The Saiya-jin War

Prologue: A Lost Prince

Radditz wiped the blood dripping from his chin, even as he pulled himself up off the ground and into a battle crouch. Damn it! He'd been stupid, and that other alien had gotten another hit on him. Not that he had been able to avoid many of the injuries he'd already received in this fight. On an individual basis he could defeat any one of these weaklings, but they were overwhelming him by sheer numbers. There had been over twenty of them at the start, and although he'd taken a few of the original attackers out of action permanently, there were now more of them surrounding him than before. He'd kill one and two more would take its place. It was obvious that this had been staged, just as it was obvious that this whole thing had been a trap. A trap specifically for Saiyans - no more, no less.

Radditz eyed the creatures in front of him warily, trying to keep his senses attuned to those behind him as well. It was difficult - he'd estimate that there were at least thirty of them fighting him now. And he guessed that there were more watching and waiting, to take the place of any of those that fell.

WHY they would be willing to sacrifice their lives for the life of one Saiyan was something he didn't know. Hatred - or perhaps fear - of Saiyans ran deep in many species. The irony is that much of that hatred was based on the planet trade they'd been involved in for Freeza. They'd been warriors before Freeza, but mostly directionless; sometimes they'd been mercenaries, but they hadn't had the technology to get off-planet on their own, and had to rely on technology from other species. It had meant that they'd been limited to fighting for those who would come to them, not vice versa. That meant that they hadn't been able to be choosy... not that they'd cared, as long as those that hired them could afford their services and had something they wanted.

It wasn't until Freeza that they'd had a regular 'job', and from what Radditz had gleaned from the cryptic statements of his father, that hadn't exactly been voluntary. They'd had no choice - it was work for him or be destroyed. Ironically, it was that very work they'd done for him that made it so difficult for them to gain allies in their fight against him; many races only remembered that it was the Saiyans that had purged planets, not that they'd done it for someone else. Of course, they'd enjoyed those purgings, but they hadn't done that on their own. Not that they wouldn't have, if they'd had the technology, but the point is that they didn't.

These creatures, he assumed, were either in the employ of Freeza to kill off any Saiyans they encountered, or they were a bounty hunter race that wanted Freeza's reward money for any Saiyans - dead or alive - brought to the Ice-jin, or they simply had their own hatred for the Saiyan race for personal reasons. Maybe their world had been purged, and they were the only survivors.

Right now, Radditz didn't know and he didn't care. If they were the last remaining survivors of a purged planet, then he was determined to finish the job. He would kill off these miserable, scum-sucking, ambushing cowards if it was the last thing he did.

And right now, unfortunately, he was beginning to believe it was the last thing he would do. There were simply too many of them, and he was beginning to tire. Not to mention that he was getting hungry. They'd been fighting him for several hours now, and there seemed no chance of respite. He'd tried flying away several times but they'd simply moved the battle to the air; there would be no escape that way. As a Saiyan, he didn't like the idea of fleeing, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he could overcome these odds.

He thought that he might stand a better chance if he wasn't hungry, but the fight was draining his resources, and he'd need to eat soon or grow weak. There weren't many that knew about that particular Saiyan weakness, but it didn't really matter. He needed to eat - and soon - or he'd grow too weak and tired to fight. And that's one thing that he was determined would not happen.

He shot upward as he sensed one of them moving against him from behind, and the alien missed and crashed into one of his allies. Radditz heard the wet crunching sound of bone and blood smashing into each other, but he didn't stop to look. Two more were down, but that meant nothing; they'd be replaced by at least two more within seconds.

Several more launched themselves at him, and although he managed to dodge a few of them, two of them managed to strike him. One of them only caught his armor at its strongest point, bouncing off and not even fazing him. The other managed to hit him lower, in the part of his abdomen that was exposed from his chest-plate. Even the bodysuit armor had taken so much damage during this fight that it was no longer protecting him, and his natural ki shields were beginning to fail as well. If they weren't, the blow wouldn't have hurt him so much, but he felt himself become slightly winded.

::Kuso!:: he swore to himself. ::I will NOT be brought low by a bunch of weaklings in combat! I will die a warrior, against a worthy enemy! Not against rabble like this!::

He continued to fight - his armor, muscles, skin, hair, and bones taking a beating that would have sent a lesser creature into a coma or death long ago - until his exhaustion and injuries finally took their toll. As he began to pass out, he felt a wave of despair, rage, fury, grief, and shame wash over him. It was honorable for him to die in combat, but not fulfilling such an important mission entrusted to him by his father... for that he would never forgive himself.

::I failed you, father:: he thought to himself, as he only vaguely felt the blows hitting him that he could no longer dodge. He'd sent out a distress call on his scouter much earlier, but had given up hope that it would be answered. Mostly likely the call wouldn't reach anyone friendly in time; probably the only ones in close enough range would be Freeza's men, and they were probably gloating over the death of yet another 'monkey'.

He wondered if his father would send out another scout when he failed to send in his weekly report. Probably; the mission he was on was too critical - undoubtedly Bardock would send out someone stronger this time. Maybe, he thought wryly, his father would send out a real first-class warrior, not a would-be first-class warrior like himself. He knew what his father had told him, but even though his father had overcome his own rank and actually been promoted to first class, Radditz didn't believe that would ever have happened to him. He didn't entirely understand his father's faith in him; his father was an exception, a fluke, and Radditz didn't think that would happen again. Not unless Bardock had told him the truth, that he really had faked Kakarot's records at birth in order to keep him safe....

"Shimatta!" Radditz swore, this time out loud. "Well, you bakayaros, if you're going to kill a Saiyan warrior, then I'll see you in HELL!"

And with a last burst of energy, Radditz stood up, blasting away as many of the enemy as he could, with what little remained of his strength. His armor in ruins, his face and body bleeding from innumerable cuts and gashes, and he thought that ever rib might be broken. But if he died, he would die fighting, as a Saiyan warrior ought to - taking those with him that sought to bring him down.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Vegeta crossed his arms before him; head tilted to the side and dark onyx eyes staring out the circular port window at the expanse of empty space surrounding his tiny vessel. Cold stars glinted in the darkness, distant and remote shrouded in their mantle of ebony. The only sounds interrupting the still quiet were the faint chirps from his navigational computer and the soft sound of his even breathing. Shifting displays of green light from the monitors reflected off of the window glass to overshadow his face, glinting off of eyes as distant and faraway as the glowing stars.

~~~*~~~

"But m'lord, where are we going?" a six-year-old Vegeta asked, his voice soft and confused as he trotted through the strangely empty corridors. His father spared a quick glanced over his shoulder, reluctantly shortening his strides to allow the boy to keep up alongside him.

"Never mind! We must hurry ... come along." The prince elapsed into sulking silence, eyeing his father out of the corner of his eye. A faint trickle of blood ran down the side of the king's face, hard to see through the moving shadows playing across the elder's face as they walked. They came to a branch in the hall, and suddenly the far-off sounds of fighting could be heard. The king turned his head to look quickly in the direction of the din, before taking a firm hold on Vegeta's shoulder and breaking into a quick trot. They made it quickly to the hanger bay, and before the young prince could ask any questions his father had ushered him to a medium-sized fighter ship.

"Where are we going?" the boy repeated uncertainly, dragging his feet a little as the King pulled him up the entry ramp.

"You are getting out of here. Listen to me, Vegeta." The king knelt down before his son, placing his broad hands on his shoulders and looking hard into his eyes. "Vegeta-sei is in trouble. I need you to find help, do you understand? Find help! The ship will take you well out of here, and then you will be on your own. There are enough provisions in there to last you a couple months. We are counting on you, Vegeta."

"Me? You want me to... to find... help? We need help?" He looked doubtful.

"Yes! And you must hurry." A sudden yell sounded, closer this time, and the king gave his son a quick shove into the ship. "Go!"

"But, my lord -"

"Do not disobey me, Vegeta!" he snapped sharply. "Do as you are told! You are the heir to the throne, and your kingdom is counting on you! Go! And do not come back until you have found help!"

~~~*~~~

Vegeta started from the memory, not realizing he'd slipped off into sleep. Leaning back in his seat, he let out an aggravated breath and glanced down at his monitors, trying to shove the images from his mind. Had it really been so long ago? Vegeta had figured out long ago the true reason why he'd been sent off the planet, knew that his father had seen him off personally because he hadn't been able to trust all his household servants any longer. Oh yes, so many years drifting through space and largely uncharted territory had given the Saiyan prince quite enough time to think through his last hours on Vegeta-sei. Well, he had promised his father he'd find help; and he would, if he spent the rest of his life searching for it.

Suddenly, his monitors began to beep insistently; there was a planet near. It seemed a desolate enough place, and the quickly rolling stats told of a small population and a sparse economy. The prince highly doubted there was anything to find there, but he was low on supplies anyway and tired of keeping company solely with his brooding thoughts. Besides, he was due to hear some news of the outside galaxy.