Planet: ?

The alien world's twin suns cast long shadows across a landscape of devastation. Where a thriving civilization had stood mere hours ago, only smoking ruins remained. Three Saiyan warriors surveyed their handiwork, their armor gleaming in the dying light.

Nappa's laughter echoed across the desolate plain as he continued firing random ki blasts at already-destroyed structures. "These weaklings weren't even worth the effort!" Another explosion lit up the darkening sky.

Cellera watched his display of pointless destruction, carefully keeping her expression neutral even as her mind calculated the wasted energy. Unlike Nappa's preference for drawn-out suffering, she had dispatched her sector's inhabitants with quick, precise strikes - just as her mother had taught her. A warrior's duty was to fight, not torture. Besides, efficiency served their mission better than cruelty.

She made her way to where her father stood several meters away, his arms crossed as his red scouter blinked methodically. Though she knew they had eliminated all life forms in their assigned sectors, Vegeta's thorough scans for survivors reflected the attention to detail he'd drilled into her since she could walk. As she reached his side, she found herself unconsciously mirroring his stance - a habit born of years watching him for subtle cues that could mean survival or death.

The wind caught her shoulder-length black hair, sending stray strands across her face. She brushed them aside with a practiced gesture, her sharp eyes still studying the battlefield's aftermath. Standing together like this, there was no mistaking her heritage as the daughter of the Saiyan Prince. She shared not just his bearing but his tactical mind, though her methods often differed from his increasingly brutal approach.

"We could have cleared the planet in six hours," she noted, keeping her voice crisp and professional despite her youth. "If we'd split the sectors more efficiently and avoided..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "unnecessary distractions."

The implied criticism of Nappa's methods was clear, though she knew better than to state it directly. A warrior could question strategy, but challenging her father's tolerance of Nappa's excesses would only invite unwanted scrutiny of her own preferences for clean kills.

A small smirk crossed Vegeta's face at her assessment. His daughter's precision reminded him of her mother, though he'd never voice the comparison. "Always looking to improve our efficiency, aren't you?" His tone carried that familiar mix of pride and warning. "But sometimes..." He raised his hand, gathering energy for a final blast, "it's worth taking one's time. You're a Saiyan warrior - you'll understand that instinct soon enough."

The energy blast illuminated their faces as it obliterated the planet's last standing structure. Cellera observed the destruction with carefully crafted detachment, her year and a half practice helping her maintain the mask her father demanded. Since her mother's death almost two years ago, she'd learned to bury any hesitation beneath layers of Saiyan pride. If she couldn't feel it, it didn't exist - a mantra that had become as much armor as the chest plate she wore.

Her father had made it clear after Rhuba's death: sentiment was weakness, emotions on the battlefield invited defeat. The lesson was reinforced with each mission, his methods growing more brutal as if testing her resolve to maintain that emotional distance. Her tail coiled tighter around her waist - a tell she hadn't quite mastered controlling, much like the memories of her mother she couldn't quite suppress.

Emotions are a liability, she reminded herself, forcing her tail to relax its grip. Yet even as she projected the perfect image of a proper Saiyan warrior, some part of her recognized the cost of such rigid control. Her mother had channeled her feelings into precise, efficient combat rather than suppressing them entirely. But questioning her father's methods now would only invite unwanted scrutiny of her own carefully maintained facade.

While her Saiyan blood sang with the thrill of combat like any warrior's, Cellera found no satisfaction in prolonged suffering. Nappa's preference for terrorizing victims and her father's increasingly brutal methods felt uncomfortably similar to their current master's cruel efficiency. Instead, she followed her mother's example - quick, clean deaths for those too weak to truly defend themselves. The few times she'd attempted to mirror her father's drawn-out approach had left her feeling hollow, though she buried such reactions deep beneath her warrior's pride.

The memory surfaced unbidden - one of the rare missions she'd accompanied her mother on, before everything changed. It had been a simple purge of a low-power planet, yet Rhuba's approach had differed sharply from what Cellera now witnessed daily. Her mother's movements had been precise, elegant, each strike calculated to end life swiftly rather than draw out pain. But it was her eyes that Cellera remembered most clearly - not alight with savage joy like her father's, but carrying a quiet solemnity that her two-year-old self hadn't understood.

One moment stood out with particular clarity. The planet's defenders had stood their ground, knowing death awaited but refusing to abandon their people. "We may fall," their leader had declared, "but we die protecting what matters." They had fought with everything they had, though victory was impossible.

Rhuba had ended it quickly, but then paused over their fallen forms - a gesture so unlike the usual Saiyan victory stance that young Cellera had tugged at her mother's armor in confusion. "Is something wrong?" she'd asked, studying her mother's face with the same analytical focus she'd inherited.

"No, little one." Rhuba's voice had carried that unique blend of strength and gentleness that set her apart from other Saiyan warriors.

"But they were so weak," Cellera had observed, thumb pressing against her lip as she tried to understand.

Her mother's head shake had been gentle but firm. "They were very strong." When Cellera's confusion showed plainly on her face, Rhuba had simply touched her cheek. "One day you'll understand."

Such gestures of affection had always highlighted the contrast between her parents. Where her father's pride demanded rigid distance, allowing at most a brief hand on her shoulder for exceptional achievements, her mother had never hesitated to show warmth to her or her father.

Despite that, Rhuba's own pride had burned just as fiercely as Vegeta's - it simply manifested differently, in calm superiority rather than explosive anger, in precise logic rather than brutal force.

Later, walking back to their pods, Cellera had asked the question that had been nagging at her young mind: "Why do you finish missions faster than Father?"

"Efficiency serves our purpose better than showmanship," Rhuba had replied, then added more quietly, "And a quick death is its own form of mercy, little one. We're warriors, not torturers."

"But Father says mercy is for the weak," Cellera had countered, repeating Vegeta's oft-stated beliefs. "Like Lord Frieza says."

A spark of that infamous Saiyan female fire had flashed in Rhuba's eyes, though her voice remained calm and precise. "Your father and Frieza confuse mercy with weakness because they've never understood the strength it takes to grant it." Her lips curved into a slight smile that held both affection and exasperation. "For all his tactical brilliance, your father often lets pride cloud his judgment. There's no honor in prolonging a battle already won - it only wastes energy we might need for real challenges."

The words had lodged in Cellera's memory like a splinter she couldn't quite remove, their full meaning beyond her young understanding. That blend of logical analysis and quiet defiance would surface years later in her own arguments with Vegeta, though she couldn't have known then how often she would find herself echoing her mother's measured criticism of his reckless pride.

"Speaking of efficiency," Nappa's voice cut through her memories, adjusting his scouter, "Raditz should be reporting back about Earth soon. Think he's handled Kakarot?"

"We'll know soon enough," Vegeta replied. His scouter suddenly beeped, drawing their attention. "What's this? Interesting... Raditz's power level just dropped significantly."

Cellera stepped forward, her own scouter confirming the reading. Years of analyzing combat data had taught her to recognize when battles turned decisively. "Either our scouters are malfunctioning, or..."

"Or Kakarot has proven more interesting than anticipated," Vegeta finished, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Without being asked, Cellera's fingers moved precisely across her scouter's controls, patching them into Raditz's transmission. Unlike Nappa's brute force approach to everything, she'd mastered the technical aspects of their equipment early - another inheritance from her mother's methodical nature.

"No, you die alone." A gruff, unfamiliar voice echoed through their scouters.

Cellera's spine straightened at those words. While Raditz was far from the strongest Saiyan, his defeat suggested Earth harbored warriors worth studying. Her careful attention sharpened as the transmission continued, especially at the mention of another child warrior - one who had helped bring down a Saiyan adult. The strategic possibilities intrigued her, though she kept such thoughts carefully hidden behind her usual mask of detached observation.

But it was the mention of "Dragon Balls" that truly caught her interest - magical orbs capable of granting wishes, even reversing death itself. Her father's sudden intensity told her this simple mission had just become something far more complex..

Through their scouters, Raditz's labored voice continued: "No... I'm afraid you're wrong, green man. This device on my face... it's also a transmitter. My Saiyan comrades heard every word. The three of them... they'll come."

Cellera watched Raditz's power level continue to drop on her scouter. Even dying, he wasted energy on threats rather than fighting to his last breath. Her mother would have found such theatrics pointless.

"When? When will they come?" the third voice demanded, strain evident in his tone.

"One year. And the funny thing is..." Raditz's weak chuckle carried through the static, "they're much stronger than me. Even the youngest one. She's about the same age as your own brat over there, Kakarot."

"Oh good, he remembers how I beat him in our last spar," Cellera muttered, keeping her voice carefully neutral despite the memory of easily outmaneuvering his predictable attacks.

Her attention caught on the mention of Kakarot's son. A child warrior who had helped bring down an adult Saiyan - that suggested training methods worth studying. The prospect of fighting someone her own age stirred something beyond mere tactical interest, though she kept such thoughts carefully hidden.

When Raditz's power level finally hit zero, their focus shifted to this new opportunity. The Dragon Balls promised power beyond even Frieza's reach - a chance at freedom that stirred something in Cellera's warrior blood. No more missions under their "benefactor's" watchful eye.

"What should we wish for?" Nappa asked eagerly. "Bring Raditz back to life?"

"No," Vegeta's swift dismissal carried familiar contempt. "That would be a wasted wish. Raditz was a weakling and a fool."

"Then what, Father?" Cellera asked, noting how his eyes had taken on that familiar gleam of ambition.

"Something far more grand," Vegeta announced. "Tell me, how does eternal life sound to you both?"

The prospect sent a thrill through her - immortality meant never having to bow to Frieza again. Her father's growing smile suggested his plans extended far beyond mere freedom, but for now, their goals aligned perfectly.

"If we can't die, no one will ever defeat us," Nappa grinned.

"Yes," Vegeta's dark amusement filled their scouters. "And we will ascend to our rightful place among the Saiyan warriors of legend. We will become Super Saiyans!"

Cellera suppressed a sigh at the familiar reference. Her father's obsession with the legendary transformation had only grown stronger over the years, each telling more grandiose than the last. Still, if it meant freedom from Frieza's control, she was willing to chase legends.

As they prepared their pods for Earth, Cellera found herself wondering about these warriors who had managed to defeat Raditz. They'd clearly proven more capable than expected - perhaps this mission would offer real challenges rather than the usual mundane purges.

The pods' doors sealed with a hiss, and three streaks of light shot into the alien sky, leaving only ruins to mark their passage.


Nappa's voice crackled through their pod communication system, breaking the long silence of space travel. "Hey Vegeta, my scouter's picking up some civilization on that planet coming up. Looks primitive." His eagerness was palpable even through the static. "Could be a good chance for some... entertainment before Earth."

Cellera studied the readouts on their pod's systems, irritation building. A detour would only waste time and resources. The power levels were negligible, barely worth the energy it would take to eliminate them. She'd endured enough of Nappa's idea of "entertainment" to know exactly what he meant - drawn-out deaths and pointless displays of brutality that served no tactical purpose.

"Father," she said quietly, careful to keep her voice from carrying through their pod's communication system, "this is beneath us. The strongest reading is barely higher than Raditz." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "If we're hunting proper challenges, Earth's defenders have already proven more worthy of our time."

"A warrior should never waste an opportunity to train," her father responded through the main channel, though the slight nod he gave her suggested he understood her true point.

"Their average power level is 1,000," Cellera reported, keeping her voice even. "We could clear the entire planet in under an hour if we split the sectors properly." The implied criticism of Nappa's drawn-out methods wasn't lost on either adult Saiyan.

"Such precision from my daughter," Vegeta commented with that familiar mix of pride and warning. "But perhaps these insects might prove... amusing."

Nappa's eager laugh filled the communication channel. "Yeah! Been a while since we had some real fun!"

Cellera's tail coiled tighter around her waist as their pod changed course toward Arlia. She couldn't quite suppress her disappointment - this would be just another display of pointless brutality rather than true combat. At least Earth promised warriors who had earned the right to face Saiyan pride with their own strength.


Planet: Arlia

The barren landscape of Arlia stretched endlessly before them as they emerged from their space pods. Decay and desperation permeated the air, making Cellera's nose wrinkle in disgust. Her eyes tracked across the terrain - crude defenses in the distance, primitive weapons, exactly the kind of "entertainment" Nappa preferred.

"The castle appears to be the power center," she offered, keeping her voice professionally detached. A warrior's assessment to mask her growing irritation at this pointless detour.

Several of the planet's soldiers approached, their crude weapons raised. Nappa stepped forward eagerly, but something in their stance caught Cellera's attention.

"They're afraid," she observed quietly. "They know they can't win." Yet they still came, much like those defenders from her mother's mission. The parallel made her tail tighten around her waist - such thoughts were dangerous distractions.

"Then they shouldn't have come to die," Nappa laughed, raising his hand to blast them.

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to gather intelligence first?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them. "Find out if there's anything worth knowing about this rock before we destroy it?" At least that way, this waste of time might serve some purpose.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at his daughter's suggestion, a calculating look crossing his face. "Interesting thought. Very well - we'll play along with these insects. For now."

As they allowed themselves to be "captured" by the Arlians, Cellera caught her father studying her. She kept her face impassive, wondering if he had seen through her attempt to prevent needless slaughter or if he simply appreciated the strategic value of her suggestion.


Arlia's Prison

The Arlian prison reeked of decay and desperation. As they were led to their cell, Cellera's eyes catalogued every detail by instinct - structural weaknesses, guard positions, prisoner conditions.

"Keep moving, outsiders!" An Arlian guard jabbed his spear threateningly.

Nappa growled, but Vegeta's slight head shake kept him in check. Cellera noticed her father's amused smirk - he was already treating this like a game. She recognized that look all too well. It usually preceded unnecessary bloodshed.

"These chains are a joke," she muttered, quiet enough for only Saiyan ears. "The metal's corroded. One burst of ki would-"

"Patience, daughter," Vegeta interrupted, that dangerous amusement still playing on his face. "Let's see what entertainment these insects provide first."

They were shoved into a cramped cell already occupied by another prisoner - a battle-scarred Arlian who introduced himself as Atla. While Nappa immediately began complaining about the accommodations, Cellera studied their cellmate with measured interest. Unlike the guards, his bearing spoke of actual combat experience.

"What did you do to end up here?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral despite her curiosity.

"I spoke against King Moai's tyranny," Atla replied. "He takes our people, our women, for his twisted entertainment."

"Touching story," Nappa sneered. "Want me to put you out of your misery now, bug?" He raised his hand, energy gathering.

"We might need information about the arena setup," she said quickly. "Local fighting techniques could be... instructive." The excuse sounded weak even to her ears, but anything that delayed Nappa's inevitable display of cruelty was worth attempting.

Vegeta shot her a sharp look, but nodded. "True enough. Though I doubt these insects have much to teach Saiyan warriors."

Something in Atla's willingness to fight despite overwhelming odds stirred her respect, though she buried the sentiment deep. They were here for Nappa's entertainment, nothing more. At least his inevitable "show" would bring them closer to their real objective - Earth and its proven warriors.

The arena erupted in jeers as the three Saiyans stepped into the light. Cellera's eyes immediately tracked possible attack vectors, escape routes, structural weaknesses - a warrior's instinct she'd inherited from both parents, though she favored her mother's precise approach over her father's overwhelming force.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice grated against her sensitive hearing. "Today's entertainment - three alien warriors against our champions!"

"This ought to be good," Nappa sneered as two massive Arlian fighters entered the arena. Their armor was more elaborate than the guards', but Cellera's scouter confirmed they were just as weak.

"Brothers and sisters!" one of the champions bellowed. "We'll crush these invaders for your entertainment!"

Cellera's tail twitched in irritation. "Their power levels are barely worth measuring. This isn't even proper training."

"Then make it quick," Vegeta commanded, stepping back to observe. "Show me you haven't forgotten how to be efficient."

The first champion rushed her with a flurry of strikes that might have impressed the crowd but left gaping holes in his defense. She could hear Nappa toying with his opponent, dragging out the fight with cruel laughter.

"What's wrong, little one?" her opponent taunted. "Scared to- URK!"

She struck once, precisely, severing his spine at the base of his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground, his face still frozen in mid-taunt. A quick and clean death - all she could offer given the circumstances.

"Clean kill," Vegeta noted, though she couldn't tell if his tone held approval or disappointment.

Across the arena, Nappa continued to torture his opponent, ripping off limbs while the crowd's cheers turned to horrified screams. Her face remained impassive, but her tail's grip tightened. This pointless display only reinforced her eagerness to face Earth's defenders - opponents who had earned the right to real combat.

"Pathetic!" Nappa finally finished his opponent with a blast that took out half the arena wall as well. "That's how you put on a show!"

"If you're quite finished playing," Vegeta drawled, "perhaps King Moai would like to demonstrate his own power? Unless he's as weak as his champions?"

Cellera noticed the king's mandibles clicking nervously in his viewing box. This whole exercise had been pointless - exactly the kind of wasteful violence that seemed to delight Nappa.

"Father," she said, keeping her voice clinical, "their technology level is primitive. There's nothing of value here. We're wasting time that could be spent preparing for Earth."

King Moai's nervous laughter echoed through the arena. "You think this display impresses me? I have something special in store for you arrogant outsiders." His mandibles clicked with false confidence. "Behold, the Beast of Arlia!"

The creature that emerged made Cellera's scouter beep with slightly higher readings than the champions, though still pathetically low. Some "ultimate weapon" - it was just another waste of time.

"The Beast of Arlia!" Moai announced proudly. "Your execution will be quite entertaining!"

"Nappa," Vegeta commanded, boredom evident in his tone. "Deal with this pest."

Cellera watched as Nappa engaged the creature with his usual excessive force, dragging out what should have been a simple elimination. Her eyes drifted to the gathering crowd of prisoners being herded into the arena. Among them, she spotted Atla reuniting with who she assumed was his wife. Their determination to face death together rather than submit to tyranny was... tactically unsound, yet something about their courage nagged at her.

The sound of Nappa's laughter snapped her attention back as he literally tore the beast apart. "Now this is entertainment!"

"Efficient as always, Nappa," Vegeta remarked dryly. His tone made Cellera wonder if he actually found Nappa's methods as tiresome as she did, though he'd never say it openly.

"What should we do with the rest of these insects?" Nappa asked, gesturing to the horrified crowd.

"We're done here," Vegeta declared. "This planet has nothing of value." He raised his hand, gathering energy for a final blast.

His blast illuminated the darkening sky, energy spreading outward in waves that decimated the castle and surrounding civilization. Cellera watched the destruction, her tail coiling tighter around her waist. While combat stirred her Saiyan blood as much as any other of their kind, this kind of mindless annihilation served no real purpose. Her mother's words echoed unbidden in her mind: "We're warriors, not torturers."

Her hand drifted to the pendant beneath her armor before she caught herself. Such thoughts were dangerous - sentiment her father would view as weakness. She forced her attention to their next objective. Earth had proven it harbored fighters capable of real combat - not just insects playing at strength.

"Earth next," Vegeta announced as they reached their pods. "Let's see if Kakarot and his son provide more of a challenge than these insects."

The pods sealed with a hiss as they shot into space, leaving another dead civilization behind them. As Earth grew closer, Cellera found her Saiyan blood stirring with anticipation. Not just for the Dragon Balls, but for the promise of genuine combat against opponents who had earned the right to face Saiyan warriors. The fact that one was a child like herself only heightened her interest - what kind of training could produce such strength?