The Room as it wall called was an extensive training ground on Vejitasei. It contained more gadgets and instruments to measure combat ratings, determine how they could be improved, and exactly improve them than Celera believed existed on the entire planet. In actuality The Room consisted of five separate rooms and a central control where the information was processed and delivered to the higher ups in the Saiyan race.
The positioning of a soldier depended on how well he performed in The Room.
Usually there were three attendants in central control, but Celera worked in The Room at all hours of the morning when there were no other Saiyan using it and only one attendant on the job. She had come to know Drazil very well through these long hours she spent at all hours of the morning in The Room, but lately she had been away working on a few planets and until now had not been back at Vejitasei for a few months.
It felt surprisingly good to be back in The Room again. The Tournament had brought her home to Vejitasei and had made her the champion no less. It was a title that was not without its responsibilities but much without its fame in the Saiyan culture. Titles meant nothing; status meant slightly more, power was everything. The Saiyan respected power and nothing else; a third class warrior could be champion but could not be a legend without the power behind it.
She had known that because she had gone from battle to battle and finally to the matches in the arena that her combat rating would have raised. She knew that her fight with the Saibaimen would be easier than it was before. But things were too easy here. The Saibaimen were falling too hard to her blows and they were too slow.
The doors slid open easily with a little double beep as Drazil let her in central control. He paid no attention to her at first but soon noticed her searching through the supply cabinet in the far corner of the control room. "Something the matter?" he asked.
"Yes exactly," she said as she pulled out a small vile of Saibaimen seeds. "I barely broke a sweat."
Although Drazil knew Saiyans well enough, (he was one of the many aliens employed on Vejitasei), this still surprised him. It was common for Saiyan to want to have a good fight, even push themselves as hard as possible, but the fact that Celera wanted to seemed to perplex him. "Well you've improved so much," he began.
"Not that much, I think I got a bad batch," Celera commented. "What were their combat ratings?"
"1200."
Celera looked down at the Saibaimen seeds in her hand and inspected them for any sign of possible flaws. She didn't want to waste her time again. "Then the machines are off; those three were much weaker than that."
"The machine has just been recalibrated," Drazil protested. "It can't be off."
"Well what did it read my combat rating as?"
"1400." Drazil stated flatly. "You've being doing a lot of work I see."
Celera stopped, her stared fixed coldly upon him. "That was impossible," her sharp eyes thought. Although emotionally she was flooded with questions she remained calm and so controlled that no one would have sensed any change in her continence at all. "The machines are definitely off then."
"I assure you they're not. I recalibrated them myself," Drazil explained.
She looked back at the lizard like alien dressed in the classic Saiyan non-battle attire and a squarish helmet that masked most of his mouth. If Drazil knew anything it was these machines, which meant they were right. "That's impossible," she said again. "I was born with a combat rating of 11 they projected my peak rating to be around 1000 if I was lucky."
Drazil shrugged, "I never put much faith in those things. You know for a race with really no understanding of technology you sure put a lot of faith in it."
Celera found herself smiling; she must be getting weaker regardless of what the machines said. Drazil nor anyone else would not have dared to say that to a Saiyan. Or maybe it was just that he knew that she knew it she true. They did put to much faith in these fancy Scouters and equipment and less on instinct, which seemed ironic considering how animalistic they where in the first place.
"Even so," she said. "I've only been gone a few months. When I left I was at 500 that's an increase of over nine hundred in just a few months, which is impossible for any Saiyan."
"How many battles did you win?" Drazil asked.
She already knew what he was getting at. The Saiyan metabolism was incredible to begin with but it went into overdrive when they were even slightly injured. So much so that the body could completely repair itself in just a matter of days where a weak species would take weeks even months to do so.
"Even if I was pushed to death several times it would still be too much of an increase."
"Well it appears that it is still on the raise as well," Drazil noted. "Towards the end of this training session the machines began reading a decrease in heart and muscle stress and an increase in energy radiated from the body."
Celera meditated over this for a moment. Her battles in the last couple of months had been fairly easy. The only one of an even a remote challenge was on Gasuckie which was so small the gravity was almost unbearable, but could one little battle do that much?
Celera carefully removed all of the Saibaimen instead of the three she usually trained with. There were only eight in a vile perhaps this would turn out to be a decent fight. She walked over to Drazil slowly holding out the eight Cyber seeds, "I'd really rather not anyone know about this until I figure out what's causing it and how far it will go."
Drazil nodded, Kind Vegeta had a combat level of 1700 if Celera's rating continued to rise she would quickly be considered a threat to the crown and disposed of. Although the thought that anyone could really kill her she did surpass the King was amusing in its self.
Celera walked slowly towards the third room in The Room, a battle room. She did not want to be anything more than a third class warrior; warriors of higher levels had too much of an image to upheld for her tastes. As an elite or even second-class warrior she couldn't take the privileges of weaknesses. She could not spare an opponent, or fascinate herself with technology, but most importantly, she couldn't not think against the ways of the Saiyan. She did not want that.
Another thing that troubled her deeply that as a higher-ranking fighter she could not associate herself with the third class warriors. Toma, Seripa, ....Bardock. Could she afford to lose their companionship? She knew she was being sentimental; she had always been sentimental as any Saiyan could be, but she wouldn't deny that such things mattered to her
The attendant approached carefully, King Vegeta could be more brutal than even their most vicious enemies. But still he could smell the soft glow of Vegeta's favorite drink and he knew it was a good day. The attendant bowed deeply enough to lick the tiles clean with his tongue and he stayed in that position until King Vegeta said, "you may raise."
"My Lord, I've sent the order."
The was a still thickness in the air as the attendant waited for King Vegeta's reply. The room was cold as it always had been and the night's sky that peered through the large curved window was the only thing that provided any light. "Good very, good."
The sky was brighter than it usually was and it seemed that the stars were pulsing just a little bit more in the blackness. But King Vegeta knew better, it was the moon. His tail curled excitedly, soon.... soon after eight years there would be a full moon in the sky. He looked at the image of the full moon in the sky; knowing well that it was not complete, it was not prefect. The moonlight was not complete just yet. Soon though.
"Good, indeed," he thought.
"If I may be so bold Sir, what shall I tell the called back forces?"
King Vegeta growled but did nothing to the annoying fly at his side. "Tell them, there will be a hunt."
"Yes Lord, but what is worthy enough to be hunted by Ozura's my lord?"
King Vegeta didn't know yet, but he had a few ideas. He would have a few less enemies after this full moon.
"They should be pleased Sir, some of them missed the Tournament...and I hear the female who won was quite good," the attendant said.
"Was she? She seemed like any standard Second class warrior," he said uninterested.
"Third class Lord," the attendant corrected.
"Interesting," Vegeta responded dryly.
He would have had the attendant killed, but it was so hard to find good help, he reminded himself. So hard to find good anything...
