowly, he began to catalogue the damage to his body. He tried to open his eyes, but a sharp sting in his right eye had him shutting both quickly. When he tried to reach up to his face, his right arm was uncoordinated and sore. His left arm fared slightly better, but when he reached up to his left temple, his fingers only brushed through the phantom sensation of a scouter. The pounding in his head increased with his heart rate, but when he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, a shocking pain ripped through his lower back. The spasms caused by the unexpected agony made him cry out, arching his back and pushing himself out of his seat as if to escape whatever had stabbed him.
  Why haven’t they come to heal me yet..? His thoughts were muddled, further confused by his inability to discern where he was. His body shook with the effort to not fall back into the position that had caused the sudden anguish. His lower back was on fire, as if Freeza had done something to his tail...
  My tail. Vegeta cried out again, this time at the mental jolt from the return of his memories of Chikyuusei. He had been defeated. He had been defeated by Kakarrot, a low-class warrior. There had been others, all of them weak, but they had beaten him. Not only had they broken his body, but they had maimed it. My precious tail... He leaned forward in his seat, bracing himself with his right elbow on his knee, daring to reach behind himself and gingerly palpate the raw stub. He ran his fingertips around its furry rim, then poked at the flesh within it. Even through the thickness of his gloves, he thought he could feel the hardness of a vertebra, severed cleanly down the middle by the Chikyuujin’s sharp, metal weapon. Fuck.
“Fuck!” he growled, daring to open his left eye as he folded himself forward in his seat. His right eyelid spasmed, wanting to rise as well but only causing the injured eye beneath it to water. Sickened by the feeling of wetness on his cheek, he roughly wiped the mixture of old blood and fluids from his face, making his eye burn anew.
Vegeta impulsively reached up for his scouter again with the intent to check his location. It was only when his fingers touched his bare ear once more that he vaguely remembered crushing the device in anger during Nappa’s fight with Kakarrot. Nappa was dead. The memory of tossing him into Chikyuusei’s open, blue sky and blowing him into dust pushed to the forefront of his thoughts.
That useless bastard. Not strong enough to kill an idiotic left-behind, he seethed. If only Nappa had taken care of all of them, the way he was supposed to, I would never have... Vegeta held himself forward by wrapping his weak arms around his legs and pressing his abdomen to his thighs. The thundering beating of his pulse made his inner ears ache, and his position momentarily fooled his splitting head into thinking he was pitching forward. Clenching his hands tighter, he fought to retain lucid thought.
He stalled at the memory of Nappa’s failure and turned to his own tactical mistakes. Perhaps if he hadn’t killed Nappa...but no, Nappa had been useless at the time of his execution. Vegeta remembered the shame of returning to the PTO after his first mission back, how Nappa had saved him from certain death on Bachisei. He never had any intention to return the “favor,” and the opportunity had seemed to fit well within his intentions of killing off Nappa anyway.
The old memory of waking up in a healing tank only to be whisked back to health and publicly disgraced filled him with new dread. Where was the pod taking him? He tilted his head up, his face centimeters from the pod’s control panels. Studying the screen through one squinted eye, he had trouble recognizing the destination until memories of a new Freeza Planet resurfaced. Of course the emergency sequence would dictate that the pod take him to the nearest Freeza Planet for recovery, and that happened to be the new development completed only weeks before he had reached Chikyuusei.
The fact that he had regained consciousness in his pod before his arrival to Freeza Planet #544 meant that he had passed out before he had switched on the stasis controls, but his vitals had not dipped enough to activate it automatically. The idea of showing up to a Freeza Planet injured and unconscious made a vessel stand out on his forehead. He would have to activate the stasis eventually since medical help was weeks away, but he had a decision to make as to which settings to use. His injuries were painful enough that it would be wise to not wake himself at the time of arrival, but not knowing where he would wake up made him nervous. Either way, he decided, he was physically helpless.
Vegeta dwelled on his unavoidable visit, letting the less-painful side of his face rest against his knees. There was the certainty of medics, which he despised. Though they could provide relief for him, the concept that there were individuals capable of manipulating him internally, to whatever end, made him queasy. He would never forget whose side they were on, who they ultimately served. Then there was the shame. When he had left for Chikyuusei, he had not cared about explaining Raditz’s death. After confirming Kakarrot had been brought back to life and linking the Dragon Balls to the presence of a Namekkujin, he had also been unconcerned about Nappa’s death. He would have eternal youth, so what would he care about answering for inconsequential details? Now, all of the events were adding up to appear like a complete disaster. What would everyone say once they found out that he had returned without his men, his body in shambles? With every strand of certainty in his being, Vegeta knew that Freeza would come to know this. There was no conceivable way that this sort of information, especially given his deviation from his missions, would not find his greatest enemy. He would be a laughingstock all over again, maybe even eventually punished.
It’s all his fault. Vegeta gritted his teeth at the image of his rival: his young face composed of the common features of a low-class Saiyajin, grinning insolently back at him as they sized each other up. Kakarrot had been so foolish, so traitorously loyal to the weaklings of Chikyuusei. He had given everything he had to protect them, and they had helped him in turn. But they were more than allies, Vegeta realized. The way they spoke to each other had not held the command or formality that Vegeta had always known. It was beyond simple familiarity; Vegeta had often spoken to Nappa in a relaxed way, but the Chikyuujin’s relationships were entirely different. They shared bonds cemented by more than necessity or ranked power. Like the Morojin, they had tried to protect each other because of their strange attachments. He thought of how Kakarrot had practically begged his weaker comrade to spare Vegeta’s life. Along with the burning insult against his pride, Vegeta felt puzzled that Kakarrot had not simply had his way since he was clearly the more powerful of the two.
So powerful...but how? How did he gain so much strength in one year? He had even been dead. How could he be younger, less experienced, lower in class, and tail-less, and still be more powerful? Vegeta repeated the cycle of questions, the answers no more near than they had been on Chikyuusei. Kakarrot had known so many techniques, many similar to his own. He replayed their fight in his head, searching for an explanation, but instead became focused on the flood of emotion that accompanied his memories.
Years had passed since he had experienced that same terrifying feeling. It were as though the physical wounds inflicted by Kakarrot had opened the mental scars from long ago. Memories of torture that had been routinely dismissed suddenly became too real to ignore. Vegeta could feel the black straps holding him firmly to the cold, metal slab as Freeza’s words skewered him: You are not the great warrior you believe yourself to be. He could feel Kakarrot landing a punch, a kick, smashing him into a rocky plateau. Every blow had chipped away at the confidence he had so carefully rebuilt since Freeza had crushed it. Kakarrot was not as methodical but had taken far less time, as though he had been able to exploit the existing cracks. Vegeta had always known that Freeza was more powerful, but there had been no reason to believe that Kakarrot would surpass him. Perhaps he had been a fool to believe Freeza’s encouragement as a child, but the strength he had built since had been real. It had to be real. Millions, if not more, had perished at his whim, whole planets had been destroyed, and entire species had been obliterated by his hand.
I was so close, Vegeta thought bitterly, his throat tightening. He had been close to defeating Kakarrot so many times. He had crushed Kakarrot’s legs, had incapaciated the Chikyuujin, and had even cut the tail of Kakarrot’s son. The thought of tails made his throat spasm again, but he forced himself to swallow the reality. To think that a half-Saiyajin could become an Oozaru and be more of a Saiyajin than Vegeta was now was almost too painful. Kakarrot’s son was young, and there was a good chance that his tail would grow back. Vegeta was more than thirty years old now, and would probably see no such recovery. Never again would he experience the awesome swelling of power of the Oozaru form, or see his fantasies of terror play out across the faces of onlookers to his transformation. He had almost died. He had been so close, blasted up into the atmosphere of that wretched planet. His body had felt as though it were being stripped of all its flesh at once, that his spine was being stretched while its ends were twisted in opposing directions. He wasn’t sure if he had ever experienced a pain that terrible before or if he had simply buried the memory of what had been worse. I was so close... What would death had been like, anyway? Now that he knew one could return from it, could it be the endless sleep he had always assumed it to be? I was so close...
Vegeta caught his mind drifting, repeatedly and pointlessly catching on the same thoughts. He didn’t have energy to waste now. He had to focus on surviving, not just his injuries but whatever obstacles the PTO would create. The most important part of my plan remains to be carried out, he reminded himself. He had to find a way to Namekkusei. He couldn’t allow himself to lose focus on that. All of this—his pain, his loss, his defeat, his shame—all of it meant nothing as long as he gained immortality.
He raised his head one last time as he reached out to set the stasis commands. His pain was terrible, but he would not allow himself to arrive unconscious, nor to be pulled from his pod as a pathetic mess. He closed his eye and thought with resignation of how onlookers might gather to see the once-revered Saiyajin prince return in defeat. There would be nothing he could do about their smug faces, but he could at least remember who they were so he could kill them later.
****
Vegeta was still folded in his seat when the gas was finished dissipating. He could hear the door of his pod hissing open and feel the cool air of the dock filling the small capsule. The stasis had done little to retain the remnants of his fragile energy, but his pride soon had him rolling out of his seat. He opened his uninjured eye, seeing nothing of the dock except the crowd of white robes that was quickly assembling. Vegeta held himself upright by bracing his arms in the door’s rounded frame, grunting in pain between labored breaths.
When a medic rushed forward to lend support, he tried to brush its outreached arm aside, intending to at least walk to the medical area unaided. Instead, the movement put more weight on his unsteady legs. He stumbled forward several steps and collapsed.
****
The fluid was warm and viscous, making Vegeta’s body weightless. A steady eruption of bubbles at the base of the rejuvenation tank created a calming whir of white noise, while the distant beeps of the surrounding machinery anchored him to the passage of time.
The first word in Vegeta’s mind upon waking up had been the traitor’s name. Kakarrot. His muscles twitched involuntarily with his urge to destroy the younger Saiyajin, but he was held in place, monitored by various electrodes on his forehead and shoulders while sedatives kept him drowsy. His awareness was a sign of progress, however, as he was healed enough to begin to overcome the medications.
With the heavy toll of pain now eliminated, he could once again see forward to his victory. The despair he had felt in his pod had washed away in the healing fluids. He had survived, as he had so improbably many times before, and now they would all pay. He would find his way to Namekkusei and force its people to relinquish their Dragon Balls. He would have eternal youth.
Vegeta smiled inwardly as he remembered that his wounds had not been the only things he had taken away from Chikyuusei. He had managed to learn some valuable techniques from Kakarrot, and they would soon be put to use.
During his battle with the race-traitor, Vegeta had figured out the way Kakarrot and the Chikyuujin were detecting each other and their enemies without the use of a scouter. It must have been how they knew where Raditz had gone, he had thought. Only after he had disposed of his scouter had he actually been able to consciously do it himself. Years of relying on technology had made the act unnatural at first, but a self-imposed handicap had quickly unveiled his natural ability to sense ki. It’s what I’ve been doing all along, he recognized, thinking about his unusually fast reaction time and instinct for detecting enemies. His mind turned to the only other time he had operated without a scouter. After Freeza had...after Vegeta had not worn a scouter for over a year, it had been as though he could feel Freeza’s presence while on his ship. Now he knew that he had in fact been sensing Freeza’s ki.
There was also the ability to conceal one’s true power level by temporarily decreasing it (and subsequently raising it again). All of the Chikyuujin had been able to do it, which had been the reason he’d discarded his scouter in the first place. Having always operated at the maximum level of strength in a fight, Vegeta would have never considered such a technique. With its usefulness against the scouter-reliant Raditz demonstrated, however, the tactic took on an appealing quality. Furthermore, that such weak creatures and a fellow Saiyajin could do it meant that Vegeta must have the potential as well. Though Vegeta had not yet had an opportunity to attempt this for himself, he suspected his “training” with the K.R.I. device would hold some similarities.
To Vegeta’s knowledge, Freeza and his men possessed neither of these abilities. Vegeta would therefore have a distinct advantage. He hoped it would be enough to get him to Namekkusei to acquire the power he deserved. Chikyuusei would be next, though it would be a mere warm up for his fight with Freeza. Once he became immortal and expanded his power exponentially, even a showdown with his greatest enemy would be stacked impossibly in his favor. He thought about how he would carry out the executions, perhaps starting with each of Freeza’s top men: Zarbon, Dodoria, and the Ginyu Force. Would they come to their master’s aid once they saw how fearsome and unstoppable Vegeta had become? Would they beg to serve Vegeta instead before he blew them away with a flick of his fingertip?
Vegeta’s mood was so improved by his contemplations that he did not notice the pulsing through his body that marked the return of his strength until he was almost at full energy. The healing was complete. Light refracted through the glass of the tank, and Vegeta realized that he had been sitting in dark isolation. Now, he could sense many low-power individuals filling the room, taking their places at various stations. A couple of larger power levels, maybe soldiers, stayed further away. There was no way to be sure yet, but there were few reasons why soldiers would be present for his recovery. Were they there to take an official report from him? Were they there to detain him?
The beeps of the machines grew louder, their tempo more insistent as Vegeta felt the sedatives being steadily and completely reversed. The noise of air being rhythmically forced in and out of the nearby tubing meant it was almost time for him to emerge. Over the sound of his own deep breaths, he could hear voices outside the tank. Suddenly, the liquid was being sucked out from underneath him, the level dropping rapidly until his body weight was set down gently. Within seconds the tank was empty, and Vegeta dislodged the mask and electrodes with one quick jerk of his body. The air that filled the tank was warm but still made the liquid clinging to his nude body feel chilled. The combination of the queasiness that accompanied being naked and the edginess Vegeta felt in the presence of medics almost unwound him, but his instinct to conceal all weakness dominated. He sat perfectly still, his eyes still closed even as the clear dome of the tank was lifted away.
“You are now healed. You may open your eyes,” an authoritative voice spoke.
Vegeta made no acknowledgment, but carefully checked that there was no pain when moving his eyes behind their lids before he opened them. He stood, taking in the newly constructed building. Before him stood the head medic, but there were other medics and two soldiers in the room, as he had detected. He noted that the soldiers appeared fearful, their mouths gaping as he descended the small steps in front of him.
“Unfortunately, we were not able to regenerate your tail,” the head medic spoke seriously, making eye contact.
Of course you weren’t, Vegeta thought. “No matter. It will grow back in time,” he said as unconcerned as he could. He was disgraced enough without everyone knowing the true magnitude of his loss. His lower back was no longer physically painful, and his outrage was now a quiet smolder subsumed by a more insistent ambition.
Still standing on the steps, he tested his recovered form. He flexed each arm, testing the power and range of motion. His muscles felt stronger and more responsive, as though he could command them to perform feats he had only to imagine. He had never been so close to death prior to a restoration, let alone under circumstances that allowed him to reap the full Saiyajin benefit of his injuries.
Vegeta resisted the urge to demonstrate his new strength. Though he felt a need to show everyone on the base that he was not easily beaten, now was not the time for divulging his increase in power. Now was his opportunity to test his newly-acquired techniques. He willed a physical calm through his body, subduing the buzz of ki that had accompanied his excitement at being restored.
The head medic used an upturned hand to indicate the location of Vegeta’s battle wear on a nearby table. Vegeta could feel the soldier’s eyes following him as he reached it and ran his fingers lightly across the assembled items. There was also a new scouter, and the idea that he no longer needed one fueled his returning sense of superiority. “I regret that we do not have any waist guards in your size, Vegeta-sama. This base’s resources are still quite limited,” the medic explained. Vegeta didn’t respond but grabbed his body suit and began to slip it on. When it brushed the area of his back from which his tail had once erupted, he noticed that the remaining stub had been cleanly removed. His fingers brushed over the shallow crater in private grieving before his attention snapped to the soldiers, who were slowly approaching the opposite side of the table.
“Vegeta-sama?” the larger of the two said with wavering confidence.
“Yes?” Vegeta kept his voice monotone as he finished putting on the body suit and faced them.
The smaller, orange soldier glanced anxiously between the larger soldier and Vegeta before responding, “Because you did not have a scouter when you returned, we are here to record your official report for your last mission.”
Vegeta was not entirely prepared for this sort of question, though he had anticipated it occurring at some point. Fortunately, the underling’s mistake of addressing him before he had time to completely clothe himself made it easy to be vague and rude. “Is the conquering of the worthless planets out here so important that I must be bothered with petty requests before I have submitted my report?” he barked. The soldiers were instantly flustered by Vegeta’s nonsensical response.
“W-we apologize, Vegeta-sama, but we were ordered to take the report direct—”
“I don’t care what your supervisors have ordered. Tell them that they will have their report once I have submitted it myself,” Vegeta interrupted, returning his attention to his battle gear. By the time he had organized the other items, he could see out of the corner of his eye that they had finally shaken off their shock and retreated. The other medics took this as an opportunity to leave as well.
Under normal circumstances he would have pushed them entirely from his mind, but Vegeta was on alert for any clues as to his current standing in the PTO. He heard one of the soldiers mutter something casually to the other. He couldn’t be sure since it was from across the room, but he thought he heard the phrase “Almost as scary as when Freeza...”
Vegeta’s expression darkened as the mention of Freeza immediately prompted him to reach out for any extraordinarily large kis in the area. Detecting none greater than his own, he ran through possible reasons why the soldier would have referred to Freeza as though he had encountered him personally. The vast majority of the PTO’s men were born, fought, and died without once seeing Freeza in person. Did he come here for the opening of the new base? Vegeta’s hand froze on his gloves at the terrifying and conceivable possibility. If Freeza had been to this base only several weeks before, that meant his enemy was much closer than chance alone would dictate.
It doesn’t matter, Vegeta reassured himself as he grabbed a boot and braced his foot on the table’s edge to put it on. I just have to go to Namekkusei. Still...
“Vegeta-sama, as powerful as you are, you sure must have had a hard time of it,” the medic spoke again, this time from behind him. “As busted up as this high-quality protector is, I’m surprised you came back to us safely.” Vegeta switched legs and pulled the other boot on, not wanting to look at the busted armor the medic was likely handling.
“It would take quite a lot for it to end up like this. What in the world happened to you on Chikyuusei?” the medic continued, apparently oblivious to the chill of anger his words caused. The infuriating inquiry conjured images of his battle with Kakarrot.
“Tch,” Vegeta didn’t answer, but pulled on his gloves in contained rage. Killing a medic would not get him to Namekkusei any faster. Focus. Gather information. He stretched his chest protector over his head and tried to keep his tone casual.
“Is Freeza-sama around?”
The change in subject left the medic fumbling. “N-no, he has departed.”
So the bastard has been here.
“He’s already gotten tired of this planet, huh?” Vegeta kept his back turned. He thought about asking for more specifics, but the medic continued first.
“Um...Kewie-sama said that he had something to speak to you about, and that you were to come to the training room when your treatment was finished.”
Kewie? What is he doing here? The idea of his old foe being relegated to the outskirts of the empire made him laugh. “You tell him that I said ‘I’ve got nothing to discuss with the likes of you.’” He waved a dismissive hand and began to leave. He could hear the medic protesting feebly behind but didn’t stop as he moved into the hallway.
“Vegeta-sama...um...you’ve forgotten your scouter!” the medic called after him as he caught up.
Vegeta kept walking. “I don’t need that thing. You can have it,” he called back, never turning around. The hallway was long and narrow, but the standardized construction of the base made it obvious which way led to the dock. I will waste no time, he decided. I will leave straight away. The PTO was already far too close to Chikyuusei and Namekkusei for his comfort, and there was no reason to delay anyway. Every second the PTO had him was a second borrowed from his eternal reign. His thoughts also kept returning to Kakarrot and how he would deliver his punishment. Though his need to destroy Freeza ran the deepest, the insult he had suffered from Kakarrot was the freshest wound.
Upon arriving at the dock, however, the technicians notified him that his pod would not be ready for departure until the next day. Not wanting to call attention to his secret mission, he accepted this without much complaint and began walking restlessly around the base, too energized to sleep. Before his arrival he would not have wanted to be seen around the base without his tail, but the intimidation he had witnessed from the soldiers and medics assured him that he had not lost his carefully-rebuilt reputation.
While passing through the halls, Vegeta noticed that everything around him had taken on a two dimensional quality. He had stayed away from Freeza Planets for most of the past few years, but this was beyond the normal surreal experience of returning to a place once familiar. The only thing real to him now was the unseen world of Nammekkusei.
He could sense a formidable ki somewhere ahead of him, but figured it probably belonged to Kewie, with whom he could not concern himself. I’ll head for Chikyuusei first thing in the morning, he thought. I’m going to smash them to pieces for sure this time. No, before that, I’ll go to Namekkusei... His eyes, which had been trained on the floor in front of him as he plotted, fell on a recognizable set of green boots. His gaze rose as he continued his approach.
Kewie stood defiantly in the middle of his path. “Yo, Vegeta. I heard you had yourself a rough time of it.” He paused to laugh. “They said that both Raditz and Nappa died. To whom do the supposedly invincible Saiyajins owe the pleasure of this grief?”
Vegeta didn’t break his stride, walking by as he responded, “Get lost, Kewie. I don’t have time to entertain your inconsequential chitchat.” As he was just past, a hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him firmly.
“Now, just listen. Freeza-sama is cross with you for the actions you guys took without his permission.” Kewie’s voice dripped triumph. Vegeta’s pulse quickened at the confirmation that Freeza was aware of his detour, but he forced a small laugh.
“He can’t complain about it if he’s not here,” Vegeta replied cooly. He could hear Kewie falter at his false confidence. “Now, remove that filthy hand of yours,” Vegeta spat. Kewie slid his hand from Vegeta’s shoulder guard, but quickly regained his pompous attitude.
“Still, Freeza-sama is a magnanimous gentleman. I hear he’s going to forgive you,” Kewie announced, so obviously pleased to know something Vegeta did not. He stepped forward, staring at Vegeta from the side. “That’s because you’ve discovered something wonderful.”
Vegeta’s chest constricted. “What?” He was too shocked to keep it out of his voice.
“He was thrilled when he found out he might be able to gain eternal youth and life.”
“What did you say?!” Vegeta turned to look at Kewie over his shoulder, panic now spilling out into his face and voice. “Then, the place that Freeza-sama departed for is—?”
Kewie’s smile grew more smug. “Namekkusei.”
Vegeta’s stomach dropped at the mention of his own destination. Damn it! He listened in on our conversation over the scouters, huh? Vegeta thought wildly. But how? There was never a signal! He turned away again to hide his expression from Kewie. I have to beat him to it somehow, or I’ll be that bastard’s toady forever!
“I understand that you wanted those Dragon Ball things to gain eternal life too, but you’ll have to give that up now.” Kewie was leaning to speak into his ear. Vegeta’s body began to shake in rage. “Once Freeza-sama has his wish granted, he’s planning to exterminate the Namekkujin.”
“Kh—!” Vegeta grit his teeth. That bastard! He finally snapped, leaping forward into a sprint. “That bastard!” He growled aloud this time. He ran toward the dock, ignoring Kewie’s calls after him. He was just beginning to move fast enough as to almost fly when he passed the medic from earlier and heard his name. Vegeta stopped himself, his eyes instantly locking onto the scouter in the medic’s hand.
“Give me that!” he ordered as he snatched it out of the stunned medic’s claws. “It turns out I need it after all!” he announced as he continued down the hall with increased speed. He reached the dock in almost no time, his feet moving ahead of his mind. Spotting one of the pods which had been prepared for someone else, he skidded into a turning slide, slamming his back into the pod’s soft seat. His finger jammed into the manual launch button, and the door closed before Kewie could catch up to stop him. The force of the abrupt motion pressed Vegeta deeper into his seat as he hooked his scouter to his ear. “I won’t let you do this! Those belong to me!” he screamed. As the dock faded below him, he was able to fight down his frustration enough to find Namekkusei’s location and set the pod’s coordinates.
When his course was set, Vegeta let his hands fall to the grips at his sides. He was panting, his fresh uniform already sweaty. Another bead formed on his forehead as he finally paused to digest what he had just done. He had openly declared his hatred for Freeza in front of one of his favored men. He had taken a pod that was not allocated for him. He was heading for a planet which he was not supposed to visit, to perform a mission that had not been given to him. He was heading toward Freeza.
This was an all-or-nothing gamble. Everything he had done, every fight, every drop of blood spilt, every moment of forced subservience, was being put on the line for this one chance at vengeance. His split-second decision to depart for Namekkusei was a far more brazen move than he had ever thought he would make. And there is no turning back.
Freeza already knew about the Dragon Balls and that Vegeta had intended to use them for himself. How? Vegeta’s logic failed him. Freeza’s men would certainly have been able to procure the information by listening in, but his scouter had never shown any sign of a direct signal. Either he had been betrayed by one of his fellow Saiyajin or...
This has to be another one of Freeza’s tricks, Vegeta decided. He thought to the last time he had received a new scouter: his had malfunctioned, and he had been forced to stop at a Freeza Planet to replace it. That had been when he’d had his forced run-in with the past. At the time he had thought his malfunctioning scouter had been a ploy to give Freeza the chance to torment him from a distance. He considered a new possibility: the room, that place, had been the ruse, meant to distract him. Perhaps the real goal had been to give him a rigged scouter, one that would only selectively reveal its connections. He had waited days for the arrival of the new scouter, and had even thought he’d felt Freeza’s presence on that base. He had linked the failing scouter to foul play, but not the new scouter. He wondered briefly if his current device was similarly altered, but that didn’t matter anymore. There was no one left to speak to now. There was nobody, nothing between him and Freeza but a short distance of space.
The estimated travel time burned into his vision from the pod’s screen: 65 hours. Would that be too late? What if Freeza had already arrived? Had Freeza already obtained the Dragon Balls? Regardless, they would know he was on his way. Kewie would tell them, maybe even pursue him. Vegeta could attempt to hide his increased power level, but there was no way he could move around the planet without being detected. There were no obvious strategies to follow; everything would have to be completely improvised. He didn’t even know what the Dragon Balls looked like, or how one used them. The onslaught of considerations had him doubting his decision, but he could think of few alternatives.
What choice did he really have? Kewie had said that Freeza was already angry, so punishment was a certainty and death a possibility. Above all, if Freeza succeeded, Vegeta would never get revenge. Freeza would live forever, and Vegeta could not accept that. Even if he couldn’t have the Dragon Balls for himself, he had to keep Freeza from making his wish.
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Breaking the Prince (Part 2)