Dragon Ball Z: A Good Man - 5

      With the slow, deliberate motion of a colossus, The Justice capital ship, The Hammer, extended its airlock across to Prison Ship 7, allowing Oom’Bagu and the others to cross.  The Hammer had no prisoners within its confines.  It was a place instead for those who served justice.  The justiciars all had their living quarters here, as did most of the fleet personnel.  It was also where trials were conducted and meetings were held.  Nevrrest had summoned them to one such conference hall, so there they went at a hurried pace, collectively concerned by their founder’s tone.
      Nevrrest stood, irritably tapping one of her toes against the floor, her head jerking to the side as the door opened and the five justiciars filed in.  “Hurry up, I can’t delay him any longer, he keeps trying to call back.”
       “Who?” asked Laswe, his jelly-like body rippling disconcertedly, hovering on buzzing wings as usual.
       “Kakarot,” she hissed, her beak bent heavily over her lower jaw.
       “Wait,” said Nettelish, a faint glow in her violet eyes as she held up a hand, “You received a transmission from the Legendary Super Saiyan…and you put him on hold?”
      Nevrrest let out a snarling screech at her.  “You know damn well—”
       “No, she was right to do so,” Oom’Bagu stepped in, “After all, I highly doubt this is a social call.”
       “Thank you, Oom’Bagu,” Nevrrest stated pointedly.
      Misado’s leaves rustled and waved.  “We would speak to him.”
       “Yes, clearly we must,” Nevrrest sighed, pressing two fingers to her clenched brow, “Computer, answer the transmission.”
      The justiciars looked forward, standing attentively as the conference room screen came to life…to a black mass of hair.  Their faces fell and they blinked.
       “I don’t know,” said Goku’s voice offhandedly, “I’d have to really think about that.”
       “Um, Goku?” said an old man’s voice, “I think you’re live.”
       “Uh…well yeah, doc, of course I’m—”
       “No, no, the screen behind you!”
       “Huh?”  The black mass of hair became a face.  “Oh!”  Goku turned fully about and took several steps back so that his face didn’t fill the entire screen, his brow lowering.  “So they can see and hear me, right?”
       “Right,” said the off-camera old man, “Just talk to them like they’re in the room with you, Goku, and they’ll do the same.”
       “Hm,” Goku nodded severely, “Right.”  He looked directly at Nevrrest.  “So this is everyone, right?  All the leaders of your fleet?”
      Nevrrest’s face twitched in the effort to hold back her irritation.  What is he, stupid?  I already had the computer explain to him that his call would be answered once they were all gathered.  She forced her feathers to flatten.  “Yes, all six justiciars are listening, Kakarot Goku.  What is it you wished to speak of?”
       “I’ll get to that,” Goku replied, studying the other justiciars, “But before I answer, I’d like to see Vegeta.  Is he with you?”
      The nerve! Nevrrest internally cried, As if we were a band of pirates with a hostage!  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she evenly replied, “He has been processed and is in his cell.”
       “I understand.  But if you can, I’d like to see him anyhow.”  He sighed silently.  “It’s not just for me.  Bulma wants to know he’s alright too.”
       “Bulma?” cracked Horkion’s rocky voice.
       “He’s her husband,” Goku explained, “And she’s really worried and upset.  So please, she’s watching right now and I’d really appreciate it if you could let her see he’s alright.”
      The justiciars gave each other uneasy, questioning glances.  Oom’Bagu looked to Nevrrest.  Her pupiless eyes narrowed, but looked away again in admission.  “Computer, transmit security footage of Prisoner 0001.”
      A smaller window opened on the screen, showing the bound Vegeta on the metal slab, asleep but his face twitching feverishly.  “He is perhaps traumatized but kept well,” Oom’Bagu spoke up, “All major wounds are healed.  We have dealt no unnecessary harm to him.”
       “I don’t suppose I could talk to him?” Goku hesitantly asked.
       “Absolutely not,” Nevrrest snapped.
       “Nevrrest—!” Horkion gaped.
       “I apologize for my harsh tone,” she growled a sigh, ignoring Horkion, “It is not out of disrespect, Kakarot Goku.  I will even admit having not conducted myself properly on Earth.”  Her eyes rose and glared.  “However…you have behaved most inappropriately as well.  So, forgive my mistrust of you in response.”
       “Nevrrest makes a valid point!” Laswe stated fervently, pointing a digit at the screen, “If it had not been for you, Kakarot, our capture of Prince Vegeta would have been swift and we could have avoided the damaged dealt to the planet’s surface!”
       “Not to mention the endangerment of the natives,” Nettelish added in a low tone, “What if the target had fled into the nearby population center while you distracted us?”
      Goku’s expression turned sour.  “It wasn’t like that…but I see your point.”  He held up his hands.  “What can I do to earn your trust again?”
      They started, mouths hanging slightly in surprise.  Nevrrest grunted, brow lowering.  “First, for what reason have you contacted us?”
      He lowered his hands.  “Right,” he said with determination.  He bowed his head and pressed his hands together.  “I’d like to request your permission to join you on your ship.”
      They stirred greatly and certain angry utterings would have come about if Oom’Bagu hadn’t come forward.  “You wish come onboard?  For what reason, Kakarot Goku?”
      Goku looked at him, his serious expression drifting into a soft smile.  “It’s just Goku,” he assured, “Or Son Goku if you want.  It’s true, Kakarot is my Saiyan name and it’s what Vegeta likes to call me, but I like to go by what my grandfather on Earth called me.  If that’s alright.”
      Oom’Bagu nodded.  “Very well.  Please continue, Son Goku.”
      Goku smiled again.  “Thanks.”  He turned serious again.  “I can imagine none of you are probably very happy with me right now, and I can’t say I blame you.  Please understand, I only wanted to do what I felt was right.  I think you feel the same.  We kinda got off on the wrong foot, though, so I’d like to do things right now.  If you’ll let me.”
       “And how do you propose you do that?” Nevrrest asked skeptically, her arms crossed and plume lowered.
      Goku looked down a little.  “Well…I was hoping you could actually help me with that.  You see, I don’t know how all your rules work.  If I could come up with you and you explain them to me, I know I could help Vegeta without causing you more trouble.”
       “I don’t buy it,” Nettelish stated, her sweet low voice turning a note bitter, “You’ve already demonstrated you’ll use force to achieve your goals.  The moment he’s on board, he’ll fight us for Vegeta.”
       “Trickery for sure!” Laswe agreed.
       “No…” They stopped as the strange voice of Misado filled the air, the flowers and vines swaying in a dance, “You have not seen, you have not heard.  They sing.  They sing of him.  The worlds, they testify to the golden one.”
      Goku stared at the plant creature in wondrous curiosity and Nevrrest clenched her beak.  “Your admiration is clear, Misado.  Still, it is not enough.”  She eyed Goku and pointed accusingly.  “You, champion, are a danger to us all.”
      Goku looked down hard, trying to think of what he could do or say to convince them.
       “I will absolve him.”  All eyes were drawn to Oom’Bagu, his expression low.  “I trust his sincerity and will exemplify this belief by taking full responsibility for him as long as he is on board.”  He eyed Nevrrest sharply.  “Will that be satisfactory?”
      Nevrrest looked to the others for confirmation, muttering amongst themselves before finally looking to her.  She rumbled quietly before looking to the screen again.  “Very well.  You will give us two days to prepare for your arrival.”  Her eyes widened threateningly as she looked at Oom’Bagu.  “Assuredly you will be responsible for him.  His every action will be on your head, old friend.”
       “It is so,” Oom’Bagu agreed with a bow.
       “What, really?” Goku’s face widened happily, “You mean it?”
       “Of course I do,” Nevrrest snapped, “I don’t jest.”
      Goku smiled at her in deep warmth.  “Thank you, Nevrrest.  And to the rest of you.  I won’t let you down.”
       “I’m not finished,” she snapped, causing his face to fall slightly, “You will be here as our guest, not our opponent and will behave as such.  I am sending you now the coordinants and docking codes of the ship you are to board, you are to approach no other vessel.”  She touched the control panel, transmitting the information.  Her tail smacked against the desk severely, eying him again.  “Upon arrival, Justiciar Oom’Bagu will explain all our procedures to you and what areas you will be allowed to enter.  All else will be strictly out of bounds without a provided escort.  If you seek to break free Prince Vegeta or any other prisoner or violate any other law of conduct, you will be dealt with most severely – I don’t care who the hell you think you are; we are the law and order in this galaxy, not you.”  She leaned close to the screen.  “Is that clear, Son Goku?”
       “I understand,” he assured, giving her an equally intense look, “And I have your word you won’t leave?”
       “Of course,” she returned, “Though, we’ll be pulling the fleet outside of orbit.  We don’t wish our presence to risk upsetting the natives.  That is our policy.”
       “I can respect that,” Goku agreed.  He nodded.  “Okay then.  I’ll be seeing you in two days.  Thank you again.”
       “Farewell,” Nevrrest stated briefly, ending the transmission.
      On either side of the transmission, Goku and Nevrrest shut their eyes, thinking deeply on the situation ahead.  Dr. Brief put a hand on Goku’s shoulder and Oom’Bagu on Nevrrest’s back.  They turned away from each’s screen, heading out the door with determination.
      Vegeta, don’t worry, I won’t let you down.
      This won’t stop me, Vegeta.  I will annihilate you.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

      Vegeta was no stranger to isolation.  He was rather a close companion of it, a seeker of solitude.  Which was why he found shocking when he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alone.  He was the sort to often disappear without warning and return when he wished, to enter alone into a bout of training for days without a word from anyone.  But in those times, he’d never felt lonesome.  Whenever he chose to return, everyone he’d left behind would always be waiting for him.
      But here?  Here in that cell, he could only gaze at his blurry reflection in the wall or try to count the number of cells he could see from his limited field of vision.  It was an empty state of alone.  He hadn’t even been there that long, he knew that for certain, but even the hours in which he had slept stretched unforgivably before and behind him.  There was only one other place he could recall that had made him feel this way – that barren, frozen wilderness where his soul had wasted in dark misery – and even then that place he had been self-imposed in the effort to destroy Majiin Buu.
      He wasn’t always alone though.  Occasionally some fool – usually a guard – would stop by his cell and admire him.  He only glared coldly back at them, if he bothered to look at them at all.  Some hours after he awoke, a tiny fellow with curled antennae – resembling a tiny white Namekian – came along pushing a cart.  Vegeta didn’t look much at him until he heard something thud at his feet.  He blinked out of his grim meditation to see what it was – recognizing it as an edible, starch based tray filled with a simple protein compound, commonly used for feeding slaves as it was cheap to make and fulfilled all nutritional needs – though he doubted it had much for flavor.
      A little life awoke in Vegeta’s eyes as he looked at the worker, closing the gap through which he had tossed the meal.  “Curiosity, how exactly am I supposed to eat without the use of my hands?”  The creature just looked at him with a tiny, cruel smile.  Vegeta lifted the corner of his mouth back at him.  “Let me guess…that’s my problem, right?”  The alien snickered and continued on his way.
      Vegeta spent the next few hours glaring at the tray like it was a hated foe, not touching it.  Time passed and the pale creature came by again, tossing another tray in, either not noticing or caring that the first hadn’t been eaten yet.  He glared at them both for more hours yet.  His pride refused to go anywhere near them.  His good sense as a warrior knew he needed them to keep up his strength.  Eventually, the hours waned into the fleet’s night cycle, his cell and all the rest turning dark.
      As the shadows fell over his face, Vegeta brow lowered, glaring at the food.  At long last, he grunted, reaching out with his legs and awkwardly lifting up one of the trays between his ankles.  It took several moments inelegant shifting, but eventually he got it up into his lap.  More clumsy maneuvers later, he got his shackled arms out of the way.  His chin now above the tray, he glared at it a moment longer before finally shoving his face into it.  It tasted somewhere between old rice and cardboard, but hunger overpowered this, throwing aside all slivers of dignity and simply beginning to devour it like an animal.  He ripped and tore at it angrily, taking little time to chew as he shoved it down into his empty stomach.
      He paused, however, as he heard a pleased trill echo through his cell.  “What an incredibly beautiful sight…the mighty Prince Vegeta, giving into raw desperation.”  Vegeta’s eyes shifted over to where a panel of his cell wall had lit up, producing an image of Nevrrest’s gloating expression.  His eyes shifted away from her and he resumed eating.  “Aw, what a dutiful little monkey you are!” she praised, “No wonder Lord Frieza liked you so much.  I wonder what other tricks I can make you perform?”
      Vegeta ran his tongue around his mouth, licking up the little bits of protein mush before taking a bite out of the starch tray.
       “Cause we both know what all you will do just for a little scratch under the chin.”
      His eyes narrowed and he turned his head, spitting the shard of tray into the screen, it bouncing off Nevrrest’s visage.
       “Oh…have I upset you?” she purred.
       “Boring me is more like,” he retorted, pinning the tray between his knees so he could take better bites of it.
       “My goodness!” she chirped, raising her hand by her cheek, “I don’t recall you being so witty.  Must have picked that up on Earth.”
       “And I seem to recall you saying you wanted me dead,” he shot back.  He gave her a cold smile.  “Far as I can tell, I’m still alive.”
       “Hmhmhm…” she chuckled, crossing her arms lightly, “Oh Vegeta, you misunderstand.  I don’t want to simply kill your body.  I want to kill you.  I want to destroy every inch and aspect of who you are before I send the shriveled excuse for a soul that is left over straight into the depths of Hell.”
       “Hell, is it?” he cracked a smile at her, “Is that the worst you could think of?  I’m not impressed.”  He grunted, stretching out his legs to retrieve the second meal tray.
      She frowned curiously at him.  “Oh?  And why is that?”
      He worked with greater ease getting the second tray into his lap than the first, jostling and letting it slid back.  He sat up again and looked at the screen from the corner of his eye.  “As it happens, I’ve been there before.  Twice, in fact.”  Her face fell stupidly, recovering a moment later with a laugh.  He chuckled as well.  “It’s true,” he assured, “You see, I’ve died before.  Once on Namek.  The second time on Earth.”
      Her expression changed into something deeply intense.  “You’re saying,” she asked, suddenly serious, “That you’ve died and have been brought back to life?”
       “Hard as it is to believe,” he returned, “That is exactly what I’m saying.  So I’m afraid Hell doesn’t frighten me, Nevrrest.  Sorry to disappoint you.”
      She leaned in close to the screen.  “And…you know how this was?”
       “You mean how I was brought back to life?”  He cackled a little, looking down at his food.  “As it happens I do…but I don’t see why I’d tell you.”  He lowered his head into his knees and started eating again.
      Her brow slowly lowered at him.  “Tell me.”  He ignored her.  “Tell me, Vegeta…tell me!”  She stood, her feathered raised, a subtle look of satisfaction on his face.  A low rattle sounded in her throat.  “Computer…lock triple-zero-one and pacify.”  Vegeta’s chin slammed against his knees, his food set flying across the cell as an energy pulse shot through his body, choking a scream out of him.  It lasted several seconds and faded.  “Answer me, Vegeta,” she hissed, “What was it that brought you back to life?”
       “Why…” he panted, food splattered on him, “Do you want to know…no, let me guess…looking to become immortal?”
      She scowled at him.  “No…as it happens, there was an event nearly ten years ago.  I witnessed it with my own eyes.  Thousands of civilizations restored.  Billions brought back to life.  And they all had one thing in common – they were all victims of the Planet Trade Organization.”  Vegeta continued to pant as he listened and then suddenly gave a hoarse laugh.  He laughed for a long moment, pausing at last to begin to lick the bits of food off himself.  She sat up.  “You do know why.”
       “It was a wish,” Vegeta quietly laughed, “And let me guess…this fleet…you were all brought back to life.”
       “Many members were among the former dead, yes,” she confirmed, “Not all.”  She leaned in close again.  “What wish?” she demanded, “Who’s?”
      He gave another little laugh.  “I can’t say I remember all the details…after all, I was dead at the time.  But as I recall, it was a wish to bring back all those that Frieza and those who served him had killed.”
      Nevrrest scoffed.  “You thugs killed far more than mere billions.”
       “Well…there wasn’t enough power in the wish to bring them all back.  Otherwise, I expect your feathered friends would be back too and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
       “And what is this wish?” she continued to interrogate, “Who granted it?”
      Vegeta stopped in cleaning the food off himself, lowering his brow and glaring ahead.  “You’ll have to find out from someone else.  I won’t say anymore.  But go ahead and torture me.  I know it’s what you want.”  He glared straight ahead, preparing himself for what he knew she would do – what she was always going to do – comfortable in the fact that if she did learn of the dragon balls, it wouldn’t be through him.
      Nevrrest’s eyes burned at him…and then smiled.  “Computer…audio dampen seal Prisoner 0001’s cell…set pacification field on loop…five hours…and lock.”  She watched as Vegeta’s head thrust backward, the energy waves rippling across his body and chains rattling as he fought not to scream.  His teeth clenched and he held it for several minutes, but at last the howls escaped him, echoing off the cell walls with no one but Nevrrest to hear him.  Her smile grew as she ended the video feed, allowing the audio from Vegeta’s cell continue to filter into her quarters, floating up into her sleep loft and there letting the prince’s cries of agony lull her into a contented sleep.