Three years later

He hated this place.

Prince Vegeta stalked down the dull cream corridor, paying no attention as low-ranking soldiers darted away from the piercing glare his sharp, dark eyes sent scything towards anyone with the audacity to step before him. A few years ago he would have been hard pressed to find anywhere he loathed more than the Empire outposts, but this complex managed to top even that. It was beneath his dignity to even be here, yet time and again he kept ending up on the pointless rockball of ‘Earth’. He snorted – it showed a lot about Earthling psyche that they appeared to have named their origin world after dirt. The planet was a very basic class of habitable world – reasonable natural resources and indigenous pollution levels, nothing outstanding. Even the governmental system had little novel to its credit, mostly totalitarian and including the heavy military presence that accompanied such systems to keep the population suitably oppressed. There were countless worlds under the yolk of similar demi-emperors. All were subservient to Lord Frieza anyway – even he was expected to bow before the smirking, grey-skinned Overlord. One of Vegeta’s fists clenched of its own accord and he fought to control his temper.

Servitude. That was something he hated more than this place.

It didn’t help that service to Frieza had been all he had ever known, but for some grainy memories of a life before, the life he should have led on the Throne of Vegeta. His homeworld, the Saiyan homeworld.

The ex-Saiyan homeworld.

That future had been impossible for over thirty years. It was rather hard to rule an almost extinct race of a planet no longer in existence.

“…three days for a class five, that’s got to be worth somethin’ good…” The muttered conversation going on behind him intruded into Vegeta’s consciousness and he doubled his effort at ignoring it. Lumbering along behind him, engaged in one of their usual half-conversation, half-arguments, were two other Saiyans that, along with himself, constituted the entire surviving population of their race. Nappa and Raditz, differing classes but identically minute IQs. Both were his senior in years, although no observers would deem it so – both minds seemed to have been left in early adolescence and not retrieved. Raditz, a stocky man with pale skin, a huge mane of spiky black hair and chiselled features, was first-level Elite, a few hundred points over the Elite boundary power-level. His was lucky to even be that – his family history boasted one squad leader and some runted brother exiled at birth with a level most rodents could match. Nappa was darker, taller and bulkier than Raditz, with a set of features like a cliff face and a thin moustache that contrasted strangely with his shaven head. He was nobility, power just under ten thousand, and never seemed to speak when it was possible to yell at the top of his huge lungs.

The only thing that stopped Vegeta destroying them both was the knowledge that their removal would leave him the last Saiyan in existence. Sometimes even he needed backup, and his own species was just preferable to any of the other cretins Frieza could assign to him.

He felt his teeth grind together as he forced his attention back to the corridor infront of him, ignoring the other Saiyans. Why they seemed so optimistic he had no idea. They’d just returned from a ‘mission’ – and he used the term loosely – on the latest addition to Meraln’s collection of pointless planets. At the name, his other fist tightened. He’d never quite been able to work out why Meraln rubbed him so much up the wrong way; everyone pissed him off to some degree, but… There were only a few individuals in the universe that Vegeta truly hated, Frieza being the top of the pile, and Meraln had been easing his way up the rankings ever since Vegeta had first met him, almost three years ago. The purple-eyed freak had actually overtaken even the Ginyu Force recently on Vegeta’s mental ‘most aggravating’ list, which also tied in well with the ‘people I would take great pleasure in tearing down the their component atoms’ list.

Unfortunately, the way things were going in his life at the moment; a list was all it would remain.

“…Vegeta?” The guttural voice intruded into his thoughts and Vegeta glared up as Nappa leaned over his shoulder, craggy features twisted in a half-grin, “What d’ya think we’re gonna get?”

“Patronised,” Vegeta growled. For once, Nappa seemed to register that any attempt to continue the discussion would lead to a reduction in his personal limb count. He dropped back into place several steps behind, and the testosterone-laced kill ratio comparisons began again in earnest. Idiots. What sick twist of fate had meant that those two pitiful wastes of ki were his sole – if unwelcome – companions in the hell he called a life?

His mental discussion of everything wrong with his comrades was interrupted when he suddenly realised they had reached their destination. Eight-meter black doors cut across the corridor at this point, although considering their size they didn’t actually seem to be designed to be imposing, merely doors. Of course, they were probably the only doors in the complex that had to be pushed open, thereby indicating in good time to whoever was inside that someone was entering, and reducing the entrée’s knowledge of the room beyond until they were fully inside. Vegeta had thought about it once, after he’d realised that Meraln’s domain contained a lot of things that acted like that – ingenious in such an obvious way no one realised the advantages bestowed – and decided that he didn’t like the implication. Frieza was intelligent, true, and went to great pains to make sure everyone was aware of how ‘superior’ he was, but this was different. Meraln didn’t seem to feel the need to proclaim himself superior.

It was very annoying.

Vegeta shook off the thought and paused for a moment, calming his mind. Every meeting with Meraln always seemed akin to being slowly dissected, and he was not about to present the mind-gaming freak with any ammunition by walking in obviously angry. Composed again, he planted his hands on the matte black doors infront of him and shoved them open with a force that sent a loud crack dancing through the air as they slammed back.

One or two yelps of shock hit his ears and Vegeta glanced round, momentarily surprised. The Chamber was never usually this occupied. At least a hundred figures were clustered around the triangular room’s edges, small groups strung out in rows along the featureless white walls. A quick mental appraisal of the constituents yielded several sets of assorted aliens, Empire-origin or otherwise, and the usual smattering of armour-plated Earthlings that Meraln seemed to find it amusing to use as ‘guards’. Vegeta eyed them with distaste. Earthlings had always seemed to be the very definition of ‘generic’ in his book – they seemed to share most intergalactic taxa common features without bringing anything new or original to the mix. Limited strength ratings, limited intellect, limited technological comprehension…just limited, really. Their actual existence was irrelevant to the rest of the universe.

It was strange then, Vegeta mused as he strode through the makeshift corridor between muttering groups – out of all the planets for which Meraln had purchased Imperial invasion permission, or just ready-sterilised, Earth was one of the few he had specified that the indigenous population were to be subdued intact. He had a few others like that, but by all accounts the he seldom left the Complex, and visited other areas of his personal realm even less. How the nearly reclusive creature had managed to cultivate quite as much influence in the Empire as he had was anyone’s guess. Vegeta’s personal theory went along the lines of ‘like attracting like.”

“Impeccable timing, gentlemen.” The smooth tones rang out clearly over the low muttering and a hush immediately descended. Vegeta ignored the scared glances from those unfortunate enough to be lining his path and headed forward, without breaking his step. He kept his gaze focused on some indefinite point beyond the wall until he reached what would be considered a respectful distance from the raised dais set into the apex of the triangular space. Nappa and Raditz slotted into place behind him and immediately dropped onto bended knees, clenched right fist pressed knuckle down into the floor, left held against the opposite shoulder, heads bowed. Vegeta’s mental clock ticked for a few fractions of a second before he followed suite with the pose. He wouldn’t dare show such disrespect to Frieza, but…

“Impeccable timing indeed,” the voice commented again, an edge of amusement easing into the tones and Vegeta felt his teeth clench together. The remark was aimed at him, but he knew he couldn’t rise. It wasn’t even close to being the kind of remarks he was used to hearing, yet somehow, in those smug tones such a simple phrase was more infuriating than a hundred insults.

After a few moments of infinitely extended frustrated formality, a soft clap bade them rise, and this time the three Saiyans moved together. Finally, resigning himself to what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant ‘briefing’, Vegeta allowed his gaze to unlock from the wall and shift onto the figure standing in front of them. The one to whose twisted whims they were currently assigned to pamper, because of the bizarre friendship he and the icy Emperor seemed to have.

Earth’s Master.

Meraln.

There was nothing spectacular about him at all, which in itself was unusual. Those in Meraln’s position were usually bedecked with their own body weight in jewellery or armour in an attempt to feign importance. Meraln was simply a tall figure, generally clad in a plain undersuit a slightly darker shade of grey to his skin, and an open robe of similar colour. Elongated, jet-black nails added an almost aerodynamic appearance to his long fingers, but that seemed to be the only concession to appearance that he allowed. Intentional or not, the monochrome effect served to all the more highlight the glittering purple stare that sent small spasms of anger down Vegeta’s spine every time it touched him. It was one of the characteristics that Meraln shared with Frieza – his personal appearance was very much understated. Vegeta suspected Meraln saw himself as a demi version of the Overlord – they were both crisply spoken, radiated elegant sadism, and seemed to share a perverse delight of humiliating him.

One day, both would lie crushed under his feet. As it should be.

As it had to be.

But it wouldn’t be today. With a considerable effort of will, Vegeta managed to keep the scowl off his features.

“We have completed the mission to your specifications,” – exactly to the specs; I refuse to lift even one finger more than I have to for your little fun – “Scouter reports and results from the survey team were uploaded when we landed.”

“As always, your precision is exemplary.” Meraln’ slips twitched in fresh amusement. His gaze locked on Vegeta’s face, twin points of amethyst glittering with some strange intensity as they bored into him.

He loathed this part of the briefings. Why in hell did this freak just stare at him for half the time? It was faintly unnerving, a sensation Vegeta was neither comfortable with, nor accustomed to having triggered by anyone other than Frieza… A small shiver rippled down his spine and he had to push away any outward sign of disgust. No, there wasa difference. He was almost certain that the weird kind of satisfaction printed across Meraln’s features stemmed from a different root than the Overlord’s.

Almost certain.

He damn well hoped so, at least. The last thing he needed was having to deal with two of them…

“Are we done here?” Vegeta snapped irritably as his temper finally stretched past the first safety. One of Meraln’s thin brows eased upward slightly and the Prince quickly adjusted his outward attitude. He forced his face into a respectful grimace.

“Unless you have more need of us?”

Damn this servitude crap! His fingers flexed slightly at the thought. In his veins flowed the last Royal blood of the Saiyan race, and yet his whole life he’d been reduced to this pitiful bowing and scraping to pieces of trash like Meraln. And Frieza… He could feel a muscle starting to twitch under his eye, and clamped his teeth together hard.

Meraln finally decided to grace them with a reply.

“No, that will be all,” – Vegeta felt the enamel creak as he suppressed a growl – “You have been most useful. And for that I should offer some reward, should I not?”

Vegeta could practically feel Nappa and Raditz exchanging glances behind his back. Fools. Every time they completed a mission they expected a reward. Considering the only things the two of them seemed to do when not in combat was drink and copulate – usually in the order – their hoped-for rewards were not difficult to guess. Personally, Vegeta was suspicious as to why Meraln was offering them anything. There was no obligation to, and he wasn’t exactly known for his generosity… For a second, his gaze locked with Meraln’s violet stare. Vegeta felt his own eyes narrow slightly. It was a trick, it had to be. There was ‘ulterior motive’ written across those purple eyes. Meraln clapped his long hands together in an overly theatrical gesture. A group of the misfit guards lumbered forward, led by a furry little alien who looked like his skin was about four sizes too big, and assembled themselves next to the dias.

Meraln’s expression twisted in a smirk.

“Financial rewards have, of course, been transferred to your respective accounts and for the duration of your stay you are welcome to access any of Earth’s…facilities…that you wish.”

Nappa and Raditz gave identical low sniggers and Vegeta fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was nearly convinced those two shared the single neurone their level of mental processing would suggest. Idiots.

“And as already discussed,” Meraln continued, “Your ships have been modified to include newly developed prototype systems.”

Oh good. Now they were expected to test-drive Earthling-perverted technology. One of Frieza’s condescending ‘orders’ – of which this damned kow-towing to Meraln was another fine example. Vegeta’s fists clenched again. He was reduced to testing prototypes? This was-

“…is just a small example of my gratitude.”

Vegeta blinked himself back to reality at Meraln’s words and looked up again. The purple stare glittered again.

“And for you, Prince Vegeta, I have a rather special gift.” Meraln snapped his fingers.

Vegeta didn’t even have time to be suspicious before the group by the dais moved apart and a figure was forcibly thrust forward.

An Earthling female.

She stumbled, turquoise hair flying out around her as she was pushed into the centre of the open space. She straightened up, and Vegeta caught a flash of blue eyes before her head bowed and she started staring avidly at the floor. She was clad – and that used the term loosely – in a battered striped dress and a short jacket with a strange triple-circle logo on the shoulder. Around her neck was a dull bronze ring. A tiny sliver of disgust eased into Vegeta’s mind as he noted the collar. It was a different design to ones he’d seen before, but all slave shock devices were built on similar lines.

Nappa’s elbow jabbed into his side.

“Hey, pretty sweet deal Vegeta. Nice piece of ass.”

“What?” It took Vegeta a few moments to realise what he was talking about and he felt a dart of angry surprise. She was the ‘reward’? He growled quietly.

“This is absurd! Why would I want some useless Ea -?”

“Now, now Vegeta,” his scouter crackled suddenly as Frieza’s oily tones oozed through, “Show some manners.”

Manners? You smug f… He forcibly cut the thought. Damned Frieza – trust him to be listening in on their conversations. This was ridiculous! He didn’t need, didn’t want any blasted Earthling pet! He tapped the scouter’s comm, trying to stop the veins from standing out on his forehead.

“My lord,” gods how he loathed saying that, “This is not –”

“ – the time for you to argue,” Frieza continued smoothly, “Now, be a good boy and say thank you.”

The comm cut out, and it took a mammoth effort for Vegeta to press down his rage enough not to vaporise the surrounding area. His fists had clenched so hard his nails were almost cutting through his gloves. ‘Be a good boy and say thank you?!’ Child-like terminology aside – and that was enough to send his fury skyrocketing – the idea that worthless piece of trash could dictate his actions was…was…

Recurring, unfortunately.

One day Frieza, his teeth ground together again, one day…

However, for now he had to settle for the feel of the scouter crumpling into shards of crushed metal under his fingers. He hated being so reliant on technology – his own strength of body and will was far more dependable than any combination of bolts and circuitry – but if he wanted to make use of power readings he was stuck with the scouters. And that meant anyone with high enough access could eavesdrop on anything he said or heard.

A voice like air being slowly let out of a balloon dragged him back out of his thoughts and he automatically impaled the little furry alien on a glare. He hissed quietly.

“What?”

“Pick of the Earthlings this one,” the alien waved a pudgy, clawed hand at the woman, “No spoiling either – Arena Complex bitch. Nothing but the best.”

What was this? An advert? Vegeta suppressed a new growl. He had no need or desire for a slave-girl! This was humiliating…

Which would explain why Frieza was so keen on the idea. Little seemed to please the Overlord more than to see Vegeta humiliated. His fingers twitched. He would not let this get to him. He could ignore anyone – if he was lumbered with this blasted female he could edit her out of his life until he could dispose of her without any disruption from Frieza.

The furry alien seemed to take his silence, or at least lack of death threats, as an affirmative and waddled back over to the blue-haired woman.

“You want her in this, or something smaller?” He grunted and smacked the woman on the backside. To his obvious surprise she gave an angry exclamation and slapped him hard enough to send his scouter flying.

“Keep your hands off!” She managed to yell, before the shock collar cut in and she half-crumpled, pain flashing across her face. Vegeta almost laughed at the furry alien’s embarrassment as he dusted off his cracked scouter. In a clear attempt to regain his dignity, the furry creature turned back towards him, trying to look business-like.

“You want a controller for the collar? Use it for training?”

Training? He didn’t want the girl in the first place, why the hell would…?

“Oh come now G’tral. I’m sure our esteemed friend will not require such a control device.”

Vegeta forced his face back into its ‘respect’ grimace as Meraln decided to rejoin the discussion, his purple eyes glinting with some inner amusement. It would not surprise Vegeta in the slightest if the two patronising megalomaniacs had concocted this one together.

The fat little alien went pale under his fur.

“N…No my lord… Er…you…I mean…”

“Of course,” Meraln’s smile increased as he turned towards the woman. Considering her earlier defiant attitude, Vegeta felt a slight dart of surprise at the expression of abject fear her face held now. She didn’t even shrink away from Meraln’s hand as he reached towards the collar. Vegeta recognised it, the kind of sheer terror that simply froze the victim in place. He himself inspired it sometimes, but he’d only ever seen that intensity on the face of someone facing an enraged Frieza. Meraln didn’t look angry, and he felt suspicion rise again. There was something more to this purple-eyed freak than met the eye at first, he was sure of it. Even docile races never reacted that badly to those with Meraln’s power level. At least, not the level their scouters had picked up. He knew well that most people’s power fluctuated in battle – Vegeta himself read higher on most conventional systems when he was actually fighting – but he was also aware that some beings could take that a step further, to have complete control over their battle-strength both inside and outside of battle. The idea was intriguing and for quite a long time now he’d been trying to develop the ability for himself. It wasn’t going too well.

However, it wasn’t impossible that Meraln did have the full ability. It would explain a lot. Of course, it’s also entirely possible that earthlings are such a weak breed that even Meraln’s level is godlike to them. A combination of both theories was most likely.

He shook off the thoughts and aimed another glare at Meraln, and the shaking figure dwarfed beside him, and forced his mind to think rationally past his annoyance. He was the Saiyan Prince, and she was just an Earthling. How could she possibly impact on his life?

-x-