SAGA 1 --- The Great Dishonor

CHAPTER 1 --- Emissaries

The planet known as Vegetasei was quite a bland place, Kiwi noted as he stepped out of his space pod, his olive-colored boots lightly touching the red-brown earth, a surface which bore innumerable cracks and abrasions. He scratched his right valve as he waited for the other pod to open, pondering the source of the damage - perhaps this blasting of the land was the result of some great war between the Saiyajins and another race, or the result of a great storm. The reports claimed that the Saiyajins were a warlike people; Kiwi leaned more towards the first possibility.

The second pod slowly opened, and Kiwi's superior stepped out. Green-haired, blue-skinned, and generally attractive to females of many species, Ambassador Zarbon was more than suited for his job as representative of Emperor Freeza - not only was he an excellent fighter, he could often charm his way out of a situation. Kiwi secretly disliked the man - he found him to be too prissy for his tastes. Then again, Kiwi was a warrior - he had low tolerance for prettyboys such as Zarbon.

"Check the scouter," Zarbon ordered, his tone seeming out of place with his cultured voice. "Find the largest settlement, and we'll head towards it."

"I'm on it," Kiwi replied, trying to hide his grouchiness as he reached up and lightly tapped the grey button of the small device attached to his left valve. Numbers rapidly scrolled across the scouter's blue visor - indeed, some of the levels Kiwi was receiving were surprising. He slowly scanned the horizon until his scouter began to register a massive group of power levels to the northeast. "Found 'em," he announced. "There are some impressive power levels here, Ambassador - anywhere from a thousand to fifteen thousand."

"Nothing we can't handle," Zarbon shrugged as he pushed his ki out beneath himself, pushing his body into the air. "Northeast, aye?"

"Northeast," Kiwi confirmed, also pushing himself into the air. "Want me to lead?"

"Yes. No need to take chances."

Slightly offended by Zarbon's apparent cowardice, Kiwi angled himself into the most aerodynamic pose he could manage, head lowered a bit, one arm forward, one knee bent. Gathering his ki into a scarlet flame about himself, he shot forward. He glanced back to see Zarbon close behind, his ki blazing about him in a bright blue ball. Returning his gaze to look ahead, Kiwi watched the dark spires of a city slowly appear on the horizon.


Raditsu awoke to find himself floating in a rejuvenation tank. Through the thick, blue-tinted liquid inside the glass cylinder, he could make out the familiar surroundings of the Palace medical bay on Vegitasei. [How did I get here? The last thing I remember, I was on Deneb fighting those green pigheads.]

His eyes slowly fell upon the form of another figure standing in front of the tank. Raditsu's younger brother looked the part - Kakarotto was indeed short for a Saiyajin, but his height did not diminish his power. Raditsu was still stronger, but Kakarotto was quite close, with a power level of six thousand as opposed to Raditsu's own seven thousand one hundred.

"You're awake," Kakarotto observed, looking his brother in the eyes. "You took a shot in the stomach from a Denebian Elite - knocked you out good."

Raditsu suddenly winced as he noticed the slight pain in his stomach. He looked down to see a small scar running along his skin, angry and red. He looked back up at Kakarotto, unable to speak through the facemask over his nose and mouth.

"It was all we could do to keep you alive," Kakarotto continued. "Father and Toma almost killed themselves hauling you back to the ship. We thought you were gone for good."

Raditsu cocked his head towards the control panel, hoping Kakarotto would get the hint that he wanted out of the tank.>p> "Father will probably flay me, but I'll do it." Reaching for the control panel, Kakarotto lightly pressed a flashing amber button on the console, and Raditsu felt the medicated water around him slowly recede. The glass cylinder opened languorously as he removed his facemask and stepped out. "Mind telling me where you stowed my armor?" he growled, glancing down at his soaked boxers and dripping tail.

Kakarotto gestured towards a small stool near the tank, upon which rested a suit of black and orange body armor - the colors of a second-class Saiyajin. Neither himself or Kakarotto had advanced to the green and navy blue of a first class yet, though their father, Bardock, wore those colors proudly. "How long've I been out?" Raditsu asked as he began to armor himself.

"You were in the tank for a day, and it was a three-day trip back from Deneb," Kakarotto replied, shifting his own armor and raising one hand to adjust his spiked hair a little.

"What's been happening over the past four days, then?"

"Nothing really, except some emissaries sent by some Freeza person have arrived. King Vegeta granted them immediate audience when he heard that they came from Freeza's empire."

"What's the occasion?"

"No idea. Veggie won't let anyone near the conference room."

"Probably just a treaty or something," Raditsu dismissed the news. "Anything else?"

"When I was passing the conference room, I saw a guy with a piece of stale bread hanging near that throw rug near the door. Looked suspicious."

"So a guy's standing there with a piece of bread, big deal."

"I dunno. Looked pretty weird to me."

"You are far too suspicious, Kakarotto," came a familiar voice from the entrance hatch. Raditsu turned to see his father standing there, his bulky form supported by the doorframe. Age had not been good to Bardock, nor had his innumberable battles - marking his cheek was a vicious scar, and his spiked black hair was streaked with gray. His blue cuirass was embellished with green, the marks of a first-class Saiyajin. Though Raditsu did not have his scouter with him, he could easily remember his father's power level of eight thousand - a power level he had strived to surpass, in an effort to make his aging father proud.

"It isn't every day you see bread-carrying third-class warriors hanging around in front of the conference room," Kakarotto replied, blushing a little.

"Probably just someone going to feed the birds." His gaze shifted to Raditsu. "You're alright, then?"

"Yes, Father," Raditsu replied. "Left a bit of a scar, but I'll heal."

Bardock nodded, touching his own X-shaped scar with two fingers of his right hand. "Good. We have no new targets on the schedule; you two slackers should up your training." With a brief nod, Bardock vanished from the medical bay.

Raditsu was not offended by his father's stiffness; Bardock had always been that way, ever since the death of their mother. However, their father was still as beneficial to King Vegeta's military as ever. Though age impeded his movement a little, Bardock offered another aid: he was advisor to the commander of the army, a huge, bearded Elite named Nappa. He knew that Bardock was right, though. "Come on, brother," he said to Kakarotto. "Meet me in the gravity room in five. We'll train under fifteen times gravity this time around."

"Sounds good to me," Kakarotto nodded. "See ya there." With a nod, the young warrior stepped out of the room. Raditsu followed a moment later.


The frightened page boy who brought bread every second day had left, leaving the huge man to gnaw on his stale meal within the damp confines of his prison beneath the King's conference chamber. The man had been beneath the castle for no less than twenty years - or was it more? He could not remember. The skeletons in the corners, however, had told him that he, Broli, was not the first to be locked up for nothing.

As he bit into the almost rock-hard piece of bread, Broli tilted his head towards the left, so that his right ear was aimed at a fair-sized hole in the ceiling. He had discovered that he could hear anything being said in the room above through the hole - for all that stood between himself and the next room was the carpet covering the opening.

There was a muffled creaking sound from above, accompanied by a loud young voice - "Father, the Ambassador Zarbon has arrived."

"Send him in, son," came the deep rumble of the voice Broli had come to recognize as King Vegeta. "And tell him not to bring that purple fellow, uh..."


"Kiwi, that's right. Tell him to leave Kiwi outside."

Broli frowned a bit. In the previous day's negotiations, Kiwi had been admitted with Zarbon.

There was a brief pause, broken by an accented male voice - "Your Highness."

"Ambassador Zarbon."

"I've run over your proposal, and it's totally unacceptable. Freeza will not stand to receive only one-third of all conquered planets, nor will he surrender the peoples in question to your slave force."

"Have you a better proposition, Zarbon?"

"Freeza gets two-thirds of the conquered planets, as well as half of the conquered peoples."

"Out of the question."

The exchange of propositions went on for some time. However, a feeling in Broli's gut told him that something was very wrong.