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Deceiver's Legacy

By Dragoness Eclectic

Part II. Deception


Chapter 10

Naranja flew back, humiliation fueling the rage in her heart. Bardock had abandoned her again, for yet another woman--a vermin woman! What was wrong with the man? Couldn't he see where he belonged? Couldn't he see that Naranja... needed him?

She'd needed him on Kyaradamit, too....

Commander Naranja studied the half-ruined city through her scouter. Fires raged unchecked, shining brightly in the dark night; here and there, the Saiyan glimpsed movement. No consequential power; one good blast would finish the residents of this city and whatever lesser soldiery remained. She turned to Turni, her new sergeant.

"They've retreated. Send Kuerbis to scout for the rest of the army, and take the rest in and level the place!" Naranja ordered.

Turni brought his hand up to his chest in a crisp salute. "As you command!" A tap, tap on his scouter, and he was rapidly issuing orders.

Naranja permitted herself a satisfied smirk. Perhaps Turni was not quite as powerful as Bardock had been, but he never argued with orders. Turni's only concern was to obey his commander, not show off that could he come up with a better plan than hers--unlike the Saiyan he'd replaced. And he didn't harp incessantly on the need for a full moon even for weak planets like this!

As the squad swept in, Naranja tuned her scouter to Kuerbis' frequency. If the scout found anything interesting leaving the city, she wanted first crack at it. As a result, Naranja didn't notice the ambush until two of the squad were already down, and Turni dared to override the command channel.

"Commander! There's hundreds of them--Sarga's already down, and--" Turni's voice was abruptly cut off.

Naranja spun in mid-air, turning toward the explosions ripping through the city center. What the hell? She tapped her scouter--no powers of consequence--a hundred or so weak natives-- two Saiyans-- ONLY TWO?? Fear--but no Saiyan elite was afraid, so it could not be fear-- gripped the back of her mind and caused her tail to coil more tightly around her waist.

"Turni?!? Report, Sergeant! Feher? Uborka? Mato? Cukor? Zuerbis? REPORT, DAMN YOU!" Only Kuerbis's scouter still relayed life-signs. Fear and rage shook Naranja as she dove on the heart of the city, both hands blazing with power.

Something crackled faintly in her ear--Kuerbis' voice said something she couldn't make out. A dozen four-armed figures jetted out of the broken skyscrapers toward her. Somewhere below, she could make out a sprawled figure in Saiyan armor--

Naranja had time for a fleeting thought--the natives don't have four arms!--and they were on her. A metallic fist slammed into her chin, snapping her head back with teeth-rattling force. What the--? How could they be that fast? How could they hit like that? The power-levels were all wrong--nothing that weak could kill five Saiyans in five minutes!

Power blazed in Naranja's hands and flashed outward, blasting away two of the alien soldiers. Naranja watched as skin and flesh peeled away, revealing steel and wire before it, too, crumbled and burned. Cyborgs!

"DAMN YOU!" She screamed, and rage turned into a red fire that burned around her. Even as she blasted the heart from another cyborg, she was grabbed from behind, four steel arms locking around her own. Twisting in mid-air, Naranja flung the monstrosity over her head and ripped two of its arms away--

Over a dozen red beams lanced from the eyes of the remaining cyborgs into Naranja's body. An orange ball of energy slammed three cyborgs in reply, sending them plummeting from the sky in pieces. Naranja snarled, one hand still extended. Soot dotted her armor, but the angry Saiyan was unharmed.

"You're not powerful enough," the noblewoman growled. The five remaining cyborgs seemed to pause and glance at each other. Then they charged.

Naranja found herself at the center of a whirlwind of steel knives and fists. She dodged this way and that, but the cyborgs were too numerous and too fast. Once, twice, again and again they connected, cracking away armor and slicing Saiyan flesh. Naranja howled with rage and let loose a barrage of dozens of tiny blasts--

White energy flared and Naranja tumbled away to rest some distance from the billowing smoke cloud and falling scraps of metal. She panted hard as it cleared--

Then the second squad of cyborgs hit her.

She woke up a week later, in the regeneration tank. Kuerbis, who'd been off scouting at the time of the ambush, had returned in time to pull what was left of her out from under the ruins and send her home in her pod. Unfortunately, he'd not been able to do the same for the rest of the squad before the cyborgs returned to finish the job--and Kuerbis. After confirming that her brain was fully functional, the technicians put her back under for another two weeks.

The good news, after three weeks in regeneration, was that she was alive, had both eyes, her tail, and could walk under her own power. Her power had even increased! The bad news....

Captain Nabo was unmoved. "Lady Naranja, I have no squads for you to command. I need experienced, tough commanders for these new assignments, not a green commander who needs baby-sitting by her sergeant. You've got the power to get in a good squad, though--I'll assign you to Lord Col. He's requested some strong warriors for his company."

"I am an elite and a noble! I do not serve in another's squad--I command!" Lady Naranja snarled, the veins on her forehead pulsing with rage. "If you have nothing for me to command, you have nothing to say to me--Captain."

Nabo's eyes narrowed. "You are wrong. The king has commanded all warriors without other duties to assist in fulfilling our contracts with Frieza; you will serve where I put you, or you will explain to the king why you have refused his command."

Naranja stiffened, and forced herself to salute. "As the king commands," she said through gritted teeth, and that was that.

She'd been humiliated on Kyaradamit, true--but the source of all her humiliation had been that bitch who'd taken Bardock away from her! Thirty years later, the bitch's ghost still haunted her through her brats, dead and alive. Naranja clenched her fists and ground her teeth; Raditz would pay for his mother's crimes. Oh yes, he would pay!

Naranja shook her head. For such a powerful warrior, Bardock had always been weak in that one regard; he didn't know who was good for him. Once again, she'd have to intervene... but for now, she'd have her revenge on Kin--Raditz. The savage female warrior licked her lips, anticipating the fate she'd planned for him.

* * *

Raditz stood in front of the mansion, waiting motionlessly as Naranja returned. He did not blink at the flash of white light as she decelerated abruptly and dropped down to the front steps of the manor.

As she stared at him, brows furrowed, Raditz finally moved, bowing slightly to her as one equal to another.

"I obey my prince's command," Raditz said, breaking the icy silence.

Naranja's mouth twisted into a sour frown. "As do I. There is no further point in delaying what we have no choice in; be here tonight. My house... will be yours. Your enemies shall be my enemies, your allies shall be my allies," she said, dragging the words out reluctantly. She hesitated; Raditz waited patiently. "...and our heir shall be of my blood and yours."

"Your house, and all who dwell within, shall be mine; your enemies shall be my enemies, your allies shall be my allies... and our heir shall be of your blood and mine," Raditz said, slowly finishing the ancient ritual of betrothal.

"Tonight," she added, "we complete it." A curious smirk crossed her face at Raditz's startled expression.

"Oh yes," she said. "Even the prince cannot, will not demand this... joining if you are not... capable." Her smile was haughty, contemptuous. "I will find that out tonight, and be done with you, or resign myself to obedience."

Raditz flushed red; his nostrils flared and his tail uncurled and lashed from side to side. He could not deny, even to himself, that he was the weakest of the Saiyans--inadequate, a burden to be protected in battle, far less of a warrior than an unshaven youth. But Hell take him if he'd let this she-devil rob him of what manhood he had left!

"You are not so old nor so ugly as that, woman!" Raditz growled as he seized her by both arms. "You are not particularly beautiful, and your attitude disgusts me, but--", he paused, and added scornfully, "it has been thirty years since I have seen a Saiyan woman; my standards are lax. I think you will find me capable enough--though I have quite forgotten how to please a woman. I may be a bit rough-- but since I don't like you, that doesn't bother me at all."

"Enough, sheenryoah!" Naranja twisted in Raditz's grip, and he released her, obedience to ancient custom driven home by the sound of the old Saiyan word for 'bridegroom'.

"Do not presume to touch me until tonight!" Lady Naranja sneered. "After thirty years, I doubt you can do much of anything useful, let alone be 'rough'."

Raditz growled as she turned and ascended the stairs into her mansion, "Tonight!" His tail lashed furiously as she disappeared from sight; he found himself shaking from rage and inexplicable desire.

In spite of her sneers and contemptuous words, Naranja reeked of desire, and the smell of her intoxicated Raditz. It was familiar, tantalizing, arousing. Her barbed words and haughty manner roused something dark and feral in Raditz's psyche; he hungered to drag the arrogant noblewoman off and overpower her, force her to submit to his will, and his will alone--not Vegeta's!

Raditz did not question the dark passion that gripped him, not when the intoxicating, lusty smell of her roused his passion for forbidden fruit so long denied. How could he? It ran too close to the black streams of doubt and self-loathing and broken pride in his heart.

"Tonight!" Raditz growled to himself again as he walked off, tail still switching slowly. In only a few hours... yes, tonight he would do exactly what passion desired. Why not? Raditz told himself; she was a butcher, a murderer of uncounted innocents--whatever he inflicted on her would be far, far less than she deserved. Even so, he would not step over the bounds of custom (though he might violate the spirit of them a good bit); it wouldn't hurt her to be thoroughly humbled for once.

* * *

"Well?" Vegeta asked a little bit later as he faced Raditz in the central garden. His tail switched impatiently; Trunks was taking his time getting ready for training, and as for Raditz's own stalling! His nostrils flared ever so slightly as a vaguely familiar scent drifted to his nose. Was Bulma around somewhere? No, there was no sign or sound of her in the garden.

Raditz smirked. "It's settled. Tonight." As Vegeta looked at him with arched brows, Raditz added, "I'll be moving to her manor tonight, that is."

"Indeed," Vegeta said, dryly. He could smell anxiety, anticipation, and, dominating all other scents from Raditz, pure lust. "Make sure she behaves herself in the future." Vegeta scowled. "Naranja was an embarassment today!"

"Oh, I will." A cruel Saiyan smirk flashed across Raditz's face, then settled into a merely self-satisfied smile. He saluted Vegeta, bowed, then walked away, leaving Vegeta staring after him. What the hell had gotten into Raditz? And where was Bulma?

Vegeta saw, but did not understand. Freiza's corpse lay too many years in the past, and Vegeta's thoughts were turned ever inward. Vegeta had not forgotten the dark passions that wounded pride and self-hate can birth in a man's heart, but it had been too long since he'd looked at them in another. He who had been Majin Vegeta would have seen and understood, but Majin Vegeta lay years in the future.

* * *


The power-level warning on her scouter blinked on as Naranja strode past the dimly lit gravity-chamber building. What in the--?

The one immense power could only be Prince Vegeta, but who was the other? Curious, Naranja peered through one of the porthole-like windows.

Vegeta was sparring with... the purple-haired boy? The one she'd dismissed as one of the vermin... Naranja squinted as she studied the boy from the darkness outside. His tremendous power--a good fraction of Naranja's own--hinted at Saiyan blood, but his face betrayed his true heritage. There was no mistaking that sharp nose, those cheeks, those fierce eyes (though they were an absurdly pale blue); the boy was Vegeta's son!

Lady Naranja slunk back into the darkness. Another factor... but she was strong enough to deal with the boy herself if needs be. If all went well, Vegeta himself would eliminate every threat except Bardock, and Bardock would deal with Vegeta.

Who will deal with Bardock?

Silence! I will deal with him; remove the corrupting influences, and he will become what he should be. Removing the corruption is your task.


* * *

Bulma knew nothing of Vegeta or Raditz's plans; all that concerned her at the moment was the results of the latest round of her father's experiments. She tapped the computer, waiting impatiently as the device churned through the mass of data, collating, sorting and reducing it to a simple set of statistics--statistics that meant success or failure.

"You are busy?" A soft, rich, feminine voice asked; Lady Naranja stood just inside the door of the lab.

How did she get here without the alarms going off? Bulma wondered, and then decided it was wiser to answer the question as the Saiyan scowled impatiently. "Yes, I am quite busy," Bulma answered. "I'll probably be busy most of the night reducing this data."

Naranja raised one eyebrow. "Really? The prince tolerates such whims?"

Bulma stood up, quietly furious. "Vegeta tolerates anything I damn well please to do! I'm not his slave, I'm his wife, and don't you ever forget that!"

Faster than Bulma could see or imagine, Naranja was behind her, one powerful arm pinning Bulma's arms and the other clamping a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, no," Naranja whispered to Bulma as she kicked and struggled futilely, "I won't forget that--not at all. And I won't let Vegeta forget it, either."

* * *

After sunset, in the shadows of Naranja's bedchamber, nothing went as Raditz had planned or darkly dreamed....

The smell of her intoxicated him more than ever, and Raditz nearly destroyed his own armor ripping it off. He did destroy her armor, pinning her to the floor before tearing it away from her body one piece at a time. Raditz grinned ferally as she struggled futilely, eyes widening as she finally realized how much stronger he was than her. Naranja cursed him as he ran his hands over her naked body, cupping her feminine curves, tracing the lines of her harder-than-steel Saiyan muscles, his tail lashing the air behind him like that of a great cat all the while. Then she reached around his body and clamped one hand firmly around Raditz's tail--

It had been thirty years. Though he'd vaguely remembered how things had been on Vegetasei, Raditz had quite forgotten why the ancient customs between Saiyan men and women were what they were, and why the spirit of them had been so seldom violated. No Saiyan man did to a Saiyan women except as she desired, nor did a woman to a man, for one good reason--naked bodies offer no protection for tender tails, and passion drops all shields and barriers.

--when the unendurable waves of pain stopped, Raditz found himself curled up in a ball on the floor with Naranja straddling him, lightly caressing his bruised tail. Her tail danced in the air, twitching just out of reach as Raditz grabbed for it.

"Hmmmm..." she said, regarding Raditz's nude form. "Perhaps you are capable, after all." Naranja continued to stroke Raditz's tail lightly, sending electric jolts down the sensitive limb straight into his groin. The strangely familiar smell of her lust maddened him, and her touch was more than he could stand. Raditz shuddered, helpless to quell his own excitement.

Naranja arched the fingers of her free hand like claws and slashed Raditz's chest, drawing forth three thin lines of blood. "Oh yes, you are perfect," she smirked, leaning forward to lick at the droplets of blood....

...a great sleepiness descended on Raditz, and he remembered nothing more.

* * *

It wasn't one of his usual nightmares: in this dream, Raditz found himself in his own bedroom at Capsule Corp. Not Frieza's ship, not the Guard barracks, not the barracks in Hell where no one actually slept, but his own small, plain room in the Capsule Corp building. The only difference was the extra bed on the opposite wall.

"What the hell?" Raditz sat up and scratched his head. The other bed was made with painful neatness, a neatness Raditz himself had only practiced when forced to as a Guard cadet. "When did I get a roommate?"

His door swung smoothly open to admit a lightly-built Saiyan of medium height. Short spiky hair even more unruly than Kakarott's sprang every which way; its owner brushed a handful out of his eyes as he pulled off an issue scouter and tossed it on the well-made bed. His tail uncoiled and the youthful Saiyan stretched and yawned. He grinned at Raditz.

"Long time no see, peasant."

Raditz grunted, almost smiling in spite of himself. Young Lord Miso had been one of his few--no, his only real friend in Guard training. Lord Miso had been on Vegetasei the day Frieza had visited it for the last time. "About thirty years, Most Honorable Lord Miso. You're dead, too."

Lord Miso shrugged and sat down on the opposite bed. "It happens. Do you remember what I warned you about that time we pulled training duty at the Slave Gate?"

Raditz stiffened and looked away. "Yes."

"You didn't listen to me, then." Lord Miso picked up Raditz's scouter from the nightstand and fiddled with it. "You're doing it again, aren't you? Messing around with a woman whose lover is a lot more powerful than you...."

Raditz gritted his teeth. "I am NOT messing around with Bulma! I am not a complete idiot, and besides..." Raditz hesitated, "it would be wrong."

"Well, you know that, and I know that, but does Vegeta know that?" Lord Miso asked.

"Huh? Why would he think I'm doing something that I'm not?" Raditz wondered.

"Carefully manufactured evidence," Lord Miso said, brushing his unruly hair out of his face again. "It wouldn't be the first time she's done it. Just ask your mother; you'll probably get the chance soon."

Raditz felt a chill, and shook his own hair back angrily. "I am not listening to you! You're dead; you're just a figment from my nightmares."

Lord Miso looked at Raditz speculatively. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Raditz growled.

Lord Miso shrugged. "As you like--"

* * *

Raditz awoke abruptly. The early morning sun shone in through the windows on the disheveled bedroom. Blankets lay on the floor, and a single, tangled sheet twined around the legs of the warm, naked, feminine form lying pressed up against Raditz's chest. His mane of hair covered most of her body, doubtless keeping her warm. He inhaled, taking in the strong musk of last night's lust, and the still-lingering perfume of her passion. Blue hair tickled his nose, and--

Blue hair?? A terrible forboding gripped Raditz as he turned his head to look at his bedmate; he brushed away his own hair to reveal the nude, sleeping form of Bulma Briefs.

* * *

Naranja staggered toward the door of Vegeta's house; pain wracked her as metabolic cycles shifted and changed, reversing in mere hours what had taken days to build up. The shift in her scent, her pheromones had been gradual, to entice Raditz without raising his suspicions. but now she dared not smell one whiff of one molecule like Bulma. She wore the armor Raditz had shattered and torn the night before, and her face was gaunt with pain and fatigue as she tapped gently--for her--on the door.

Vegeta answered--as she'd known he would, he wouldn't send mere vermin to treat with her. Naranja leaned more heavily on the doorframe than she'd intended as a fresh spasm of pain tore through her.

"My prince! Raditz has betrayed you!"

* * *

Raditz gently shook Bulma, but for the fourth time she failed to wake. An awful understanding dawned: the familiar, enticing scent that had so maddened him with lust last night had been Bulma's--Raditz didn't know how, but somehow, Naranja's smell had been replaced by that of Bulma's--and the whole room stank of 'Bulma' and Raditz's lust.

"Carefully manufactured evidence...."

Raditz's blood turning to ice. When Vegeta found them--and there was absolutely no doubt that it was intended to be when, not if, and that when would be very soon--they would die the most horrific, agonizing death the prince could devise.

Raditz jerked his head up; Vegeta's ki had just flared to wakefulness, over there in his house--and Naranja was nearby.

"You clever bitch!" Raditz cursed, then jumped up, grabbed his scouter and the sheet, jammed the former on his face and flung the latter over Bulma's comatose body, blew a hole outside the back of the manor with his rapidly flaring ki and flew. He put all of his not-inconsiderable power into speed, barely sparing the energy to protect his naked body--and Bulma's--from the wind lashing it. His only chance, and Bulma's, was to get far, far away and hide his ki before Vegeta figured out that he was gone.

After that... Raditz's face and thoughts were grim. His only chance--their only chance--was to convince Vegeta of the truth. Before Vegeta killed them.

It would be easier, Raditz thought, if he knew what the truth was.

* * *


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Disclaimer: See Credits.

Copyright 2002-2005 by Dragoness Eclectic