Going Native: Rewritten: Wilds 1.5 (ch. 5) (Patreon)

Oh… wow. I'm not dead? Gotta admit, I didn't see that coming. I was sure that I was done for. Guess that's Saiyan biology for you -- a hole in your chest? Don't even worry about it. Walk it off. Or, maybe don't, I silently amended to myself as my eyes butterflied open, straining against a greenish blue fluid. There was a mask on my face feeding me oxygen, but the need for it diminished as it sounded like I was in a dishwasher during the rinse cycle. 

The fluid in the ball-like tank I was in began to drain, and I saw I was in what was left of my undersuit. Which was more a pair of shorts now. When the fluid was gone, after a beep, the translucent door before me fell open. 

“This is a healing pod -- you were brought here after your near death experience,” a voice informed me as I climbed out of the pod. Looking over, I saw a scrawny looking Saiyan that stood at four feet tall. He wore stylized looking armor with a half skirt and his hair was styled in a rather unfortunate bowl cut. Poor guy. “Please put these clothes on. The King awaits you, and he is one of finite patience.” That was probably the politest way to say he was an impatient bastard that I've ever heard. 

I was so out of it, I’d dropped my ki sensing. Sure enough, I could sense King Vegeta's overwhelming presence. He was joined by a few others, all of them powerful, if not as powerful. However, it was utterly impossible to judge any of them beyond that point because both Vegetas' presence acted like a blanket to my ki sense. Maybe it was possible to differentiate by looking beneath the blanket, so to speak, but that was beyond me at the moment. I could just tell that they were there and that they were strong enough to still register to my senses. 

“Right. So, I'm at the palace then?” I asked, stripping off what was left of my undersuit to put on another. It was all black and full body -- from my ankles to mid forearm and even covering my neck. However, there just wasn't a body suit. 

There was armor. A white chest piece that felt a bit stretchy, while a leather skirt fell around my waist from the belt that went over my undersuit. Definitely not Frieza-Force armor. It looked a lot like what Cabba wore in Universe 6, complete with the vambraces and shinguards. 

“That is correct,” the… Saiyan butler, as far as I could tell, replied in a crisp but decidedly unfriendly tone. 

“Hm. I doubt I got here myself in my condition. Who saved my life?” I asked, shrugging on the armor and patting the hoke that had been torn through me. I felt solid bone and flesh underneath my palm. 

“That would be the Mid-Class Saiyan Bardock,” the butler replied. “He was sent to retrieve a deviation in the wilds, and when he did so, he brought you along.” 

Bardock, huh? That was a lucky break. Another Saiyan might have left me for dead. “I'll have to thank him,” I decided, looking at the butler. His dark eyes inspected me for a moment and, at first, I thought he was judging me for showing basic gratitude. But then he adjusted my belt a tad before nodding to himself. 

“This way,” he said, moving with the expectation that I would follow. We left the medical room that had the healing pod and I found myself walking down vaguely familiar hallways. They were made out of a dull gray stone, but they were richly decorated. I didn't pay much attention to it on account that I was adjusting to life outside of the tank, but the hallways really were… tacky. 

No sense of interior decoration. Stuff was just dumped on the ground in piles in a real blatant ‘look at my cool stuff’ kind of way. And Saiyans had a pretty broad definition of ‘cool stuff’ which could be shiny stones, bones, weapons, and much, much more. The only deviation from that, interestingly enough, was a mosaic that was carved into the walls of the palace themselves. 

A ship landing on a planet. Saiyans emerging. Them being greeted by aliens. Then being chased out by those aliens, who I'm guessing were the Tuffles. Then Saiyans fighting Saiyans until one figure emerged, and there was no mistaking that haircut. 

King Vegeta the First uniting the Saiyans. Then the Oozarus devastating the planet. Saiyans eating the Tuffles. World domination. 

From there, it should have shown King Cold showing up. The Saiyans submitting to him, becoming slaves to him, and then Frieza. But, instead, the mosaic told a very different tale and one I was less sure of the more I saw of it. 

King Vegeta urging Saiyans forward to conquer dozens of planets. Aliens bowing to Saiyans. Saiyans fighting against figures marked in green, blue, or white. Planets exploding. It was a very different history than I anticipated, even if it did fall in line with what I expected from the Saiyan race. At the very end of the mural, it showed King Vegeta the First being surrounded by bowing aliens, and a lot of them were deliberately colored in ways that conveyed a meaning that I didn't understand. I was lacking context. 

But, there was no time to dwell on it as the doors to the throne room swung open and it was there that I was greeted by some familiar faces. 

King Vegeta lounged on his throne, his expression cold as he watched me approach. Standing at his side, behind the throne, was a man I recognized -- he was the jerk who flung me from a window! He was old with a white beard, bald, with a large X-shaped scar on his scalp. My gaze narrowed into a glare, which he met impassively and unimpressed. I wanted to keep glaring, but my eyes instead drifted to the third presence in the room. 

Vegeta. He loomed exactly as he did in Dragon Ball Diamia -- distinctly childlike, muscle clinging to his youthful frame, while his hair was identical to King Vegeta’s. It was the first time I had ever seen him before, and he gazed back at me with open curiosity. 

I came to a stop where I was stopped the last time I was brought before King Vegeta, only instead of bowing, I crossed my arms. “Whaddaya’ want?”

I expected my disrespect to get a reaction, something beyond the slight smirk that tugged at King Vegeta’s lips. “To acknowledge your efforts,” he said, his tone unbothered. “A month ago, you stood before me and claimed that you would grow stronger. And you have. A pathetic power level of two hundred has been transformed into a… respectable power level of thirty-four hundred.” 

Keeping my reaction to the news off my face was difficult -- I knew I was stronger. I could feel it. But I was so much stronger that it was hard to gauge. 

3400. I was even stronger than Turles now - much stronger. A full 1000pl beyond him. Coming so close to death likely played a part in the massive zenkai, but I think the larger part was that Bardock had shown up before I passed out. I’d probably sensed his ki signature and my body tried to strengthen itself to match him instead of Turles. 

“Additionally, you have completed the coming of age ceremony in record time. These are things worthy of praise,” King Vegeta decided, looking down at me with the same cold gaze. “They are not, however, enough to be inducted into the royal family.” Surprisingly, it was Vegeta, my brother, who had the biggest reaction to that. His eyes widened and he looked up at his father with an expression of naked shock before he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

Oh. King Vegeta didn't tell him that he had a brother? 

Yeah, that's about what I expected from Saiyan parents.

“I'm going to stop you right there,” I said, holding up a hand. “I have no intentions of ever joining the royal family. I couldn't care less about your recognition even if I tried. In fact, I'm hoping that this will be the last conversation that we ever have, and I'd appreciate it if you wrapped it up already.” 

Now, was it a good idea to mouth off to the King of Saiyans? 

No. 

No, it was not. 

Even less so when he felt so powerful that even with my new power level, it felt like he could crush me like a bug. Yet, I couldn't help myself. I would like to, but I physically couldn't stop myself from running my mouth. 

Hatred was a word that got tossed around too much. It was one of those words that meant something so harsh, so potent, that they should only be used in the rarest and most severe of circumstances. But, instead, they were used commonly and lightly as a way of expressing mild displeasure. That being said… 

I think I hated King Vegeta. 

If not him in particular, then what he represented. What he enabled. Even putting aside how he scolded a newborn baby before having me thrown out a window and off a cliff, the guy had sent hundreds or thousands or even hundreds of thousands of children onto the wilds with the expectation that like… eighty percent of them would die. I'm sure he had his excuses and justifications. Maybe he seriously just didn't know any better because it was a cultural thing. 

I didn't care. I wasn't so forgiving as to accept those excuses. 

King Vegeta looked like he was blue screening, his lips parting while his brow furrowed, but no words made it past his lips. 

It was Vegeta who spoke, “H-How dare you speak that way to our father?! Where is your respect?!” 

“He's not my father. He decided that,” I replied before turning up my nose. “And I don't have any for him,” I said before gritting my teeth, jabbing an accusatory finger at him, “I don't know how you run the rest of your kingdom, but your management of the Wilds is appalling!” 

Vegeta was on the defensive and I felt a shiver race down my spine as he glared hotly at me, “Do you think you could do any better, you Low-Class trash?!” 

“It would be physically impossible for me to do any worse!” I snapped back at him. I might hate King Vegeta, but I would like to like Vegeta. While he might be a genocidal and homicidal ball of neurosis and rage at the start of DBZ, he turned it all around after getting domesticated by Bulma. I doubted that would be the case here, but it did prove that there was hope for him. 

King Vegeta found his voice, silencing Vegeta with a hand gesture when he looked dangerously close to snapping. “I am aware of your efforts in the Wilds,” he admitted. “As unnatural as it might be, the notion you have presented is… intriguing,” he admitted with a surprising calmness. I tensed all the same -- I hadn't expected for him to be aware of my tribe. “Whether you accept it or not, royal blood does flow through your veins, and you conduct yourself as a prince.” 

I clenched my jaw, saying nothing but openly glaring at him. He met my glare and was utterly unbothered by it before speaking, “Across Planet Vegeta, you commanded the largest tribe. You did as our ancestor, King Vegeta the First, did in uniting various tribes. For that reason, I will not wipe out this… deviation from our traditions.” 

Nope. No doubt about it now. 

I definitely hated King Vegeta. 

“For that is our way,” King Vegeta continued. “Might is everything. I rule the Saiyan race because I am the strongest of us. Vegeta, my heir, shall rule after me as he will be the strongest. Should you wish to change our ways, you must prove that they are better by proving that they shall make us stronger.” 

My hands clenched at my sides so tightly that my knuckles were bloodless and they trembled. There was nothing worse than someone you hated making a point that you couldn't argue. Because he wasn't wrong, as much as I didn't want to admit it. For a race like the Saiyans, it wasn't enough to lead them to water. I'd have to hold their heads underneath the surface and force them to drink. And the only way to manage that? 

I had to be strong. 

“Get to the point,” I growled, and despite my anger, King Vegeta smiled. I think he approved of the lip I was giving him, and that just pissed me off that much more. 

“Very well -- I am willing to entertain this deviation from our traditions,” King Vegeta declared. “Your tribe, despite being the largest, shows consistent growth. In the three days that you have been unconscious, the average power level each of your tribesmen gained is thirty PL. Should they maintain this level of growth, in but a few months, even the weakest of your tribe will become Saiyan Warriors. This, in turn, will allow us to field more warriors to fuel our expansion.” 

I saw where this was going, “But you want me to prove it.” 

“Precisely,” King Vegeta replied while little Vegeta crossed his arms and looked away sharply. I think he was pouting. “While their short term strength is considerable, I am not yet convinced that this deviant thinking of yours won’t weaken us in the long term. As such, I propose a test.” His smirk grew in proportion to how deeply I was frowning. 

Despite how irritating it was, I could work with this. I’d already gotten attached to the morons back in the Wilds, so I wasn't going to cut and run. No matter how tempting it might be. Which left me in an awkward position on how to move forward and, annoyingly, King Vegeta was presenting an avenue. I could almost mistake him for being someone reasonable. 

“You shall take a handful of your tribe members and form them into a squad. From there, you shall enter a competition against this Turles who nearly killed you, as I find him an exemplary example of our Saiyan ways.” By that, he meant that Turles was a massive prick. “This competition shall last until you reach your majority or your final growth spurt. The victor shall be whoever impresses me the most.” 

That was a pretty arbitrary criteria. “Impresses you?” I echoed, mulling that over. 

“Indeed. Increasing your personal power or proving ways to strengthen my empire -- I care not. Both you, and Turles, shall be granted complete freedom in how you approach this challenge. The only stipulation is that you may not kill one another. At least, not before I allow it. Is that clear?” King Vegeta questioned, and I held his gaze. 

Oh, this poor man. Oh, he had absolutely no idea what he just set in motion. 

Time to metagame like nobody’s business. 

“One question,” I said, meeting his gaze unabashed. “Until this little test is over? What happens to my tribe?” 

“They shall live and die on their own merits,” King Vegeta replied without emotion. “Should they prove themselves, I shall welcome them into my ranks as warriors. However, should Turles prove himself the victor of this contest… I cannot allow such rot to fester. Any and all who followed your ways, along with their weak blood, shall be exterminated.”

That’s about what I expected. My gaze lingered on him for a moment before my gaze flickered to Vegeta’s. And, when our eyes met, I saw that he was far more conflicted with this outcome. 

So, I offered him a small nod of my head, telling him that we were cool before I turned on a heel and flew out of the same window that I had been thrown out last time.

I had a contest to win and no time to waste. 

…

It was pretty easy to find the others. And, if I was being perfectly honest, there was a part of me that was really scared that the moment that I vanished, things would just… fall apart. Because, in the end, I had leaned into their preconceived notions that might made right. The tribe worked because I was the strongest, and it was only natural to follow the lead of the strongest. 

So without me there to hold things together, it felt… probable that things would fall apart. 

But, a few days later, things at the Treehouse seemed like things were carrying on as normal. 

“Tarble?! You're alive?!” Caulifla blurted, the first to notice my arrival from above. Her eyes went so wide that it was a wonder that they didn't fall out of her head. Her announcement swiftly brought the others' attention to me, all of them wearing similar expressions of disbelief. 

“Boss! You're back!” Cabba rushed up to greet me, and I breathed a little bit easier when I saw that they were okay. That things were still going smoothly. “You're okay, right? What happened with Turles? Is he dead?” That sounded a lot like hope for that last one, so I had to disappoint him by shaking my head. 

“He's still alive. And I'm fine,” I answered while Cabba patted me where the hole was. “But, from the looks of things… I'm not coming back.” 

It was Raditz who spoke up, his arms crossed as he beheld me with a more cynical look. “You've been acknowledged as a Saiyan Warrior. My dad has armor that looks like that,” he noted, and that got another round of surprise from everyone when I nodded. 

“Th-thats way too fast! You only left the tank a month ago!” Caulifla protested, clenching her jaw. She was bothered by it. So, I offered her an easy smile. 

“But that's not all,” I said, looking at her, Cabba, and Raditz. “King Vegeta is… doing something of an experiment. I'll elaborate later, but I can elevate a couple of you to warriors alongside me. We'll be competing against Turles and a team of his own.” There was an eagerness in Caulifla's eyes. A yearning that I recognized -- it was the same look that she wore when I offered to teach her how to fly or use ki. It was a want that became a need because of its intensity. 

I had processed it all on the quick flight over. King Vegeta was every bit the monster that I thought he was, and a little more so for good measure. He was holding hundreds of kids hostage, in essence. Only it went a step beyond that. 

As it was, if every Saiyan in my tribe earned 10pl a day, then in three months, all but the weakest would become warriors. This challenge that he offered would last years as Saiyan's had three growth spurts in their lives -- the first happened around twelve, which would take us from little kids to teenagers. The second happened at sixteen, and we would appear to be in our late teens. Then, the final one happened at twenty, where we would appear as adults. And we would maintain that form until we left our physical prime at the very end of our lives. 

So, King Vegeta was playing a long game. From this point on, I had between twelve and seventeen years to prove that my way was better. Saiyans had three growth spurts in our lives -- the first and biggest between the ages of twelve and fifteen, the second at eighteen, and the final at twenty. Though, most thought that they happened three years earlier since the first three years in the incubation pod weren’t counted. But if I managed to metagame like I intended, I'm not sure I would even need ten. Heck, I wasn’t sure if I would need five. But, the point was, he had to know that my way of doing things would endure. 

He wasn't just threatening my current tribe members. He was threatening the ones that would come after I left. He was threatening the children of my tribe members who would be born once they hit their majority as many were years older than me. 

And, no matter what came of this experiment of his, this didn't end without me kicking the ever loving crap out of him for that. 

“I'm coming with you!” Caulifla decided, and I nodded in agreement, making her fist pump with eagerness. 

“I wanted to ask how all of you are holding up,” I said, looking at the others. “With Turles out of the picture, the Forest King position is open. I can't fill it either,” I said, looking at Cabba and Raditz. “How has the reaction been?” 

“Messy?” Cabba answered with a small frown on his face, tilting his head to consider the question. “There was a big scramble to fill the position, but Turles was really good at picking off rivals. So, everyone is kinda at the same general level of strength, so no one stands out yet.” That was about what I could sense across the forest. “The tribe did shrink a bit when everyone thought you died. Some of the stronger members left, but most stayed. Mostly the weaker members.” 

“We can handle it!” A voice blurted, and I looked over to see it was Okarot, one of the stand out Saiyans we had recruited. “You can trust us, Boss. We won't let you down!” 

Despite everything, that got a smile out of me. “I'm not sure you can call me Boss anymore,” I noted to him, but Okarot just shook his head. 

“You're still the boss, Boss,” Okarot stated with a sense of finality. “Because of you, we always had enough to eat. We get stronger every day! And we learned a whole bunch of stuff! So, leave it to us!” He said, thumping his chest and giving me a firm nod and… 

I was touched. Honestly, I decided to help them purely to soothe my conscience. I figured it would be pointless. Unappreciated. I still did it anyway, and I did get attached to them along the way, but I always figured that road went one way. I wasn't sure if they would remember me at all after I left, and I was okay with that. 

So, the declaration of loyalty was… nice. 

“Then I'll leave everything to you, Okarot,” I said, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. Then my jaw clenched. “Spend some time getting stronger until you can claim the King position. Conquer every tribe in the forest, and teach them our ways. And then… expand.” I told him in a low but serious tone. 

“You want me to conquer the other kings?” Okarot questioned and I nodded. 

“It might not be you,” I admitted. “You’ll probably graduate before you get the chance. So, I want you to start grouping everyone up by their relative strength into squads. Three members at the low end to a max of six. Use that as a way to expand outward to conquer the other tribes with that squad ruling over that area. Use them to spread our ways to the Saiyans in other territories.” 

It was a gamble, but it was one that I was willing to make. Because this too would help convince King Vegeta that I was right. 

“You'll need to ensure that our ways and this system is passed down because, eventually, the tribe will graduate faster than they can dump kids into the Badlands,” I continued and I could see the stars in Okarot's eyes. He already thought the world of me, and he looked at me like I was proving him right with every word I said. “Leave copies of the codex at all the best spots in all of the territories. Leave signs to lead the Saiyans that come after us to those spots. Or, in the worst case scenario… do what Turles did and hide your power level if you think it needs a direct hand. I'll trust your judgment, Okarot.” 

Okarot nodded, accepting his mission with the seriousness it deserved. I doubt that it would be smooth sailing. No, I was absolutely certain that things would go awry somewhere. But I had faith that the core of our traditions would survive for the odd twenty years we had to wait out. And, hopefully, when the kids became adults with kids of their own, they'd tell their kids about our ways if they ever got dropped off here. 

With that settled, I looked to Cabba and Raditz. “Are the two of you interested in coming with me?” 

“Of course, I'm coming,” Raditz said with something akin to a sneer. “After all, I'm the reason you're still alive, you know? I’m the one who convinced my dad to save you!” 

To that, Caulifla snickered, “Yeah, he was all like, ‘Dad! Please! Please, you gotta’ save ‘em!’ He was crying- ack!” Caulifla started to mock before Raditz kicked her in the side of the head. 

“I wasn't crying!” He protested, though I noted that his cheeks were burning. I didn't expect that either if I was being honest. But it was a welcome development. Lastly, I looked at Cabba, who thumped his chest much like Okarot did. 

“I'll come if you’ll have me,” Cabba answered with a small smile and I breathed a little easier at hearing that. I had a squad of talented fighters, and I could trust that things would be fine with the tribe. 

I hadn't intended to set in motion a whole-ass cultural revolution when I decided to help Cabba and the others, but I had, and now I had to see it through. 

So I took a breath and started floating up, “Come on, then. Raditz -- you know where your family lives? I need to thank your dad for saving me,” I said, pausing another one of their spats. Caulifla was in a headlock, but I'm pretty sure that she was going to pull off Raditz’s scalp with how hard she was pulling at his hair. 

“I do- wait, you haven't even thanked me yet!” He protested as the four of us flew off. There was no point in saying goodbyes, I told myself. 

I’d be seeing them all again soon enough. 

… 

Planet Vegeta was entirely underdeveloped, with a single major city located near the equator, and it was the ruins of what had been the Truffle’s capital. The name of the capital?

Capital Vegeta. 

The rest of the planet was inhabited by the kids who were going through the coming-of-age ceremony and the handful of Saiyans who carved out little homes for themselves. Oh, and the apex predators that the Saiyans kept importing. I had no idea what the actual population of Saiyans was, but as we approached Capital Vegeta, it didn’t feel like too many. I couldn’t exactly do a quick count, but it felt like the population in the capital was more in the hundreds of thousands rather than millions. 

I expected Capital Vegeta to roughly be what I saw in Minus, the little that we did see of it. Squant brick-like buildings, most of them still sporting damage that came from the Tuffle War, and dirt roads. Instead, what I saw was a city that was closer to a town in population, but it was active. The buildings were on the shorter side because of the gravity, but there were functioning roads, floating cars driving back and forth, while aliens that couldn’t survive the gravity were in bubbles. Meanwhile, Saiyans flew overhead between buildings, carrying this or that. 

The capital was an odd mix-mash between futuristic and rustic. Holograms flickered, acting almost like billboards or TVs in a sports bar. There were adverts, commercials, and announcements that I lacked the context for. All of it contrasts with the white brick buildings, the city's spartan nature, and the attire of those who lived here. 

The average power level wasn’t what I expected either. 1000pl was the entrance point to Saiyan society, but there was a fair number of Saiyans in the city that didn’t climb too much higher than that. There were some that were lower than that cutoff -- they, I knew, were the ones that managed to survive the Wilds by growing up rather than graduating to become warriors. And quite a few that climbed much higher. 

It took Raditz a moment to get his bearings, but he seemed to find his way home -- it was a small building on the outskirts of the capital. We followed him down towards it, and he seemed to be drinking it in, scratching at the armor that noted him as a Saiyan Warrior, before he hesitantly knocked at the front door. I sensed three presences beyond it, with the second weakest of them getting up and-

“Raditz?!” A woman gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. She was pretty short, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in a shaggy mane. Her dark eyes were filled with surprise as she looked down at Raditz, hardly taking notice of the rest of us before she dropped down and scooped him up into her arms, and I’m pretty sure that I could hear his ribs cracking from the fierceness of the hug. 

“M-Mom! C-Can’t! Breathe!” He protested, and only then did his mother relent, but only barely. 

She glanced back into the house, “Bardock! It’s Raditz!” She exclaimed, unable to hide the naked joy in her voice. 

“I heard, Gine,” Bardock said, getting up from wherever he was within the house to approach from behind Gine. He looked a lot like Goku, especially with that haircut, just with a pronounced X-shaped scar on one cheek. He was taller than her by a head and shoulders, leaning on the doorframe as he looked down at Raditz. Then the rest of us. “And he didn’t come alone.”

“Oh? Oh!” Gine gasped, and she really didn’t notice the rest of us. She blinked in our direction, not really sure what to do with us, so I stepped forward and Bardock let out a low hum. 

“You don’t look to bad for a brat that had his guts scrambled a couple of days ago. Healing pods sure are something, huh?” He remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned on the doorway. He leveled a heavy stare at me, and his dark eyes were openly suspicious. I’m guessing that he had questions, and I didn’t really mind answering them. Though, one thing was clear -- I could see why my Zenkai Boost had been so strong. 

Bardock was powerful. Powerful enough that I was a little… puzzled. The whole class system seemed pretty arbitrary to begin with, with it never really being plainly laid out what the lines between the Low, Mid, High, and Elite-Class were. Nappa had a power level of 4,000 in Dragonball, and he was considered a Mid-Class warrior. The same class that Bardock was considered. 

Yet, even with my increased strength, I could tell that Bardock was much stronger than me. Several times over. 

Five or six times over to be more exact, putting him at around 20,500pl. More than 2,000pl stronger than Vegeta at the start of the Saiyan Saga. 

And he was Mid-Class? What was the cut-off for High-Class? Shit, how strong was Lil’ Vegeta? He was so much stronger than me it was hard to compare back in the throne room, but… I think I’d put him at around four Bardocks. So, as a kid, Lil’ Vegeta had a power level somewhere around… 100,000? Like… what? If that was the case, then King Vegeta’s visceral disappointment with my existence kinda made sense. 

“They are,” I admitted. “But, it wouldn’t have meant anything if I didn’t get to one. So, thanks,” I said, bowing my head to him, and Bardock made a noise of surprise. Raising my head, I saw a smirk tug at his lips. 

“A polite Saiyan. That’s not something you see every day,” he remarked. “Which tells me that you’re buttering me up for what you really want,” he continued, cocking his head to the side in a gesture of ‘spit it out.’ He kinda read me like a book, because he was right on the mark. 

“King Vegeta gave us a pretty open-ended mission, and Radtiz mentioned that you have a lot of experience in the galaxy doing missions and stuff. I was hoping that you could give us some pointers -- like, where to go, where to avoid, and so on.” If this was an AU Dragonball, then I needed that intel. I’ve only seen the Saiyan side of things, and they were way stronger than they were in Universe 7. 

That actually seemed to surprise him, “Intel, huh? Yeah, you could say I’m pretty experienced and I know a few things. The question is -- what can you give me for those answers-” Bardock said, his smirk growing as he spoke, only for it to be wiped away when Gine reached up and grabbed him by the ear with enough force that he bent over at the waist. 

“Bardock! How many times have I told you to leave that mercenary attitude at the door?!” She shouted in his ear, making him blanch. “And you heard him! Raditz is going on this mission with him, so he could use the information so our son comes home safe!” She added, giving his ear another warning yank before she let go. I watched the scene play out and I had to fight the smile tugging at my lips as it would give Bardock the very wrong impression. 

That was what a family should be. I knew Bardock was no saint if he was anything like his canon counterpart, but just like Vegeta, there was a nugget of goodness in his heart that could be brought out. Still, this was infinitely better than what I got with the royal family. 

“Right, right… fine,” Bardock relented before jerking his head. “Come on in and have a seat. I’ll give you the run down,” he sighed. Gine gave him a pleased smile that she flashed our way while he grumbled. Holding Raditz’s hand, Gine led him inside their home. As we made to follow, Caulifla leaned in to whisper in my ear. 

“This is weird, right?” She asked, looking to me for validation. And suddenly I hated King Vegeta just a little bit more. 

I didn’t trust myself to answer so I gave a small shug of my shoulders before following them into their home. It was pretty nice. Futuristic, but I’m not sure if that term should apply here. Off to the side, however, my attention was drawn to a glowing light. Inside it was the third presence I felt in the house. 

Goku. 

He was just a baby. He probably had another few years in the tank, but he was still recognizable. His hair floated in the goop of the incubator, an attachment on his lower half to keep him steady. He was curled up, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to the world. Raditz and Gine approached, with Raditz looking up with a stunned expression while Gine smiled down at him. “Meet your younger brother, Raditz. His name is Kakarot.” 

Well, at least I wouldn’t be in a universe without Goku. Or Kakarot, I guess. That was going to take some getting used to. 

Bardock took a seat at a table in the center of what looked like a kitchen, and he kicked out a chair in my direction. “Take a seat,” he ordered with a sigh in his voice. Once I did, with my head barely coming over the countertop, he began to speak. “I don’t know what King Vegeta is going to have you doing, but if it’s as open-ended as you’re making it out to be…?” I nodded and he hummed, his lips thinning while his eyes narrowed. 

I could only guess what he thought of me, but I waited for him to continue. He seemed to search for a place to begin before nodding to himself. “Alright -- I’ll start from the top down. Most Saiyans go straight into the army. The Saiyan race is always expanding, and we’re expanding in every direction. But, not all armies are created equal- some of them are pretty shit, to be honest.”

That tracked. Warmongers were going to declare war, made sense. But he continued, “High-class warriors each have their own army. The numbers fluctuate depending on what they need, who they’re fighting, and what kind of pull they have, but the average is something around a thousand Mid-class and ten to twenty thousand low-class. Plus whatever slave infantry they got.” That was a lot. That was way more than I thought.

If someone had told me there were ten thousand Saiyans in DBZ before Frieza Death Ball’d the planet, I would have thought that number was a little high.

“Some of the generals are half decent, but most of them are idiots who will get you killed. If you’re going to go that route, then stick with Matillo. He’s been a Warrior longer than most of us have been alive, and he’s capable of more than just brute force.” Bardock continued, heedless of my thoughts and I swallowed thickly.

I tried to picture it, signing on with a Saiyan army. I could barely imagine what such a thing would look like, but I could all too easily picture what would happen to any planet we arrived on. Wholesale destruction. Genocide. Failing that, brutal conquest and mass enslavement. 

No. That wasn’t an option for us. I didn’t care if it was the only way to win the contest -- I wasn’t going to commit genocide for some dickhead’s bottom line.

“The other option is the mercenary route,” Bardock offered another path and a knot of tension in my chest came undone. “If you’re looking for a mission? The notice board on Planet Vegeta is the worst place to look -- that’s just the dregs that other people didn’t want, or morons playing general. You’ll find the largest range of contracts with the Trade Organization. King Cold, or the Cold family in general, always has work, and they pay well. Watch out for Frieza, though. With him, you do the job to the letter. Any deviations or mishaps, and he’ll kill you even if you get the job done.”

So Frieza was here. I kinda wish he wasn’t, but nothing I could do about that right now. 

“The second best place is the Vega System,” he said, and my ears perked at that. I didn’t recognize that from Dragonball, but I continued listening. “It’s a real melting pot. The Green Lanterns, for whatever reason, don’t go inside. The Galactic Patrol do, though, but their grip on the place is laughable at best. Which makes it a great spot for our kind -- always something that needs doing.”

Um. Galactic Patrol? Yeah, I got that part.

Green Lanterns, though? That wasn’t part of Dragonball. That was part of DC Comics. 

And that was a very, very, very bad thing. I knew next to nothing about DC Comics. Oh, I knew the big stuff. Batman is Bruce Wayne, and Superman is Clark Kent, yada yada yada, but my greatest exposure to DC was the Teen Titans show I watched over a decade ago. I’m sure I knew bits and pieces by osmosis, but all the nit and grit of the setting? I didn’t know it a fraction as well as I knew Dragonball. 

Were there even Dragon Balls? My plan had been to head straight for Namek, get my potential unlocked, and wish for a lot of training tools, like a gravity chamber and a hyperbolic time chamber. Or directions to Yardat. How was I supposed to figure out Instant Transmission otherwise?

It was difficult to keep my growing unease off my face as I forced myself to listen to Bardock, realizing that the information he had was far more valuable than I’d realized. 

“There’s a lot to look out for in the galaxy -- ‘specially for someone at your power level. You’re strong for a tyke, but there are things that can chew you up and spit you out like you’re nothing. But, if I had to pick the big danger to watch out for?” He asked, reaching up to scratch the X-shaped scar on his face with a finger. Then he snapped his fingers, “If you see anyone with a shield on their chest? Run. Don’t even think about fighting back on your level.”

Um… 

“A shield?” I asked, really wanting clarification because my mind jumped to someone in particular. 

“They’re called Kryptonians. They’re a warrior race, like us, except those bastards cheat by powering up like a battery under a yellow sun,” he elaborated and… that… warrior race? “They’ve been on the warpath recently. I’m not entirely sure why, though, but it’s given them something to prove. So, if you see a Kryptonian? Run until you’re as strong as me.”

I’m pretty sure he was looking for me to be in awe, much like Cabba and Caulifla were. However, the boast was lost on me as I was left reeling with a single thought ringing out in my skull like a bell. 

What kind of clusterfuck of a universe did I land in?!