Dragonball: Rewritten

Chapter 23: Frieza Saga

The door closed behind him with a loud bang .

Ten minutes later, the ship took off with a gigantic boom .

Twenty minutes later, Goku stood on the bridge, gazing out the large window into the vacuum of space, fists shaking by his sides. He shut his eyes tight, submerging himself into the faint r'bhon'or and pushing all his emotion out into it—his fear and anxiety, eagerness and sadness, rage and determination. All in the hopes it could be heard by his mate light years away. All in the hopes he'd get something in response.

He never received anything, but the r'bhon'or still thrived—still vibrated—in his mind.

Goku snapped his attention open at the stars whirring past him.

Under his breath, he muttered, "Wait for me, mah'kha. I'm right behind you."

***

Almost two weeks had passed since Vegeta arrived at Namek. Almost a month and a half since he left Earth in search of the Dragonballs. So much time away from his mate.

Sitting inside a small, plain room of yet another Namekian village, Vegeta stared at the fruits of their hard labors: three Dragonballs. Just three.

The same number Frieza possessed.

He slumped forward in his seat, burying his face into his gloved hands. When they first arrived and found Frieza only had one Dragonball, Vegeta thought they had a chance. Time and time again, whatever little hope he had vanished. With Bulma, they had the technology. Frieza had the manpower as well as power.

Every single time they tracked down a Dragonball, they had to lay low and hide, something Vegeta hated doing but knew it was the smartest thing to do. If Frieza was tipped off that they weren't the only people on the planet, he would stop at nothing to find out who it was. They had to play reconnaissance for a while, forcing their ki so low, it couldn't be tracked by their scouters.

In a way, the fact that Bulma's signal couldn't work until they were on Namek was a blessing. Vegeta realized as he hid from a team of Frieza's men that if they knew their scouters weren't operating normally, Frieza would've found it suspicious and taken it out on the people of Namek, falsely thinking it was them who screwed up his scouters. Then Frieza probably would've increased his manpower too so his men slaughtered the planet faster as retaliation, and more than likely, he would've had more Dragonballs in his possession by the time they arrived. It was just how Frieza was: piss him off and he didn't just kill you. He killed everything you ever cared about—family, friends, the very planet you lived on—and then yourself, if he felt like it.

So he refused to let Bulma scramble the scouters until it was appropriate. Preferably during combat, so they had the element of surprise on their side. The drawback was obvious though. They had to hide. A lot. Frieza's men swarmed the planet, searching for the Dragonballs, going from village to village, slaughtering everyone who didn't have what they sought. Even with his latent Saiyan abilities, sometimes they couldn't grab a Dragonball fast enough compared to Frieza's men. The fact that Vegeta looked now at three Dragonballs in his possession rather than none felt like sheer luck.

Vegeta lifted his head, glancing out a nearby window. Amongst the crowd of Namekians, Gohan played a game with a younger native in a red outfit. A sweet child with healing abilities named Dende.

When they first arrived at this village, word already started passing around that there were another set of outsiders on Namek, ones that didn't destroy villages but warned them of incoming danger and to run and hide. It was the only thing Vegeta could do for these people. They could not afford to interfere if Frieza's men ransacked a village, slaughtering everyone in gruesome fashion. Something Gohan was vehemently against. Something he and Gohan argued over repeatedly over the last two weeks.