Going Native: Loss of Family (ch. 81) (Patreon)

Planet Vegeta hadn't changed from orbit, I noticed as the Warworld exited slip space in the system. It was the same aquamarine color, the seas holding a greenish tint which made the swirling white clouds stand out that much more. Circling the planet was a sizable moon that would only have a full moon every hundred years or so. It was about a decade away from having that full moon. Beyond that, there was a notable lack of defenses such as defense platforms or shield satellites. The planet itself might as well be uninhabited based on the next to non-existent population.

A few Saiyans had beaten us here, but until now, only about three Saiyans were on the planet. King Vegeta, Matillo, and Parslee. A few million were on their way. Hundreds of thousands arrived with me. Keeping them entertained would be an issue in itself, but I would leave that to King Vegeta and Bardock. Simply put, my attention was the peace talks.

"An interesting choice to have the Peace Talks at. Ten times the galactic standard gravity, no major cities to speak of, and I'm seeing nothing but Apex predators from across the galaxy," Ada'la remarked, sounding faintly amused with the choice.

I looked to my home planet. A planet I haven't even spent a fraction of my life on. Less than half a year not counting the time I spent gestating. "You were the one to teach me about power moves, Ada'la. It's a little late to complain," I returned, my gaze never leaving Planet Vegeta. It didn't feel real, almost. It hadn't felt real since I woke up after spending a few days in slip space. I was heading home after the war ended.

I had started and finished a war.

"Oh, I'm aware. The harshness of the planet will force the Federation leaders to focus on the task at hand. And the longer they stay here, the more that it will sink in that this deathworld is your race's idea of paradise. Spirits help the galaxy if you ever get your hands on gene-editing technology." We already had our hands on it. I'm sure that it wouldn't be long before the Saiyan race combined the most powerful creatures we found to entertain ourselves with.

Something I had almost forgotten — the best part of a good meal was the challenge of killing it.

"Beyond that, it is a good choice," Ada'la added. "Preparations for the Peace Talks will need to be made upon arrival, but we are prepared. As much as we can be." By that, she meant that Frieza had yet to show himself. He wouldn't even take messages. He had barricaded himself in his room and refused to come out.

Because of it, we were lacking the desired peace. The Federation had declared war because of the vassal states that had once belonged to the Thanagarian Empire — so, technically speaking, we had fought a defensive war against the Federation. With the Reach, it had been easy enough to guess that the goal had been to conquer the Reach. But the Federation?

What did Frieza want to be done? One would think it would be a simple thing to ask, but he refused to answer.

And it grew more complicated. "Lord Cooler just sent his refusal to attend. King Cold is a possible surprise guest, but we don't know where he is and we lack the means to contact him." I said as the Warworld sailed forward. Since his retirement, it seemed that King Cold really had just picked a planet and cut ties to the Trade Organization.

"Meaning we're flying blind. Very well then," Ada'la voiced, not sounding concerned. "We'll work with the draft, and take it from there." To that, I nodded in agreement before Ada'la bowed and walked away. I wasn't left alone for long, however.

Komand'r approached from behind, looking up at Planet Vegeta. She came to a stop next to me, and for a moment, she said nothing. "Your planet is one for warriors," Komand'r praised.

"As was Tamaran. Which will be restored to its former glory," I told her. Every plant and animal had been sampled. After the layers of metal were removed, efforts to reconstruct Tamaran would be underway. It might take some time, but between the various cloning methods we had available, within a few years Tamaran should be fully restored. As was one of the conditions that Komand'r had laid out.

"Of that, I have no doubts," Komand'r agreed. She looked at me, her expression serious. "You have my condolences." she told me suddenly, catching me off guard ever so slightly. I looked to her, prompting her to continue. "For the 501st. You might have left them behind when you became Supreme Commander, but I understand they were your comrades for many years."

I looked away, choosing to look at Planet Vegeta instead. Avery. Technician… they had been the ones I was closest to, but I had known all of the 501st well. From the original remnants to those that I had hand-picked to be reinforcements. Yet, they were all dead now. Not slain by the enemy… but killed by Frieza in a reckless and careless display of power.

They didn't deserve the ending that they got.

"I understand that most Saiyans care little for such bonds, but I also understand you are not most Saiyans. Should you ever wish to talk, know my door is always open, Prince Tarble," Komand'r informed me in a low tone, her breath brushing against my ear as she leaned in closely. Then she stepped back and away, floating off before I had a chance to give an answer. Likely to save me from having to give one now.

I took in a deep breath and let it out. I could mourn the dead later. After this was all finished. Then, there would be time. For now, I had to make sure that the peace was worth dying for.

A transmission reached the Warworld from Planet Vegeta. I chose to accept, and a split second later, the hologram of the planet was replaced with a hologram of King Vegeta. My father. He was virtually unchanged since the last time I saw him — nearly identical to Vegeta, except for the goatee he grew around his mouth. His expression, however, wasn't what I expected. It was harsh. Bitter, even.

"Tarble, my son. You return grander each time than you leave." he began, and he sounded like he meant the words. Which made his harsh expression that much more puzzling. "When you first left, I expected nothing but death from you, yet you returned alive and stronger. Again, you left, and you returned Elite-Class and the creator of techniques that forever changed the Saiyan race. For a third time, you left and now you return unimaginably powerful and the scourge of the galaxy."

He sounded proud, some of the harshnesses in his expression lessening ever so slightly. "Even the greatest of gifts I can offer would be an insult to your honor. The only thing I might have that will be of any value to you… is this — I am proud of you, my son."

I opened my mouth, caught flat-footed by the praise. The last time we had spoken… was when I learned that he had tried to use a bomb to kill me and my team. I had been so angry at him for it. It had been enough that it broke the fragile trust between us and I stopped considering him my father. I don't think I could forgive him for trying to kill the team. Just like I don't think I could forgive any of them if they tried to kill my family.

"We have much to discuss, my son. Meet with me when you arrive," he ordered and abruptly ended the call before I could get a word in.

Nothing about the message should have made my instincts scream that something was wrong, but I felt that sense of unease deep in my gut anyway. However, there was only one way to find out why that was.

…

Hundreds of thousands of Saiyans now populated planet Vegeta after the Warworld was placed in orbit. The Warworld was a decently sized planet, yet it seemed to be a moon compared to Planet Vegeta. At the very least, it meant that the Saiyans could spread themselves out a bit. Ironically enough, Capital Vegeta, which was the capital by default on account it was the only city that wasn't a complete ruin leftover from the truffle war, it was populated entirely by aliens.

Construction was being done to tidy the place up, as well as undo ancient damage from the war centuries ago. It was out of necessity simply because this was very unlikely to be a single-day affair. It was also to house the Saiyans that would temporarily all be living here — we weren't a materialistic species by nature, but trophies were of cultural importance. As well as mess halls to handle the incredible demand for food.

It was all underway underneath Ada'la's watchful eye. In the meantime, the others began to trickle in. Mom and Elery arrived on the Devastator, while Vegeta was the last to arrive on his own flagship.

By the time I flew to Palace Vegeta, there were millions of Saiyans on Planet Vegeta. I felt a handful of familiar, yet unfamiliar presences. Vegeta, Mom, Elery, and even King Vegeta were easy enough to place. The same with Matillo. Upon arriving, I realized who they were.

The honor guard. A tradition that I honestly thought was dead since both the Elite and Mid-class had seen such an explosion in size. Originally, being Mid-class would qualify you for one of the ten slots. However, given that prior to the war the Saiyan race had been vastly weaker, there was typically always a slot or two left open. Parslee had been a member, and it was he who greeted me at the door with a bow. Along with another member of the honor guard. An adult Saiyan.

Based on his power level, he was a member of the old guard. He wasn't exactly weak comparatively, but he wasn't in the top one hundred when it came to the strongest Saiyans anymore.

I returned it with a nod as I touched down on the palace. The others were already inside. It seemed I had stalled for too long with trying to reach out to Frieza and overseeing the Sayains to make sure they didn't blow up the planet.

Striding forward, the doors opened for me as the two honor guard fell in step behind me. Before me was a waif of a Saiyan — balding with a bushy mustache. He was King Vegeta's servant. To prove that, he bowed deeply, "Prince Tarble," He spoke, "It is wonderful to see you home. Your family awaits."

With that, he turned around and led me to the hall. While we walked, I took a moment to look at the place. The last time I had been here, the wealth had spilled out into the floor there had been so much of it. It seemed at some point someone realized the impracticality. Now the walls and floors were cleared except for a red carpet laid out in the center of the floor. On the walls were engravings etched into the stone and filled with precious metals and jewels. They detailed the war.

On one wall was Vegeta. His exploits in the war, and his moments of growth.

On the other was me. It followed my exploits and my moments of growth.

Both revolved around the war, but as we neared the throne room… it was clear that the artist had been biased towards me. Simply put, my wall was more fleshed out. From every technique created, to every world I conquered, to every notable enemy. From the Scarabs, to the Green Lanterns, to the Thanagarian Empire, to the Khundian Empire, then Mongul, my promotion to Supreme Commander… and it seemed they would cover the Vega system as well.

Both walls ended at the same point, an expectation that we would have long lives filled with a great many more exploits. Still, it was impossible to not notice the difference between them. Vegeta likely hadn't kept as good records or something. After all, he did have the larger empire.

Upon reaching the throneroom, the large doors swung open with ease to reveal my family. The first time all of us had ever stood in the same room together.

King Vegeta sat on his throne, Mom next to him. Elery sat on the steps leading up to the throne, looking bored out of her mind. The Honor Guard each stood underneath a window, and Matillo looked straight ahead without looking at me as I entered. Vegeta stood in front of the throne, his arms crossed.

My gaze drifted to King Vegeta. His expression didn't display any of that tightness or harshness that it had before. Yet, if I had to put a word to it, the King looked tired. Exhausted, even. His dark eyes met my blazing yellow, neither of us flinching away from the gaze of the other. I could all too easily recall what our final parting words had been so many years ago.

The next time you try to kill my team, do it yourself.

He had failed to answer. That gulf his action caused was still there. Though, time had taken the sting out of the knowledge. Especially when it showed who I had gotten my pragmatism from, because it certainly hadn't been Mom.

"I'm here as summoned," I said, coming to a stop next to Vegeta. My brother looked at me, an intensity in his gaze. Not quite a glare, but not far off. If I had to guess, he also noticed the walls.

"Good. The Saiyan in the Vega system. What do you know about him?" King Vegeta questioned, his tone sharp. He was asking me because I had been the one to defeat him.

That was also a good question. "As I understand, Froot was a construct of an ancient Saiyan. Our race is apparently much older than any of us suspected — we were among the first races to gain sentience in the universe. Right after the Guardians."

Vegeta nodded, "The ancient Saiyans came into conflict with the Guardians. It would seem that we lost," he remarked. King Vegeta glanced at him, then he turned to me, expecting me to elaborate.

"Froot mentioned that they had been distracted and conquered. The Ancient Saiyans were likely individualistic, and the war against the Guardians was anything but a united front. Froot had been distracted by trying to bribe Larfleeze into letting him eat the Avarice Entity. When he failed, he was killed and preserved as a construct. Though, based on the byplay, it would seem that it was something that Froot allowed to be done to him for failing to keep his word." I explained, earning a blink from Elery as she seemed to suddenly start listening to us.

Mom sighed, "I can't believe I missed it. Those damn ships kept shooting at me…" by that, she meant that she was compelled to destroy whatever took a shot at her, rather than she was forced to take cover.

"Your impressions?" King Vegeta asked me, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Froot was strong. Incredibly so. He dominated the battlefield. His only weakness was the fact that he was a construct," I answered instantly. My memories of the tail end of the fight were hazy. The only thing I really remembered was the awful burning that had filled me and channeling it into a Kamehameha. After that, I recalled finishing off Larfleeze and encountering the Pink Lanterns. I'm not sure if my attack had defeated Froot, or if the destruction of the power battery had done the job. It was the reason why the other constructs faded and why I could finish Larfleeze off.

King Vegeta leaned back in his chair, "How likely is it that there are other ancient Saiyans out there?"

Vegeta and I shared a look, both of us taking a moment to think about it. It also became clear where this was going.

I spoke first, "I think there is at least one left. Possibly still alive," I ventured, earning everyone's attention. "The Guardians have been trying to curtail our species for billions of years. It's very unlikely that Sadala was the first planet we had blown up. And given how few Saiyans there were… I would say that we've managed to drive our species to extinction several times before. Either the Guardians kept a watchful eye over us the entire time and collected samples to restart our species… or they had a dedicated source of Saiyan cells."

The former wasn't likely. If they had, then it was unlikely that we would have been conquered by the Cold Family.

"It's unlikely we can rescue this Saiyan. Our focus should be on reclaiming what was lost. I've attempted to push the Wrath State even further to enter that form. While I've had some progress with the Wrath State, I have yet to enter this… primal Saiyan form." Vegeta informed, and I guess that's what he was doing in the training room.

I shook my head, "That's unlikely to work," I told him, earning a deep scowl from my brother. "The Guardian Ganthet told me the secret to reclaiming our lost forms." I said, looking to King Vegeta, who gripped the arms of his throne so tightly they shattered in his grip. "It's kindness. Empathy. Cooperation."

Vegeta sputtered, "What?!"

"Their goal was to have our species become a highly social and empathetic race. It's possible we were the original draft for what the Green Lanterns are," I remarked. "Only they failed to force us to be what they desired, so they moved on." It made sense. An incredibly powerful and long-lived race, yet was kind and protective? Have a Saiyan for each planet, a protector to guard the native population from harm.

"Additionally, our race has several forms based on our history. The Super Saiyan that destroyed Sadala… Matillo, what can you tell me about them?" I questioned, looking to Matillo. Knowledge of the Super Saiyan transformations had been the most important knowledge I hard ripped from my human self. The issue was that the Guardians hadn't tampered with the Saiyan race in my human memories. Meaning that the information might not be completely reliable.

Matillo looked to me, taking a moment to think about it. "I wasn't born on Sadala, but I was the first generation born on Planet Vegeta, so please don't trust this implicitly. As I understand, the Super Saiyan that destroyed Sadala was a golden Oozaru." That lined up with both sets of memories—the legends that I had learned in this life as well as the memories from my past life.

"During the fight with Froot, I tapped into the Super Saiyan transformation," I informed, barely noticing the dead silence my proclamation received. "It was a failed transformation. I think I recall Froot calling it a False Super Saiyan. I either lacked the power to complete the transformation, or I couldn't overcome the genetic blocks the Guardians implemented." I added, frowning in thought. "Based on the evidence, the Saiyan that destroyed Sadala was likely attempting to combine the Ozzaru and the Super Saiyan transformations."

Which is how you accessed the Super Saiyan 4 transformation according to my human memories. The question was how that Saiyan had known that. Was it happenstance? Pure chance? A blind attempt to stack transformations? Or had he or she known what they were doing?

"Beyond that, however, there might be some truth to the Saiyan God transformation as well," I continued. That, I was less sure of. There was nothing in my human memories that hinted at the existence of a Saiyan God transformation. I was only considering it because it was the only other notable legend of our people. It could be nothing, but Saiyans didn't care about the afterlife. We had no heaven or hell. Yet, we had a god that was a level of strength that we desired to obtain one day.

King Vegeta raised a hand, catching my attention. "In light of this information, it is clear what our path is. We must reclaim our former glory and with it, we shall reign supreme over the Universe." I thought he would sound more excited. Elated. Yet, he didn't. He sounded… resolute.

"To this end… it is clear what must be done. The Saiyan race has changed a great deal in the past decade. It will change more in the following," King Vegeta stood up, looking down at me and Vegeta as he slowly descended the steps. Mom looked at him, a frown on her lips, just as puzzled as the rest of us. King Vegeta came to a stop in front of us and reached out, placing a hand on our shoulders. He looked between us.

"For this reason… I name Tarble my heir."

It was truly amazing what eight words could do. A simple sentence. Yet, once King Vegeta, everything had changed in ways that could never be undone.

It felt like I had been punched in the gut, Vegeta seemed to share the feeling by the ragged breath he took. Mom recoiled in her throne and even Elery seemed to understand what had just happened based on her wide eyes and slack jaw.

"You planned this," Vegeta snarled, and that was my only warning before I felt his fist slam into my cheek. Blood filled my mouth as I was knocked through the palace window, shattering the crystal glass and flying off some distance before I even realized I had been hit.

King Vegeta just made me the heir to the throne. That was the only thing that registered in my mind, even as a scream of rage reached my ears before I felt Vegeta's power swell. He had entered the Wrath State, and I could feel what he meant about pushing it further than ever before. He pushed it to Stage Seventeen. Three stages than I had ever managed to do.

King Vegeta had just stripped Vegeta of his place as the heir to the Saiyan throne.

The side of the palace exploded outward as Vegeta tore through the side of the throne room. He killed a member of the Honor Guard to do it. I saw his face as he raced towards me, his eyes blazing yellow, a blood vessel popping in his eye to dye the sclera red. His expression was one of utter rage and mindless fury.

"Vegeta-" I began, only to be forced to block a blow with my forearm, the punch rattling my bones. Vegeta was still weaker than me, but only barely.

"Die," Vegeta snarled, ki gathering in the palm of his other hand. My eyes widened a fraction and there was not a single doubt in my mind that Vegeta had absolutely every single intention of killing me. This wasn't a spar. We weren't fighting to train.

My brother was trying to murder me to keep his position as heir.

How… why… why was this happening?

Vegeta thrust his hand forward, intent on blasting a hole in my chest. My heart. A killing blow. The moment he did so, I lashed out with a hand and knocked his aside so the ki blast fired off harmlessly to the side. My other hand curled into a fist, the taste of blood heavy on my tongue. “Vegeta!” I shouted, slamming my fist into my brother’s face, trying to knock some sense into him.

Vegeta was more prepared to take a blow than I was, so he flew back a few feet at best, leaving both of us flying over the cliff that Palace Vegeta was seated on. A line of blood dripped down Vegeta’s chin, but he didn’t seem to notice. “How long have you been planning this Tarble?” He started, earning a narrowed eye glare from me.

“I didn’t plan anything! I don’t want to be the heir, Vegeta!” I interrupted, but I knew it was no use. Vegeta was never the type to care about words. I couldn’t convince him of anything.

“You would have been sent off to some backwater planet on an infiltration mission if it wasn’t for me! I saved your life!” Vegeta raged, shaking with fury. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead, furious at a perceived betrayal. “I was the one to convince father to give you the test with the Saibamen! But I saw you as my brother. And you’ve done this to me?! You’ve taken my right as heir?! I should have killed you the moment you left the tank!”

I hadn’t known that.

Vegeta blasted forward, crossing the distance between us in an instant. I blocked a high knee to my face, pushing back to avoid a punch. Vegeta continued the attack, his fists moving in blurs. Eyes, throat, heart, joints, and groin. Vegeta fought exactly as I did. He was really trying to kill me. Even as I blocked or avoided the blows, that fact only just barely started to sink in. My brother was trying to murder me. Worse, he was powerful enough that I couldn’t easily dismiss him. He wasn’t Elery.

“Die!” Vegeta shouted, a fist slipping through my guard to punch me in the gut. I saw the flash of ki come from his fist, and this time I heeded the warning. I slammed my forehead into his nose while one of my fists slammed into his elbow as my other hand pushed, forcing his arm to bend so the ki blast sailed harmlessly through the air. Vegeta snarled, punching me in the face before kneeing me in the stomach.

I knew that this day was coming. Just not like this.

I pressed forward, my eyes narrowed into slits as I clenched my jaw. My gaze met Vegeta’s, and a moment passed.

“I don’t want to be heir, Vegeta,” I told him, jabbing at his face with a fist before following it up with a kick to drive him back. My last attempt to reason with him before I had to beat him into submission. Anything less wouldn’t be enough. I knew that.

It wasn’t that long ago that my human side had reared its ugly head with words of advice and a warning. A warning about what came after the war. What I would have to do to make the war worth it for those that fought it. It was then that I came to the conclusion that Frieza had to die. It’s why the Guardians had been brought to the Vega system—to kill him. Cooler would have to die too. So would King Cold. Which left my family.

It had taken time, but I made a decision.

“I refuse it,” I continued, and I saw a flicker of doubt in Vegeta’s eyes. “I’m not going to kill you to become the heir to the Saiyan race or to become king. You’re my brother, Vegeta. You’re the only one that had faith in me since the very beginning. From the sound of it, you’re the only reason why I’m here today.” I told him, speaking words of truth that I’ve never been able to voice to him. Mostly because I knew it would embarrass both of us. “Our father can’t make me the heir.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, “What are you-”

“I’m renouncing my place in the Royal Family,” I answered bluntly. This was the conclusion I had come to as I stared into the void of space, alone on the Warworld. This was the only way I could think of to avoid killing my father and brother. It was a half measure. That much I knew. It was just one that I had to accept because…

Because I couldn’t do it. I was just too weak to do it. For all my words that I would do whatever it took to make the war worth it to those that fought in it, that died to end it… I couldn’t bring myself to murder my family to do it. I lacked the conviction. I was too much of a coward. I was a hypocrite of the highest order—willing to sacrifice others, but unwilling to sacrifice those that I cared for.

But, even if it meant spitting on everything I had worked for, bled for, sacrificed for… I wouldn’t do it.

Even if it meant that I had to leave the family that I had fought so hard to join.

“No,” Vegeta bit out, his power surging. “I won’t accept it,” he refused. His hands curled into fists, his teeth clenched so hard that his gums bled as he snarled at me. The confusion left him, replaced by a fury so intense that it went from red hot to ice cold. “I’ve lived in your shadow long enough, little brother. Every step of the way, you have proven my superior. I can admit that. Stronger, a better leader, tactician, and more popular. For years, I’ve endured it. The taunts, the insults, and comparisons.”

He blasted forward, aiming a punch to my face. I reached out and caught it in my palm before going to return the favor, only to be caught cold when my fist slammed into the palm of his hand.

“Now father wishes to give you what's mine by right,” Vegeta continued, his voice a low growl. “I’ve had enough! I have my pride, damn it! I refuse a throne that I have merely because you don’t want it. I refuse to give it to you while I still draw breath!”

My hand gripped down on his fist. I shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m not going to kill you, Vegeta,” I told him, a sinking feeling in my gut.

“Then you’re going to die, Tarble.”