Dragon Ball Z 1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Vegeta was a world built upon the labors of the weak. Where once discovery and knowledge had been the paradigm, the planet was now governed by the strength of one's' fists. In the year 550, an alien people fled to the planet, trading the destiny they'd been born with for a destiny that no one could quite foresee. The planet, known as Plant, was home to the Tsufurujins, a race of technologically advanced beings whom had built for themselves a thriving society. The other worldly refugees, known as Saiyans, were polar opposites of the Tsufurujins. Where technology and medicine were staples of Tsufurujin culture, the Saiyans held one belief above all else; The strong survive. These conflicting ideals led the two societies to a head.

In the year 720, the Saiyans declared war on the Tsufurujin people. Where the Tsufurujins had lived in shining cities of glass and steel, the Saiyans had existed in a perpetual state of squalor, housed in caves, or shanties built on the outskirts of Tuffle cities. The war went well for the Tsufurujins at first, their superior technology and armaments giving them an overwhelming advantage. However, as the war seemed to be nearing an end, the Saiyans destiny made itself known. Ten years after the conflicts' onset, a full moon appeared. To the Tsufurujins, this meant nothing. A regular, if infrequent, lunar occurrence. To the Saiyans, however, it was salvation.

The full moon caused a transformation within the saiyans, a genetic trait that only surfaced when a saiyan was exposed to a large amount of lunar energy. Gigantic, ape-like creatures appeared on the edges of Tsufurujin cities, their newly gained power enough to withstand the Tuffle weapons that had previously brought them to their knees. City after city fell to the beasts, and it was only after the Tsufurujins had been brought to the edge of extinction that the Saiyans saw fit to end the conflict.

The Saiyans quickly acclimated to the new technology, digesting the information as quickly as they had decimated the Tsufurujin population. While it was true the Saiyans were a simple and brutish people, they had the capacity to be very cunning when it suited their needs. The sudden shift in stature did not change the nature of the Saiyans, however. Since being brought into existence, it had been the Saiyans instinct to do battle. With the technology now at their disposal, the saiyans could do so on an intergalactic scale, as well as for profit. Word quickly spread of the Saiyan peoples' propensity for combat, so quickly that the Planet Trade Organization took an interest in their talents.

Presided over by an extremely powerful Changeling Lord, the PTO was an equally powerful, intergalactic conglomerate. Envisioned around the year 550 as a universal realty business, the PTO grew more quickly than any of its' founders could have imagined. Decades passed, and the PTO continued to grow, gathering underneath its' umbrella a number of races, factions and companies. The Saiyans were one of these races.

Shortly after the Saiyans had leapt onto the intergalactic scene, the PTO made contact with them and contracts began being discussed. The Saiyans were set to become soldiers fighting in the name of the PTO, serving as the backbone of the company's' planet acquisition branch. Saiyans would travel either solo, or in groups, to planets deemed fit for sale, and would clear the planet of sentient life. The planet would then be sold by the PTO in an auction, where the highest bidder would have first pick of any planets currently on the market.

The Saiyans thrived in this atmosphere. The combination of the PTOs' guiding hand, and the Saiyans natural urge to do battle made for a potent combination. Some dissidence was present within the Saiyan population, as many did not like the authority that the PTO held over them. For the most part, however, the Saiyans' fell in line, happy to do the companies bidding of clearing planets by any means necessary.

Years passed and the Saiyans settled into their new role as members of the PTO. Having conquered Plant, they renamed the planet Vegeta, in honor of their leader and King. The King's enacted policies led to the Saiyan homeworld becoming a center for PTO military operations, as well as a hotspot for the numerous mercenaries that inhabited the galaxy. The developing culture of Vegetas' stratocratic republic had a great effect on the Saiyan attitude towards child rearing.

It had at one time been customary for the weakest of the Saiyans to tend to the children while the rest did battle. With the Saiyans sudden exposure to technology, it became policy for children to be born, and then placed in automated nurseries overseen by one or two attendants. Tests started being administered at birth that measured the Saiyan childrens' potential for combat. Those deemed gifted were raised and trained to be members of the Royal Saiyan Army. The rest, known as infiltration babies, were sent individually to planets where the dominant race was considered too weak to waste a proper planet acquisition teams' time. The Saiyan children would arrive at their assigned planets via assault pods, transform at the sight of the full moon, and clear the planet of life.

And thus, the Saiyan Empire joined the Planet Trade Organization.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Vegeta woke with a start. His quarters, dimly lit by the display of his scouter, were silent. Simply furnished, the room was near empty. But it didn't feel that way to the Saiyan Prince.

"Who's there?"

The words came out as a whisper, but seemed to echo in the boys' ears. The light of the scouter flickered, and Vegeta called out once more.

"Who's there?"

The Princes' voice was louder now, and more stern. Throwing back the sheets of his bed, the boy stood, casting a glance around the room, challenging the coward that dared to break into his chambers.

"Show yourself, coward!"

Vegetas' voice was harsh now, colored with anger. He strode to the wall and pressed a switch, flooding the room with light. Looking to each corner, the boy found no one. No coward hiding in the shadows, no assailant poised to strike.

"Hm."

Vegeta made his way to the window on the far side of his bed. He checked the magnetic latches, both of which were locked tight. The entrance to his room was locked as well, but that was impossible. Something had woken him, but what? It had felt like a gust of air, or as if a wave had crashed down upon him. Then his eyes had opened, and he was still in his room.

"A dream," the boy supposed. He flipped the lights back off, and fell into his bed. He had a mission to depart for in three hours. Assigned to him in person, by Lord Frieza. He was to clear an Alpha class planet, but instead of being sent with a squad, he had been instructed to complete the mission solo. A challenge, he thought. Frieza was finally recognizing his talents, and was now choosing to give him a mission that would truly test him. Father would be proud.

Vegeta rolled over, and shut his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. He pictured his assault pod crashing into the planet, and the look of the inhabitants as he stepped out of his ship.

"I'll kill them all…" He murmured, drifting back to sleep.

Morning came quickly for the Saiyan Prince. After bathing and visiting the mess hall, he started for the launch bay, passing Nappa on his way there. The Saiyan General showered wishes of luck and success on him, not that he needed it. He was the son of the King, after all, and could have outmatched the General despite being a fraction of his age.

"Shut up, Nappa. Just try not to get killed while I'm gone."

Vegeta arrived at the launch bay moments later, and found the ship assigned to him. He climbed into the pod and activated the life support systems before self initiating the launch sequence. Generally a bay attendant would have done so, but the Prince had made a point to do things himself.

Less opportunity for some fool to make a mistake and postpone his missions, he reasoned. The ships' engines came to life with a roar, and the locking mechanisms detached themselves from its' outer haul.

"Bay Seven, cleared for launch," a computerized voice announced.

Several launch attendants cleared the way, though they didn't have to move far. Prince Vegeta was generally given a wide berth by those that didn't know him personally. The bay doors disappeared into the walls, and the guide lights of the launch strip began to power on, clearing the Prince for take off.

Vegeta flipped an overhead switch, and the pod lurched forward, its' propulsion systems activating, carrying him out the bay exit.

The flip of another switch activated the extended travel processes, which in turned dimmed the ships interior lights, engaging the suspended animation protocols. The Prince cursed under his breath and shut his eyes. This was the part of missions he detested the most. Any excitement that being assigned a difficult mission caused was quickly erased by the fact that he had to sleep for half a year between departure and arrival.

It will be worth it though, Vegeta assured himself. An Alpha class planet would truly test his limits, and that would be well worth the wait. The ship began to quake, informing the boy that he was now leaving the planets' atmosphere. The Prince sighed, and found a comfortable position in his seat. At the very least, he thought, his consciousness beginning to fade, it would be a year without Nappa.

**-S-**

Dosetsu woke with a start. His head was throbbing, but he forced himself into a sitting position, taking a look at his surroundings. Shipping crates dominated his view, with a door visible between a few. The crates were decorated with the typical PTO label. The Saiyan stood, dusting himself off and checking for any injuries. The crate beneath him had broken under his weight, with chunks of plasteel littered around it. Luckily for the owner, the contents had been emptied before it had met him.

Dosetsu stood, glancing around. He seemed to be in a storage area, or some sort of stocking department. Storage units lined the walls, most of which had one crate or several stacked on top of them. The Saiyan began to make his way towards the door, taking care to retrieve his scouter from the ground. As little as he used it, it was still his only real possession.

The door opened with a button press, opening up to a brightly lit hallway. "So this is where I end up. I guess the outpost wasn't such a good idea…" The Saiyan sighed. He'd hoped one night back on the grid would have been fine, but apparently not. Restraint wasn't one of his strongest suites, and his foresight wasn't any better. This string of thoughts was interrupted by the sound only an empty stomach can make.

"What to do about breakfast.."

Dosetsu quickened his pace and reached a door at the end of the hallway. The door led to the stereotypical business entrance, equipped with barriers to shepherd a long line and a desk that screamed customer service. Apparently his acquaintances from the night before had dumped him in an abandoned PTO contract center. The Planet Trade Organization generally dealt with much larger affairs than those you'd find on the ground level of a planet, but they obviously didn't want to run the risk of losing a chance at profit.

Dosetsu was more concerned with what he'd be able to find to eat. It was bad luck to skip breakfast, or so he'd told his squad mates on missions. The Saiyans' mood wilted slightly at the memory, but he pressed on, wrapping his tail around his waist as he pushed through the doors and into the morning air.

The Saiyan supposed Vegeta could be best described as a grassland, though he couldn't say for sure. He hadn't actually seen the entire planet. Where you lived generally wasn't considered important to a Saiyan, as long as there was food, fighting, and after all of that was taken care of, a woman to enjoy. Geography was even less so important to a Saiyan Warrior, as Dosetsu could attest to. What little schooling they were offered was dominated by lessons in how to operate an assault pod, how to operate a scouter, and how to create a moon when there wasn't one readily available.

Dosetsu glanced to the right and squinted, trying to see if any of the street signs said anything about food. They didn't, prompting the Saiyan to check in the other direction. There were a few, but remembering how empty his credit account was, he couldn't quite see how he was going to pay for whatever food he ordered.

"Shit," he breathed, meandering through the streets with his fingers laced behind his head. Finding work was tough in rural areas, and a record like his made it even more difficult. Most people didn't believe his explanation, and the few that claimed to ended up contacting the PTO Enforcers, who then chased him off the outpost and back into the wilderness.

"At least I don't live in a cave, haahahaha…" Dosetsu chuckled, walking through a gap in the fence that surrounded the outpost. The cave of irony that he called home was several units from the PTO establishment, which was intentional. He got a lot less traffic that way than he would have if he'd lived somewhere just off the main road. The biggest issue he had with banishment was the lack of Saiyan interaction.

The Saiyan would never admit to growing lonely, but the truth of the matter was that nature only offered so many opportunities for Dosetsu to fight something other than his own shadow. The wildlife of Vegeta had never been particularly abundant to begin with, and ever since the Saiyans had taken over the planet, any attempts to preserve endangered species had ceased.

"At the very least they could have given me some sort of severance package…" Dosetsu mused, cradling his chin with the a hand while the other grasped his elbow. At first, he'd been angry. Banished with no explanation, and then forced from the city by one of his closest friends. They hadn't given him the opportunity to ask what he'd done. He sighed. That was in the past, and he had other things to worry about. All the sighing he was doing, for one. That was becoming a habit, and that habit was beginning to disrupt his training. He'd begun spending more time wishing he could go back, and less time increasing his strength.

Dosetsu began to sigh again, but caught himself. He had work to do. Green light appeared around the Saiyan, hugging the shape of his body. He shot into the air, and off into the distance, the energy that had gathered around his body leaving a trail in the sky behind him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The sound of assault pods tearing through the atmosphere drew Dosetsu from his trance. It'd been several days since his trip to the outpost, and his newly acquired resolve towards training had yet to wane. The Saiyan struck the air casually a few times, before increasing his pace, sending an eye-bending flurry of punches to his left. A series of kicks followed, which were then accompanied by an arc of light released from his palm. Dosetsu drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. He felt good, but all he was really doing was flexing. He wouldn't gain much strength battling against his imagination.

The Saiyan had chosen the edge of a lake near the capital for his training. It gave him an opportunity to cool off afterwards, which he needed more often than not. Where his training was an emotionless task, watching the flow of traffic in and out of the capital was enough to rile him. Assault pods came and went, as did trade caravans from other hubs on the far sides of the planet. The Saiyan ran a hand through his hair; dark and unkept.

"Nice view at least," he thought aloud, reclaiming his battle armor from where he'd left it on the beach. He slipped it over his head and down past his shoulders, letting the armor fit itself to his body. Black combat leggings covered his legs, with standard issue boots to go with them. He wore no shirt beneath the armor, but he did have greaves to protect his fists. His greaves and boots matched the color scheme of his armor, which was primarily black with yellow trim.

Dosetsu admired the image of himself on the surface of the lake for a moment. It'd been roughly five years since his banishment, and it showed in his reflection. The Saiyan wasn't a boy anymore, he was a warrior.

"Albeit not an elite," he said sternly, crouching to retrieve his scouter. The device, a grayish angle with a green lense, lit up as the Saiyan brought it to his face.

"Huh..?"

It'd been years since the last time he'd intercepted a transmission. The PTO constantly altered the frequency that their scouters operated on, for security reasons, so it made sense for him to stop receiving chatter. Yet here his scouter was, a message received icon pulsing in the corner of it's display. Dosetsu hurriedly attached the device to his face and tapped the receive switch on it's side, bringing the message icon to the center of his screen. The icon began to expand as the message opened, but the expansion was interrupted by a sudden error message.

Red text appeared on the screen, detailing the error as an artificial logic malfunction. Dosetsu interpreted the message somewhat differently, reading it as 'pile of shit scouter decides to quit working at the worst moment'. The Saiyan tore the device from his face and began to close his hand around it, but thought better.

"I won't be able to replace you if I crush you…" He muttered through clenched teeth, placing the scouter back on his face. I'll just have to get it repaired, he thought, rising into the air. Dosetsu cast a glance towards the outpost, but knew instantly that no one there would help him. The Planet Trade Organization, along with its' affiliates, put great stock in the records of former employees. A blemish as sizeable as his own wouldn't be overlooked.

"That leaves… one."

Dosetsu recalled a contact he'd had from his time as a planet acquisition agent. After missions, Saiyans were debriefed, and depending on the outcome of the mission, were either dealt new equipment, or left to their own devices. Having had a relatively small amount of success, the Saiyan had become accustomed to getting repairs or replacements from equipment dealers that weren't officially recognized by the PTO.

His contact was a Kabochian man who'd been involved in smaller planet trade businesses prior to the PTOs' influence spreading to his own world. He went by the name Sirch, and had made a name for himself as an underground arms and equipment dealer. Dosetsu had always pointed out that making a name as an underground dealer defeated the purpose of being underground, but Sirch just laughed him out the door with a repaired scouter. The Saiyan chuckled at the memory as he propelled himself across the lake and towards the capital.

Night had fallen by the time Dosetsu had decided to leave, but the sky still stood ablaze with the glow of the city. Cargo ships formed lines as they found their way into the storage district, each having to stop at sky terminals that took stock of the goods being shipped in and out of the city. This gave the Saiyan the perfect opportunity to hide himself in the undercarriage compartment of a ship. He'd considered just walking through the primary gates, but security was vastly more stringent there.

Dosetsu felt a bit like a Tuffle, hiding within the confines of the ship, but he knew better than to beat himself up over that. There was a difference between being a warrior, and being a fool and trying to fight the Vegetan Capitals' security force. Later, he promised himself. For now, he had no intention of dying.

**-S-**

Explosions rocked the Kanassan cityscape as great apes found their way across miles of steel and stone. Five apes in total had assaulted the planet, five being the standard size for a low class Saiyan squad. Their leader, Bardock, stood at the forefront of the battle, clearing swathes of Kanassajins who positioned themselves to defend. Belches of energy escaped the mouths of the apes, carving through skyscrapers and toppling towers. The strength of the native people simply stood no chance in the face of the Saiyans' power.

Night came and went, and the battle ended, the Saiyans clearing the planet, readying it for resale by the PTO. The group of warriors woke early the next morning, each having to find their way back to their landing site. The squad breakfasted on rations as they prepared for departure, bantering around a fire built on Kanassan corpses.

"The sonsa' bitches got me good," Panbukin grunted, rubbing at the wound he'd been dealt. It wasn't often a Saiyan was wounded in their great ape form. The others laughed, saved for Bardock who lay strewn on the ground, his hands tucked behind his head.

"I bet you remember that ones' face, hahaha..!" Celypa chuckled, her voice shrill but joking. Panbukin made a face at her before returning to coddling his scar.

Totapo, generally the least vocal of the group, chuckled as well, but reserved comment. Toma laughed aloud, glancing in Bardock's direction to see his reaction.

"Bardock! What's the matter with you? They leave a mark on you, too?"

Toma's face lit up as Bardock slung himself into a sitting position, a cheshire grin on his face. He eyed Panbukin for a moment, chortling quietly.

"It's a wonder you aren't more marked up, considering you eat half the natives we kill. You probably weighed down by all the bones in your stomach."

The group laughed again, Panbukin even joining in on the laughter. The fire crackled, and the group grinned at each other. Life as a planet acquisition agent was good, even if you had tested as a low class.

Debris shifting behind Bardock brought the laughter to a halt. The Saiyans peered at the pile of rubble, Toma opting to put his scouter to use. A series of beeps played from the scouters' speaker, before a reading appeared on the page.

"There's something in there, but it's pretty close to dead. Just leave it." He muttered. It didn't seem much fun to kick a dog that was already dead. The Saiyans turned away, having lost interest as the words left the man's mouth.

Bardock, though, kept staring at the spot where the rubble had shifted. They'd been laughing, and suddenly a completely alien sensation had hit the Saiyan. It'd felt as if a wave had crashed down on him, or as if he'd been hit with a gust of air. But he hadn't, had he? None of the others acted like anything strange had happened.

"What the hell..?" Bardock murmured, palming the back of his head.

The pile of rubble erupted as a Kanassajin shot from beneath it, clutching it's extended wrists as it gathered energy. It fired a ball of light towards the Saiyans, but Bardock deflected it with ease. The Kanassajin was haggard, with wounds littered over the entirety of it's body. The native wasn't long for this world.

"Nice try, ya' bastard." Bardock called out, facing his palm towards the Kanassajin.

"Wait! Bardock!"

The sound of his own name caused the warrior to flinch. How did this native know his name? What in the hell was going on? The Saiyan returned his attention to the Kanassajin, who was struggling to speak between labored breaths.

"We… knew that you would come…! We foresaw, and so we prepared, knowing that we would fall in the end!"

"What are you talking about?" Bardock growled, light appearing in the center of his palm. He didn't have time to listen to the ramblings of a dying native. He had a mess hall waiting for him back on Vegeta.

"We have the power of sight! We saw that you would come, and we saw what would occur after you left! Your race is-..." The alien faltered suddenly, as if confused. The Saiyan thanked whatever gods that had shut it up. Energy shot from his hand and engulfed the Kanassajin, tearing at the being's existence as it began to disintegrate.

"I-... I can't see! I can't see what will come! The future…" The Kanassajin cut off as the light from Bardock's attack consumed him, reducing his body to ash.

"Freak," The Saiyan grunted as he turned back to his crew. Their faces bore worried looks, but at the sight of Bardocks' sneer they were all forced to chuckle. The Saiyans' crew burst into laughter, before being silenced by their leader.

"Shut up. It's time to go home."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The storage district was located directly behind behind a system bazaar, separated by a few hundred meters and an access gate. The sounds of crowds moving from one stall to the next poured over the fence, as well as a pounding bass that rattled the plasteel surfaces around the Saiyan. The sounds were alien to Dosetsu, which made sense. The majority of those who went to bazaars like this were aliens, trying to get goods from outside the system.

The man crept along, back pressed against the side of a storage unit. He couldn't afford to even be glimpsed, or else the security would locate him with their scouters. As much as he didn't mind fighting them, once they swarmed him he'd be lucky if he made it out with his tail. The Saiyan's tail bobbed at this thought, before he wrapped it around his waist.

Dosetsu's destination was several districts over, but first he had to weave his way through the storage area. Once he got to the bazaar he'd have no trouble. He doubted there'd be a single guard there, let alone a Saiyan who might actually take interest in him. If there was, though…

He pushed that thought to the side. He had to focus on sneaking for right now, something his species wasn't particularly adept at. The saiyan continued past the container, keeping low and out of the ray of the automated spotlights. A final dash across a small open area and the saiyan found himself only a handful of meters from salvation; an open gate that bridged districts.

A guard was stationed there, though, back turned towards the man. Dosetsu couldn't put a name to the being's race, it's head somewhat bulbous with antennae like appendages protruding from the back of it's neck. The Saiyan tapped his scouter, hoping he was lucky. If he had to exert too much power to take him out, he'd be discovered.

"Six hundred…"

The saiyan breathed a sigh of relief, taking a step forward. He passed out of sight for a moment, reappearing behind the alien. The creature's scouter began to ping and it brought it's hand up, trying to figure out what was going on. Dosetsu acted first, though, chopping it's neck. The alien crumpled to the floor, and the saiyan drug it behind a container, propping it up like it was asleep. He hoped it's race actually slept, or he might run into trouble later.

Chuckling at the thought, Dosetsu made his way through the gate, casting a glance over his shoulder. Nobody was watching as far as he could tell, so he was in the clear. The saiyan quickly disappeared into the crowd of the bazaar, his armor less of a sore thumb than he'd expected. Apparently the PTO's influence had made some strides in the time he'd been gone.

Dosetus wove his way through the bustling district, pushing past groups that stood at stalls, ogling things they wouldn't be able to afford. He couldn't afford them either, but at least he wasn't ogling, he reasoned. The saiyan found his way into the next district, which was filled with more shopping areas, though these were located in buildings as opposed to street stalls.

"This is trade district… three.." He murmured, glancing up at directional signs. Despite having lived in the capital, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time there. Saiyans didn't often get leave, and when they did it was usually spent in a recuperation tank. He chuckled again. A lot of good memories connected to his place, he thought, frowning. There were a lot of bad ones, too.

A woman passed by Dosetsu, a female saiyan with dark hair. Her figure took the saiyan aback; she looked so familiar, maybe she was..?

"Hey! Itonami!"

The woman turned and eye Dosetsu, though it was obvious she didn't know him. He wilted, but quickly said, "Sorry. I thought you were someone else." The woman turned on her heel then and walked off into the crowd. Sighing, the saiyan returned to the task at hand. She wouldn't have been here, anyway. She was an Elite. She wouldn't be caught in a place like this.

He made his way across the shopping area, and through the district gate. It was three districts to the 'Black District', as it was called. Dosetsu hadn't ever really given too much thought to the name, guessing that it was called that because of the poor lighting. Though he wasn't entirely wrong, the type of business carried out in the district had far more to do with it's name.

Dosetsu pushed into the air once he reached the aforementioned district, deciding that flying would give him a better vantage point. In other districts that would get him noticed too easily, as only soldiers were trained enough to fly. In this particular part of the capital, however, it was exceedingly common. A skill as useful as flight wouldn't go ignored in a district so entrenched in opportunity.

The Saiyan quickly found the shop he was looking for, a building with both a standard door as well as a garage opening. The sign on the front flickered as if powered by faulty wiring, though Dosetsu knew that was just to make it look run down. The inside was an entirely different story.

He put himself down at the top of a flight of steps that led to the door, a door signal box to his left. He pressed the button and waited for the door to be unlocked. It didn't seem right to break in after all the favors Sirch had done him.

The box phased from red to green, and the locks deactivated. The saiyan swung the door open and stepped inside, peering up the flight of steps that lay just inside the door. Light filled the stairway suddenly as a shot of energy screamed towards Dosetsu. He corralled it in the palm of his hand, swinging it back behind him, into the streets of the district. The Saiyan heard the explosion, but didn't look. His eyes were locked on the man standing at the top of the stairway. He was a Kabochian man, very slightly built, with his arm tucked inside a blaster.

"The hell was that for?"

Sirch scratched his head sheepishly, an apologetic look on his face. It wasn't every day he got a visitor, after all. Particularly a Saiyan fully equipped in PTO gear. In fact, it'd been more than five years since he'd been paid a visit by someone like that.

"Uh-... Security. You saiyans all look the same, how was I supposed to recognize you?"

Dosetsu brushed the comment off, a grin now playing on his lips.

"You're damn lucky you aren't someone else. I'd have shoved my fist through your chest."

Sirch laughed at this, but quickly took on a serious tone. He kept the blaster at his side, but was ready to pull it back up at any moment. He had a question to ask the saiyan, and only one answer would satisfy him.

"Did…" He began, but paused for a moment. He couldn't believe he was asking one of closest friends this, but he had to. The man had to make sure.

"Did you kill Itonami?"

**-S-**

Bardock had been sent to the medical center as soon as he arrived back on Vegeta, despite his protests. It was regulation for soldiers to visit with their individually assigned doctors after a mission, regardless of whether they were injured. The worry was that they'd pick up a pathogen of some sort from the alien planet, though that wasn't particularly common.

Malaka was the Saiyan's primary physician, though Planthorr often took care of him during his visits while Malak was busy with others. An injured saiyan was just about any saiyan at one point in time, so the doctors of Vegeta were constantly busy. The doctorly duo had a soft spot for Bardock, so seeing him walk through the doors, as opposed to being carted in, was a pleasant surprise.

Formalities between the three were a thing of the past, so the Saiyan quickly kicked his feet up on the desk of the two as they went to work scanning him, exchanging pleasantries all the while.

"I hear you've had a son, Bardock. I never thought you'd settle down."

Malaka's beak clicked together as he spoke, but he was obviously grinning on the inside. Bardock laced his fingers behind his head with a laugh, taking the joke in stride. "You know me better than that. He'll probably get shipped off, and I won't see him til he's grown."

That was the way he wanted it, too. Bardock had no interest in interacting with his child, especially when he couldn't even speak yet. The saiyan met enough aliens that couldn't talk, he didn't need his son to remind him of them.

The doctors chuckled in unison as they finished up their scans. Bardock's silhouette popped up on a display on the wall, shining green.

"I guess I'm good to go," The Saiyan said, popping up from his seat and making his way towards the door. "I'll go visit the kid, and I'll tell him you both said hi."

The two waved as the saiyan disappeared down the hallway, giving each other a knowing look. They both glanced up at the display before returning to their work. A moment later, they did a double take.

"Ten… Ten thousand?!" Planthorr murmured incredulously. That was the kind of power only the most accomplished elites could claim. Bardock was rated as a low-class warrior, nothing more than a basic soldier. King Vegeta himself only had twelve thousand, maybe a bit more.

"He needs to be retested. There's something special about him."

Malaka nodded in response, still gazing up at the display. He made his way over towards a console, accessing the data for the rest of Bardock's squad. They were all middling in power, averaging out at around twenty-five hundred, nowhere near the power of their squad leader.

"He's special indeed, Planthorr."

Bardock had found his way to the nursery by that time. He'd been forced to get directions because for the life of him he couldn't remember where it was, but after a bit of trial and error, he made it. The nursery consisted of room after room, completely visible through walls lined with rectangular windows. The Saiyan wasn't sure why there were so many windows with how infrequent visitors were, but he was thankful for it now. He could tell by the muffled wails that he didn't want to actually go into any of these rooms.

A few moments passed as he browsed through the cribs, reading for the label that would identify his son.

"Son of Spinish… Son of Paragus… Son of-... Here!"

The Saiyan's heart skipped a beat. As little as he actually cared for the child, he was still his own creation. There was something satisfying in that. Bardock tapped the side of his scouter, initiating a scan of the infant's power.

"Average…" He said dejectedly. In truth, he couldn't have expected much more. He'd been born with roughly the same power, though that had been during the early years of the war. They'd just been glad he'd been born at all back then.

"Well, kid…" Bardock began, palm resting against the glass, as if to get a bit closer to his son. Words didn't seem to want to come, at least nothing poetic, so he simply said:

"Watch your tail and don't die. I'll see you in a few years."

With that he made his way out of the nursery. He hadn't eaten since they'd left Kanassa, and it was time to rectify that. The Saiyan felt his stomach grumble as he quickened his pace.

"Mess hall here I come."

* * *

Hey all, it's Relltensai here. I'm starting to get the hang of writing a bit more regularly, so hopefully I can't start pumping out chapters within some sort of schedule. Obviously this is AU, so there will be some obvious differences, and some not so obvious, so keep a look out. If you find anything lore wise I butcher, I'd be appreciative if you pointed that out to me! It may or may not be intentional, but attention to detail is important to me. Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Cold metal pressed against the woman's cheek, her eyes fluttering open at the sudden coolness on her face. The room she was in was poorly lit, the only light coming from the flickerings of computer modules that decorated the walls. She tried to roll onto her side, but couldn't seem to get her muscles to cooperate, her mind sending signals but her body unable to respond.

The woman was laying on a table in some sort of lab, that much she had gathered. That small bit of information was enough to worry her, the woman's imagination already running rampant as she glanced around the room. Her eyes seemed in working order, as well as her eyelids and the surround area on her face. Her mouth, though, as well as the rest of her body, seemed to be completely paralyzed. Even her tail, usually lively, remained stationary.

"Where am I?"

The woman flinched at the sound of her own voice, or would have, if she'd been able to move.

"What the hell? What is that? Where's my voice…"

She trailed off as she realized what was happening, though stopping her train of thought didn't necessarily have the desired effect. A portion of her thoughts appeared to be being played back through a speaker. This realization was played back as well, accompanied by a string of profanities and a miniature horror show of her imagined surroundings.

"Stop! Stop it! Stop it n-..."

The broadcast stopped suddenly stopped. Generators began to hum around her. Off the licensed grid, she thought, before overhead lights powered on, blinding the saiyan. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness she was met by the stare of a shortish man, clothed in a lab coat. The irony of her situation was not lost on her, but at the moment there were other things to worry about.

"Who are you?"

Her mouth had apparently decided to work again, words spilling forth. There was something horrible about having the ability to speak taken away, and something extremely liberating about having it given back.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I? What are you doing to me? I ought to rip your fuckin' legs off."

The man simply smiled and nodded, striding towards a display panel, his fingertips sliding charts and panels across the screen. The saiyan woman wasn't sure whether he'd been nodding at her, or at the charts, but she kept up her verbal onslaught. As soon as her arms started working again, she was going to teach him a lesson in manners.

"I'm afraid your arms won't be activated just yet, at least not until you've shown me a bit of compliance."

She froze up at this, her whole body going cold. What had he just said? Her arms wouldn't be… activated? What was that supposed to mean?

Apparently every thought she had was being made plain to the man as he chuckled out a reply.

"It means that I have deactivated them. Or rather, I have yet to activate them in the first place, at least since the procedure."

He smiled at her knowingly, the yellow of his teeth showing between his lips. The saiyan swallowed, partly to reassure herself that she was still able to move her head. She craned her neck up, trying to get a slightly better view of the lab she was in. The muscles in her neck went cold suddenly, her head falling and chin slamming into the table beneath her.

"Ah, my apologies. I didn't realize you were wanting to look around. After I run a few tests, how about I give you a bit of a walk around? You'd like that, wouldn't you, Itonami?"

The saiyan wasn't sure why, but the sound of her name caused her to feel afraid of the man. Maybe it was simply that he knew, or the way he said her name with confidence, as if what he was doing would go unpunished. Itonami glared upwards at him, eliciting a chuckle.

"Who are you?" Her thoughts broadcast once more through the speaker.

The man patted her on the head, which she now realized had been shaved. She felt a shudder coming at his touch, but her inactive muscles didn't seem to notice. The man faced away from her, clasping onto something on his desk. He turned, and her eyes widened.

"I," the man began, holding up his trophy. Clutched in his fist was something unforgivable. Something cruel, and something she swore she would have his spine for. It was her tail.

"Am Dr. Beamed, a tsufurujin bionic engineer. As for you…"

The man paused for a moment, considering what he'd say next. It wasn't every day you got to assert yourself over a saiyan, especially one of such high ranking. He would have to choose his words carefully.

"You are my new assistant. Let's get along."

He grinned. Perfect.

**-S-**

It wasn't possible. There was simply no chance that this could happen, not to her. She was a warrior, a saiyan elite. There were no greater soldiers in all of Frieza's army. But as Sirch continued to show him report logs, Dosetu's adamancy faltered. Energy scans proved that her power had suddenly disappeared, as if wiped off the face of the planet. Scouts had been dispatched to the last location the saiyan woman's energy had been picked up at. Her scouter had been their, damaged, as well as a crater. She'd been completely obliterated.

Sirch turned to his friend, his mouth a twisted scowl. At first he'd shared the saiyan's opinion that it was impossible. He only knew of a few people that could defeat Itonami, let alone wipe her off the face of the planet. But the evidence was there. Traces of her biological signature had even been found, though they were sparse. The woman had very literally been erased from existence.

Dosetsu's entire face was contorted in rage, his fists balled up on his thighs. Sirch could tell the man was straining against his anger, a fact which he was thankful for. There was no telling how much damage the saiyan would cause if he let himself go. He went to place a hand on the man's shoulder, but thought better of it. A few minutes of silence would serve his purpose better than trying to console his friend.

He stood, taking his portable display and laying it on his desk. Sirch scratched at the back of his head nervously. As far as saiyans went, Dosetsu was laid back. Seeing him like this was disconcerting. Seeing him at all was bad, though. The man had been banished, whether rightfully or not. That meant if he'd been detected, the capital security would be after him.

"Why are you here, anyway? You know you're dead if you get caught."

Dosetsu ground his teeth for a moment more, but his face had begun to return to it's normal shade. He let out a breath, turning to the kabochian, his forehead still creased with lines of anger.

"My scouter…" He started, but stopped. Dosetsu gave his fists one last squeeze. She was dead, that was it. He could be angry once he got out of the city. For now, he couldn't afford to be anything but collected.

"I received a message on my scouter, but it wouldn't let me open it.. I got an error when I tried to access it."

Sirch nodded, reaching out to take the scouter. He took it to his desk and attached it to his computer with a short cable which plugged into the underside of the device. Scouters were pretty reliable devices, so it was surprising that an error of any kind occurred. Then again, he thought, it'd been handled by a saiyan ever since he'd sold it to him. There was no telling what kind of punishment it had been dealt.

Sirch brought up the transfer logs, accessing the most recently received transmissions. The message the saiyan was talking about was there, though it was odd. Messages of any kind almost always had an identifier, for security purposes. If a message was sent and someone ended up dying in relation to it, the person sending it, as well as the person that received it, could be traced by this identifier. This message, however, had no identifier.

"Hmm…. that would mean that…" The Kobochian thought aloud, though it only took a moment for him to realize what it meant. He flung himself from the chair, bringing the scouter along with him. Dosetsu stood at this, and watched as Sirch made his way to a window, threw the scouter from it, and sent a blast of energy towards it, eradicating the device.

"What… what the hell? Why did you do that? I'm not paying you for another!" The saiyan shouted, fists balled up again. Now was not the time to piss the saiyan off further. As much of a friend as Sirch was, he'd still beat him til walking wasn't an option.

The Kabochian turned to the saiyan, worry evident in his eyes. There was no telling how much time Dosetsu had, but he knew it wasn't long. If what he assumed was true, the pair would be on the receiving end of some visitors very shortly.

"That message was sent by the PTO. They knew you'd come here if they sent a message to your scouter that you couldn't open. They lured you back!"

The Saiyan's eyes widened at this, but then narrowed. He didn't understand.

"What are you talking about. Why would they lure me here?"

Sirch nearly choked on his words as they flooded from his mouth. They didn't have the time for this, but the saiyan wouldn't listen to him if he didn't explain.

"They think that you were the one who killed her, that you killed Itonami. I know you weren't here, but there was a big fuss over it. Didn't you notice patrols all over the planet?"

The saiyan nodded slowly. He was getting loaded with a lot of information that was difficult to believe. Itonami was dead, and the Planet Trade thought that he was the one responsible. The term 'getting thrown under an Oozaru' didn't quite cut it.

"I-.." He began, but was cut off by an explosion at the front of the building. Sirch glanced out the window, only to throw himself to the floor, a spear of light passing over his head seconds after. Dosetsu cursed under his breath, striding towards the hallway entrance and peaking down the stairs. There were two enforcers at the base of the stairway, equipped with generic PTO armor and scouters. He could make out the legs of a third standing out front, but for now these two were his problem.

Out of habit the saiyan reached towards the side of his head to check their powers, but he wasn't wearing a scouter. He felt blind, but he'd fought like this before, on missions where their devices had been disabled by enemy technology. The saiyan would just have to make do with the tools he had.

Dosetsu tossed a ball of energy down the stairwell. He hadn't put much power into it, but it exploded on impact, collapsing a portion of the hallway on the enforcers. Debris began to bury them, and the saiyan took this opportunity to strike. Thrusting both palms forward, pulses of energy began to fire from his hands, arcing down the hallway and colliding with the rubble. The saiyan began firing energy from each hand separately as he continued his onslaught.

"Get out of here! I'm right behind you!"

Sirch nodded, blasting a hole in his roof. He couldn't afford the guard out front noticing him, so he made his escape upwards. The Kabochian considered his options, and decided getting out of the city was the best plan. He justed hoped the saiyan had the same instincts as he did.

He shot from the roof, a blue aura wrapping itself around him as he focused his energy on moving as quickly as possible. He glanced back at his shop, but regretted it instantly. Dosetsu had completely leveled the building, and blasts of energy still shot to and fro, lighting up the Black District.

The Saiyan redirected a blast shot towards him, cradling it in the palm of his hand before tossing it behind him. The three enforcers had cornered him, though he wasn't worried just yet. From the punch their energy attacks packed, they weren't so strong that he wouldn't be able to handle himself.

Two were saiyans, and one was yet another alien that he didn't know the name of. A Pulen, he guessed. He was never very good with that sort of thing. As for the two saiyans, they weren't anyone he'd ever met. They didn't seem to recognize him either beyond him being who they were after. It was better that way, he supposed. The saiyan didn't want to have to kill any of his friends today.

The saiyans dashed at him in unison, barraging him with punches. They managed to press him back despite being unable to land a blow. Dosetsu waited for the perfect moment, before clamping onto both their wrists and tossing them into the air. They collided with an overhang above them, punching holes through it and soaring upwards even further.

The saiyan knew he couldn't waste any time, so he shot forward, digging his fist into the gut of the Pulen. Dosetsu had wondered why it hadn't gotten in close to fight, and now he knew. Blood spilled from the creatures mouth as he withdrew his fist. He watched the alien collapse, and turned his attention back to the saiyans.

They had righted themselves in the air and were now flying back towards him. Dosetsu decided to meet them, exploding upwards from the roof of Sirch's shop and into the air. The trio commenced their battle in midair, the enforcers each fighting a single arm of the banished saiyan. The saiyan on Dosetsu's left, a long haired man, swung his leg into the man's rib cage, hunching him over. The other warrior took this opportunity to bash the back of the banished saiyan's skull with both fists, sending him careening towards the street.

Dosetsu landed on his hands and knees, quickly pushing himself to the side to avoid a ball of fire. These two weren't as weak as he'd thought. The saiyan wiped a trail of blood from his lips, glaring up at the two still floating in the air. They were grinning, as if they'd just won a prize. He'd have to show them how wrong they were.

"Is that all you got? Really? What weaklings!"

The saiyan considered for a moment that taunting them wasn't the best idea, but he pushed that thought to the side. As long as he won it didn't matter. He pushed back into the air, racing towards the saiyans. Dosetsu began to roar as he closed in on the, only to catch a blast from the side, cutting him short.

He fell from the sky like a stone, his body suddenly weak, like all the energy had been drained out of him. The saiyan collided with the top of a building, the roof collapsing beneath him as he fell through to the top floor. He'd landed on his back, which gave him a good view of the two saiyans approaching, as well as a third joining them from the side.

"I'm… honored…" Dosetsu coughed, blood filling his mouth. He craned his neck to see the extent of the damage. A sizeable chunk had been taken out of his side, enough to kill him he was sure. Rage suddenly filled him, and he began to claw at the floor, slowly pulling himself to his feet.

The Saiyan faced his attackers, who now floated several meters above him, apparently waiting for him to collapse on his own. He'd give them a show before he went out, though. That's what he'd always promised himself, to at the very least go out fighting.

"I… I didn't kill Itonami! You bastards! Why are you blaming me!?"

Dosetsu threw his fist upwards, to fire a bolt of energy. Light collected in his hand, but suddenly faded. The saiyan dropped to his knee, the wound taking it's toll. He coughed, and blood splattered on the ground. I guess I won't go out with a fight, he thought weakly.

The saiyan fell the rest of the way to the floor, his arms no longer able to support him. This wasn't how he'd seen himself dying, but then again, he hadn't seen himself getting banished either. He closed his eyes and waited, his body growing cold. He wished he could see Itonami once more, or at least hear her voice.

"I'm sorry… Itonami," Dosetsu murmured, his consciousness fading. As the world began to fade, he thought he heard something, something that wasn't possible for him to hear. He thought he'd heard her voice one last time. He thought he'd heard her ask for help.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Itonami woke, wrapped in cold. The last thing she remembered was the Tsufurujin remarking about deactivating her for the night. The Saiyan had begun to piece together what might have happened to her, though she could only speculate. She thought back to her last assignment; It'd been removing a saiyan from the capital, enacting his banishment. A face brushed the edges of her mind, but she couldn't hold the image in her head. Her thoughts were interrupted as the dark room sprung to life, lights switching on, and computers humming as they powered up. The squattish doctor strode into the laboratory slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning, Itonami. Are you excited to get up and start walking?" He chimed, stopping to look at a display screen before continuing towards her. Itonami went to tense her body, but her muscles still weren't cooperating. The coward must have drugged me, she thought, though that wasn't quite the case.

"Let me out of here or I'll crush your spine.." The saiyan threatened, but her words were as hollow as a saibaman's skull. Dr. Beamed chortled, moving behind her and out of her range of vision.

"What are you doing?!" She called out. She still couldn't struggle, or feel for that matter, but she could tell he was doing something to her. Suddenly her bodily function returned to her. The woman sprang upwards from the table, twisting her body in midair to face the man. She gathered energy in her palm, purple light casting shadows on the far side of the room.

"Whatever you did, you made a mistake, tuffle." The Saiyan thrust her palm forward, willing the energy to fire towards the man. But it wouldn't. Or rather, she couldn't fire the energy. Her body, as well as her mind, were not willing to let the attack part with her hand.

"What.. the…?"

Itonami shrugged it off, the energy fading back into her palm. She quickly closed the distance between herself and the oddly stationary doctor, leaping over the table and thrusting a fist into the tsufurujin's gut. But again, she couldn't. Her fist got close, but that was all it got. It never made contact with him, no matter how hard she strained. It was as if there was some invisible wall separating them.

Beamed laughed again, meeting her eyes as she looked into his face.

"What… what did you do to me?!" She cried, stumbling backwards. The Saiyan began flinging her fists at the man, but to no avail. It was as if her body wouldn't bring itself to hurt the man. She even felt sorry that she had tried, if that were possible.

"Whatever do you mean, Itonami? I've given you back the ability to move. And because you're so grateful, you're leaving me unharmed."

She shuddered, his words like ice pressed against her body. The woman felt remorse at having threatened him, but where were these feelings coming from? This man had held her against her will, toying with her mind as she lay helpless on a cold, metal table. He was a tuffle! Her anger surged again and she brought her fist up. But she couldn't. The man had helped her, hadn't he? Why did her mind keep nudging at her to apologize.

"What… what's going on?"

The Doctor grinned, though the woman didn't notice. Her eyes were downcast, like a child prepared for scolding. This is what victory must feel like, Beamed sang to himself, his mind ablaze with possibilities of what was to come.

"You, Itonami, were nearly killed on your last mission. A traitor, whom your kind had banished, almost destroyed your body."

The man paused, letting the Saiyan digest this. What he told her now was crucial, as her mind was most vulnerable in the few hours after motor function was restored. He'd made a mistake, previously, of taunting the woman with her severed tail. Beamed would have to explain that away somehow, but for now he'd lay down the foundation for the future.

"I recovered you, as the medical squad proclaimed you dead. They said there was no chance that you would survive, and that it was more important to find the one that'd done… this." He gestured to her with the last word.

Itonami followed his gesture, her eyes widening in horror. Her body was riddled with stitch marks, a sign that a large amount of surgery had been performed. She looked back up at the man, searching for an explanation. The woman couldn't bring herself to speak, not yet.

"As I said, your body had been damaged irreparably, or so the medical squad thought. I, however, had the capability of saving you. And so I did."

Beamed leaned himself back against the wall of the laboratory, arms crossed comfortably over his chest. He waited for a response, trying to decide whether or not he'd been convincing enough. This was the third time he'd told her this story, after all. The man hoped that it was not the third failure.

The Saiyan sat down suddenly, her legs seemingly giving out. The man didn't move to help her, though he glanced down to see whether she had fainted or not. The woman shuddered between labored breaths. She'd been wounded, and left for dead… and then saved by a tsufurujin, of all things. The world had been very suddenly turned upside down. "What now..?" She murmured, eyes still downcast.

Beamed thought for a moment, before replying.

"For the next few days I will explain to you your new.. condition. I do not believe you are quite ready today, but tomorrow is another story."

Itonami nodded, pulling herself to her feet. The woman hoped that he wouldn't have her sleep on the table still. It was uncomfortable, and as much as she had slept on the ground on missions, she would prefer not to, at least not while she figured out what was going on.

As if having read her mind, the tsufurujin motioned for her to follow him. The two made their way down a hallway and up a flight of stairs into a plain, if comfortable, living room. There were cushioned seats, as well as a table and bookshelves, and even a display screen hooked into the planetary network. Some sort of news program was on, though Itonami was so starved of everything that she could have watched plasteel harden. According to the broadcast, there'd been a skirmish with a former Planet Trade employee in the Black District.

"I have a room prepared for you, here in the back. I believe it will fulfill any needs you have… I'm sure you're hungry, as well. I'll prepare something for you to eat."

The man's words snapped her out of her trance, and she nodded. She felt oddly warm towards the tsufurujin, though something told her she shouldn't be. The thought drifted away as Beamed directed her to a bed. The room was smallish, though that might have been because the bed seemed so big. There was a bedside table mounted on the wall, as well as a closet filled with clothing.

"I wanted to make sure that everything was in order for when you had recovered. I hope it's to your liking."

Itonami nodded, and the man left to prepare food. She found herself drawn to the bed, and was quickly laying on her side, fighting to keep her eyes open. The room went dark, and she realized that the Doctor had turned the lights off.

"Food can wait," he murmured, closing the door behind him as he left. Itonami was grateful. Even though she'd been unconscious since the incident, she felt exhausted. That thought stuck with her, and she began to wonder how long it had been since he'd taken her in. The woman hadn't managed to see the date on the news broadcast.

"Oh well…" She breathed to herself, her eyes slowly closing. It could wait, just like the food.

The next morning arrived more quickly than Itonami would have liked. They were in an underground complex, so she couldn't tell whether it was actually morning or not, but the Doctor assured her it was time to wake up. It took a few moments, her body unnaturally stiff, but she was able to pull herself from the bed, still clothed in a tan-colored single piece undergarment.

The Doctor eyed her for a moment before leading her back into the laboratory area. Itonami hopped onto a table and sat at his gesture, waiting expectantly as Beamed prepared a few instruments with which to do his tests. As a Saiyan she wasn't overly nervous about medical examinations; they were frequent, and often times invasive. The PTO was wary of the danger of alien pathogens being exposed to planets.

The Tuffle stood before her, a few tools laid out on a maneuverable table to his left. The woman continued to sit patiently, noticing that the man was trying to meet her eyes. "What..?" Itonami asked slowly, her voice coarse from lack of use.

Beamed had never been particularly good with words, so he did what he could to phrase this softly.

"You are no longer, strictly speaking, a Saiyan."

The Tsufurujin wasn't entirely sure how to continue from there, and the look of confusion the woman was giving him wasn't helping in the least.

"When I recovered you.. your body had been badly damaged, so much so that if I hadn't gotten there when I did, you would be dead."

Itonami nodded, clearly not yet understanding what it was the scientist was attempting to tell her. In all honesty, Beamed had expected the opposite. He assumed she would have quickly put two and two together, and begun screaming aloud, or something like that. Being saved from the brink of death by a bionic engineer? It seemed cliche, to Beamed. Apparently movies weren't popular among Saiyans.

"I replaced the damaged parts with machinery, as well as computational components. You are, for all intents and purposes, a cyborg."

At this point a light seemed to turn on in the woman's head, and she lurched backwards, apparently reeling in shock. Going into actual shock wouldn't be a problem anymore, but the figure of speech still applied. The Tsufurujin expected it was quite the revelation.

"S-So.. when… when I couldn't move..?" Itonami stuttered, her words coming out in spurts, but her tone obviously questioning.

"Yes. It would have been far too dangerous, for both myself and you, to allow you to move as soon as you woke up. The time shortly after the procedure is crucial. The mind must be slowly… acclimated… to it's new condition. Otherwise it might reject the repairs, and you would have died anyway."

Itonami nodded again, still shaken by what she had just learned. There wasn't any sort of precedent for this. How was she supposed to feel? Relieved? Glad to be alive? She guessed that was about as close to acceptance as she was going to get. She stood slowly, steadying herself with the table. That must be why she felt so stiff. Her body wasn't entirely muscle, anymore. She was part machine now.

"How… How can I ever thank you?"

Things were going as planned by Beameds' standards. She was accepting of it, if a bit reluctant. He had saved her after all, even if he had been the one to harm her in the first place. But those were details, and details were not something that Itonami needed to be filled in on. For now, the Tusufurujin would exploit any and all gratitude she felt towards him. And from what he could tell, there was quite a bit.

"You can help me."

"Help you..?"

Itonami's face bore a dazed look, bringing a small smile to the Doctor's lips. He cradled her face in his hand, her appearance thrown off by the lack of hair on her head. She was beautiful, he thought, for a saiyan.

"Now's not the time to talk about that. For now, you have all the time you need to adjust to your new life. Once you're comfortable, I'll show you what we can achieve working together."

Beamed smiled at Itonami, and for the first time in five years, she finally smiled back.

* * *

Sorry for how long it was between updates! I had a buddy get back from the Navy, and that's led to me spending a lot more time with him and less time writing. I decided to do a whole chapter on Itonami because I think her part of the story is really intersting, and adds a lot to the rest of the story.

I've had a few questions pertaining to the names in this story, such as Dosetsu and Itonami, and how they aren't traditional Saiyan names. I gave one person an explanation, but I figured I ought to write a little one here as well.

My thought process was that, as societies grow and develop, the popularity of names changes. That can be seen here in the United States, as well as in other countries. Names like John and Henry used to be the most popular, but now that isn't necessarily the case. The same holds true in my story, though I won't be shifting completely away from the vegetable pun names. I actually have quite a few figured out to use as the story progresses, I just didn't see any of them fitting the characters that have been introduced so far.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story!


	7. Chapter 6

**C****hapter Six**

Dosetsu had assumed his death would be cold and quick, his body left broken on the surface of an alien planet. He never thought it would be at the hands of his own people. Warmth seeped into his body through the wounds he'd been dealt. He guessed this was what passing through to the next realm felt like, heat wrapping itself around him as he slipped away.

The Saiyan's eyes shot open, his body becoming alert as he gathered his surroundings. Not dead, he thought to himself, at least not yet. The warmth that was permeating his body wasn't the fire of hell, as he'd assumed, but the healing compound that filled the recuperative tanks employed by the Planet Trade Organization. His eyes began to slowly adjust to the light of the room, allowing him to make out a shape peering in at him.

"So… You're awake." The Saiyan chided, arms folded behind his back as he eyed Dosetsu. The recuperative tanks fluid made it somewhat difficult to see, but the voice rang clear as day. The General of the Saiyan Army. Nappa.

"You know… you're lucky that you picked today to sneak back in. The Prince is off planet, so I'm off duty."

Dosetsu wriggled a bit inside the tank, stopping as he realized he'd been strapped in. He was going to have to listen to whatever it was the General wanted to say to him.

"See, I take a special interest in cases like yours. When they said they were going to reopen the case, I volunteered myself immediately."

Nappa grinned at him through the glass of the recuperation tank, his mustache framing a cruel smile. Dosetsu remembered, then, that he'd been banished, and that he was more likely than not being kept alive to be put on trial for Itonami's death.

"I didn't kill her!" He growled through clenched teeth. Thoughts of the woman raced through his mind, and the very thought of what he was being accused of brought his rage boiling back once again. Pain dug into his side where his wound was continuing to heal, but he paid it no mind. All that he had at the moment was the anger.

Nappa continued on with his speech, as if he hadn't heard the man.

"You see, we did our research. Brought up logs of your missions, as well as security recordings of you around the city. You spent a great deal of time with her. We never could figure out how it was you killed her, considering your combat strength. Not that it matters. With your record, you're lucky to even get a trial."

Dosetsu strained against his bindings, but to no avail. His tail had been restrained as well as his arms, so his wounded strength was even further diminished. The General chuckled at his attempts to free himself, before taking on a more serious tone.

"We're going to make an example out of you. Once they see what we've done to you, they'll probably flee the planet."

"They?" The Saiyan managed through ground teeth. The General wasn't making any sense. Who was he referring to?

"Don't play stupid, separatist."

"Sep-.."

Dosetsu was cut short by an explosion filling the room with light. He clamped his eyes shut, opening them to see Nappa rush towards a hole in the wall. The Saiyan General hopped out of it and took off into the air, seemingly chasing some hit and run squad.

The Saiyan began desperately looking for some way to escape, but there was none that he could find. With his tail restrained he wouldn't be able to break free, and there didn't seem to be any release panel close enough for him to have any hope of reaching.

Defeat seemed to be the only option, but apparently that wasn't how fate wanted to see it played out. Sirch rushed through a sliding door, a key card held defiantly in his hand. He swiped the card, and Dosetsu's restraints gave way. The Saiyan felt suddenly weak, no longer supported by the metallic frame that had held him in place. He fell forward, but the Kabochian was there to catch him.

"You owe me a lot." Sirch muttered, eyeing the wound in the saiyan's side.

Dosetsu nodded but said nothing. He needed to save his breath for the speedy escape he hoped was coming. Sirch guided him to the hole in the wall, casting a wary glance upwards as they reached it.

"Anything..?" Dosetsu asked, separating himself from his friend, supporting his own weight.

The Kabochian shook his head no and stepped out into the open air, taking off in the opposite direction that the General had gone. Dosetsu followed suite, eyeing the sky as he followed the man. He wasn't sure where they were going, but wherever it was he hoped he could get some answers.

**-S-**

Bardock could count on one hand the number of meals that had been that satisfying. Most post mission visits to the mess hall were good, but this one had just been special. The Saiyan emerged from the cafeteria and strode down the hallway, the raucous laughter of the mess hall following him a few strides.

Bardock began to cycle through received messages after reattaching his scouter to his face. One to clear him for duty after his medbay visit, one from Celypa asking about new assignments. Nothing caught his eye until a new message appeared, sent from a PTO dispatcher.

The message was labeled urgent, so the Saiyan accessed it, hoping for an assignment from Frieza himself. Bardock's mood wilted some when he realized it wasn't from Frieza, but a Saiyan fugitive was still fairly interesting. Apparently a criminal had been lured back into the capital, was now being pursued, and Bardock's aid was requested in apprehending him.

He couldn't imagine them really needing his help unless it was an elite, but orders were orders. The Saiyan made his way to an exterior platform and took off into the air, startling a few of the less worldly PTO employees lounging there.

The night sky was lit up by the lights of each district, yellows and reds from the trade district, blues and purples from the entertainment district. The glittering of ships making their way in and out of the city distracted Bardock for a moment, but he quickly returned his attention to the task at hand. Checking his scouter was pointless; the city was full of beings with various levels of power, and the dispatcher request had failed to state the combat power of the saiyan in question. Bardock would just have to look the old fashioned way, much to his chagrin.

The Saiyan picked a direction at random and propelled himself forward, his mind wandering a bit as he glanced to and fro. Apparently the fugitive had been captured, and then had been broken out of a special containment tank. It was surprising to hear that they hadn't just killed him, though it was implied he'd been roughed up when initially captured. How he'd escaped exactly hadn't been stated, though Bardock assumed whoever had come to his aid was at least reasonably powerful and that's why they'd called him.

The smell of smoke broke his train of thought and he whipped to the left. Dead ahead was a prison complex, a towering structure that was almost identical to the office buildings surrounding it. A hole set it apart from the rest, blown out near the 50th story. Several PTO-clad saiyans hovered around the breach, talking amongst each other while an alien investigated the hole itself.

Bardock greeted them with a wave, and looking around with interest. There were two elites, and four soldiers of middling strength. The elites paid him no mind, though he was sure they recognized him. He'd developed a reputation of being reckless on missions, but it always worked out in the end.

The other saiyans were much friendlier, greeting him by name. Bardock nodded and began to investigate the hole a bit. He wasn't very well versed in things like this, fighting was more his purview, so he waited for the investigator to speak to him.

"What happened?"

The alien, some sort of plant creature, turned, surprised by the fact that a saiyan was addressing him. He seemed to be thinking of something to say, so Bardock turned away from him, getting closer to the side of the building. He could make out the containment area that they'd kept the saiyan in, and beside it a display. Bardock put himself down just inside the hole.

The alien opened his mouth to say he shouldn't be in there, but thought better of it. He knew what happened when you tried to tell a saiyan what to do. Bardock looked through the displays, looking for some information on the escapee. There was no name logged, which he thought was curious, but the battle power was listed.

Bardock let out a whistle. He could understand why they'd wanted his help. A power of four thousand was nothing to blink at. The Saiyan moved back towards the hole and lifted up into the sky once more. He rejoined the other saiyans who were still busy discussing what believed to have happened.

"Zunich. What're they saying happened?"

Zunich, a smallish saiyan with equally short hair, perked up at the sound of his name. Bardock could tell he was younger than the others, and this was probably one of the first missions he'd received that didn't entail planet clearing.

"Apparently this is the guy that killed Itonami."

Bardock paused at this. Itonami was an elite, and had been known as one of the best even by those standards. The fugitive was powerful, well above average even, but it would take more than that to beat Itonami. Something seemed off to Bardock, though that might have just been the smell of the capital.

Bardock nodded, and took off towards the eastern part of the city. He'd probably have a day or two before the next mission, considering how big of a job Kanassa was. Why not spend it playing Planet Trade Investigator?

* * *

Yo. I apologize for how short this chapter is, as well as for how long it's been since the last update. I've been really busy spending time with my friend who was on leave from the Navy. He left the day before yesterday so hopefully I can get back on schedule in terms of updating this. Once again sorry about the lateness/shortness, I'll make sure that the next chapter makes up for it.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Dosetsu touched down several units from the capital, sucking in labored breaths as he clutched his side. Sirch landed a few paces from him, eyeing his friend nervously while checking his scouter. They seemed to have evaded any pursuers, but assuming things was far too dangerous at this point.

"We need to keep moving. How's your wound?"

Dosetsu straightened and glanced down at his side, a scorched mess of coagulated blood. The wound had opened back up during their flight, but he'd be fine as long as he wasn't forced into combat. He needed a breather, though. Having the recuperation tanks' process interrupted was taxing on the body.

"It's fine. Nappa caught me from the side while I was handling the other two."

Dosetsu chuckled at the thought. He'd become a high enough priority target that the General was interested in him. Apparently the Separatists were becoming a bother, and somehow his name had gotten mixed up with theirs'.

A throb of pain broke his train of thought, prompting the Saiyan to lift back into the air.

"We'll head to my place. It's near Outpost 0313, a cave by the lake."

Sirch nodded and the two took off towards Dosetsus' home. The Kabochian could tell his friend was having trouble keeping his pace, but time was of the essence. It wouldn't be long before the PTO locked onto the saiyans' energy signature and tracked them down. If it came to blows, Sirch didn't see a scenario where they came out on top.

It took the two a lot longer to reach Dosetsus' cave than they would have liked. They'd opted to make the trip in jumps, instead of risking detection during one long flight. Sirch wasn't sure whether this actually benefited them or not, though. Dosetsu didn't appear to be improving despite the numerous breaks they'd taken.

"You need a recuperation tank." Sirch finally said as Dosetsu collapsed onto his makeshift bed, a grunt his only response. Saiyans had uncanny abilities in terms of recovery, but his friends' wound was serious. By the time it healed, they'd be caught, and Sirch would have lost a lot of blood.

He shook his head at the saiyan whom had passed out moments after his face had made contact with the mattress. He couldn't imagine it was comfortable, some prison style mattress Dosetsu had no doubt salvaged from the outposts waste center. The outpost was mismanaged at best, and the saiyan's cave-home was a testament to that. PTO equipment littered the cavern, though nothing so valuable that it would be missed.

Sirch spied some scouter parts in the back, resting atop a box labeled 'Test Line'. Some prototype equipment probably sent to a low activity outpost for initial testing. The Kabochian was intrigued.

He quickly pried the crate open, taking care not to make too much noise. Every second of rest that Dosetsu got was precious and he didn't think his tinkering was worth disrupting that. Inside the box were several scouters, a batch of one of the most recent update models. How these had fallen into the saiyans' hands he couldn't figure. Perhaps his friend had gained some resourcefulness in the time since he'd last seen him, however unlikely.

Sirch began to tinker with the scouters, opening each with a small multi tool he carried on his person. From what he could tell the scouters had been sent out as a test line because there had been questions as to whether the wiring job would be stable enough. The answer was no, but the Kabochian had a knack for improving upon PTO mistakes. It wasn't that the PTO made unreliable products, rather, mass production had watered down the original product so heavily that any Oozaru could have done better.

Dosetsu stirred on his bed, shifting to a more comfortable position away from his wound. Sirch watched him for a moment before continuing his work. It'd be worthwhile to have Dosetsu outfitted with a scouter. The saiyan could handle himself without one, but the device would only improve their chances at survival.

It only took the kabochian a few moments more to finish his project, snapping the scouter shut and then refastening its' exterior. The man's own scouter lit up and began to beep very suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He nervously tapped the scan button, his hands quaking as numbers spilled onto the screen. One large power had crept up on them, though Sirch had no idea how. The kabochian cursed to himself. He'd gotten so caught up into modifying the scouters that he'd ignored his own.

Shaking the saiyan awake, he quickly scrambled outside, hugging the outer wall of the rock face for cover. He tapped the scan button again, bringing up a small radar screen that pinged the surrounding area. It read clear, but how could that be? His scouter had just read a power of nearly six thousand.

A shadow loomed overhead and Sirch felt his head snap back as he was struck from behind, his body propelled forward by the force of the blow. The man rolled several yards before colliding with a boulder, ending up sprawled on his side. He tried to right himself, planting a palm and pushing up, but his arm didn't want to cooperate. It became apparent that his shoulder was broken, as well as several of his ribs.

The kabochian lifted his chin off the ground, gasping for a breath of air.

"Who..?" Sirch managed, though the words were barely audible. He knew without asking, but staring death in the face made finding the right words that much more difficult. A tall, broad shouldered man stood above him, his cruel grinned framed by a dark moustache.

"What kind of question is that…?" Snickered the General of the Saiyan Army.

Sirch tried to swing his good arm out from underneath him, but Nappa noticed. The kabochian felt the weight of a boot on top of his broken shoulder and braced himself for what was about to happen. The saiyan began to apply his weight to the broken man beneath him, his grin widening with each groan his target let out.

"Is this where he's been hiding all these years?" Nappa questioned. It seemed surprisingly obvious considering how hard they'd searched, at least to begin with.

"Ah, well. We've got him now. The past is the past, I suppose. Stupid bastard was fool enough to show his face in the capital after what he did. Do you really think we don't know what you're all up to?"

Nappa's voice had risen to a shout at this point, his boot having completely crushed the bones in Sirch's left arm. The kabochian bore a dazed look on his face, slowly losing the struggle to remain conscious.

"Hopefully this isn't the best they have to offer…"

Nappa removed his foot from the alien and began to turn towards the cave entrance, his interest in the kabochian having faded. The saiyan was the real prize, after all. A PTO operative going rogue, killing a high ranking officer, and then going into hiding? The General nearly had to wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

The saiyan's scoutered pinged and he took a moment to glance at it. A large energy signal had just appeared on his radar, though it was still a ways away.

"King Vegeta…?" He wondered aloud. The saiyan hoped his King wasn't becoming impatient with how the mission was progressing. He'd have to make this quick.

The General turned to face the entrance of the cave, only to be met with a spear of energy erupting from within the cavern. Nappa knocked the blast upwards, following its' arc as it raced towards the clouds.

"I'll give you credit, kid. For a last ditch effort, that wa-"

The General was cut off by Dosetsus' fist careening towards his face. The saiyan had used the blast to distract the General long enough to get out of the confines of the cave. Against a target as large as Nappa, close quarters weren't ideal.

Nappa ducked below the strike, swinging his fist up to meet his opponents stomach. Dosetsu twisted his body around the fist of the man, swinging his leg forward and connecting with the back of the General's head.

Nappa staggered forward, caught off guard by how powerful Dosetsu was. He was supposed to be wounded, wasn't he? The Saiyan righted himself and stared down Dosetsu who was readying himself for another charge. Nappa eyed the saiyan's torso, and couldn't tell whether he was still bleeding or not. Either way, he had a weak spot to aim for.

Dosetsu closed the distance between himself and Nappa quickly, feinting to the right before connecting his left knee with the other man's jaw. The General staggered back again, but quickly righted himself, wiping his chin with a sneer. He'd been waiting for this.

Nappa went on the offensive now, darting his club-like fists forward fast enough to bend the eyes. Dosetsu dodged back and forth, moving as little as possible as he tried to find an opening. Dosetsu barely caught a knee that Nappa threw in, but wasn't ready for the strike after; a left hook that threw him from his feet.

The saiyan rolled a few yards before spinning out of the roll and into the air, a green aura bursting into existence around him. He shot forward, disappearing momentarily before reappearing in front of Nappa. The two began to trade blows at high speeds, Dosetsu pressing the General as best he could, the other saiyan surprised at how well his opponent was fighting.

"I guess.. this… is how you killed… Itonami!" Nappa growled between breaths, dodging and weaving between Dosetsus' fists as he threw his fists back towards the man.

The duo rose into the air, their attacks echoing off of each other as he strike was blocked. They seemed evenly matched, but Nappa could see that Dosetsu was tiring. He'd been trying to hide the effects of his injury, but now that was becoming too difficult.

Nappa caught Dosetsus' wrist as he threw a punch and tossed him upwards, breaking his momentum. The General then slammed a fist into his torso, his knuckles digging into the mans' side. Dosetsu felt his breath leave him, followed by searing pain as his wound was torn open.

The saiyan fell from the sky like a stone, his collision with the ground carving out a crater where he landed. Nappa hovered in the air for a moment, catching his breath, before landing at the crest of the crater, peering down at the man.

"It would have been a good fight… if not for that little cut you have there." The General chided, his face colored by a satisfied grin.

"I guess that's just the way it goes."

Nappa strode towards Sirch's unconscious form, grabbing him by the ankle and tossing him into the crater on top of Dosetsu. It only seemed right, Nappa thought, that the Separatists die together.

The General faced his palm towards them, light gathering as he focused energy into his hand. A ball of light shot from his outstretched arm, filling the crater with fire. Nappa heard someone land behind him and turned, prepared to bow as he fully expected to see King Vegeta,

"Bardock?"

The aforementioned saiyan nodded to the General, inspecting the crater simultaneously.

"You took care of it, then?" Bardock asked, folding his arms across his chest. Nappa nodded in return, finding it difficult to speak. The power he'd picked up at been near the same size as the King's. Why was Bardock here, then?

The General tapped the scan button on his scouter, bringing up a reading for the saiyan once more. Slightly over ten thousand, it read. Nappa didn't believe it.

"Are they dead?" Bardock questioned, his hands folded behind his head. He seemed bored, which angered Nappa even more.

"My… scouter is malfunctioning. You check."

Bardock grunted, tapping his scouter. He gave Nappa a thumbs up, a halfway salute, and then turned to leave.

"Wait.."

"Hn?"

Nappa paused for a moment, but decided against it. He'd have his scouter replaced once he got back to the palace. No wonder it was so difficult finding those two, he reasoned. It's scanning parameters were completely off.

"Nothing. They've been dealt with, return to whatever it was you were doing"

"I have twelve hours leave. Do you want me to report this?"

Nappa considered it for a moment, but shook his head.

"I'll handle it, low class. Just do whatever it is you do on leave."

Bardock chuckled before taking off into the air, a trail of energy splitting the sky as he raced towards the capital. Nappa spat a bit of blood out before lifting into the air himself. This mission had left a bad taste in his mouth and he was glad that it was finally over.

* * *

Sorry about the huge wait between chapters! Between friends getting vacation time, school starting and Destiny coming out, I had no time for anything else. Hopefully this chapter is satisfying enough that it makes up for lost time, at least a bit. i've already started the next chapter so that shouldn't be too far out.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Itonami had been different, Dosetsu thought. He wasn't sure what made him think about her at this moment, but facing death twice in a such a short amount of time could scramble your thoughts a bit. He peaked up at the sky above him, thinking.

The last time he'd seen her she'd been angry with him. He remembered because she'd seemed so unnaturally calm at the time that she must have been furious. It was the day Dosetsu had been banished. Five years ago, give or take.

Nights on Vegeta were pleasant compared to the day. The air didn't grasp at you in the same way that it did when the suns were in the sky. Why so many beings flocked to the planet the Saiyan could never understand.

Dosetsu sucked in a breath as the rubble above him shifted. He was surprised he felt it considering the things he couldn't feel at the moment. He exhaled slowly, holding back a wince as he did so.

"Sirch..?"

The Saiyan waited a moment but no reply was offered. He began to wriggle around beneath the debris that blanketed him, testing what parts of his body were still in working order. The whole of his wounded side had shifted from cold to numb, making clearing the rubble off his body more difficult.

Dosetsu pulled himself from the crater and found his way to a knee. He wasn't ready to stand yet, his leg trembling as he placed weight on it. The Saiyan peered back into the crater and spotted a leg jutting out from beneath a few rocks.

He clambered back down the slope, one arm hanging uselessly at his side as he cleared stones from his friends' battered form. Sirchs' arm was twisted oddly to the side and bone jutted out from beneath his arm pit. Dosetsu heaved his friend the rest of the way out of the rubble and onto the incline of the crater next to him.

"You don't look so..."

The saiyan trailed off as he met the lifeless eyes of the kabochian. He crouched next to the man, his knee protesting as it bent.

"No.."

Dosetsu checked Sirchs' pulse, feeling nothing after a few moments.

"No.."

The Saiyan pressed his ear to the mans' chest, holding in a breath as he listened for the beating of a heart.

"Sirch.."

The kabochians' skin was pale. There was no telling how long they'd been buried. Dosetsu slammed his good fist against Sirchs' torso repeatedly, listening for a beat after every few strikes.

"No.. Not here. No..."

Sirchs' body shook under the saiyans' fists, but no heartbeat came.

"Not.. you too.."

Dosetsu struck the ground, carving a fist sized hole in the rocky terrain. He stood, then, looking around for something to exact his rage on. Tears welled in his eyes, but he fought them back. There was no time for that.

The Saiyan glanced down at his side and remembered his condition. The world seemed heavier as he did, and he remembered how much blood he'd lost, his side visibly wet beside his limp appendage. A layer of filth concealed the majority of his injuries, but he could feel them.

Dosetsu pulled himself out of the crater, taking a quick glance around the area as he reached the top. Nappa must have thought he'd killed him to just leave like that. The saiyan would have to count his blessings later, though. If he waited too long he'd bleed out, and that wasn't an option at this point.

He stumbled his way to a rock outcropping, one he'd used to dry clothes on in the past. The saiyan made his way past that, hand pressed to his side as he moved. His body felt cold, his eyes drooping further and further with each. He wouldn't be able to make it to the outpost at this rate. It was more than a unit away, and he didn't see himself making it more than a few more feet.

The saiyan slumped to the ground, eyes lolling a bit as he fell.

"I guess… this is it.." Dosetsu managed. It would have been better if Nappa had just finished him off. There was no honor in being left to waste away.

The area around him was suddenly lit up from above, a gust of wind whipping around him, kicking up a cloud of dust and tearing through his hair. The saiyan tilted his head back to look upwards, the movement slow, his body beginning to shut down.

"What's he doing all the way out here?"

Dosetsus' eyes shot back open as he felt himself being lifted by arms. He looked to each side and found two aliens walking him towards a small craft that had landed a few paces ahead.

"Who… are you..?"

The creatures had pronounced foreheads, multiple sets of ears and stone gray flesh. Their ears twitched as he spoke, but they didn't answer. They wore plain clothing, with no Planet Trade equipment in sight. That was a relief to Dosetsu. He wouldn't have been able to fight them off, even if they'd had the combat strength of a newborn.

They set him up in the rear seat of their ship, laying him on his good side and covering him with a sheet of some sort. It was made of a coarse material, but he instantly felt warmer as it covered him, for which he was thankful.

The saiyan felt his consciousness slipping away as he peered up between the front seats, trying to catch a glimpse of his rescuers. Besides their plain clothing there was nothing to indicate who or what they were affiliated with. For all Dosetsu knew, they were the separatists the General had been talking about. He hoped not.

The copilot turned and eyed him for a moment before speaking;

"To answer your question, I'm Keel. My friend here is Unyan."

Dosetsus' head was swimming at this point, but he forced himself into a sitting position.

"Those are saiyan names…"

The words were difficult to form, but he managed to finish the sentence before trailing off. He looked to Keel for an answer while slowly sinking back down onto the seat, resting his head on the cushion.

"Yes, yes they are. This may sound cliche but the language spoken on our home world can't be reproduced by most races vocal chords. So when we came to Vegeta we adopted names that the people here would be able to say. "

Dosetsu nodded, but it felt like the explanation had been awfully long. He quickly lost consciousness, prompting Keel to turn back towards the front of the ship. The alien glanced at his partner, grinning.

"What do we do with him?"

Unyan thought for a moment. Saiyans weren't known for being particularly palatable so there didn't seem much use in eating him.

"We'll patch him up… and then let him go on his way, I suppose."

Keel frowned at this for a moment. It seemed like such a waste, but Unyan was the boss. Reaching towards the back seat, the alien shook the saiyan awake, much to the man's chagrin.

"Wha..?"

"What's your name, saiyan?"

Dosetsu tried to reach a hand up to his eye but his body didn't want to cooperate. He grumbled a bit before replying;

"Do..setsu.."

"Alright, Dosetsu. We'll fix you up at the outpost. Get some rest."

The saiyan went limp once more and the alien turned back to the front, tapping a button on the primary console. A small display popped out of the dashboard of the ship in front of him and he hurriedly typed the saiyans' name into the Planet Trade database.

Records began to spill out onto the screen and Keels' eyes widened, a small smile growing on his face.

"We can patch him up, but I'm not so sure about letting him go on his way."

Unyan glanced at the screen out of the corner of her eye.

"We'll decide once we get back."

**-S-**

Itonami woke with a start, her eyes lighting up as she looked around the room. She'd begun to notice it only recently, that her eyes actually gave off a faint glow, a side effect of her transformation. The saiyan had gotten used to it after a few looks in the mirror, though it'd been unsettling at first. It felt as though she'd been remade, taken apart without her permission and then put back together.

She was thankful, though. Despite the worry she felt in the back of her mind, she was thankful for what the Doctor had done for her. Her interactions with him were strange. She'd been a child when the war between the saiyans and the tsufurujins was ending, but she'd gotten to see a few tuffles up close. They'd been dead, yes, but she'd seen them.

Now she took every opportunity to catch glances of the man out of the corner of her eye. She was fascinated with how slight his frame was in comparison to hers. The saiyan was considered small by her peoples' standards, but this man was even smaller.

Itonami rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and took another look, a greyish light reflected back at her. The woman sighed and returned to her bed, resting on her side as she tried to drift back to sleep.

The problem was it wasn't drifting. Now that she was part machine, she could flip her consciousness on and off. It was difficult to adjust to, as falling asleep no longer applied to her.

Light filled the room suddenly, prompting the woman to sit up. She let the sheets fall, her chest exposed.

"It is time for your first task." The doctor spoke, his voice calm.

Beamed led the Saiyan into a small room with a few displays mounted on the walls. A small rack emerged from the wall as the doctor tapped a button on one of the screens. Armor in the style of the PTO hung from the rack, along with gauntlets and a pair of matching boots. A pair of leggings was folded beneath the rack, as well as a form fitting tank top.

Itonami quickly got dressed, used to dressing in a hurry for missions. The doctor eyed her for a moment before turning to his display screens, checking her vitals before he committed to sending her out. He couldn't afford any mishaps this far in. Before, if anything went wrong, he'd simply deactivate her and wipe the slate clean. Now her mind and body had synced once again. Tampering with her now wasn't worth the risk.

Beamed would trust in his work up to this point, and hope that his security parameters remained in place as her mind continued to adjust. That was the problem with half organic brains. They were difficult to predict.

"How do you feel?"

The doctor broke the silence, an attempt to reassure himself. They were on the precipice, now. It was time to see if man and machine could be woven together in a way that was able to be manipulated.

Itonami turned to him and nodded, unaware of the doctors inner turmoil. Her mind was on the mission at hand, though the tsufurujin had yet to tell her what it was she was doing.

"This will be a test to see how far you've come in the recovery progress. I told you that you would be helping me, and I meant that, though maybe not in the way that you thought."

Beamed thought for a moment. Wording was important. She trusted him now, but let something crucial slip and he'd be back at square one.

"You'll be helping me in a way that only a saiyan can. Your prowess in combat is, as a people, unmatched. I don't intend to waste that talent by using you as a lab hand."

Itonami nodded again. What he was saying made sense to her. She couldn't imagine a way she'd be of use in a laboratory. That sort of thing was left to the technicians. Saiyans were meant to be on the front lines, crushing their opponents and leveling cities.

"Do you trust me?"

The question caught Itonami off guard. Why was he asking her this now? What was he about to say? She tried to remember the last time she'd been asked something like that...

"I do."

A face brushed the edges of her consciousness, but she couldn't hold on to the image. It was a recurring theme for her, but now wasn't the time to dwell on that. There was a mission to focus on.

Beamed smiled. He felt suddenly at ease, despite the puzzled look the woman bore on her face.

"This is a combat mission. You're going to assault a small Planet Trade outpost near the capital."

The doctor let this sink in. He expected her to protest; how could he ask her to fight her former colleagues? Did he really expect her to turn coat so easily?

She said nothing, though. A nod was her only answer. He grinned in return. Her professional attitude bode well for the future.

Beamed moved for the door but was halted by her voice.

"What about a scouter? Won't I need that to find them, and to keep in contact?"

"You have those functions built into you, now. Not only did I repair your body, I also improved upon it."

Itonami gave him a questioning look, obviously wanting an explanation.

"Your eyes have been outfitted with miniature sensors that work similarly to a scouter. On top of that your body has been reinforced by alloys that will increase your durability. Your combat strength has even been improved, as well. I last metered you at around nine thousand. You're a perfect warrior."

Itonami grinned at this. It'd been too long since she'd experienced battle and the saiyan was eager to test her new abilities.

"If you find yourself wondering why you're fighting the PTO just remember this... One of _them_ did this to you. They gave up on you and left you to die. What more reason do you need?"

* * *

Yo. Relltensai here, and I have a question for you guys. I've reread the story a few times and it's starting to feel like the prologue doesn't fit. When you read it, did you find it off putting or out of place? I just want to make sure that I don't include something that could turn people off from the rest of the story before they even have the opportunity to read it. Anyway, feedback on this is appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Dosetsu was starting to feel as though nearly dying had become a habit. His thoughts had wandered to a host of topics while he floated helplessly in yet another recuperative tank, but his penchant for just barely scraping by had started to worry him. He probably should have been thankful, but that was a difficult thing to be. The way his body ached didn't help.

The saiyan peered through the greyish glass of the tank, the angle at which the pod was positioned near the wall making it difficult for him to see. There was a table a few paces away with what appeared to be his gear, as well as fresh combat garments and food.

Dosetsu longed to be on the other side of the glass, exploring whatever unique tastes they'd decided to share with him, but at the moment he was sedated. Apparently they didn't trust him enough to leave him unattended without some sort of security measures, so they'd given him an immobilizing serum. It was understandable. Saiyans weren't known for being particularly well mannered.

Movement on the far side of the room caught his attention, though he could just barely make it out from his position. One of the aliens that had rescued him was tampering with a display screen.

"Let me out."

The creature spun on it's heel at the sound of his voice and scurried towards where he was being kept, looking him up and down. The saiyan couldn't really tell the two apart, so he wasn't sure which one it was he was speaking to.

"I'm healed and the drug is wearing off. Let me out."

He had no reason to be angry with the two, they'd saved him, so he kept his tone even, though he'd be forced to admit he was becoming too familiar with the inside of recuperation tanks.

"No can do."

The alien wandered towards the food on the table and took some for itself, chewing it hurriedly as it continued it's frantic pace around the room, glancing at displays and searching for something in different containers. Dosetsu thought for a moment. He would be hard pressed to force his way out of the tank at this point, and even if he did he'd be nearly immobile. Talking seemed best, at least for the moment.

"Why? What reason is there to keep me in here? You saved me, I won't hurt you."

The alien stopped at this and turned towards him.

"Are you sure? Your record doesn't exactly inspire confidence, Dosetsu. Or rather, Low Class Soldier Three Three Nine Two."

Dosetsu went quiet at the sound of his identification numbers If they had access to that kind of information, they had to be working for the Planet Trade. That was less than ideal. The creature approached the tank and looked up at him, it's diminutive stature dwarfed in comparison to the saiyan's.

"Exiled for treason against the throne, as well as against the Planet Trade Organization. And on top of that you kill a high ranking officer. You don't seem very loyal."

The alien seemed to be enjoying this exchange, as one sided as it was, so Dosetsu decided to let it have it's moment. He'd crush it's throat as soon as he could move again and that would be that.

"I'm sure by now you believe that my friend and I are members of the PTO."

The Saiyan replied with a blank stare.

"I'd like to say, as you come up with ways in your head to kill me, that this is not the case."

"That so?"

The creature nodded, before holding a portable display up to the front of the tank. The display showed a profile similar to that of Dosetsu's, though with no military record attached. The Saiyan skimmed through the information quickly before returning his attention to the creature, his desire to kill it only slightly diminished.

"So you're a separatist."

"Yes."

Dosetsu fought against his restraints at this response, the drug having worn off enough to allow him free movement. Keel stepped back reflexively, putting the table between himself and the saiyan. The glass of the regeneration pod shattered, as did the couplings that had held the man's wrists. He dropped to the floor, stepping through the mess of recuperation fluid and glass shards as he stared down the alien.

"I was banished… because of YOU!"

Dosetsu grabbed Keel by the throat and pinned him against the wall, his grip tightening with each passing moment.

"I was banished from my home… had my pride torn away from me… because of YOU."

The Saiyan tossed the alien to the side, it's body skittering across tables before it crashed into the wall. Dosetsu began to stretch his body, his muscles stiff from so much time spent in stasis. Keel slowly picked himself up, eyeing Dosetsu warily.

"There is no banishment without the separatists. No banishment if you bastards don't exist."

"You were falsely accused?"

Dosetsu eyed the creature dangerously, prompting Keel to shrink behind a counter.

"Don't think you're safe. The only reason you aren't dead is because you aren't the first name on my list."

Keel continued to watch the saiyan closely as Dosetsu began to dress himself.

"Why did you drug me if you weren't going to keep up the dose?"

The alien peaked his head out a bit more before speaking.

"Because it's not a drug, it's an accelerant. It speeds up the healing process. One of the side effects just happens to be temporary paralysis."

Dosetsu nodded as he pulled a gloves down over his hands.

"What do you know about my banishment?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

The Saiyan eyed him again before shaking his head. He instead began to eat the food that had been laid out, his arms folded as he ate.

"I don't know that much, but Unyan knows quite a bit. She keeps a finger on the pulse of the city, and if anything separatist related pops up she learns everything she can about it. She's on look out, I guess you could say.

Dosetsu continued to eat while staring at the creature, apparently waiting for more information.

"I.. uh… I think it'd be better if you asked her. I'll go get her."

"No. You'll take me to her."

Keel swallowed hard and then nodded. He was starting to think that they had made a mistake taking the saiyan in. Eating him was becoming an increasingly unrealistic dream. He motioned for Dosetsu to follow and trekked down a hallway that led into a house style area. The creature opened a door to an adjoining room. Through the door the Saiyan could see the surprised look of Unyan who hadn't seemed to have heard the commotion they made.

"So.. uh.. you're healed?" She asked feebly.

"What do you know about my banishment?"

Keel motioned for the Saiyan to follow him through the door, and soon the three were sitting around a largish table with several platters of food laid out in front of them. Dosetsu made up for lost time as he waited for the two to collect their thoughts, their bickering punctuated by the saiyan's loud chewing.

"Well?"

The two were thrown from their private conversation as Dosetsu spoke up, his voice a steely boom in comparison to their own. Keel glanced to his friend, waiting for her to answer the saiyan sitting before them. He hoped, for their sakes, she didn't make him wait long.

Uynan sighed and turned towards the Saiyan, her eyes sweeping over him, trying to gauge him. He was powerful, there was no doubt, but temperament was equally important. If he was prone to anger, as many saiyans were, they could be in a great deal of trouble.

"You were bait."

The saiyan continued to stare at the creature, prompting her to continue.

"A better way of putting it is you were framed, and then used as bait."

Unyan glanced at Keel before returning her attention to Dosetsu, reassuring herself she had backup if the saiyan snapped.

"Planet Trade tech, especially Planet Trade technology operated by a saiyan, is extremely easy to gain access to remotely."

She eyed the saiyan to make sure he was following before continuing.

"The Jox't Separi aren't fools. They knew the PTO had caught on to their operations on Vegeta."

"Separi?" Dosetsu asked. He felt as though he'd heard the phrase before.

"What the separatists refer to themselves as. The Joxuatan Separatists, or Jox't Separi."

"What's Joxuatan?"

"A neighboring system filled with PTO detractors. You work for a very unpopular group."

Dosetsu didn't doubt it. As much as he enjoyed clearing planets, his enjoyment didn't blind him to the fact that he was creating thousands of refugees. He just didn't care.

"What do they have to do with me?"

"Like I said, the Separi aren't fools. They knew the PTO had started following their movements, so they decided to throw them off by hacking into PTO communications and feeding them false chatter."

"So..?"

"So your scouter was linked to fake Separi communications. The Planet Trade detects them, you get banished."

The saiyan mulled over this for a moment.

"What makes me bait?"

Unyan stared at her hands, her greenish talons offset by the gray of her flesh. This, she hoped, went as smoothly as the rest.

"We're separatists, but we are not Separi. We support their cause, but we are not a part of them. We do work for them, but we are separate."

Dosetsu nodded.

"There are many like us, independent parties that support the Separi in various ways. "

Unyan cleared her throat, glancing to Keel again. He nodded.

"The Separi put out a contract to plant fake communications. The terms didn't specify any saiyan in particular, just that a saiyan device be the one targeted. Normally Keel and I handle contracts like that, especially this close to the capital. Before we could respond, another independant party accepted the contract."

Unyan stood up from her chair and walked to the far side of the room, taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Keel glanced back and forth between the saiyan and his companion, not sure who to watch more closely.

"The party that took the contract was the one to target you specifically. After the contract was taken so quickly I was curious, so I did a bit of digging. It turned out the one to take it was an underground survivor from the Tuffle wars, a Tsufurujin scientist."

Dosetsu's eyes widened a bit at this. It was widely accepted that the Tsufurujins had been completely killed off. The only time he'd ever seen one was when it'd already stopped breathing.

"This tsufurujin did his research on you, and on who you associated with. He chose you because he knew if you were banished that a high ranking officer would be the one to throw you out."

The saiyan felt a cold creeping up the back of his neck as he listened, the reality of the situation becoming clearer.

"No.."

"As a tsufurujin he has more than enough reason for revenge. The Separi contract simply served as a catalyst. It gave him the idea to take not one saiyan out, but two. When Itonami escorted you out of the capital, he already had a trap prepared. As soon as you leave he springs the trap and kills her. All that was left for him to do was sit back and watch them pin the blame on the perfect scapegoat; you."

Dosetsu stood, his face a mask of calm.

"What.. Is this Tuffle's name?"

Keel looked to Unyan, and then back to Dosetsu. The way saiyan reacted was worrisome, considering how he acted when angry before. This wasn't the same at all. Keel felt cold from the saiyan.

Unyan turned and met the saiyan's eyes, his facade of calm having the opposite effect on her.

"H-His name.. is.."

Beamed.

* * *

Yo. I'm back, finally. I know I said that the updates would start coming more regularly, and they obviously haven't. The holidays kinda got in the way of that, and on top of that I've been in the process of moving. I still intend to continue the story, I just can't promise how often the story will be updated. Sorry:/ Anyway, here's the new chapter. Hopefully you all enjoy.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The Vegetan night was still, the sky as black as the void above. It would be nearly a century before the next moon arrived, but distant stars shone brightly, punctuating the darkness. A spear of light raced across the surface of the planet, like a shooting star careening towards the ground. Itonami felt alive.

When the doctor had told her that she'd increased in power, she'd been excited. She'd been one of the most powerful among her peers before; how powerful would she be now? The saiyan was eager to find out.

A brilliant red aura burned around her as she pushed herself even faster, speeds that had once eluded her now coming to her as quickly as she was willing to grasp them. The land around her seemed to bend as she continued her frantic pace, hills and mountains melting into one and other as her speed increased.

She suddenly brought herself to a halt, her energy billowing as her momentum changed. Below her a lake had taken the brunt of her stops force, waves crashing against the shores and a whirlpool forming below where she hung in the sky. Itonami exhaled slowly, disappating her energy. The aura that had burned around her faded, and the lake below became calm.

The woman lowered herself to its' surface, resting in the air inches above the water. The waves had ceased, and now the lake lay calm, it's surface smooth, along with her reflection. Itonami traced the stich lines along her arms and face, doing her best to avoid the hairless head she now bore.

Normally a saiyan would have grown back a full head of hair in a few days time after having it removed, but not now. She supposed that was another side effect of her transformation. She looked better, though. The scars had begun to fade, and her flesh had begun to look like it belonged to someone that was alive. It wouldn't be long, the doctor had said, before he could remove the stitching, too.

Despite all the changes, though, she felt exhilarated. Her power before had been something to brag about. Now, though, it was beyond comprehension.

"Even King Vegeta would have difficulty with me now."

Her void rang oddly in her ears, the metal that had replaced much of her skull the reason for that. Everything about her seemed different, but Itonami had decided that the majority of the changes were for the better. The saiyan turned to leave, but out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her back side.

Panicked, she reached for where her tail had once been, suddenly aware of it's absence. With all the changes she'd undergone, and the truly alien way in which she experienced different sensations, she'd failed to notice that it wasn't there. Her head throbbed, suddenly, her hands instinctively grasping at her temples, trying to hold back the pain. Itonami groaned, her body tightening. It felt as though her mind was trying to grasp at something, but there was nothing there.

And as suddenly as the pain ahd arrived, it left. The saiyan felt herself falling, and quickly propelled herself to the shore, her boots dragging in the water as she collapsed onto the beach. She took in labored breaths for a few moments, her hands and knees shaking as they did their best to support her.

What had that been? She'd seen a face, the face of another saiyan, and then her mind had started to move to another image. The image never came, though, and then there had been pain. She'd have to ask the Doctor.

The saiyan stood, shaken by the experience. She moved to activate her communication device, but stopped herself. There was a mission to complete, and that was her priority. There would be plenty of opportunities to ask questions of the Doctor when she got back. For now, she needed to focus.

Itonami slowly rose into the air, moisture peeling off of her as she picked up speed. The outpost wasn't far from her position, maybe two units. She'd take care of business, and then she'd find out what the Doctor knew about the unkept looking boy.

-S-

Nappa tore off his boot ands armor as he touched down on his personal landing pad. Attendants hurried towards him, catching his uniform as he dropped it towards the ground.

"Lord Nappa, was your mission successful? Shall we ready a recuperation tank?"

Nappa glanced at the lead attendant, his mouth twisted into a frown as he began to speak.

"How did you know I'd gone on a mission?"

The General eyed the sputtering creature for a moment more before continuing towards his quarters, not waiting for an answer as the alien tried to string together words. Automatic doors activated as he neared the entrance, opening up to a grand entryway. Unlike the Prince, Nappa had a taste for the extravagant. His home was littered with treasures from his life of conquest, trophies from missions and medals for his service. While many Saiyans desired food, a fight and a mate, the General was prone to vanity.

His eyes swept over the lavish decorations tirelessly maintained by his group of personal attendants, the majority of which were not there by choice. He snickered at the thought, but was once again pulled from his thoughts by the sputtering voice of his lead attendant.

"T-The King sent a messenger to s-see if you'd… returned from your mission. A-Apparently there's an i-important visitor here from off world."

Nappa's eyes lit up at this. If it was Frieza, as he surmised, then he'd be able to boast about the blow he dealt to the separatists in front of both his King and the Changeling Lord. A fine opportunity, in his opinion.

"Good. I have a task for you."

The attendants ears perked up, but he remained wary. For all he knew the task could be to serve as Nappa's next meal.

"What can I do for you, My Lord?"

Nappa handed him his scouter wordlessly before heading towards the baths, his face a permanent smirk.

-S-

Itonami touched down hard at the outpost, carrying her speed into the landing. Beamed hadn't said anything about being covert, so why not make her entrance plain? Air gusted through the streets following her impact, blowing over portable signs and slamming old style doors. A few denizens of the outpost had been nearby as well, and had been thrown from their feet. They peered up at the new arrival, fearful.

"W-What the hell do you think yer' doing? Flyin' in here like that, at speed?"

Itonami glanced at the man, checking for anything on him that would link him to the Planet Trade. He was an offworlder as far as she could tell from his accent, but a vest-style armor beneath his overcoat made it plain that he had PTO affiliations.

The saiyan raised her palm in the direction of the man, his companion scrambling to her feet before stumbling towards a nearby building. That worked out perfectly for Itonami. It was a Planet Trade Operations Center, one that was still in service.

A crack split the air as energy shot from her hand and into the chest of the man, his torso collapsing on impact. Turning from him, Itonami strode towards the operations center, standing at the entrance defiantly as she waited for the peace keepers to deploy. It was only a matter of time.

The door flew open and several peacekeepers flooded out into the street, surrounding her with blasters outfitted on their arms. Of the six, Itonami counted two saiyans among them, though it didn't appear that they recognized her. She had begun to wonder about her absence, at least about how long it had been.

"Get on your knees, put your hands behind you and put your face on the ground!"

Itonami smirked, taking a step forward. The peacekeepers hurriedly trained their guns on her, though it was clear they were frightened. After reading her level of power, it wasn't surprising. Any creature of sound mind would be.

The saiyan accessed her power scanning module, bringing up an overlay that covered a portion of her line of sight. A bit bothersome, she thought, but intriguing none the less. A list of powers quickly spilled out, her scan covering the entirety of the outpost. She narrowed the scan to the immediate area and the list shrunk, though something had caught her on the previous scan. A sizable power, most likely an elite saiyan, or at least one of Frieza's stronger operatives. It didn't matter. She'd crush these fools, and then move on to the bigger targets.

Itonami lunged forward, planting her elbow in the throat of the most immediate PTO operative. He crumpled to the ground immediately and the saiyan moved on, targeting the operative to her left. The peacekeepers behind her opened fire, but their blasters posed no threat to her. She ducked and weaved between blasts of energy, closing in on each operative within seconds. It took her even less time to dispatch them, a blow to their chests or heads more than enough.

The saiyan lowered herself from the air where she hovered, her knee still extended from her last kill. She'd caught one of the saiyans in the chin, snapping his head back, as well as his neck. Looking around she found herself alone in the street, her only company the broken bodies of the peacekeepers. She knew that wouldn't last, though. As soon as a transmission got out to the capital the area would be swarming with operatives, both alien and saiyan alike. That seemed less than ideal.

"This should prevent any transmissions from reaching them, at least." Itonami stated, lifting a hand towards the operations center. A ball of light erupted from the tip of her fingers and collided with the building, the wall collapsing as it made impact. An explosion erupted within the building, throwing smoke into the sky and debris into the air.

Itonami rubbed a bit of from her cheeks and turned, casting a glance deeper into the outpost. The broadened her scanning parameters once more, searching for that large power. It hadn't moved, though now she noticed it wasn't actually inside the outpost. It was about a unit north, beneath the surface.

The saiyan considered heading directly there, but that seemed like a waste of an opportunity. Destroying the outpost to lure the power out seemed more promising. Itonami promptly rose into the air, positioning herself in way where she had the best vantage point of the outpost. Palms aimed towards the town, she began to gather energy, lighting blooming in the middle of her hands. She remembered a time when gathering energy in this manner would have been a challenge. Since she'd been transformed, that term didn't apply to her anymore.

Shards of light began to splinter from her hands and towards the buildings below, her unleashed energy carpeting the outpost in smoke and flames. Buildings began to collapse under the onslaught, their inhabitants spilling out into the streets only to be caught by one of Itonami's blasts.

It felt as though she'd been sent on a planet clearing again, and it was refreshing. It seemed like years since she'd gotten to fight, or even flex her strength. An alarm started to go off within her scanning module, an alert popping up over her sight. Several large powers had appeared several units away, coming from the direction of the capital. Apparently a transmission had gotten out, despite her admittedly half hearted efforts in preventing it. The saiyan watched the module for a moment more, hoping the power she'd detected earlier would make a move. It didn't appear interested, though, and her time to have fun was running out.

Individually, the energy signatures on their way to her posed no threat. Together, though, she wasn't interested in compromising the Doctor's goals. She would retreat for now. A scarlet aura grew around Itonami as she began drifting in the direction of Beamed's compound. The saiyan took one last glance towards the smoldering ruins of the outpost before propelling herself away, eager to once again test how fast she could travel.

* * *

Yo. Twice in just a few days. Not too bad. Anyway, just here to say my official move date is really close, so I'm not sure how long it will be before the next chapter. I should be able to get a bit of work done between now and when I head out, but i'm almost certain I won't have another chapter out for at least a week or two. As always, enjoy the chapter and tell me what you think!

-Relltensai


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Bardock touched down hard in the ruins of the city, the crunch of debris beneath his boots startling him. The saiyan cast a wary glance around, cursing under his breath. In every direction the city had been completely leveled, like a reenactment of the war. This kind of scenery was typical off planet, but on Vegeta?

He tapped his scouter haphazardly, an idea of what he'd see already in his head. Symbols spooled out onto the screen before promptly disappearing. It was as expected. The outpost was empty.

Three pings alerted him to his squad mates arriving. The saiyan had been saddled with a group of low class recruits, all of whom had apparently had great success in their initial planet clearings. The situation seemed to call for a more serious commitment from the PTO, but apparently their experienced teams were deployed elsewhere, including his own.

"Alright… Spread out and check for survivors."

Bardock chuckled at this.

"I bet that's the first time you've heard that."

The recruits eyed him for a moment before fanning out, each checking their scouters as they moved from structure to structure. Bardock watched them for a moment before lifting up into the air, propelling himself high enough so that he'd have a bird's-eye view. A button press set his scouter to scan for extremely small energy signatures, the size someone would have if they were near death.

Instances like this unsettled the saiyan's nerves, reminding him of the few months of resistance after the war had officially ended. There was no honor in fighting a battle against an opponent that you couldn't see. The saiyan shook these thoughts from his head as he began glancing around, surveying the progress his team was making as he did his own scans.

There were several dwindling powers among the ruined buildings, but it appeared that his squad had already detected those. He took another few glances around, but nothing stuck out to him. It wasn't surprising, really. A hit and run was just that; you hit, and then you run.

Bardock ran his right hand along his scar as he fell into thought, his mind wandering to who might have possibly carried out this attack. While this outpost hadn't been assigned any particularly strong operatives, it would still take a force of some size to wipe out a city in this manner. But a force would have been detected beforehand, instead of a distress signal being broadcast as the outpost was erased from existence. The saiyan shrugged.

The sound of his scouter receiving a message interrupted this train of thought, dragging the saiyan from his memories and back into the present. Bardock accessed the message and scanned it quickly, his eyes widening slightly as he reached the end. An order had been sent informing all operatives that they were required to convene at the capitol. The president of the Planet Trade Organization was on Vegeta.

**-S-**

Itonami arrived back at Beamed's compound after a short flight, crimson energy drifting in the air like leaves as her aura faded. The woman strode confidently into the building, entering an elevator that brought her to the main portion of the underground laboratory. Her footsteps echoed off the walls of the hallway, drawing the tsufurujin man from his thoughts. He swung himself out of the chair at his console and shuffled towards her, a smile that hinted at satisfaction playing on his lips.

"Report." He said, his face suddenly turning serious. A saiyan that had held a position such as hers would obviously appreciate being received professionally. Divulging in personal celebrations could wait.

Itonami stood at attention, her hands folded behind her back. Several thoughts swam around her mind for a moment as she prepared to speak, her body slowly falling into the motions of a post mission debrief.

"The outpost was completely destroyed. I withdrew when I detected a dispatch from the capital."

Beamed nodded, satisfied with her answer as well as her demeanor. He tapped a nearby screen and brought up a news broadcast, a series of video feeds cycling through, narrated by a stern, authoritative voice. According to the report, this attack had been a means of retaliation against the Planet Trade by the Separi. The Doctor scoffed at this, but it was as he'd predicted. They'd never expect a single individual was responsible.

Beamed turned back to the saiyan woman, motioning for her to relax. He took his seat once more and faced her, lacing his fingers together as he began to speak.

" The mission was intended as a means to test your new capabilities, as well to set a few things in motion. We were successful on both fronts."

Itonami nodded, removing her gloves while she listened. She moved to run a hand through her hair but stopped herself, her eyes darting to the tsufurujin, though he seemed to have not noticed. Beamed continued.

"As vast as the Planet Trade is, the Separi are not something that will just disappear. Now that the Planet Trade believes the Separi have acted against them, a great deal of attention will be pointed in their direction. This will give us a great deal of room to work with."

Itonami nodded, pulling her armor over her shoulders and off of her body. Beamed gazed for a few moments more as she removed her combat suit, admiring the beauty of her body as well as the beauty of his work. It was an intoxicating thing, pride. The doctor could see why it was so important to the saiyan's.

The woman replaced the combat suit with more comfortably fitting clothing, her mind all the while fixated on the memory of the boy. What was going on in the memory was foggy, but she could make out a Planet Trade insignia adorning the boys armor. He must have been newly recruited, at least as far as she could tell.

"I remember a boy."

The words escaped Itonami's mouth unexpectedly, interrupting the doctor mid sentence. He met her eyes questioningly, apparently unsure of what she was referring to.

"A boy..?"

"A saiyan, he was wearing a Planet Trade uniform. For some reason he's the only person I can remember the face of..."

Beamed looked at her for a moment, thoughtful. Her words were worrying, evidence that the alterations to her memory hadn't taken as well as he'd hoped. Tampering with the mind was a difficult task to approach due to both the complexity of the matter as well as the lack of prior research to fall back on.

"What you're describing is too vague for me to go on. If you'd like, I can attempt to access your memories, though I cannot promise any results."

Itonami nodded once more,standing up from her seat to go to her quarters.

"There is one thing I should mention."

The saiyan stopped midstep, turning on her heel to face the tsufurujin.

"To access your memories I must... take you offline."

Itonami blanched at this, unsure of whether she wished to be put back under. The answer was obviously no, but she needed to know who the boy was.

"Do it. I need to know. And I trust you."

Beamed smirked, placing an arm around the woman's waist.

"We'll eat first, and then rest. Afterwards we'll proceed. Then we'll find out who this saiyan is."

**-S-**

Bardock arrived at the capital, his squad in tow behind him. The city roared as crowds flooded the streets, a mixture of celebration and revolt. Planet Trade operatives clamored for control over the waves of citizens pouring into the amphitheater, built by tsufurujins long ago and now utilized by saiyans as a location to host and broadcast large events.

The saiyan dropped from the sky and slipped into the crowd. The majority of the stadium was filled with creatures dressed like him; standard issue PTO attire with scouters to match. Above him operatives were stationed in the air, guarding the perimeter of the building. Civilians littered their ranks here and there, but from what Bardock could tell most of those attending were operatives.

The squad he'd been temporarily attached to landed moments later and found their way to him through the crowd, no doubt confused by what was going on. It wasn't like Frieza to announce a visit to the planet like this, and it was even stranger that he called for an audience. Then again, the saiyan thought, he had no idea what was going on in the mind of the tyrant.

Moments turned into minutes as the crowd began to calm, the excitement of being invited slowly fading into a soft hum. Bardock continued to glance around, hopeful that he'd spy Toma or Celypa. He'd even settle for Pambukin. He couldn't very well talk to these recruits. The saiyan cast a wary glance in their direction and caught them all glancing at him. He sighed.

"Hopefully Frieza wisens up and doesn't keep us waiting for too much longer. It isn't wise to keep a saiyan warrior cooped up for too long."

The squad nodded in agreement, shifting idly on their feet. Bardock smirked, turning his attention back to the stage. Lights flipped on as he turned his head, filling the stage with light and casting a shadow over the rest of the area. A figure appeared and strode towards a large pedestal, a saiyan in resplendent armor and a crimson cloak. It was the King.

The crowd began to roar and cheer once more, the presence of royalty stirring them into a frenzy. Bardock clapped as well, the mood lightening. He may not have been fond of Nappa, but there was no question that he was loyal to his King.

The King extended his arms, signaling for silence. The crowd responded.

"You are all confused as to why you were called here, I am sure."

The King paused, as if considering his next words. The crowd waited eagerly, some unsure whether he had expected them to answer.

"The Planet Trade has undergone a transformation. They have declared war against the Joxuatan Separi, the perpetrators of the recent attack on us."

The King put a great deal of emphasis on the word 'us', his arms sweeping wide, a gesture to include all those attending. He continued.

"These Separatists seek to destroy not only the Planet Trade Organization, but the Saiyan Empire as well!"

The crowd became eerily silent, the King's words resonating with his people.

"They are fools to challenge us! They are fools to believe their meager strength can stand up to our own!"

The King gave a great flourish with his cape, channeling any charisma and showmanship his title afforded him. The crowded roared in response, fists thrust into the air throughout the amphitheater.

"Henceforth all standard PTO operations will be suspended. We will begin to mobilize our forces, and we will strike out into the heart of our enemies!"

The crowd roared once more, and Bardock added his voice to it. War was glory incarnate. War was saiyan nature.

The din began to die down, the King continued to speak, covering specifics of the battles to come. Behind him Bardock noticed Nappa standing at attention. The General bore a look that bordered on fear, a look in his eyes that seemed truly alien.

Bardocked glanced back up at the King to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but he couldn't tell. Perhaps the King had beaten his lapdog, a thought that brought a smile to the saiyan's lips.

"In this time of war, be grateful to a leader that has appeared to fill the void that Frieza once inhabited."

Bardock was pulled from the thought of Nappa being beaten at the words, his neck snapping towards the King. The crowd seemed confused as well, voices beginning to shout in question as the King continued to speak.

"As Frieza failed, he will succeed! The Planet Trade will prosper under his guidance! The Saiyan Empire will emerge victorious behind his leadership!"

The boil of the crowd had reached its peak as the King threw his cape back and gestured towards an entrance at the back of the stage. A towering silhouette filled the entrance, its form barely fitting through the door.

Bardock noticed now the King's fear, the saiyan desperately gripping the podium as the new 'leader' came into the light. A tall, horned creature with a powerful tail and a body of black and silver. He bore a resemblance to Frieza in the way Bardock was similar to the King. This creature was much larger, though, and commanded a presence that Frieza could not.

The King faltered for a moment, but quickly took a knee, bowing his head to the changeling. Nappa followed suit, begrudgingly so.

"All hail Permaphraust." The King called out, his voice a rasp against his teeth. "All hail our new lord!"

* * *

Yo. Back finally, moved in a while ago but things have been a blur. Extremely Busy. Anyway, here's a decently lengthy chapter. I keep saying my releases are going to be more frequent/scheduled but I'm horrible at keeping promises like that. Regardless. Hope you all enjoy the chapter.


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Dragon Ball Z, Adventure, Sci-Fi