Chapter 3: Frieza meets Kakarot
The approach to Planet Frieza was less a celestial journey and more a descent into the maw of a meticulously maintained, jewel-toned predator. From their scouter-enhanced viewports, the quartet watched the planet swell from a distant pinprick to a shimmering, emerald and sapphire orb, its atmosphere swirling with calculated elegance. Unlike the untamed ferocity of Planet Vegeta, Frieza's homeworld exuded an almost artificial perfection, its vast, crystalline cities glowing with soft, internal light like organs of some colossal, slumbering beast. There were no chaotic storms or raw, volcanic scars; only smooth, sweeping architectural lines that spoke of absolute control and immense, cold wealth.
"Synthetic," Nappa grumbled, adjusting his armor. "Even their planets look like they were built, not born."
Vegeta said nothing, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every detail. The planet's apparent tranquility did little to soothe the storm brewing within him. He felt the familiar, bitter taste of subservience, amplified by the fresh wound of his homeworld's demise. This was Frieza's domain, a testament to his power, and Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans, was merely a vassal arriving to beg for new purpose. The irony was a lash across his pride.
Kado, ever the practical one, double-checked the ship's readouts. "Docking coordinates received. Automatic pilot engaged. Standard protocol dictates an inspection team will meet us. Prince Vegeta, should we initiate the formal declaration of arrival and request for audience now, or await their standard procedure?"
"Follow standard procedure," Vegeta commanded, his voice tight. "Let them come to us. We are not begging, Kado. Not yet." He cast a glance towards the lower deck, where, thankfully, Kakarot's rhythmic thumping had subsided into a low, contented gurgling. Raditz had taken to singing him crude Saiyan lullabies, which seemed to work better than any threat or cajoling.
The ship slid into an enormous, cavernous hanger, its walls polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting their vessel in a distorted kaleidoscope of light. The air was cool, sterile, and faintly metallic, a stark contrast to the thick, sulfurous atmosphere of Planet Vegeta's docking bays. As the ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics, they were met by a retinue of Frieza's soldiers, an assortment of various alien species, all clad in the uniform battle armor of the Frieza Force, their scouters glowing menacingly. At their head stood a Ginyu Force-esque figure, sleek and purple-skinned, with a predatory smile.
"Welcome, Prince Vegeta," the alien announced, his voice smooth and unsettling. "Lord Frieza has been expecting a report from your unit. We were… concerned after the unexpected silence from Sector 705." The unspoken implication of Planet Vegeta's destruction hung heavy in the air. "If you would follow us, your vessel will be secured, and you will be escorted to the antechamber."
Vegeta merely grunted, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guards, assessing their power levels with a flicker of his own. Nappa stood stoically beside him, while Raditz, looking particularly stressed, had Kakarot secured.
Kakarot's method of containment had been Kado's ingenious (and desperate) solution: a compact, transparent pod, slightly larger than the infant, made of a heavily reinforced, sound-dampening plasteel. It allowed Kakarot to see out, and be seen, but muffled his considerable vocalizations to a low hum, if anything at all. He was currently strapped comfortably inside, his wide, curious eyes taking in the new surroundings with an almost unsettling calm. For now.
"Keep that brat quiet, Raditz," Vegeta hissed under his breath as they began to walk, the alien guards forming a respectful but scrutinizing escort. "One wrong move here, and Frieza will have him vaporized for sport."
"I'm trying, Prince Vegeta," Raditz muttered back, his face a mask of worry. He held Kakarot's pod like a delicate, volatile bomb, his long hair almost sweeping the floor as he walked. Kakarot, from inside his bubble, pointed a chubby finger at one of the passing guards, mouthing "No!" but no sound escaped. Raditz breathed a silent sigh of relief.
The journey through Frieza's palace was a dizzying display of his absolute power and decadent taste. The corridors stretched endlessly, lined with priceless artifacts and exotic flora from conquered worlds, each object bathed in precisely calibrated light. The walls were inlaid with shimmering veins of unknown minerals, and the floors were polished to such a high gloss that their reflections elongated into spectral echoes. The air hummed with a subtle, barely perceptible energy, a constant reminder of the advanced technology at play. There were no signs of wear, no dust, no imperfection – a pristine, artificial paradise built on the ashes of countless civilizations.
Other species moved through the palace: uniformed soldiers, deferential servants, and the occasional high-ranking officer, all moving with a purpose, their eyes quick to dart towards the Saiyans. There was a palpable tension in the air, an undercurrent of suppressed fear and absolute obedience. This was not a place for free will or loud expressions.
Nappa's scouter kept beeping softly as he passed various high-power individuals, prompting a low growl of annoyance. "Too many damned lackeys. And they all reek of fear."
Vegeta ignored him, his focus unwavering. He noted the subtle shifts in security, the placement of cameras, the types of weaponry carried by the guards. He was a predator in a gilded cage, assessing every bar.
Kakarot, however, was having an internal adventure. His eyes darted from the glittering walls to the strange aliens, his small head swiveling, trying to take in everything. He thumped his tiny fists against the transparent plasteel, a silent barrage of curiosity. When they passed a particularly ornate statue of a multi-limbed creature, Kakarot suddenly pointed and, with surprising clarity, mouthed, "Mine! Pull!" He then attempted to mimic a tugging motion, much to Raditz's horror. Raditz quickly distracted him with a dangling piece of his own hair, which Kakarot immediately claimed as "Mine!"
Finally, they reached a vast antechamber. It was Circular, with a single, colossal archway opposite the entrance, presumably leading to the throne room. The walls were adorned with intricate, almost hypnotic patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the ambient light. Several other aliens, clearly high-ranking officers awaiting their own audiences, stood or sat in various poses of nervous anticipation. They glanced at the Saiyan warriors, some with thinly veiled fear, others with an almost disdainful curiosity.
"Lord Frieza will see you shortly," the purple-skinned escort announced, his smile never faltering, yet somehow deepening in its unsettling quality. "He is just finishing a… delicate negotiation." The implication was clear: Frieza was busy, and they would wait. This was a power play, designed to remind them of their place.
The wait stretched on. Minutes bled into what felt like hours. The silence in the antechamber was oppressive, broken only by the soft hum of the palace systems and the occasional nervous cough from one of the other petitioners. Vegeta stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. Nappa shifted his weight, clearly growing impatient, his large hands occasionally clenching into fists. Raditz paced a small circle, his eyes darting between the archway and Kakarot's pod. Kakarot, having exhausted his attempts to claim Raditz's hair, had now discovered his own feet, which he was examining with intense fascination.
"This is intolerable," Nappa rumbled, his voice low.
"Silence," Vegeta cut him off, his eyes fixed on the archway. "Patience, Nappa. This is Frieza's way. He savors the anticipation of others."
Kado, ever pragmatic, used the time to recalibrate their scouters, ensuring they were optimized for the palace's energy signature suppression fields. He kept a discreet eye on Kakarot as well, ready to intervene if the sound-dampening field somehow failed.
Just as Raditz began to fear Kakarot might finally break his self-imposed silence, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the antechamber. The colossal archway before them began to part, not sliding or swinging, but rather dissolving into a sparkling cascade of energy, revealing the throne room beyond.
And there he was.
Frieza.
He sat upon a throne of impossibly dark, crystalline material that seemed to absorb all light, making his pale, pristine form stand out in stark relief. His elegant, almost delicate body was adorned with gold and purple armor, glittering subtly. His tail, long and prehensile, lay coiled perfectly beside him, its tip twitching with an almost imperceptible, rhythmic grace. His eyes, sharp and crimson, held an amusement that was both chilling and utterly unreadable. No expression of grief or sorrow marred his perfectly composed features. He was a study in cold, absolute authority, a living sculpture of malevolence.
The room itself was another testament to his power. vast, with high, vaulted ceilings that disappeared into shadow, lit only by the soft glow emanating from Frieza's throne and tactical displays embedded in the walls. Guards, far more powerful than those in the corridors, stood at attention, still and silent as statues.
"Ah, Prince Vegeta," Frieza's voice purred, smooth as silk, yet carrying the weight of a thousand crushing gravities. It was a voice that could charm a system into surrender or declare its annihilation with the same effortless grace. "It has been… some time. Do come in. I trust your mission was not entirely fruitless?"
Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz stepped forward, Kado and Okure following closely, his gaze flicking between Frieza and the guards. They stopped at a respectful but not subservient distance, their power levels contained, their faces carefully neutral. Raditz clutched Kakarot's pod tighter.
"Lord Frieza," Vegeta began, his voice devoid of his usual arrogance, replaced by a carefully controlled formality. "We regret to report that the mission in Sector 705 was indeed fruitless. More than that, it was… catastrophically compromised."
Frieza tilted his head, a gesture of feigned curiosity. "Oh? Do tell. My scouters picked up quite a… peculiar energy signature in that sector. A rather potent, if brief, explosion. One might almost think a planet had… ceased to exist." His eyes, like rubies, fixed on Vegeta, a thin smile playing on his lips.
"Planet Vegeta has been destroyed," Vegeta stated, his voice flat, betraying nothing of the inferno raging within him. "An unknown, massive energy signature appeared, and then… it was gone. We were a considerable distance away, executing your orders, when the event occurred."
Frieza's smile widened, a truly terrifying sight. "Indeed I did hear of the terrible news. How… unfortunate. An entire warrior race, gone. Such a waste of potential." His tone, however, was laced with an almost imperceptible delight. "And to think, I even kept my forces away from that sector, precisely so your people could operate without… distractions." He paused, letting the implication hang: I helped you, and look what happened.
Vegeta's jaw tightened. He knew Frieza was lying, knew it in his bones that there was something else to it. He didn't know what exactly but he for sure knew it. The convenient absence, the timing, the casual dismissal framed as sorrow, it all pointed to one conclusion. But he couldn't accuse him. Not yet.
"We regret the loss, Lord Frieza," Vegeta continued, forcing the words out. "However, myself, Nappa, and Raditz, along with our technicians Kado and Okura, are ready for new assignments. We await your orders."
Frieza's gaze drifted from Vegeta to Nappa, then to Raditz. His eyes paused on the transparent pod Raditz was holding. "And what," Frieza purred, his voice dropping slightly, "is this… fascinating trinket you carry, Raditz? A new, oversized scouter model, perhaps? Or merely a particularly sturdy lunchbox?"
Raditz stiffened, an icy dread gripping him. "My Lord," he stammered, "it is… it is merely a… a containment unit for… for personal effects."
Before Raditz could elaborate, or even fully formulate a plausible lie, Kakarot, who had been silently observing Frieza with an almost terrifying intensity, suddenly reacted. His tiny eyes had fixated on Frieza's perfectly coiled tail. From within his sound-dampening bubble, Kakarot let out a silent, furious wail, his small fists pounding against the plasteel. He pointed a chubby finger directly at Frieza's tail.
"Mine!" he mouthed, his face contorted in a silent, indignant demand. "PULL! MINE!"
The sound-dampening was perfect. Not a whisper escaped. But the visual was undeniable. A Saiyan infant, trapped in a clear bubble, furiously demanding Frieza's tail and miming the action of pulling it.
A profound, chilling silence descended upon the throne room. Guards shifted, their hands hovering near their weapons. Nappa and Kado froze, their eyes wide with fear. Raditz went pale, his heart hammering against his ribs. He wanted to evaporate.
Frieza, however, merely stared at Kakarot for a long, drawn-out moment. His eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with an almost morbid curiosity. A slow, terrifying smile began to spread across his face.
"Oh, my," Frieza breathed, the sound barely a whisper, yet it filled the vast room. "It appears your 'personal effects,' Raditz, are rather… spirited. And quite observant. Such ambition, for one so small." His gaze lingered on Kakarot, who was still silently demanding the tail with a toddler's fierce conviction.
Finally, Frieza chuckled, a low, unnerving sound. "Tell me, Vegeta, is this… child… a product of your late, great warrior race? One of the last, perhaps?"
Vegeta swallowed, his mind racing. "He is… Raditz's younger brother, My Lord," he admitted, choosing honesty over a transparent lie. "He was aboard an Attack Ball, destined for a distant planet, when Planet Vegeta was destroyed. We intercepted it."
"How… fortuitous," Frieza mused, his eyes never leaving Kakarot's silent, raging form. "So, a Saiyan infant. And one who appears to have rather… specific desires regarding my anatomy." He paused, then his smile became a little wider, a little colder. "Tell me, Raditz, are all Saiyan infants so… possessive? Or is this one simply expressing a unique genetic predisposition for… tail-pulling?"
Raditz practically trembled. "No, My Lord, he… he is merely a child, he does not understand."
"Oh, I think he understands perfectly well," Frieza countered, his voice dripping with menace. "He understands what he wants. And what he wants, by the looks of it, is to cause trouble." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into Raditz. "Ensure he learns quickly, Raditz. My patience, for such… novelties… is severely limited."
Vegeta seized the opening. "He will be disciplined, My Lord. We will ensure he never causes such an… unfortunate display again. We Saiyans are loyal. Our children will learn loyalty."
Frieza settled back on his throne, his gaze once again sweeping over the three Saiyans. "Indeed. Loyalty is a virtue I greatly admire. Especially when it is… thoroughly earned." He paused, allowing the weight of his implied threat to settle. "Very well. Your report is accepted, tragic as the loss of your home may be." His tone shifted, becoming abruptly businesslike. "Your new assignments will be prepared. My forces are currently engaged in pacifying the Arcosian Hegemony. With Planet Vegeta gone, their resistance has, shall we say, become rather unsophisticated. I require your particular… talents… to expedite their surrender." He elaborated on the specifics, a sector with several rebellious planets, particularly difficult to crack due to their entrenched defenses and fanatical populations.
Vegeta listened, his mind already analyzing the tactical data, even as his suspicion pulsed beneath the surface. Frieza was moving them away, giving them a task that would consume their time and resources, keeping them far from the core of his operations. It was a calculated move, a way to keep them busy and out of his hair while he consolidated his power and dealt with any lingering Saiyan threats he might have missed.
"Is that all, My Lord?" Vegeta asked, maintaining his composure.
"For now, Prince Vegeta," Frieza replied, his eyes once again drifting to Kakarot's pod, a hint of dark amusement returning. "Go. Attend to your duties. And do ensure your… charge… develops a more appropriate sense of decorum. I would hate to see such a… distinctive… child meet an untimely end." His words were a clear, chilling threat, a reminder of who truly held the power.
As they bowed and slowly backed out of the throne room, the archway dissolving behind them, Raditz felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine. Kakarot, still silently fixated on Frieza's disappearing tail, gave one last furious, soundless pound against his plasteel prison, his little mouth still forming the defiant word: "MINE!"
They had survived the audience, but the price of their survival, Vegeta knew, was a fresh set of chains. And Frieza, the tyrant, now had one more Saiyan on his radar, a tiny, silent, and surprisingly possessive child who had, in the most unexpected way, already made his presence known. The journey to the Arcosian Hegemony was going to be another long one, and Raditz's training exercise in Kakarot management had just been upgraded to a matter of life and death for them all.