Crossover Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vendetta ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

Afternoon, Elsewhere in Space

 

Ami bit her lip, her mind buzzing with all the possible moves available on the board in front of her. For the past six hours, she and Bulma had been playing chess and talking. On their fifth match and tied at two games apiece, Ami was not about to lose now. She had put a lot of effort into getting herself into position, and one wrong move would wipe out almost an hour's worth of work. Finally, she saw her move and grinned slightly. Moving a rook, she took one of Bulma's pawns.

 

Bulma smirked triumphantly. “You left your queen open,” she commented, moving a knight to take the queen. Ami smirked in a similar manner, moving another piece.

 

“Checkmate.”

 

Bulma stared at the board for a long time, disbelief written plainly on her features.

 

“Damnit,” she said, finally, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms with a pout forming on her face. Ami smiled softly and began rearranging the pieces.

 

“Shall we play again?”

 

The comment earned her a glare from Bulma that stated the older woman's determination not to give in so easily. Grabbing her pieces, she began resetting her side, mumbling grumpily under her breath. Ami couldn't help but giggle. Bulma resisted the urge to throw a piece at the younger girl, and instead started the game by moving a pawn.

 

Along with the chess matches, Bulma had been explaining to Ami the conditions awaiting her once they made landfall. Upon realizing that Ami did not really care about the social aspect of things, Bulma happily switched over to instructing Ami on the tasks she would soon be performing. Ami soaked up the information happily and was occasionally able to throw in a comment of her own. She knew that it would take weeks or months for her to truly understand all the technology she would soon encounter, but she approached the situation with honest enthusiasm.

 

She was equally excited in hearing about how Bulma had earned her freedom. More than anything, Ami wanted desperately to find Usagi and the other girls and go home. Of course, it appeared that even for someone as brilliant as Bulma, who was approximately as intelligent as Ami herself, it took time to earn freedom. She would have to be motivated and hard working on top of her natural intelligence, and she would have to wait for probably at least a year. Barring some extraordinary invention or difficult breakthrough on her part, simple hard work would not be enough to gain her freedom in any short period of time.

 

However, Bulma was optimistic about Ami's prospects. She could easily tell that Ami had the drive and the ability to do great things. Also, she would be rooting for the younger girl, hinting to her superiors that Ami had more important things to accomplish in the universe than helping other geniuses invent things. Knowing already that Ami would be working with her on projects, she firmly believed that, if she managed a major breakthrough in her work, she could get Ami her freedom in six months.

 

Currently, Bulma was not truly inventing anything, but if she were successful in her research, she would revolutionize the way warriors trained. She was already fairly well known for her success in improving training equipment, and there was one piece of machinery that she dreamed of overhauling. The concept of training in higher gravity had already come about in a number of different places, but the technology was still lacking. Scientists could easily make machines that would reproduce extremely high levels of gravity, but the apparatus was inherently unstable. Not only were many of the basic materials incapable of withstanding such high pressure, but the delicate machinery used to produce the gravity had a tendency to overheat or blow a fuse or destroy itself in some such way.

 

Added to all of these factors was the fact that the mere production of such high-level gravity machines cost far more than most warriors could afford, let alone would be willing to spend. It was still cheaper for most warriors to simply fly to a large, dense planet with high gravity for training than to buy a machine. It would be Bulma's crowning glory to create a gravity chamber that could withstand itself, would not destroy itself, and could be cheaply produced. Dovvin had been skeptical, and many of her peers at the research facility thought she was wasting her time, but she continued in her efforts.

 

The demand for such an item would be huge. Any warrior worth mentioning would immediately realize the benefits training in high gravity could bring about. And, in the universe, the most profitable job for a person was to work for Frieza as a warrior. Bulma was sure that she would be able to sell trillions upon trillions of such devices, and most people wouldn't even notice if she happened to gouge the prices a little. Any drop from the current price of a gravity chamber, and such an increase in the quality would be seen as a miracle to the fighting community.

 

By her estimation, Bulma would be filthy stinking rich. In general, working as a scientist only paid well if you invented something of great significance. Minor achievements that were mostly academic and not particularly practical earned you grants to do further experiments, but rarely paid for any luxuries. Bulma was accustomed to being wealthier than those around her when she was on earth, so this new, poorer status was hard to deal with. Ami, on the other hand, cared little about wealth. She wanted only to earn enough money to gain her freedom and to be able to search for Usagi. She realized that this would not come cheap, but gaining great wealth was not high on her list of priorities.

 

Ami did not quite understand Bulma's belief that her little project would make a great deal of money, but Bulma took it upon herself to explain. Ami, despite her role as Sailor Mercury, had not grown up surrounded by warriors. She did not quite make the connection between training in high levels of gravity and increasing strength until Bulma explained things further. As far as Ami was concerned, a normal human exposing him or herself to twenty times Earth's normal gravity was nothing more than suicide, not training. However, upon being reminded by Bulma that not all creatures formed on planets the same size as Earth, Ami had to admit being mistaken.

 

Ami won the sixth chess match as well, and Bulma finally gave up. She may have had more experience with technology than Ami, but Ami definitely held the upper hand when it came to chess. Bulma had few opponents at home on earth where most of her friends were too busy fighting to learn the game, and had even fewer in space where the game was almost unheard of. After the game was packed away, Bulma stood and spoke.

 

“You hungry?” The question earned an enthusiastic nod from Ami. “Good. Me, too. They should be serving food right about now.”

 

Bulma lead Ami from her room, chatting about the workings of the ship they were on. Ami wondered briefly who the “they” were. However, she quickly latched on to what Bulma was saying. For her own sake, she needed to learn as much as possible every time someone spoke. The faster she could get a mental grasp on the technological advancements she would be encountering, the faster she could earn her freedom and find a way back to Usagi.

 

Elsewhere in Space, Afternoon

 

Michiru huddled in the bathtub, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to shut out the memory of that morning. Her skin was bright red, raw from half an hour of scrubbing as she tried to erase the fingerprints from her body. She couldn't see them, they weren't painted across her arms and legs in any visible sense but she knew that they were there. Half a dozen different sets of hands had touched her, and now she felt used, dirty…

 

She gave a shuddering sob against her knees, rocking back and forth in the tepid water.

 

It had gone on for most of the day. People lying on the cushions, surrounded by sweet incense and gauzy curtains. In the quiet of the bathroom she could hear the sounds of heavy breathing, quiet sighs, deep moans, all echoing in her ears until she wanted to scream.

 

It had been like floating in a shark tank. She simply lay quiet, tears in her eyes, shuddering in horror as feet and arms and bodies brushed against her. Then, lying there, she'd thought that if she just shut her eyes and remained as still as possible then they wouldn't realize that she was there. For a while it had worked, and she had begun to believe that she just might escape before having to endure a repeat of the night before.

 

But her master had seen that she wasn't `enjoying herself' as he put it. He'd invited her to join him with a younger man in the middle of the revelers. When she hadn't moved, hadn't spoken he'd become angry, and before she knew what was happening…

 

She grabbed the washcloth again and began to rub frantically at her skin, trying to get the feel of their bodies, their hands off her. Her cries became frantic, desperate as the scents of sweat and sex filled her nostrils. She could feel where their mouths had touched her, could smell them as they leaned against her. She had to get it off, had to make it go away, had to feel clean again…

 

There was a knock on the door, and she froze, eyes wide, willing it to remain shut.

 

“Michiru-san?”

 

The tension in her shoulders eased, but not by much. It was Sessia, the girl assigned to be her maid.

 

“What is it?” Michiru called. She winced when she realized how bad she sounded, shaky and scared, a rabbit crouched before the yawning mouth of a predator.

 

“Are you all right in there Miss? The water must be getting cold…”

 

“I'll be out in a few moments, Sessia,” Michiru assured the girl, moving to stand up. “Just give me a second.”

 

“All right Miss.”

 

She heard the girl move away from the door and breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for the robe hanging on the wall. Right now, she just wanted to be alone, just wanted to breathe and clear her mind of everything.

 

Taking a deep, steadying breath she moved toward the mirror to examine her features. When she gazed into it, her own face stared back at her, and she was surprised to see that her own terror and shame was not present in her face. For some reason it bothered her. If she was as upset as she thought she was, shouldn't she be able to tell just by looking at herself?

 

“What's wrong with me?” she whispered, reaching out to touch the surface of the mirror.

 

Suddenly she hated her reflection. The smooth skin, high cheekbones, full lips and long lashes, the flawless looks that had gotten her here in the first place. Maybe if I'm not pretty they won't make me do it again. She thought, still staring at herself. In a few years I won't look like this, I'll be older, maybe have wrinkles and bad skin. The thought was reassuring. This wouldn't go on forever. It was temporary, it had an end, she had a destination, a free ticket out that she wouldn't even have to work for. For a moment, just a moment, she thought that it would be all right after all.

 

Then she saw it. The dark, mouth-shaped mark on her neck, a place where the blood had been pulled to the surface and left a bruise. Her hands began to shake, almost uncontrollably and she bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed.

 

“You're disgusting,” she whispered. Her eyes darkened with anger and the color fled from her cheeks as her hands clenched into fists. “You're disgusting!”

 

With a cry of rage she tore the mirror from the wall and slammed it to the floor, watching it shatter against the hard tile, sending sprays of glass over her feet.

 

For a long time, she just stared at the shards, at the sharp, jagged edges and thin points that made up the myriad pieces that covered the ground. They looked pretty, reflecting the detailed frescoes that covered the vaulted ceiling above. They also looked promising, the edges glittering with a hard smile that she could feel somewhere deep inside. Just looking at them entranced her, drew her in, gave her an answer to her pain.

 

But I want the water to be warm. She thought absently, staring at the tub. It's better if it's warm.

 

With that she went over and pulled the plug, watching the cold water drain out of the tub. When it was gone, she turned the faucet on, letting fresh, steaming liquid poor into the bathtub in a thick torrent. She smiled a little as she once again removed the robe, this time letting it fall in a puddle to the floor. It covered some of the broken glass, hiding some of the smaller pieces from sight. That was all right though; she wouldn't be needing any of those.

 

She waited until the tub was filled, then shut the water off. Then, she crouched over the remnants of the mirror, examining them with a slight frown of concentration. After a few moments she chose one, a thick one with a long edge on it, and climbed into the bath.

 

It was hotter than she'd expected. She gasped a little before she grew accustomed to it, and then she smiled because the heat felt good on her skin.

 

The shard felt good and hard in her hand and she looked at it under the water, examining it, trying to find the best angle. She could see bits of herself reflected in it, the deep blue of her eyes, the slight smile that graced her lips. In the end, she angled it away from her face, capturing a shred of color instead from the ceiling.

 

It's true then, she thought after the first cut, as she watched her blood leaking into the water. It really doesn't hurt. When she did the other wrist she sat back with her head on the cushioned edge and watched as the lines of red mingled with the clear water, like crimson vines twisting out of her hands.

 

She flexed her wrists experimentally, noting the surge of fresh blood that followed. Then she closed her eyes, allowed her body to relax, and let her mind slip away.

 

I'm sorry Hotaru, she thought as she began to feel lightheaded. I just wasn't strong enough. Forgive me…

 

 

Sessia came back to the bathroom a short while after her mistress had sent her away. The door was still shut, and she could see steam creeping out from under the doorway. She frowned, reaching for the knob. The water should be stone cold by now.

 

“Michiru-san?” she called. There was no answer. “Michiru-san, are you finished with your bath?”

 

There was still no answer. In fact, the silence in the room beyond was unnerving. It sent a chill down her spine. Before she knew what she was doing, or could recite to herself the ten rules of lady-maid etiquette, she was twisting the knob and tugging the door open with a rough motion.

 

The sight that met her eyes made her scream loud and long, a shrill demand for assistance. She knew someone would answer, even as she stumbled into the bathroom toward the tub, wincing as glass cut the bottoms of her feet. The water that filled the tub was pink and cloudy with fresh-flowing red. Her mistress lay against the side, face pale, a slight smile on her face as her life left her body through the cuts in her wrists.

 

“Someone help me!” she cried over her shoulder, then reached into the water, gathering Michiru up, hauling her out of the tub. The other girl was heavy, and Sessia herself was only thirteen, but she managed to pull her mistress out and onto the floor. Her wrists were still bleeding freely and the maid struggled to bind them, to make them stop pumping blood onto the white tile.

 

She could hear people approaching the bathroom now, coming at a run. Relief surged through her, the knowledge that soon everything would be out of her hands and given to someone who knew what they were doing. As an afterthought she checked Michiru's pulse. It was faint and weak, barely even there.

 

“Hurry!” she screamed. Then, bending over the other girl she felt tears on her cheeks. “Don't die,” she whispered. “Oh please, don't die.”

 

Under her hand she felt Michiru's heart stop beating and she gave a tiny, protesting cry. Then there were other hands, men's hands taking the limp body from her arms, and everything was lost in the chaos.

 

About Two Weeks Later, Frieza's Ship

 

Frieza's ship had been delayed leaving for home by six days due to a technical glitch in the ship's computer. Someone had tried to explain it to Hotaru, as though it had been a simple thing any person would understand. Needless to say, Hotaru had not understood the mechanical problem, but she felt somehow comforted by it. For one, knowing that even Frieza had to deal with things like a ship breaking down made her feel a little easier. Also, a part of her believed that if they stayed put long enough, one of the other senshi would come and retrieve her.

 

Aside from the very first day, she had been shown nothing but kindness under Frieza's hospitality. Still, she could not shake the feeling of unease, knowing that her life could be ended at any second by any number of people around her for any reason. She was also still struggling with Haruka's death and the disappearance of Michiru and Setsuna. Despite Frieza's assurances that they were “staying with friends,” she could not help but think that something awful had happened to one or both of them.

 

Her apprehensions were not helped by the fact that there was little for her to do on the ship. Frieza had forbidden her from leaving without proper escort, and she found that escort, Zarbon, a little unnerving. He had been kind to her, just as everyone else had, but being alone and depending on him for protection was not comforting. So, she had spent the vast majority of her time in the library, wading through ridiculously difficult texts. She also found herself eating more than usual, both to pass the time and to make the people on the ship stop bugging her about not eating enough. Any time not spent sleeping, eating or reading was spent wandering around or being fitted for dresses and accessories.

 

Less than a day after the ship had finally been repaired and had departed, she came down with some illness. It was not particularly serious, but the medical wing of the ship seemed ill equipped to handle her situation. Most of the medicine and equipment were for warriors who had been gravely wounded in battle. They did not have anything to give her for a fever that would be considered safe for her weak constitution, so she was forced into bed-rest, piled under thick blankets and still shivering. At any given point in time, a slave woman or Zarbon would sit by her bed, talking to her or sponging at her head with a cool cloth.

 

She remembered little of the days that passed while the ship made its way to Frieza's home planet. She slipped in and out of sleep, dreaming the ridiculous things people dream when suffering a fever. Sometimes the dreams would be formless, shifting shapes and colors with no meaning, and sometimes she would dream of the other senshi, her friends. Often she would see Haruka and Michiru, smiling together, moving farther and farther away from her while she huddled on the ground, crying out to them. Sometimes she dreamed of her host, the tyrannical lizard who had shown her nothing but kindness.

 

Twice she dreamed of Zarbon. The first time he had only been present by nature of the fact that he had fired the blast that had killed Haruka. But he stood in the background of the dream while she focused on her dead friend. In the other dream, he held her, carrying her in his arms down an endless corridor. It was a strangely pleasant dream, and she felt warmer than she had since the onset of the fever.

 

She woke from this dream slowly, as one does after sleeping more hours in a night than is reasonable, the light glaring and uncomfortable to her eyes. Other than that, she felt much improved, no longer tired or feverish. A warm hand rested on her forehead and she turned enough to see Zarbon sitting in a chair next to her. She blushed lightly. It was one thing for him to knock and then come into her room to take her to a meal or to the library, but it was a completely different matter for him to sit with her and see her while she was sleeping. She pulled the blanket up a bit.

 

“Good to see you awake. Your fever has gone down.”

 

He let his hand linger on her face a little longer than necessary, making her uncomfortable. He seemed to note this and pulled away, sitting back in his chair.

 

“What time is it?” she asked. She felt as though some part of her appetite was returning, and hoped it was near a meal.

 

“After supper. Would you like to get out of bed for a while? Maybe walk down to the library?”

 

She nodded, and he helped her out of bed. He retrieved a robe from the other side of the room for her and then helped her down the hall to the library. The short walk tired her immensely, and immediately upon entering the room she sank into a chair, breathing heavily. While she rested, Zarbon found one of the books she'd been reading and laid it on the low table in front of her. She picked it up and flipped around for a moment before she found her place. She had yet to find a bookmark anywhere on the ship and didn't feel right about dog-earing the pages of a book she didn't own.

 

“Do you think I could get some water, and maybe a little to eat?” she asked quietly. She did not like making requests, although most of the people on the ship jumped to obey.

 

“Of course.”

 

He left the room for a moment to hunt down a servant, and she breathed a sigh of relief. While she appreciated having him around to protect her from some of the less-than-honorable looking creatures on the ship, it was still unnerving having him follow her around all the time. Rarely was she in a room without him being with her, and she took the opportunity to think.

 

Things had been happening to her so fast that she'd hardly had any time to reflect. Almost immediately upon her recovery from the fight she'd been assaulted, and then Zarbon had started tagging after her. Then she'd fallen ill and would not have been able to think straight even if she'd tried. She needed time to decide her feelings toward her hosts/captors.

 

Never would she forgive either of them for killing Haruka, of that she was sure. However, she did not know whom she should blame more for her friend's death. Zarbon had been the one to fire the shot, but he most likely did it at the urging of Frieza. Adding to her confusion, Zarbon took every care to see that she was comfortable and, at least in part, happy. Frieza had commanded this too, but he was not instrumental in her day-to-day wellbeing. Her feelings were too jumbled to sort out quickly, and Zarbon returned before she had a chance to make any progress.

 

“Some food will be brought in a few minutes,” he said.

 

“Thank you.”

 

She turned back to her book and read a sentence, working out the translation in her head. It was tedious progress, reading one sentence at a time and then fumbling to grasp the meaning, but she made do, and was getting faster. Occasionally she would come across a word she had never seen before, but she could usually figure out its meaning. Sometimes she would have to ask someone around her, though, and most often that person would be Zarbon. He would always tell her politely, never chiding her for not knowing a word. Still, she would flush in embarrassment every time, and bury her head farther into her book.

 

Her food arrived, and she picked at it half-heartedly. The water she drank copiously, but she had even less appetite than normal, and hardly made a dent in her food. When she would move to push the food away, Zarbon would give her a look telling her to eat more, and she would try. However, after almost an hour, she could eat no more and felt a bit feverish. She noted the page number in her book and closed it, setting it on the table in front of her. Zarbon took the hint and put the book back on the shelf.

 

Hotaru nearly fainted walking back to her room, but congratulated herself on walking the entire distance. Once inside her room, she shed her robe and climbed into bead. She could tell her fever was coming back, though it did not seem as bad, and being under the covers helped. Within minutes, she fell back asleep. Zarbon sat down in a chair near her bed, watching.