Recap: Trunks has left with Jaco for Sadala without his parents' permission, attempting to figure out how to stop the illness affecting Vegeta and Cabba. He also suspects more trouble might be happening there - and disguises himself. Vados and Whis, the angels of Universes Six and Seven, argued about involvements with the affairs of mortals.

Bulma sat in the family library observing the hues and shine of the wall-to-wall bookshelves. Tomes of all kinds, some ancient, filled them. Master Roshi had found a comfortable spot on the carpeted floor on the opposite side of giant desk, sitting cross-legged. He wasn't smiling, uncharacteristically. Instead, he vigilantly kept close watch on Bulma's growing detachment from their surroundings.

This would not do.

Bulma had been sprawled across the sofa with a disheveled blanket drawn over her head when Roshi found her earlier. Trunks' unmoving image stood off to the side, next to the desk. At the moment, Bulma didn't really care who was standing there until Roshi's curiosity forced his hand - literally - to fold the blanket an inch beneath her nose. When she said Trunks had disappeared, he merely sighed, thinking about his sister's earlier "fortune telling" about possible trouble ahead.

"It would be folly to say you shouldn't worry about him."

Bulma's laconic, exhausted reply came in slow motion. "Then why say anything at all?"

"Because you, my dear, are too valuable an asset."

"Asset, Roshi?!" Her disbelieving hiss smacked his ears like hornet's sting. "What the hell does that have to do with my teenage son running off half-cocked in deep space while his father is hospitalized?!"

"Dear, just listen to me -"

Bulma jumped up, marching toward the double doors facing the botanical gardens. "Don't placate me - and don't call me dear, damn it! I have been in the planet-saving business longer than that boy has been alive - not to mention attending to his father's needs."

"All of them were your choices, were they not, Bulma?"

Roshi had some gall picking her emotions apart like this, Bulma thought. He was no bystander. He had faced similar dilemmas, cursing with worry over the years about his impetuous, cocksure students running off to slay beasts - mental or physical - without being fully prepared. Life had never been boring, but the old man spent most days on a secluded island now for good reason.

"Choices my ass," she replied with a grunt, followed by a tiny smile. "They were out of necessity and my oh-so-selfish interest in extending my life and gorgeous looks. Falling in love with Vegeta was... oh, never mind."

Roshi chuckled. "The best thing that ever happened to you both - and the rest of us fully invested in staying alive."

Bulma restarted the paused holographic message from Trunks, playing his monologue from the beginning. He appeared calm, standing with his arm propped on a walking stick. His cheeks flushed somewhat as he spoke.

"Hey, mom. First, I wanna say I love you. You really are the best mom ever."

"Just listen to this kid," Bulma muttered as Roshi moved closer to see. "He can't even kiss up to me appropriately by hologram. That's how terrible he feels about not telling me up front. You're damned right! I am the best mom!"

Bulma shook her fist until Roshi reached up, gripping it hard until he held her gaze.

"Bulma, he's two years younger than your other son was before traveling to Earth to help us all those years ago. No doubt, he's probably thinking of that situation."

Trunks didn't say who he was hitchhiking with in space, although Bulma and Roshi easily figured that out. Bulma had already spent twenty minutes shouting obscenities and threats into a communicator that could reach Jaco almost anywhere, courtesy of the Galactic Patrol. Her fiery dispatch would arrive eventually.

"And they are two very different people, Roshi, although both share Vegeta's strong personality," Bulma replied. "Our boy isn't ready to go it alone yet - emphasis on the word boy. Also, he doesn't have to. The other Trunks was forced to, at first, by circumstances beyond his control."

"But your boy isn't alone." Roshi lit his pipe, appearing meditative. "Jaco isn't totally incompetent, you know."

"He isn't, but Trunks is a charmer and almost as cunning as Vegeta when he's focused. Give my fifteen-year-old enough time and Jaco will treat him like a four-star general."

"Not in this lifetime!" Roshi said assuredly. "Jaco is no impressionable youngster. His enormous ego won't allow that to happen anyway."

"I just don't know what I'm going to tell his father. Vegeta's suspicion that Trunks was up to something turned out to be right."

"Do you what you've always done. Tell Vegeta the truth. In the meantime, I think we should get the gang over here to strategize. Maybe Dende could weigh-in too."

Bulma wasn't sure what Earth's guardian could do to help now, but Dende was quite wise despite his youth - with support from Piccolo, his Namekian brother-protector, who would likely have much to say without saying all that much. Mostly, Bulma felt uncertain about sending a full reconnaissance team to Sadala, once they figured out how to get there. These thoughts nagged at her, especially with Vegeta's inability to lead - and he most certainly would lead if he could.

"That's fine," she told Roshi, "but we also need to strong-arm someone to help get helpers to Sadala. The universes aren't falling apart before our eyes, you know, so I'm not sure how much the kais will help."

"Perhaps… though all of your favors haven't been cashed in just yet." Roshi clasped his hands behind his back, cocking his head. "Maybe angels can't help, but let's not forget the invaluable lessons our kais have taught our Saiyans, enhanced by your technological brilliance."

Bulma blushed from the compliment, feeling gratified to hear it from someone other than Vegeta. "Of course, and there always have been limits on the kais' support. Don't forget that the Dragon Balls, senzu beans, and luck have brought the boys' success too."

A robotic arm extended from the wall, revealing a small interactive view-screen. "Your husband is attempting to contact you, Dr. Brief. Are you available to speak?"

"Give me a second!" Bulma snapped. "Oh, damn it. I said I would be there early."

"It's still early," Roshi said, smiling.

"Vegeta and I measure time differently from normal people."

Roshi hastily shuffled to an exit. "I'll round up the gang. Good luck."

Bulma quickly nodded to take Vegeta's call. He looked wretched, but at least he was up and walking. He refused to wear hospital clothing, saying it made him feel like a prison inmate.

Bulma's hand touched the screen. She couldn't help herself. "Remember what I said about pacing yourself?"

"I'm OK." Vegeta's gruff response was grounded more in concern about their family than irritation. "I wasn't holding food down well earlier, but I'm fine now. At least I'm not puking blood yet. Anyway, you're late. That's unlike you, which means -"

"It means I'm late," Bulma said gently. "Nothing more. I'll be over shortly."

"Let's not make white lies a habit in this family." Vegeta gripped the windowsill as sunlight bathed his now clean-shaven face. "Our boy left for Sadala, didn't he?"

The prince could be highly intuitive and plain-spoken, but his immediate and specific diagnosis stunned his wife, though it probably shouldn't have.

Bulma gave him a stiff nod, answering his question. Although Vegeta felt proud of their son's determination to help, Trunks lacked a plan - and could conceivably fall victim to overwhelming circumstances before assistance arrived. Moreover, the prince expected Dragon Team members to deliver that help, or an even higher power.

Maybe not Goku this time, though. Not yet.

"We need to adjust your medications to stop the vomiting," Bulma said, picking up a handbag. "The last thing I want is you on a feeding tube. I… love you."

"I know," Vegeta said, rejecting the hint of sadness in her voice. "Stay encouraged - for Trunks, Cabba and me. Our son is only walking in our footsteps, doing what we've done often."

Shaking her head, Bulma replied, "The pride of a Saiyan is tireless… and timeless."

Vegeta grunted in agreement, thinking about his semi-restless night, but not because of the fevers, sleep-deprivation, or even throwing up. Those were irritations.

"I might doze when you arrive, Bulma. I didn't sleep well."

Bulma smiled sympathetically. "That's never stopped me from cuddling with you before. I think we can make it work with the sexy biohazard suit I have now."

"It's… more than you not being here." Vegeta covered his face, exhaling. "Yamoshi's spirit came to me in a dream last night, joined by the five righteous Saiyans."

"That's never happened before." Bulma's neck stiffened. "What…what did he say?"

"It's what he didn't say," Vegeta replied. "My ability to use Super Saiyan God power is a privilege bestowed through his spirit - and through my training with Whis."

Bulma bit her fingernails. "And Yamoshi used that power to fight Saiyans who were evil."

Vegeta paused, feeling more out of breath. "None of this is a coincidence."

Renso left the royal court more enraged than he had been in years, and yet his broad face and deep-set eyes didn't betray his disappointment. His appearance exuded poise and refinement, befitting his new role an intelligence director within the Imperial Court's defense ministry. Despite using a cane, he stood tall, and almost all he encountered that day showed him the respect he earned as a former captain of the Sadala Defense Forces.

All except for a handful of unpleasant characters vying for King Bega's attention, including the monarch's heir apparent, Ador.

Now in his thirties, the Saiyan prince had privilege, good looks, wit, and bar-none combat skills. He had also become an unbearably pompous ass with a mean streak. Unlike the king, who proudly served in the SDF during his youth, Ador rejected that option. He trained regularly and traveled on big, non-SDF military expeditions to observe, but dirtying his tightly gloved hands with "commoners" to protect the planet solely, even for a few years, was anathema to him.

The king, however, built valuable relationships within the ranks, winning support and admiration across class lines before his coronation. Ador arrogantly believed that he should have led the entire Sadalan Army from the beginning, despite not holding any rank or title, unlike Bega. Though the SDF was the highest class of military elite, because they were in direct service to the king, the power-hungry prince scoffed at that.

King Bega hadn't worried much about death, much like his father and grandfather. They ruled fairly for the most part, although all had flaws. Secretly, the king also wasn't wedded to the idea that the monarchy should stay within his and his deceased wife's bloodline. Saying so would cause more trouble among his family and the Saiyan people than he was ready to deal with for now. But Bega had to decide soon, because his long and mostly happy life was coming to a close, maybe within a year. He also suffered from deep heartache since his beloved first-born son, Nip, died from an accidental poisoning while visiting another planet. The prince's intelligent level-headedness - and, most of all, his Saiyan pride - were praised throughout the kingdom.

Everyone loved him - even his selfish, misguided younger brother.

Bega and Nip were also quite fond of another earnest young Saiyan influenced by their leadership - Cabba - and kept close eyes on his military career. They wanted him to be groomed eventually for higher office. Nip's untimely death happened shortly before the Tournament of Power, though. Cabba's grief fueled his resolve to protect the universe. Visiting Earth afterward kept him focused, but it hurt profoundly to know he could never introduce Vegeta to Nip now. He wanted to keep that promise to his newest teacher.

As Cabba's lifelong mentor and confidant, Renso kept the young man's whereabouts a close secret. Others in the SDF didn't question Cabba's absence either. It wasn't their place. Renso's successor, a hardened fighter named Rose, understood implicitly that lives might be at stake if Cabba's cover was blown within Sadala's halls of power.

No one else knew how ill Bega really was except for Renso and a dedicated medical team, who respected the king's privacy. The ethics of their secrecy were questionable, though. Sadalans had a right to know if their top leader would soon be unfit to rule. But Ador had a growing retinue of loyalists, making high-level leaders of the royal ministries nervous. The prince hadn't been shy about his desire for Sadala to become a dominant hegemon within the universe. His expected crowning wouldn't merely be ceremonial once Bega died, because ruling meant something entirely different to him.

"Captain Renso! Please, do let me apologize."

Displeased, Renso pivoted slowly on his cane as Ador galloped toward him in the palace's Great Hall. The prince tried to appear contrite, but his baleful eyes would've terrified wild jackals. Renso, who felt like cratering the marble floor with his good leg, lifted his chin.

"I didn't mean to offend you in the meeting, sir."

"You are a deliberate thinker," Renso replied coldly.

Ador frowned. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"That wasn't my intention, Ador. You have strong opinions. That is the way of all Saiyans. Your apology is accepted. Now, if you will excuse me, I do have business to tend."

"I appreciate your graciousness, sir." Ador's perfectly shined black boot blocked Renso's cane. "However, if you could lend a bit more of your time? I'm deeply bothered by news I learned of recently."

"Or course." Renso observed Ador's hungry look. He wasn't hiding behind feigned propriety anymore, which meant trouble. "What concerns you, your highness?"

"It's come to my attention that the SDF fighter you and father think highly of, Cabba, might be my dead brother's bastard son. Did you know - and does the king know?"

Ador unsuccessfully tried to identify any alarm in the man's face. Renso would never give him the satisfaction. He rapped the prince's ankle sharply with his cane.

"Young man, with all due respect, if you cannot trust a father who loves you enough to ask this question, then why should you trust someone like me to answer for him?"

"Again, you have served Sadala honorably, old man," Ador said through a thin sneer. "It must be very distressing for a decorated Saiyan soldier such as yourself to be crippled forever. At least you don't have heirs who will suffer from your dreadful degenerative disease. But trust that when I'm king, your loyalty will continue to be rewarded."

Renso locked eyes with him. "The welfare of our people means everything to me. That is where my loyalty rests."

Trunks had packed a sword.

Jaco's bug eyes didn't enlarge this time from surprise. He merely steeled himself for whatever hell awaited them next - a hell that Trunks would probably create.

"What are you going to do with that, kid?"

"Probably nothing," Trunks said nonchalantly. "Just checking its condition."

"Since when did Saiyans fight with weapons like that?" Jaco asked, grumbling noisily. "It just might weigh you down, you know? Besides, you may not need to fight at all. They may welcome you with open arms."

"My father always says don't ask a lot of questions you already know the answer to, Jaco. You're as old as dirt and have seen a lot as a patrolman - and Saiyans aren't all fists and kicks. Dad knows swordplay. He just doesn't prefer using it."

"Kid, look, although we'll likely get to Sadala before anyone else, you chose to leave a note for mommy when you didn't have to. Others in your family's cartel will find a way to chase us down. You only lucked out that Goku can't teleport between universes yet."

Trunks smirked, calling his bluff. "You planned to snitch to mom anyway after getting within Sadala's airspace - and I'll probably have a better idea of what should happen once others arrive."

"I must say, that weapon is a work of art." Jaco glanced at the sword again. "Where have you been hiding it all this time?"

"A really good guy gave this to me a while back. He just… trusted me, a young kid." Trunks ran his finger along the blade. "He said the sword would 'speak' when I was ready. It's enchanted. I had it stored in this capsule until recently. My parents didn't know."

"A really good guy gave you an enchanted sword like a plate of hot biscuits? You mean a wizard did - or someone close to one. What is it with your family's luck?!"

"Luck." Trunks looked down. "Yeah, right. When dad gets frustrated with Goten and me sometimes, he'll say, 'Do more. Complain less.' But every now and then I wish luck could give us a normal life like all the other clueless people out there."

"Let's get your desires straight here." Jaco took the sword, inspecting markings on its shoulder and hilt. "What you mean is you want a peaceful life. You will never be alone in that yearning, Trunks. Plenty of mortals across the multiverse feel the same way."

Trunks pointed at the weapon's base. "Those circular designs near the guard are runes."

"I have some knowledge of magic across galaxies," Jaco replied haughtily. "There are some advantages to being as old as dirt."

"I know you're not that old, Jaco."

"Your overdue apology is accepted," Jaco said as he re-capsulized the sword. "Now take off your shirt again and turn around. I meant to tell you earlier to leave it off."

"For what?" At first Trunks wondered if Jaco had unseemly plans in mind. Not cool. He quietly prepared to choke the life out of him. He knew how to fly ships solo.

"I want to plant a tracking device beneath your shoulder blade. It's a simple procedure."

"You want to plug a microchip in my back?" Trunks growled. "I'm not a new puppy. Are we in the Dark Ages?"

"Minimalism has its benefits." Jaco retrieved a syringe, squirting it a few times before motioning for Trunks to sit on an examination table. "I'm surprised you haven't learned this from your parents. You'll have a unique numerical identifier that's readable within a limited electromagnetic frequency."

"In other words, I'm flying under the radar."

"Wow!" Jaco shouted. "You may actually be smarter than most other earthlings I've met. Now shut up and hold still while I poke you."

Caulifla would have traded her left eye to see Cabba now. Even after the universal tournament she had been standoffish, although she cared for him. She only disapproved of his excessive neediness - as she called it - for other strong men like her older brother Renso and Prince Nip. Then Vegeta came along. He was a decent person - an honorable one, even - but she bristled at how easily others overlooked his swaggering but didn't give hers the benefit of the doubt, at least initially. Her fighting kicked ass, almost besting Goku - the only fighter who seemed most thrilled by her dogged effort then.

She had no obligation to the military, birthing babies, or "making Sadala great again," as some Saiyans were saying recently - as if their home was a bad place to be. It wasn't. Those gripers had no idea what others endured to keep them alive long enough to complain. But Caulifla was at peace with not speaking further about the tournament for now.

Cabba was an accomplished fighter and thoughtful person - full stop. Nip had significant influence over his son's progress but never directly owned up to it. Caulifla stopped speaking to Renso because he didn't use his friendship with the prince to right that wrong. She judged her brother more harshly than he truly deserved.

Now she had no idea where Cabba and Renso were - or where she was. After the tournament, she and her lover, Kale, happily departed to another planet for a while before returning to marry on Sadalan soil. That's when their worlds turned sideways.

Now, between the injections, shame and confusion had become her chief companions. Kale had disappeared.

"Give her more, Turret. I do enjoy watching her lose control like this."

"Sir, I think…"

Prince Ador coolly placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "I didn't ask you to think. Even her own brother isn't searching for her! That should tell you something."

Turret nodded passively before injecting Caulifla with a bluish substance. Muddled words and slurred laughter dropped from her mouth. The man moved aside after a milky silver shading appeared on her pupils. She couldn't fight the euphoria. She didn't want to now.

"Yes." Ador licked his lips, bending down to see her eyes. "Feels lovely, doesn't it? So glad you approve of my hospitality. Maybe we'll make a baby for the hell of it."

Drifting further away, Caulifla moaned as Ador fondled her breasts. She didn't recognize him or his strange voice. He always wore a mask. That's all her consciousness could gather. His uninvited touching amplified the drug's arousing effects, overpowering what little inhibition she had left. She would've tried to behead him had her mind been clearer, but her strength meant nothing here.

Ador didn't know what he had with her yet, exactly, but he knew he had something special.

"See, Turret? You worry too much. My lovely concubine is enjoying herself immensely. Now go away for a while. Return in about an hour." He picked up a handkerchief, tying it around Caulifla's partially open mouth before unshackling and spreading her legs apart.

Feeling ashamed, Turret looked down after leaving. He heard Sadala's so-called prince remove his pants to rape a woman, groaning and laughing through it all.

Hi there! Thanks for reading. Please take a moment to leave a comment if you can. I'm in the middle of a big life change right now, so it may be another few weeks before a new posting. But, as I promised, I will finish. Also, I invite you to visit vegebul-fledgelings on Tumblr. It's a new page dedicated to assisting and promoting fledgling writers with less exposure in the fandom. The founders are serious about the effort and are looking for volunteers to assist.