Dragon Ball Z: A Good Man - 4

      Vegeta didn’t know where he was or if he was even conscious or not – perhaps somewhere in between.  He felt like he was floating, drifting someplace dark.  What was this?  How could it feel so foreign and yet so familiar at the same time?  Was he dreaming?  Or was he waking up?  Imagines flickered by through his mind, flashing through death and destruction, mixed with glimpse of Kakarot, Bulma, and Trunks.  Was he losing his mind?  Which was reality?  Why did it all feel so distant and yet so near?
      He heard a voice, warbling through the liquid that filled his ears.  “I still don’t understand it, friend Nevrrest.  Why are we doing this?  If he would have died, why not just let him?”
      Another voice.  This one with a low purr to it.  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Sepis.  I would have never forgiven myself if he had died in combat.  He doesn’t deserve the honor.”
      Vegeta became aware of the fact he had eyelids and slowly opened them, his vision disoriented by his stated and the liquid that surrounded him.  He saw a thick tail smack the deck before him and in a feverish moment of half consciousness, that tail and voice became his old master, Frieza’s heartless visage hovering over him.  He floundered in a panic for a split second before reality clarified itself.
      A rejuvenation tank.  That was all it was.  No wonder it had felt so strange and recognizable at the same time.  He looked at the interior wall, a mask over his mouth and nose feeding him oxygen.  He looked at the tail again through the glass, this time seeing the red, orange, and blue feathers and the yellow scales.
      Nevrrest uncrossed her arms and clicked.  “Good, he’s recovering.  The pod should eject him soon.  No need to restore him fully, so long as he’s no longer in mortal danger.”
      Sepis pressed his hands to the glass and leaned in close, like a child studying a fish.  “Now that I think about it, I almost wish we could keep like this.”  He chuckled.  “Monkey in a jar…”  Vegeta’s hand pressed to the glass where Sepis’s face hung and it cracked.
       “Keep back!” Nevrrest cried, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him away from the pod, “Don’t be foolish, Sepis.  Even in his current state he’s still dangerous.”  Vegeta’s brow lowered, glaring at her.  She cocked her head at him slightly and came close herself again, pressing her hand to the other side of the glass where his was, almost in an affectionate gesture.  She sighed, closing her eyes and smiling.  “Oh Sepis…I can’t remember…the last time I was this happy…”  She opened her eyes again, giving the saiyan prince a benevolent look.  “We have such a history, Vegeta.  I spent so many years, watching you at a distance, waiting for the moment to strike.  I waited so very…very long.  Watched you kill so many, you and your two thugs, knowing I wasn’t strong enough yet to face you.”
      She gave pause, holding Vegeta’s wrathful gaze.  “…I think it does something to a person…seeing that much death.  But I bided my time, learning from you, learning how to be strong.”  She lifted a corner of her mouth.  “Ironic, isn’t it?  You educated your own executioner.  And you never even noticed I was there.  I was nearly caught once though…by the big one.  What was his name?  Ah yes…Nappa.  Your nursemaid, I believe?”  She stroked the glass.  “But this is the first time I’ve seen you in a very long time…not since Arlia.”  She glanced at Sepis and her feathers ruffled.  “…I just couldn’t do it.  If you’d caught me I would have died, but I didn’t care.  I couldn’t stand you knocking yet another species into extinction.”  Sepis drew close to her.  “I told myself ‘I have to save just one…just one…just one.’”  Sepis took her hand.  “So I did.  I grabbed him just before the planet exploded.”  She took her hand from the Arlian and placed it on his head.  “And this brilliant mind from a savage world created everything we will use to—”  She cut short, turning her head.
      Oom’Bagu stood in the doorway to the shuttle med room.  He gently shook his head at her.  “My friend…what are you doing?”
      Her brow lowered and her eyes shifted away sharply.  “Nothing.  Just guarding him.”
       “Allow me, prisoners in transfer are my duty and burden to bear.  Please…listen to me on this.  Go, you must prepare the fleet for his arrival.”
      Nevrrest gazed a long moment at Oom’Bagu, finally grunting and moving past him.  “Very well.  Sepis.”
      Oom’Bagu watched them as they departed, nodding to himself and touching the side of Vegeta’s tank.  Vegeta growled as the liquid drained around him, the sensors and oxygen mask retracting, leaving him partially healed.  The tank opened.  “On your feet, prisoner,” Oom’Bagu commanded, his deep voice calm and stern.
      Vegeta’s teeth gritted, gripping the sides of the opening.  “I am not your prisoner,” he snarled.
       “As you will,” he returned, “It is yours to accept or deny your new position.”  He looked at Vegeta’s bewildered face as he struggled to climb out of the pod.  “However, your apparel is severely damaged.  There is a prisoner uniform available to replace it.”
       “I will not!” Vegeta snapped, though his clothes hung dripping and tattered around him, his shirt all but shredded.  He finally managed to get a foot out of the pod, his body shuddering.  “Why…do I feel so heavy?  Why am I so weak?  What have you done to me?!”  Oom’Bagu’s eyes lead him back to his tail.  He gasped with horror, seeing the clamp and pin latched onto it near the end.  Immediately without a thought, he grabbed it and tried to pull it off, but only served to cause himself enormous pain and fell to his knees, screaming.
       “I wouldn’t advise meddling with your shackle,” the horned bear stated, “There is a needle within that goes straight through the bone.  You couldn’t remove it without taking your tail with it.”
      Vegeta continued to helplessly hold his tail, hissing through his teeth.  “How lucky for you we Saiyans have such a weakness…if not I would tear you apart.”
       “It is a convenience,” Oom’Bagu corrected, “We would be fully prepared to detain you without it.”
      Vegeta growled, and tried to wrap his tail around his waist, but it was too limp to do so.  Finally, he just let it fall against the floor and forced himself to stand straight and tall, his fist clenched and glaring.  “Say what you want, it won’t be enough!” he shouted, “I am a saiyan prince and I won’t be held against my will or reduced the level of slave!”
       “Yes…you are.”  Oom’Bagu walked carefully forward and stood over him.  “You are indeed Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans.  And from his day forth, you are a prisoner of The Justice and I am your warden.  Obey me and your comfort will be greater.  Defy me and the first of your punishments begins now.”
      Vegeta glared at him, then turned his head and spat.  “Do your worst.”
       “No.  I will do enough.”  He pressed his palms together and bowed his head for a moment, a mauve light flashing in his eyes.
      Vegeta choked and gasped as the same light flashed in his own eyes.  “What the…I can…”  As he looked up at the justiciar, he found himself looking down at himself as well.  “What are you…”
      Oom’Bagu hummed.  “Hmm…you had your world destroyed, yes?  It will do.”  He bowed his head once more over his clasped hands.  “Planet Vegeta…lost to you at a very young age.”  Suddenly Vegeta’s mind filled with the memory of the moment he had received the news.  Oom’Bagu’s presence filled that memory.  “The word came to you in the midst of the ashes of the slaughter, a craft you were trained in since birth.”  Vegeta saw the bodies piled around him, the report coming to him in his ear through his scouter.  “But you received it coldly.  Too swamped in death to care.”  Vegeta gasped as Oom’Bagu grew a cruel smile, a smile that wasn’t his own and didn’t belong on his face.  “But why would you care?  If they were so weak to have been killed that way, they deserved to die.”  His expression lowered into sadness.  “Ah…but there was one whom you did mourn.  Your father, who you always longed to see again and now never would…it is a small token, but it will suffice…”
      The memory left his mind and Vegeta was dragged into another, one that wasn’t his own.  A Planet Trade Organization soldier held his arms behind his back, cackling as several more handfuls of Gregoriks were brought into the ship.
       “Make sure they’re watching.”
      His head jerked to the side where their captor, Lord Frieza, floated with menacing boredom in his chair.
       “What is this?!” Vegeta cried, clamping his hands to his temples, “No!  I won’t have my mind invaded again!!!”
      But the memory persisted in his head.  Frieza raised a finger as an energy ball formed over it.  “You’ve gathered all the suitably strong ones?”
       “As you commanded, Lord Frieza,” bowed Zarbon, his green braid falling forward.
      Frieza chuckled mildly.  “Good.  Don’t let a single one look away.  I want them all to know who they serve now and what will happen to them if they ever misbehave.”
      He trembled.  He could still sense his family and all his people down there, frightened, some dying.  His son was dead…the echoes of his terror and pain as he had passed still rattled through him.  The ball of energy held by Lord Frieza grew larger.  And larger.  And larger still.  He and his fellow captives gasped, feeling each other’s horror.  Frieza laughed.
       “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!” Vegeta howled.
       “The anger…the sorrow…the horror…the disbelief…feel it as your own, Prince Vegeta.”
      The colossal ball of energy rolled easily down towards the world.  All the captives started to scream as they felt their fellows on the planet below die, burning as their home exploded.  Tears spilled from his eyes as he wailed, feeling his family’s pain and fear as they perished.  And then…silence.
      Vegeta collapsed onto the floor, gritting his teeth as hot tears streamed from his eyes.  “Enough…enough damn you…”
      Oom’Bagu looked at him coldly as tears ran from his own eyes.  “So much more… everything you refused to feel when your world perished.  But still you felt it, deep inside.  Such grief would be penalty enough for the death you had to that point caused.”  His brow lowered.  “However…you instead forgot this pain and continued to deliver this horror to many other innocents.  For that reason, you are here now, a prisoner of your own evil.”  He touched his forehead.  “Empathic bind.”  His eyes lit mauve.
      Vegeta gasped, his eyes glowing mauve as well.  His mouth opened but he couldn’t speak.  Not at first.
       “We will sit.”  Oom’Bagu sat on the floor and crossed his legs.  Vegeta’s mouth wiggled as he did the same without thinking.  Somehow, it was just the thing to do.  “Now…should we dress you?”
      Vegeta found his voice again.  “We…should at least remove this shirt.”  He looked down at his top, barely still clinging to him.  “It is useless.”
       “We will do so then,” Oom’Bagu agreed.
      They both stood up.  Vegeta pulled the rag over his head and tossed it on the floor.  Why…why am I doing this?  Has he taken control of my mind?!  No…it’s more like I’m just…agreeing with him or something!
       “Yes…that is good enough for now,” Oom’Bagu nodded.
       “We refuse to dress as a prisoner,” Vegeta returned, “But we will at least throw off the remnants of our defeat.”
       “We will dress properly later,” he agreed, his brow lowering, “No matter how much it infuriates us, we will be forced to accept our station in time.”
       “Though…” Vegeta clenched his teeth, “We do not intend to remain here long enough for that.”
       “But we have no plans for escape.”
       “Not without our energy.”
      Oom’Bagu nodded.  “We will rest.  Processing will be difficult for us.  We must conserve our strength.”  They both sat down again and went into a meditative stated.  “We shall remain bound until we are docked.  Then our wills will separate again.”
       “We must rest,” Vegeta grunted, “It is all we can do.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

      The moment Bulma saw him appear in her kitchen next to Goten, she knew.  Her teeth rattled, her fists clenched over her belly.  She glared at her childhood friend, holding back the pressure she felt in her eyes, snarling and shaking.  “Goku…” she hissed, “Where are Vegeta and Trunks?”
      Goku gave her a serious, somber look.  “Trunks is fine.  He’s with Piccolo and is gonna stay hidden.  But…I’m sorry…”
      Sorry…sorry…sorry…sorry… The words echoed through Bulma’s head and she was back standing on the Look-Out again on that horrid day.  “No…”
       “They took Vegeta.  I can still sense his energy but—”
       “No!!!” Bulma screamed, flying at him and seizing him by the tunic, Chi-Chi, Goten, and Dr. Brief – who stood in the kitchen with them – looking on helplessly.  Angry tears spilled over Bulma’s cheeks.  “Don’t you dare, Goku…not again!”  She stomped her foot, threw down her head, and screamed.  “I can’t let you tell me I’ve lost him again!!!”
       “Bulma…” said Dr. Brief, coming up behind her and trying to hug her.
       “No!” she thrashed her head about, “No!”  She grunted and lifted her head, her lips trembling and her brow lowering as she looked out the window.  The ships were still visible in the sky.  She broke from Goku and took off down the hall.
       “Bulma!” several of them cried.
      Her bulge swinging, she ran out the door and around the mansion and to the back yard where several Capsule Corp ships were parked.  Goku appeared in front of her and grabbed her shoulders.  “No, Bulma, what do you think you’re doing?!” he cried.
       “Nobody’s taking him from me again, you hear me?!!” she screamed, trying to get around him, “I’m going up there and they’re giving him back to me!!!”
       “Bulma, you can’t!” he insisted, holding her at arm’s length, “Please, listen to me!”
       “No, Goku!”
       “Bulma, please!”
      She at last stopped, biting her lips hard as her face trembled.
      Goku took a deep breath.  “I don’t know much about these people, but I can tell they’re very angry with Vegeta.  If you go up there, you’ll only make it worse.  Some of them might even try to hurt you.”  He shook her gently.  “But it’s all right.  I got a plan.  Do you think you could get a signal up to those ships?”
      She rubbed one of her eyes fiercely.  “Yeah, what about it?” she sniffled.
       “I can’t guarantee anything…but they seem to respect me somehow.  If you can contact them, I think I can talk them into letting me come on their ship with them.”  He watched her as she listened.  “If I can do that, I think I might be able to help Vegeta from the inside.  If I can make them see Vegeta isn’t what they think he is anymore, maybe I can end this without anyone else having to get hurt.”
       “So that’s your grand plan?” Bulma snapped, her tears being flung as her head jerked up, “Talking to them?”
       “Please, Bulma,” he insisted, “I know it may not seem like it right now, but I can tell these are good people who just want to do the right thing.  If I can make them see they’re making a mistake, I know they’ll let Vegeta go.”  His brow lowered.  “And maybe this is for the best.  The people out there that he’s hurt deserve to know that he’s changed so they don’t have to be afraid anymore.  We owe that to Vegeta too.”
      Bulma whimpered angrily.  “Fine…I can use the ship’s communication’s system, I just have to figure out their frequency first.”  She shoved him off her and jabbed a finger up at him.  “But…you have to promise me something.”  His brow lowered slightly and she nearly started crying again.  “Don’t you come back without him, Goku.  You hear me?  You get my husband and you bring him back to me alive and safe and sound.  You got that?”
      Goku put his hands on her shoulders again.  “I promise, Bulma.”  He hugged her, clasping her head to his shoulder.  “It’s going to be all right.”
       “Well, if that’s really your plan,” said Dr. Brief, walking across the grass to them, “Then I’ll help get the communication set.  Those aliens did some kind of hyperspace jump to get here and I calculate that’s not something they can just do on a whim.  Their ships will need time to recharge or I wager they would have left already.”  He patted Bulma’s shoulder.  “So don’t worry.  We’ll have them on call in a jiffy.”
       “Dad?” Goten wandered up nervously, “Can I help too?”
      Goku looked at him and touched his head.  “Yeah.  You take care of your mom and Bulma.  Don’t let anyone from those ships into the house, okay?”
      Goten nodded then looked up worriedly.  “Dad…is Trunks going to be okay?”
       “Mm,” Goku nodded back, “Piccolo will keep him safe.  Plus, they don’t know where he is and I’m not certain if they’re gonna come back for him.  They didn’t seem to agree on that point and I think they have to on something like that.”
       “Goku,” Bulma croaked, “How can you be so sure of all this?”
      He smiled a little.  “I’m not.  It’s just a feeling and I trust it.”
       “Goku…” said Chi-Chi anxiously, holding Goten close, “Are we safe?  Are they going to try to hurt our precious babies?”
      He turned.  “Don’t worry, Chi-Chi.  They aren’t those sort of people.  And even if they were, you know I wouldn’t let that happen.”  Looked down at his ripped tunic and pulled it off, leaving the less-torn blue undershirt behind.  “I gotta get ready.  The sooner we can fix this, the better.”  Bulma and her father went into the ship to get working on getting up a communication line, Chi-Chi leading Goten back into the mansion.  Goku pursed his lips and looked up at the ships still floating far up in the sky.  “Hang in there, Vegeta.  I’m coming.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

      Vegeta’s eyes snapped open, the mauve leaving them and he abruptly standing up.  Oom’Bagu looked at him, the light also gone from his eyes.  “We have arrived.  From here on you will suffer alone.”  Vegeta stumbled back from him, his fists clenched and eyes wide.  “You are disturbed by what just transpired…I warned you not to defy me.”
       “What…did you do to me?!” Vegeta demanded, shaking a fist at him.
       “A technique.  It is called Empathic Bind.  With it, I can merge the will of anyone with my own.  You were not mind controlled.  You were made to share desires with me, retaining your own but unable to break from anything I did not will as well.”  He stood up and looked sternly down at him.  “It is the choice you made, prisoner.”
       “How dare you?!” Vegeta cried, wanting to rush at him but not having the strength, “My will is my own and not to be shared with anyone!!!”
      Oom’Bagu seized him by the wrist as if disciplining a child.  “We go.  The others await, you are to be processed.”
       “What are you—let go of me!!!” Vegeta dug his boots in and pulled back with all the strength he could muster, a pathetic display as he was hauled forward by the arm.  He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, falling forward as they came to a stop, the other justiciars standing before him.  He hissed and looked up, one eyes shut.  “What are you looking at?” he demanded.  Nevrrest looked at him coldly, bending over and grabbed a fistful of his hair.  He cried out and thrashed as she began to march forward, dragging him towards the shuttle doors.
       “He wasn’t going to bother to walk anyhow,” she stated, pressing the button to lower the ramp.  She looked back at Oom’Bagu.  “Trust me.”
      Oom’Bagu said nothing, his face hard.
      A small crowd of workers and guards had gathered in the shuttle bay, watching silently as the six justiciars descended, their prisoner quite literally in tow.  Vegeta scrambled to get his feet back under him, stumbling and bumping against Nevrrest’s side as she continued to haul him along by the hair.
       “Damn you all!” he cried, gasping and wincing.
      The crowd stirred, peeling back and moving in as the procession moved past.  “Is that really…?” “I heard someone say our target was big.”  “It’s definitely a Saiyan, that’s for sure!”  “It has to be him, who else could it be?”
      They stopped in front of a large doorway.  Probes came out of the walls and scanned them.  “Identified.  Welcome back, Justiciars,” said the high, female voice of the computer, “Identified.  Priority one.  Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans.”  Gasps ran throughout the crowd.
      Nevrrest looked up sharply at the hovering probes.  “Computer, voice recognition:  Nevrrest.”
       “Voice recognition confirmed.”
       “Open shuttle bay door thirty-nine.  Access prisoner processing chamber.”
      Vegeta lifted his head, watching with amazement as layer upon layer upon layer of blast doors opened.  He’d never seen anything like it before!  Not even Frieza’s best ships had been half as secure.  He doubted even Kakarot could break through those with any amount of ease.  The many doors closed behind them and they opened into a smaller room with some kind of pit in the center.  Nevrrest let go of his hair and smacked his back, knocking him down into the slanted divot.
      Vegeta snarled as slid to a halt and forced himself off his face, giving his captors the most hateful look he could muster.
       “Securing prisoner for processing,” chimed the computer.
      Whips of energy lashed out from the walls, seizing him by the wrists and ankles and lifting him up, just above the ground in the pit.  Vegeta’s eyes burned with the urge to struggle, but he knew better.  Doing so would be just a waste of energy.  He wasn’t going anywhere.
       “Prisoner secure.”  A small robotic arm extended from the wall.  Vegeta’s head jerked in its direction to see a needle extend from it.  “Obtaining DNA sample.”  He shut his eyes and turned his head away as the needle plunged harshly into the crook of his neck, growling against it.  A vial the other end of the needle filled with red blood.  “DNA sample obtained.”  He gasped softly in relief as the cruel needle was removed, the vial being sucked up the robotic arm.  “Recorded.”  
      A projection appeared on the wall with his profile and picture, data flashing across it as a whole list of records were added to the account.  He grimaced as he looked into the face on the picture, a young, cruel man in PTO armor and wearing a scouter.  The other Vegeta stood proudly, his arms folded and seemed to gaze coldly at his older self.  Vegeta’s face flattened.
       “Testing detection.”  The screen changed to a scan of Vegeta’s living body, showing his vitals, heartbeat, and flow of energy – trapped in his tail like a genie in a bottle.  “Detection confirmed.  Prepping pacification field test…estimated pacification level required:  level fifty.”
      Nevrrest grinned.
       “Testing…now.”  Vegeta screamed as suddenly the ship generated a burst of energy in his location, ripping across his body and making him convulse.  “Conclusion:  below necessary strength.  Amplifying.”  Vegeta screamed again.  “Below necessary strength.  Amplifying.”  He screamed louder.  “Below necessary strength.  Amplifying.”  His howls echoed off the chamber walls.
      Oom’Bagu grimaced heavily as he watched.  Prisoner processing was a dark affair, a low, vicious, but necessary ceremony.  Not only did it ensure the safety of all who served in the fleet, it introduced the captured to the reality of their new status and their own mortal frailty.  Still…he never enjoyed watching it.  He looked over at the others, who bore the same stern, just expressions they always did on this stage…except Nevrrest who was so brilliantly smiling.
      Vegeta’s chin flopped against his chest, panting and sweating.  “Pacification field set at level one-fifty.  Prisoner successfully pacified.  Proceeding with shackling.”  Vegeta grunted as he was dropped to the ground, too stunned by the pacification field to catch himself in his fall.  The robotic arms reached out and sat him up.  A pedestal rose up from the floor and the machine placed his arms upon it, together at the wrists, a device clamping over them almost up to his elbows.  Another device clamped around his neck, making him growl.  “Welding shackles now.”
      His eyes widened as he felt the searing heat and found himself screaming again, hot metal pouring around his forearms and neck.  This time, the most of the justiciars actually grimaced.  He screamed and howled as his skin burned, the metal latching onto it.  At last it cooled and the devices pulled back, leaving a metal band wielded to his neck and thick, full-forearm shackles encasing his hands and wrists.  He fell against the floor, his eyes half-shut and groaning softly.
      Chains latched onto either side of the collar from the hands of Justiciar Horkion and Justiciar Laswe.  Vegeta barely even looked at either of them as he lay on the floor of the pit, Laswe fluttered aggressively and Horkion holding a tight stone grip.  “Hold for prisoner identification implant.”  Vegeta’s eyes widened angrily and desperately as the mechanical arm came at him up again, but only received a mild pinch as it injected something into his shoulder.  He watched as his skin began to glow with four aqua numbers.  “Implant successful.  Designation:  Prisoner 0001.”
      Lawse and Horkion grabbed either of his shoulders, Vegeta groaning again as they hauled him to his feet.  “Prisoner fully processed.  Setting route for prisoner allocation,” the computer concluded, the robotic arms disappearing back into the wall again.
      Vegeta panted, hardly able to accept just how helpless he was.  There was no way for him to fight back, he could barely move.  Who were these people?  How was any of this happening?  How was it possible for him to be reduced to this?  He gnashed his teeth, turning his glare upon Nevrrest.  She snorted softly, lifting a corner of her mouth at him before turning away.
       “Computer,” she called out, “Open the route to central control.  I’m on my way there now.”  She looked back at the other justiciars.  “Do me a favor and don’t be gentle.”  She disappeared through a doorway, it loudly deadlocking behind her.
      The Horkion and Laswe continued to hold Vegeta up as Oom’Bagu came around the front, Nettelish and Misado taking up the rear.  “Let him stand on his own,” Oom’Bagu hummed, “Weak as he is, it was his own hands that dealt the evil that brought him to this place.  It will be his own legs that carries him to his just reward.”  They released their grip on him, stepping back as they held his chains.  Vegeta fell to one knee.  “Stand, Triple-Zero-One.”
      Vegeta shuddered with exhaustion and rage.  “I will not answer to that.”
       “You will,” Oom’Bagu evenly returned, “You will wear it as a badge from this moment till your sentence is complete.  You will answer when it is called, wake to it when you sleep, and utter it when you hunger.”
       “I am Prince Vegeta!” he shouted, though his voice was hoarse at this point.
       “You are.  They are one and the same.  Prisoner 0001 is Prince Vegeta.  Prince Vegeta is Prisoner 0001.”  Oom’Bagu took his chin and forced him to look at the large numbers glowing on his skin.  “You are Prisoner 0001.  Your station has changed, prisoner and warrior no more.  You have fought your last battle and lost.”  Vegeta’s eyes turned bloodshot and Oom’Bagu gave him a disciplinary slap across the cheek.  “Stand.”
       “You…”
      Oom’Bagu slapped him again.  “Stand.”  Vegeta hissed but forced himself to his feet again, his shackled arms hanging below his waist, his tail lifting just barely off the floor.  “Now you will walk.  Move at whatever pace you can manage.”
      Vegeta had no retorts left.  What more could he could do but as he was told?  Steeling himself and pushing back the lingering sting of being processed, he stepped heavily forward.  Oom’Bagu gave a short nod of approval, taking up the front again.  Blast doors peeled back before them as they made their way into the belly of Justice Prison Ship 7.
      Nevrrest rose up the elevator, her silky feathered plume swaying behind her as she moved into the control center.  Though The Justice was maintained by thousands of personnel, few were ever at the control decks, as the fleet was piloted and maintained majorly by the computer.  This allowed for more energy to be put towards the handling of the prisoners rather than ship-based needs.  The control panel lit up as she spread her hands over it, tapping into the communications system spread over the entire fleet.  Oom’Bagu was right.  This was where she belonged.  She had an important message to deliver to them all.
      Vegeta trudged on, his teeth clenched and head bowed, so infuriated beyond belief but utterly without an outlet.  Weak.  Bound.  Humiliated.  But he didn’t grasp the full severity of his situation until they passed into prisoner holding.  He stopped abruptly, his mouth opening in a startled gasped as he looked up and around him.  For as far as he could see, stretching far ahead and high up above, there was nothing but rows upon rows upon columns of cells.  He didn’t recognize any of the persons who occupied them, but he recognized their kind and their strength.  They were all high ranking warriors, formers members of the Planet Trade Organization.  All of them caught and bound as he was.  Some looked like they were quite familiar with their situation.
      He didn’t recognize their faces.  But immediately they seemed to recognize him.  As the chains pulled against his neck, forcing him to walk again, a great noise filled the mighty chamber, a collective breath shattering the air accompanied by rattling and pounding and shouting.  The din was like the collapsing of a star, so pitiful yet terrifying.  It was only then – only then – that the truth sunk into Vegeta’s gut.  Vegeta shut his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to shut out the chamber that was swallowing him up and the rumbling cry that welcomed him home.
      Throughout the fleet – every personnel quarters, every prisoner cell, every mess hall and service area – every available screen lit up with Nevrrest’s stern face.  “A great day has come to us, honored members and lowly prisoners of The Justice.  It is a day, I’m sure, you have been anticipating for a long time…”
      Vegeta stopped again, his head lifting up and growling loudly at the voice that filled the air, resonating from every speaker.  You…damn you…!
      A shove from behind interrupted his thoughts.  “Keep walking, prisoner,” commanded Nettelish, her silky smooth voice harsh.
       “Damn you all!” he said aloud this time, snapping his head back at her.
       “Walk,” Oom’Bagu simply ordered.
       “In the years since our founding, we have captured some of the most despicable beings to ever tread the stars.  But today, I am proud to announce we have brought out most sought after prize into the fold…”  Throughout the fleet, prisoners, guards, and workers alike gathered around the screens, their fists clenched and their voices raised.  “He, who sat on the hated Lord Frieza’s knee.  He, who devoured the heroes who sought to protect the good people of the universe!  He, who crushed worlds in his fist, like so many unwanted stones.”  The din roared throughout the fleet, fists raised in the air, tails flapping, wings fluttering, the stomping of feet rattling through the desks as the many jumped up and down.  Nevrrest’s feathers rosed, her hands upheld.  “This day, I give you the murderer of the age!  The apprentice of destruction!  The lord of slaughter!  The demon monkey!”  Her voice rose in a crescendo.  “I…GIVE…YOU…!”  Vegeta didn’t look at the probe that appeared in front of him, his teeth on edge as his broken visage now filled the screens.  “PRINCE…VEGETA!”
      The fleet was howling, the air shaking with it, the stars burning through the black seeming to tremble.  The probe continued to film him he walked.  He could hear his name echoing through the din.  His eyes kept to the floor ahead, it was all he could do not to let his scream join the rest, the horror burning deep inside.  At the end of eternity, the journey at last came to a close.  Vegeta hissed and grunted, slowly raising his gaze enough to see the cell that welcomed him.
      It was beautiful in a cold, pitiless way.  There were no bars, just a transparent wall that lifted for him, revealing what was already revealed.  The walls were shiny, almost reflective like a mirror, giving off distorted blurs.  A simple metal slab was in the center, his seat and bed.  It seemed it had been kept in pristine condition, ready for him.  And it was most certainly his, for on the wall, engraved in large red letters, almost crying out it seemed, as if to say ‘behold and tremble!’, were these words:  Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans.
      They sat him forcefully upon the metal slab and connected the chains of his collar loosely to either wall.  Just when he thought that was the last of it – just when he thought the worst was over – the wall behind him opened him up like a bear trap, sucking in and clamping down upon his tail.  Vegeta choked so hard saliva flew from his gaping mouth, a little blood touching the metal teeth that held the end of his tail entombed in the wall.  Vegeta’s face convulsed and at last he screamed, howling out in helpless rancor.  The transparent wall lowered again, shutting him in as he snarled, the five justiciars standing on the other side.
      His rage gave out and he bent his head forward, his expression flattening in an empty calm.  The work done, his captors drifted away at intervals, leaving Oom’Bagu behind, studying him.  Though he knew he was there, Vegeta didn’t look at him.  As all feelings passed, Vegeta realized just how utterly exhausted he was, his eyes hanging half shut.  Lifting his legs onto the platform, he slid down onto his side, the chain on his left sagging and the right tensing, his bare back turned against the still resounding din.
      Oom’Bagu watched the Saiyan as he curled up, pleased by this action.  Many prisoners broke into a violent outburst at this stage.  Perhaps this one would adapt faster than the others.  Oom’Bagu tapped lightly on the cell barrier wall.  “Triple-Zero-One.”  Vegeta’s tail rose slightly and flopped against his leg.  “In reward for your calm, I will tell you what is to come.  You are a level ten security prisoner.  As such you will not have the privilege of leaving your cell without being under strict justiciar escort, not even the guards may remove you.  You will be fed twice a day cycle.  If you need to relieve yourself, you will find the necessary means to do so by touching that far panel.  There is a second panel on the other side that will provide water to you.  Your physical state is constantly monitored by the fleet’s computer mainframe.  Should it detect you violating any of prisoner conduct, such as acting out violently, the pacification field will lock onto your genetic signature and activate.”  Vegeta’s curled in a little more.  “And, sometime in the months to come, you will be brought before the people and placed on trial.  Your guilt will be determined as will your sentence.”
       “Guilt?”  Oom’Bagu’s head rose slightly as the Saiyan prince’s voice echoed cynically off the wall.  “Don’t waste your time.  I am Prince Vegeta and I know what I have done.  I never once sought to hide it.”
       “You are…proud of this?” Oom’Bagu asked but then gave a low hum, “No.  No, not proud…”  He shut his eyes.  “A proud being indeed, but not of this.  You are…”  He was cut short as suddenly his brace began to glow.  He touched the gem, turning away as Nevrrest’s face was projected from it before him.
       “Oom’Bagu, return to the capital ship immediately,” she stated, an uncanny nervousness in her voice, “We have an…issue before us.”
       “Of course.  Immediately,” Oom’Bagu assured, touching the gem again and the image fading away.  He glanced back at Vegeta again for a brief moment, finally leaving the prisoner to ponder the words engraved on his cell wall.