A Rebel\'s Heart

Bardock returned with Fasha from their latest purging mission, both rather bruised and banged up from an unexpected battle with the Rinajin, who again attempted to one-up them by going after the same planet. This one would bring in a healthy profit, so Frieza would actually pay them this time for a quick and effective sweeping. Their limbs were also cramped from the long voyage in their space pods, so after reporting in they headed for their respective bathing rooms for long, well deserved baths.

Bardock tossed his scouter atop his quickly shed armor and torn clothing, wasting no time in immersing himself into the deep, hot water that one of the servants had prepared for him. Closing his eyes with a heavy sigh at the deep, soapy hot water, Bardock reclined his head in an attempt to momentarily forget their ordeal. They didn't doubt that the Saiyan and the Rinajin were nothing more than Frieza's personal chess match and that he was constantly playing both sides against the middle for his own amusement, which infuriated the king to no end. Bardock was not looking foreward to their briefing with His Majesty that evening.

After their baths, Fasha was waiting for him in the corridor in a clean uniform and shining hair, her wounds freshly bandaged like Bardock's. He nodded and they headed to the throne room, ringing to signal their presence. Recognizing two of his best warriors, the king punched in his code and the door slid open.

"Enter," he bade them, frowning at the bandages that covered them head to toe.

The warriors knelt. "The enemy didn't pose much problem this time, Majesty," Bardock reported, "They were new recruits and easily eliminated."

With a doubtful look the king gestured for them to rise. "You may smoke, Bardock," he said, noticing the latter's restless frustration. Bardock lit up and stood near the ornate ashtray the king had set out for such occasions, relieved at his first inhale of smoke.

"The planet is ready for sale, Majesty," Fasha told him, "Do you require a formal report?" Despite her fatigue, Fasha stood proudly erect, her tail curled smartly around her waist.

"That won't be necessary, Fasha," the king accorded, "You may retire for the night."

Fasha bowed to the king. "Will you be joining me in the canteen, 'Dock?" she inquired.

"He will not," the king informed her, "Bardock has other plans tonight."

Fasha raised an eyebrow. "Good luck," she muttered to Bardock, clapping him on his unbandaged shoulder.

"Hmph," Bardock returned, "Sweet dreams," he bid her sarcastically.

"Pfff." Rolling her eyes, Fasha left them and headed toward the canteen.

"Will we be on guard duty tonight, Majesty?" Bardock inquired, putting out his cigarette.

"No, Raditz and Nappa will be assigned to that," the king replied, "You've done more than a day's work." He called for Raditz and Nappa on his scouter to inform them of their assignment.

"Why should it be us?" they heard Nappa mutter to Raditz, adding something about preferring a Rinajin battle to babysitting the prince all day.

"Do you have a problem, Nappa?" King Vegeta barked into the scouter.

"Uh... no... no, of course not, Majesty," Nappa said hastily, obviously ignorant of being overheard.

"Then get to your posts immediately," the king snapped, cutting the speaker. He chuckled despite himself. "My son gives them a run for their money," he commented with amusement, then told Bardock, "Actually, I wish to invite you to dine with me tonight." He eyed Bardock with interest. "Would you accept?" The question was but a formality, of course, and Bardock choked back a sudden nervousness that crept up on him. That was definitely not something to which he was accustomed, and no other reply was possible.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Bardock replied with a bow, "Thank you, it's a great honor." The king smirked. Honor was not exactly the fitting term tonight.
*
TBC...