Chapter 1: Shocking News

The birthday of Bejiita, crowned king of Planet Vegeta, was approaching and the royal palace was a hive of rushed activity; each and every one of its dwellers, from the lowest of the servants to the highest noblemen, including the king himself, bustled about with ambitious, splendid preparations and arrangements to guarantee the success of the celebrations.

Everything had to be flawlessly planned, with utmost efficiency; every little detail taken care, any obstacle surmounted, any possible contingency prevented, all expectations fulfilled. In sum, it had to be perfect.

The event held great significance and importance, not only because of the ephemerides itself, but for the repercussions that would possibly ensue: The palace soon would be brimming with multitude of diplomatic delegations, emissaries and representatives from all the worlds under the sphere of influence of the saiyan empire and it was imperative that each and all of them, no matter their status (subjugated planets, allies, associates, friends... ) witnessed the splendor and glory, the superiority of the saiyan race.

It was a perfectly calculated method of propaganda, a subtle way to consolidate the power and influence of the conqueror over the subordinates and, even, to abort possible insurrections.

Furthermore, it was an excellent occasion to gestate important agreements, to forge new alliances, to strengthen old ties, to smooth out differences and slight conflicts ... But it was also an opportunity for the king to give free rein to his vanity.

For it was a very well stated fact that Bejiita fancied to receive compliments and admiration over his outward appearance, style, sophistication and prosperity. It was not such an outlandish trait; as a matter of fact, it was perfectly understandable given the innate exhibitionism and boastfulness of the saiyan race. The only difference with the rest of his compatriots was the choice of channel to vent it; in lieu of spitting his bravado at the face of his enemies in the battlefield; the king had found his own, personal way to show off himself.

And so the king had taken upon himself, like it was habitual, the task to design most of the garments he would be wearing during the receptions, banquets and the rest of the celebrations. And, overcome by puerile excitation, when he finished his part he went to and fro, for interminable days, giving instructions and supervising the work of tailors, seamstress', and the rest of the servants, causing them to be at the edge of a breakdown and making their lives a complete hell with all his demands, nudging, rude criticisms, bickering and whatnot. But finally the work had been successfully done, and the brand new wardrobe was ready to be tried on.

General Bardock, royal counselor and closest friend of the king of all saiyans, awaited patiently amidst the sumptuousness of the Blue Chamber; standing erect almost like a statue, in the typical posture and demeanor of a well-trained soldier awaiting his orders, (despite his privileged position and although his days as a commoner in the army were far off; but old acquired, deeply ingrained habits were hard to eradicate).

Not even a single muscle or fiber of his body rippled, shook or trembled in the slightest; even his attractive and well-defined features, -powerful, authoritative, denoting his strength of character, earnest and steadfast resolve- were perfectly restrained in a neutral expression.

The man was the epitome of self-discipline, imperturbability and perfect composure, except for the occasional, inevitable blinking of sharp, charcoal eyes, and the sporadic raising of an eyebrow at the bizarre scene performed before him: The protagonist not other than Bejiita, almighty king of the saiyan empire, was posing in front of a colossal mirror, admiring his tall, impressive and flawlessly chiseled figure, magnificently framed and enhanced by a lavish and elegant suit of rich burgundy velvet. Meanwhile a servant, (an alien, like most of the employees occupied in 'low and degrading' -according to the criteria of the proud saiyans- jobs), with sallow complexion and unattractive features, glowing-red mane and petite, fragile body, trotted nervously behind the monarch; one moment to set properly the pleats of the jacket; the next to brush off compulsively random spots on the arms and the back; the whole time twitching and letting escape, every now and then, from thin blue lips comments like "Excellent!" - "Perfect!", and other compliments of a similar fashion.

The monarch, far from being irritated or annoyed, gave the impression to be rather pleased with the singular creature's demeanor; and Bardock, not daring to break his reverent silence until being granted permission to speak, pondered over, in renewed amazement, as many other times before, how regardless of their different personalities, Bejiita and he shared similar ideals and views.

He was basically a simple soldier, an ordinary man of sober tastes and austere habits; his disposition reserved, taciturn, almost unsociable; his character determined but rarely stubborn; his manners as restrained as his countenance, hardly ever giving free expression to his emotions; but sincere and honest when he spoke his thoughts or in the rare occasions in which he demonstrated his feelings, neither fond of subterfuges nor nasty tricks.

Bejiita, on the contrary, had been gifted with an exuberant, overwhelming personality and a more open and expressive character. But he was more devious and sibylline in his intentions and in his treatment of others. He also possessed an arrogance occasionally bordering narcissism, but that had become the trademark of the royal family. Though, surprisingly, he was rather indulgent with other people's flaws. The man was a hedonist; a sybaritic, with exquisite and refined manners, who delighted and indulged in decadent luxury and opulence. It sufficed to take a look around to have proof of it:

The whole chamber hung with tapestries of rich velvety cloth and draperies of fine silk in an ample array of different shades of blue. The sunlight, which streamed through a large window, transformed the sepulchral pallor of the smooth marbled floor into resplendent warmth. A few, selected, dainty ornamental objects perfectly harmonized with the exquisite furniture of simple lines made with noble woods, embellishing and enhancing the elegance of the ambience. And, as an ultimate touch of voluptuous refinement, a subtle herbal fragrance filled the room.

Such were the musings drifting fluently through Bardock's mind while the king continued immersed in the appreciative contemplation of his royal person on the mirror; every now and then whirling slowly, looking over his shoulder in an attempt to get, as well, a glimpse of his back view.

Suddenly, Bejiita, stroking his tidy goatee, stopped all his movements and evolutions; the pensive and serious gaze under slightly knitted eyebrows gave him the aspect of a man who seemed to be debating with himself a crucial issue. After brief instants, he nodded his head with a satisfied expression settled upon his aristocratic countenance.

"I think I will be wearing the dark-blue suit for the banquet," the monarch casually observed, casting a brief glance over the emaciated servant, who bowed his head in humble deference; but his eyes immediately flickered back to his reflection, as he added: "This one definitively is the most appropriate for the official reception, it emphasizes my regal bearing, do you not think so, Bardock?"

Had not been the phlegmatic type, the laconic general would have flinched and gaped at him in utter stupefaction. The query had caught him absolutely off guard; it was not an usual occurrence that the king asked for his opinion about such trivialities; in fact, Bejiita had every so often reprimanded him, always humorously however, for his deficient 'sense of fashion'.

Bardock merely blinked intermittently during a couple of seconds before widening his fiery eyes, seeming to be the only part of his anatomy with some capacity to respond to external stimuli.

Being well acquainted with each and one of the gestures of his rather

expressionless counselor, such imperceptible reaction was enough evidence for Bejiita to realize, amused, that he had put the man into a tight corner; the massive, roaring laughter which ensued, echoed across the room for at least full five minutes.

"Do take a seat, my old friend and serve yourself some wine," offered the monarch, still in good humor, once his outburst subsided. Then, without averting his satisfied gaze from the mirror, Bejiita, snapping his fingers twice, exclaimed curtly to the nervous valet: "The purple cape, quickly!" Once he was handed over the requested item of clothing, the king, waving languidly his hand in a dismissing gesture, ordered him to leave the room.

The small alien inclined his head before proceeding to pick up all the garments scattered over a splendid divan and clumsily made a profound obeisance of submission and respect to the king, mumbling an almost unintelligible "Your highness." After that, spinning in Bardock's direction, he repeated the same servile gesture in recognition of the high rank of the general, before swiftly retreating by a side door.

Once they were left alone, without any importuning presence, the king adjusted the purple cloak to his shoulders and admiring the effect on the mirror, proceeded to interrogate his counselor about more significant affairs.

"Now my dilected friend, I assume you are bearer of good news," uttered Bejiita with inquiring notes while posing with stately air, still enthralled in his own pleasant scrutiny.

"Certainly. The majority of the invitees will be arriving within this week. The president of Dakkara will not be able to attend, but he showed great interest on our proposal to provide us with their superior technology and he will send his Prime Minister to discuss the terms of a possible agreement," intoned Bardock in even accents.

"Excellent!" The king exclaimed with ostensible delight, then, smirking, continued, "we need to make a succulent offer, that old fox is a greedy bastard," a short chuckle escaped his lips before adding, "but it will be a worthy investment, the efficiency of our battle forces will be considerably increased."

Bejiita walked over, approaching to the table and grabbed some berries from a silver tray, savoring the bitter-sweet taste as Bardock continued the report.

"The king of Belaria and the archiduke of Talandur finally accepted our mediation in order to put an end to their conflict."

Bejiita waved his hand with mild disinterest, "Menudences, those idiots and their petty territorial disputes. Spare me the details, I trust in your good judgment to resolve the issue satisfactorily," he uttered disdainful, divesting himself from the fancy piece of cloth to toss it carefully over the divan before stepping over to ensconce himself on a lavish armchair opposite to Bardock.

"My main concern right now is that woman who rules the Earth. That ... Bulma. Did she accept the invitation?" He questioned, voice slightly altered by atypical anxiety.

Bardock nodded his head in silent acquiescence, involuntarily clenching his hands into fists at the mention of that planet, (ironically the same his lost son, Kakarot, was assigned to purge when he was just a toddler; a destination he never reached though), suddenly assaulted by that familiar, deaf pain that dwelt in lethargic state within the deepest recesses of his heart, and that was awaken every time memories of his son plagued his mind. But, promptly collecting himself, he added, "She confirmed her attending in our last communication."

"Good, good ... did you find her predisposed to negotiate?" Bejiita asked, while pouring a generous amount of red wine into a silver goblet.

"More than that, eager; that was my impression. But..." Bardock paused and cast his gaze down, biting on his bottom lip in hesitation, absolutely conscious that he needed to choose carefully his next words if he did not want to incur the king's anger. Bejiita was fairly reasonable, most of the times, and he held great estimation for Bardock's judiciousness, acknowledging and rewarding with largesse his sage advice and the earnest and zest the counselor invested in the fulfillment of his duties and responsibilities. Yet, he did have little to none proclivity to tolerate antagonisms, neither unfavorable opinions of any kind when he was downright adamant about a particular matter.

Upon noticing Bardock's reservation, an infrequent trait on the counselor's side, Bejiita quirked an eyebrow. The sternness and suspicious, so manifestly written, all of a sudden, on the king's face caused Bardock to fidget nervously on his seat.

"Well ... spit it out, what is the problem?" Bejiita inquired, harshly.

There was a look of genuine preoccupation in Bardock's eyes when he turned his gaze up toward the king, but he continued, nonetheless, with his characteristic confidence, "May I humbly suggest you to reconsider the whole issue?" He asked, with tact.

Bejiita's factions immediately contorted into a sulky scowl, yet it did not deter his counselor from speaking his mind with frankness, "I have the presentiment that an association of any kind with that woman will entail more troubles than benefits."

Upon noticing the strange look of intermingled annoyance, curiosity and surprise the king was darting at him, Bardock ceased in his utterance, awaiting in questioning silence for any reaction on his interlocutor's side.

"Bardock, if you really want me to take you seriously you must provide valid and far more convincing arguments than mere, absurd presentiments." Though the king's words were emphasized by stern accents, Bardock felt certain relief at the fact that Bejiita was keeping at bay his irascible and choleric temper, (granted that though the king could become very violent, he also was endowed with a proverbial self-control and a great capacity to restrain himself) and appeared to be inclined to listen to the counselors reasoning.

"I don't trust her. She is too ambitious and manipulative: since the very first moment we spoke, I got the impression that she's one of those persons without scruples or ethics of any kind, who wouldn't hesitate to commit the most despicable of the acts in order to achieve her purposes..."

Amused and fascinated by his counselor's capacity to utter an incensed invective with such quiet manners and neutral tone of voice, the king interrupted him with a wry chuckle, which apparently served to conjured up part of his tenseness for he spoke in a more distended way, "Bardock, I cannot quite understand your reticence and misgivings. That same description could apply to almost each and one of our allies."

"I have not finished yet," Bardock remarked, boldly, "she is different ... her lust for power seems to be insatiable; a good sum of gold will not be sufficient to keep her satisfied. During our last conversation, before giving me a positive response to our proposal, she showed a great interest on learning about the functioning of the Royal House, the succession rights to the throne, the status of the king's consort and a myriad of similar subjects. All with the excuse to know better and understand her possible associates..."

"You must admit she got a point there", the monarch commented, bringing indolently the goblet to his lips to take a long sip. Bardock raised an skeptical eyebrow in disbelief at the king's apparently impassiveness.

"Really? And what was the point of asking me if your only son remains single? And what about her sudden interest on knowing our position about inter-species marriages or if we have successfully attempted to breeding with alien races?

Of course, she mentioned it all very casually, seasoned with a mellifluous tone of voice and flirtatious manners, as if, that way, she could veil her true motivations." The blazing flames of wrath in Bardock's expressive pupils gradually derived into a glint of concern as he pronounced his next words of advice, "We must be cautious, Bejiita, she is desperate to sinking her fangs into the saiyan empire..."

"Greedy bitch..." Anger flashed for a fleeting instant in the depths of Bejiita's eyes, but he instantly shrugged it off savoring another drink of the excellent liquor.

A tense quietness descended upon the room as the king became entranced by the flow of his grave reflections. Endless moments elapsed before he broke the silence, barely concealing his state of slight agitation under the authoritative tone of his voice.

"Damnit, Bardock, you seem obstinate in ignoring the importance of this whole affair. It is essential for us to know her damn secret.", he exclaimed vehemently, pulling the upper half of his body slightly forward, knocking on the table with his balled fist with such vigor that the goblets and decanter began to tremble, some drops of wine bleeding over the fine piece of satin that covered the board.

Then, he drew a deep breath before voicing out loud his thoughts. "The ancient records describe Earth as a considerably vulnerable planet, equipped with archaic technology and inhabited by one of the weakest races of the universe. And suddenly, during the past year, alarming news began to come, reporting the conquest of some of our colonies in outer space by natives from this insignificant planet. And such meteoric ascending stunningly only took them a very short lapse of time," the dark tinges of the king's voice evidenced the somber mood in which he was immersed, "You cannot possibly have forgotten that you were as shocked as myself when our attempt to invade that little ball of mud failed; it was unheard in our whole history a defeat of such magnitude. And they did not even counterattack, they did not need the assistance of any weapon."

Unable to remain on his seat for any longer, in a state of increasing anxiety, Bejiita, springing up from his armchair, began to stride back and forth in long treads across the room, his hands behind his back as he loudly observed, "I'm certain you remember the testimonies of the survivors, all of them declared that the accursed planet of hell appeared to be surrounded by an invisible barrier, a kind of shield capable of repelling all other attacks, causing any ship which tried to trespass the atmosphere to explode. How is that possible, Bardock? Where did they acquire such advanced technology?"

Halting his restless pace, Bejiita exhaled a faint sigh before spinning around to advance toward the spot were his counselor was seated, commenting, "And even more incredible were the declarations confirming that those earthlings suddenly seemed to be in the possession of a physical strength that almost rivals ours. It makes no sense; what kind of magic lays underneath this mystery?"

The piercing gaze Bejiita fixed on his counselor oozed as much bitterness as his reflections.

"There is more than our pride at risk here, Bardock, can't you see that?" He asked, hitting the surface of the table with the flat palm of his hand.

"Believe me, Bejiita, I understand and share your preoccupation. But is it that worthy as to capitulate and yield a part of our heritage into vile hands ... Do you reckon prudent to bring the enemy into our home and hand her over such amount of power? There must be another way to achieve our purposes, Bejiita; that alliance should be our last resort. I am just asking, begging, to wait; just give me a little more time to meditate and find a better solution."

"Time is a luxury we cannot afford, Bardock. You witnessed how painful it was for me to order the retreat of our navy and to admit defeat. And how bold that woman has become since then, continuously defying our position and authority, provoking and taunting us by conquering a few more of our possessions in outer space. We must stop her before things start getting out of hand."

The king tugged at his beard, pensive, before continuing. "Certainly, letting aside their astounding, apparent immunity, those terrestrials have not developed any extraordinary weapon and their capacity of attack is so limited that, until now, they have just occupied a small number of the weakest worlds. But, tell me Bardock, can you positively assure me that those earthlings have reached the pinnacle of their power? How much time will pass before they become stronger and more powerful than us? How long until we get enslaved or even obliterated by such an inferior race?"

Bardock did not seem able to believe such thing possible and he tilted his head up slightly to stare intently at the sovereign while his factions adopted an air of skepticism. But he stayed mute, nonetheless, not knowing what to reply to not further irritate the king.

"Your attitude amazes me, Bardock. I am resolved to accede to her demands. Yes, you have heard me, so do not give me that look of loathsomeness. If such is the price that must be paid to make us thoroughly unbeatable and to guarantee the survival and supremacy of the saiyan race, then so be it. I am more than willing to sleep with the devil if that enables us to become gods." On which, Bejiita sat back down, scowling his defiance and steadfast determination.

"But it is your own son who will have to share bed with the devil, Bejiita, how can you do this to him, with such coldness ... without remorse... ? What if our fears turn out to be groundless and those creatures never get to be as strong as we are? All will be in vain..."

"That is not relevant at all, Bardock. What really matters is to know the secret to reach that invulnerability. It could become crucial for our people."

A frown of uneasiness overcame the king's face as he verbalized his fears, however with his habitual tone of majestic authority. "You have knowledge of those reports sent from the last of our occupied worlds. Its inhabitants affirm to have heard rumors referred to beings with immense, almost infinite power who are spreading chaos and destruction across a sector of the universe still unexplored by us. Creatures capable to reduce entire worlds into ashes with a single blow; an entire race of ruthless, sanguinary tyrants who do not care about any other thing than satiating his supreme lust for power. Creatures so cold they could make your heart, your whole soul freeze with just a brief glance..." The last words came out hoarsely while the king curled tightly his fingers around the goblet; severe, abrasive eyes darkening regal factions despite being bathed in the golden light that flooded the room.

Bardock regarded him intently in a commiserative and understanding silence; he could not but feel sympathetic in relation to his monarch's anxiety, yet it did not prevent him from straightforwardly manifesting his doubts.

"You cannot actually give credit to such fantasies, Bejiita. You are perfectly cognizant of the fame they have gained, far and wide, for being one of the most superstitious species of the universe. Moreover, the notion of a race born stronger than us, saiyans, is ludicrous." He snarled the last sentence with patent disdain.

The king, however, shook his head condescendingly, heaving a deep sigh.

"Bardock, Bardock, Bardock," repeated Bejiita softly, but intentionally, with a slightly reproving tone which caused the general to clamp his teeth tightly and to tense his facial muscles into a slight frown. He nonetheless continued listening the monarch's words with invariable deference and respect. "That is your sole and great defect, your exaggerated pride in our race. Certainly, it is an attribute inherent to each and one saiyan. We are terrible chauvinists my friend, and though as a warrior I consider it to be one of our best virtues, as politicians we should let it aside for it is but a blindfold which clouds our intelligence." He stated in an admonitory tone, placing the goblet he still was holding on the table and picking some grapes, while the counselor remained impassible, in the same posture he had adopted since the conversation began.

A serene stillness filled the room until the monarch, ending swallowing the delicious fruits, observed. "Bardock, you are well aware that my sense of honor and pride rivals that of any of our compatriots, but in my condition of sovereign I have the sacred duty to protect our people and defend their interests. And in order to accomplish that, sometimes it is needed to let aside affections, personal preferences and prejudices, and even to make the most humiliating concessions and the most painful sacrifices."

Bejiita could attest, by the look on his counselor's face, that he was maintaining an inner struggle, as if trying to conciliate his most visceral and passionate beliefs and inclinations with the clever reasoning the king had just rendered.

Undoubtedly, one of the factors, if not the main, which made Bardock the ideal person for his job was that both of them shared basically the same opinions and interests. And though the counselor was also able to provide different, refreshing views or to contemplate the same subject from a different angle, for their minds were not totally concurrent, it was vital for the good government of the empire that the king and the adviser to the crown could work together in harmony, without frictions or dissensions of any kind.

And more than ever in this particular case, it was necessary a total agreement from both parties. Bardock needed to understand what was at stake, so the king finally broke the silence to express more clearly his position and motives.

"Think, Bardock, the universe is infinite and we have only seen a minuscule part of it. What challenges, what threats and dangers await for us beyond the stars, my friend? We cannot allow ourselves to become blinded by our fatuous arrogance. It would be a fatal mistake, a folly, to deny the possible existence of beings with superior power and technology capable to destroy our world. We must contemplate that possibility and seek the means to be prepared for any kind of contingence."

"But, Bejiita, what about our beliefs; the prophecy about the legendary warrior born from our people, the invincible supersaiyan who will prevail over all his enemies and whose power will remain unrivaled for all eternity? Do you believe it, Bejiita?"

"Of course I do. I have a blind faith that it will happen, but when Bardock? If our race perishes before he is given the chance to arise, what use will he be of? Look Bardock, we cannot stay passive, without doing anything but waiting to see if rumors, suspicions or legends become real or not, meanwhile letting escape all our chances to triumph. We have the opportunity to get a remedy and be prepared for possible eventualities before they get to occur. Ought we be as stupid as to let it pass, my friend? I do not mind the sacrifices, even though in our entire lifespan all our current fears are finally proved to be vain, we must think of the future, in the next generations. What kind of legacy are we willing to offer to our descendants? Think about it carefully, Bardock, and then tell me, if you can, that I am wrong."

The king paused to savor a sip of the red liquor; a far away look in his eyes causing him to seem elder and tired; but at the same time, the fierce determination branded permanently on his visage attested his unyielding and resilient nature; like that of a powerful tree enduring imperviously the merciless, countless lashes from wild winds in the middle of the storm.

Bardock observed him through new eyes, with renewed and profound respect. It was evident that, lately, the king had been in earnest meditation regarding all these matters, moved by a genuine concern for his people. The damn woman seemed to have caused the effect of a catalyst, a sort of activator instigating a process which could be defined as a "mental rearrangement", making the king to open his mind to new possibilities and reconsider his old and deepest convictions.

And Bardock pondered silently about it all; his analytical and methodic mind, nurtured with all the new arguments the king had posed, working at vertiginous speed, exhaustively, contemplating the subject from all the possible perspectives, weighing the pros and cons, until getting to the conclusion that Bejiita's reasons were fairly consistent.

But there was still some qualms troubling him; and his doubts were so distinctly etched across his face, that the king, awakened from his own reflexive trance and casting inquisitive eyes upon Bardock, had the sudden impulse to ask him the motives.

"Your son, Bejiita. It is his happiness what you are jeopardizing." Bardock replied in such a pleading tone that caused the king to roll his eyes.

"Now you are being overdramatic, Bardock. Arranged marriages had been a frequent ocurrence along the history of he royal family. I myself was obliged to marry someone chosen by my father. It is not a great deal. And my son is very conscious of the responsibilities the title entails.''

"Bejiita, you do not have to committ the same mistakes of your antecesors. I thought we agreed upon that question long ago."

"Enough Bardock!" The king exclaimed warningly, with a furious tone of voice; a dangerous glint flashing in his scorching eyes, with such intense rage intended on his counselor that had he not been the seasoned warrior he actually was, but a more impressionable, thin-skinned target, Bardock would be shivering in dread.