Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON ❯ Day of the Crabs ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

(A/N: There's a LOT of telepathy in this chapter and the italics don't
work anywhere but at my web site. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

>>>>>
A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2003 Darke Angelus
Chapter Four ~ Day of the Crabs


Cruising steadily along at an altitude of 25,000 feet, a yellow
Capsule Corporation hoverjet maintained a consistent speed of mach one
as it headed eastwards. The landmass of the Continent was far below
them, partially masked in white, fluffy clouds. Far ahead was the barely
perceptible line of the rapidly approaching Atlantic Ocean.

Inside the cabin there was a noticeable lack of conversation.
Bulma could have set the jet on autopilot but she became easily bored
and busied herself with constantly adjusting their altitude and checking
the console read-outs. Beside her in the co-pilots seat, Vegeta was
slouched in the chair and engrossed in a heavy brooding session. He
hadn't uttered a word since they had set out from the Arid Wastes two
hours before and Bulma was acutely aware of the reason why.

Unable to stand the tension one more minute, she finally blurted
out; "It's no big deal. It happens-"

"Not to me, it doesn't," came the terse growl.

"It was a rough day, we were tired, and-"

"And we were being watched," he finished roughly.

Her wide eyes bulged. "We were?"

"It was the same sensation that Nappa felt shortly after we made
land-fall on Earth. That was why he attacked the reporters. That was
why-" he couldn't finish and became occupied with staring out the
cockpit window. Bulma could only see his left cheek as he deliberately
looked away from her but it was clear that he was blushing furiously.

She relaxed a little with the brusque admission. On top of the
butte as they began to get passionate, he became distracted. Despite her
insistence, he couldn't seem to concentrate and had lost his hold on his
Super Saiyan form, among other things... Now she understood. "I'm
surprised that you didn't track them down."

"I released an electromagnetic pulse before you popped the jet
capsule. That should have done the trick."

(And it did. Despite the distance of over five kilometers, the
camera that Brin had been using to film their passion had exploded,
nearly costing the cameraman an eye. Even at base camp over forty klicks
away, Vegeta had caused enough damage to the camera film to demand a
complete re-shoot. Not that it would ever happen. After that devastating
discovery, Mitch Jerkins quietly suffered a nervous breakdown and was
admitted into an institution. Dorothy Pereaux faded back into her own
self-imposed exile plotting her next comeback. Abandoning his dreams of
stardom, Yamcha went back to playing baseball all the while cursing the
Saiyan under his breath.)

"If that's the case then everything's fine," Bulma said in a
cheerful voice. "You'll be right back to your old self in no time.
You'll see. It's not the end of the world just because you couldn't get
it u-"

"Time to change the subject, woman," he cautioned in a hard voice.

Rolling her eyes, Bulma sighed. There would be no debating the
issue and she decided that things would be safer if she just did as he
asked. It wasn't a particularly hard request; there were always things
to occupy her mind and most dominant subject was currently; "The Bermuda
Triangle. It bothers me that we're going there to get the next
Dragonball."

"So you said before," he said, staring at her sidelong. "Although
I'll be damned if I understand why."

"Strange things have been happening there since the days of
Columbus."

"Who?"

"He was an early explorer. We're talking hundreds of years of
boats and planes disappearing without a trace, never to be found again.
It's an area of ocean between Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Florida that's
known to knock out navigational equipment and cause engines to lose
power."

Considering this, Vegeta admitted, "There were some pockets in
space that did the same to the space pods. They're not an unknown
phenomena."

"That's right. Some scientists suspect that the Bermuda Triangle
contains a doorway to an alternate dimension, or some sort of time
vortex. Others think that aliens are to blame."

"Aliens? Get real!"

"Kami was over 500 years old and he was as alien as they come.
Even ancient cave drawings depict UFO's visiting earth. What makes you
think that you're original?" she asked haughtily.

He glowered at her. "I don't deny that superior species may have
occasionally visited here. I imagine that they caught one glimpse of the
lunatics that inhabited this world and sped back out into space. What I
doubt is that any were stupid enough to stick around."

"Like you?" she shot out.

"Exactly like me," he retorted, flashing her a level glare.

Bulma tried to lock eyes with him but quickly gave up. "You're
incorrigible," she muttered. She pulled out her cell phone, flipped the
case with her thumb, and hit the automatic dialer. "I'm going to talk to
someone who makes sense."

"That leaves out your mother then," he said and began chuckling
when, after the second ring, Bulma's mother answered the phone
squalling, "How are my darling newlyweds?!"

As the blonde began her usual barrage of questions, Bulma made
faltering attempts to cut in without success. Throughout it all, Vegeta
was getting too much enjoyment out of her distress so she deliberately
released the joystick and sent the jet into a head spin. Practically
diving into her lap, the Saiyan grabbed the yoke and steadied the plane,
mouthing every expletive that he knew, earth and alien, into her face.
Smiling down at him, Bulma said pleasantly, "Why yes, mother, Vegeta
sends his love."

"Bitch," Vegeta growled.

The two women chatted amiably for close to an hour while the
Saiyan sulked in the co-pilot's seat. Finally came the long awaited
words he was dying to hear, "I'll call you after we're settled in. Yes,
I promise. I love you too, mom."

"Gah," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Was there no end to human
sentiment?

She offered him the phone. "Trunks wants to speak to his father."

Debating not taking it, Vegeta figured that the longer he
hesitated, the longer it would take to get this fuzzy moment over and
done with. Snatching the phone from her, he spoke tersely into the
receiver, "Listen boy, say your piece and get off the-"

"!!HI DADDY!!" the youth screamed at the top of his lungs.

"!!AH FUCK!!" Vegeta cried, dropping the phone and cupping his
wounded ear.

Gingerly picking the phone off the floor, Bulma noted with
amusement that their son was now on the other end singing,
"Fukfukfukfukfukfuk-"

"Trunks, knock it off. That's a nasty word. You're not a parrot."

"-Fuk'aparrot-fuk'aparrot-fuk'aparr-"

"You just wait until we get home, young man," Bulma promised and
hung up. "That boy definitely has your mouth," she told the Saiyan.

"And your lungs," he growled, massaging his ringing ear. "When we
get home, I swear I'm gonna rip out his vocal cords-"

"We're almost there," she suddenly said in a voice that was all
business as she consulted the Dragonball radar. Beside her, Vegeta
looked expectantly out of the window and saw just what he expected to:
the flat expanse of ocean peppered here and there with small islands. He
had seen the same when he had searched for Cell after emerging from the
Hyperbolic Time Chamber that first time. Nothing significant.

Visibly tense with anticipation, Bulma was almost disappointed
when they entered the triangle and her instruments remained steady,
displaying no signs of tampering. "Oh," she said in a small voice,
slowing the craft and dropping it down near the water's surface. "I was
at least expecting a blip on the radar, or something."

He made no comment but truthfully, he had been hoping for some
excitement as well. He had been alive long enough to know that even the
most surreal of superstitious tales contained some degree of truth
behind their origin. The adventurous Saiyan within him had been looking
forward to unraveling the elusive mystery. Now it just looked like
another hide and seek venture. He pushed open the cockpit door and held
his hand out for the radar. "This won't take long."

"I'm not so sure," she mused, consulting the readout. "The
Dragonball is very deep."

"How deep?"

She pressed a switch on the side and then shook it. "It must be
broken. The reading is displaying a depth of over three thousand feet.
The water here can't be that deep."

He crossed his arms and tapped his left bicep with an errand
finger. "It could be if there's a crevice down there. Or a volcanic
cavern."

"How deep can you dive?"

He didn't answer right away. There hadn't been many purging
missions that required swimming. He had done some deep sea diving on
Namek but his latest water encounter had been at Installation 15. The
base had been almost a thousand feet underwater and he had barely
escaped with his life. Despite the grim facts, his face betrayed nothing
and he lied easily, "Deep enough. Hand it over."

Bulma didn't budge. "We're talking three thousand feet, Vegeta."

"So?"

"Every hundred feet of descent adds 45 pounds of pressure. I'm not
sure that even your training in the gravity simulator can prepare you
for that kind of stress. Not to mention the cold and complete darkness
you'd face. You told me that you can only hold your breath for a half
hour. It wouldn't be long enough."

"Well, what the hell do you expect me to do?" he yelled at her in
frustration.

It was the answer that she had been hoping to hear.

Barely twenty minutes later, the pair crammed into a tiny
submersible craft that dropped down easily into the ocean's depths. At
first the water was a clear aquamarine but it gradually darkened in hue
until it became a deep indigo not even the vehicle's single spotlight
could penetrate.

Inside, Bulma was seated squarely on Vegeta's lap because the
craft had only a single seat and neither was comfortable. What's more,
the windows kept fogging up and the power for the heaters was being
diverted to the vehicle's little engines for maximum descent. Adding to
the fact that there was a limited supply of oxygen for the trek, it was
small wonder that there was little banter between the pair.

Bulma was dressed in a black pantsuit and heavy yellow jacket
similar to what she had worn on Namek. Vegeta was just wearing his one-
piece blue body suit because the heavy chest armor made the cockpit too
confining. He was NOT happy. He felt vulnerable heading down into
unknown territory without his predictable armor protecting his vitals.
Not for the first time, he shifted position while muttering under his
breath, "If I'd at least worn a codpiece, we'd both be more
comfortable."

"I'm just fine," she said, deliberately wiggling her butt into his
aching crotch. "Besides, I told you that there was only room for one
person and you don't know how to operate this submarine."

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to let you go alone!"

She looked over her shoulder at him and flashed him a sincere
smile. "Oh Vegeta, that's so-"

"-If anyone's going to see some action, it's going to be me!"

"-sweet," she finished flatly, turning back to the controls while
shaking her head. She should have known... She consulted the Dragonball
radar to ensure that their descent followed after the elusive orb but
she was unprepared for the sudden jolt of the craft as they belly-
flopped in soft silt. It jostled the couple and visibility was
momentarily lost as the loose sediment swirled around the submersible.

"I thought you knew how to pilot this piece of shit," he groused,
squirming underneath of her.

"I'm just following what the radar is telling me. According to
this, the Dragonball is directly underneath us," she said, turning on
the sonar.

Scowling, he muttered, "Great. Fat lot of good that does us. Does
this sardine can have any burrowing equipment or am I going to have to
get out and shovel?"

"Actually there are torpedoes and lasers onboard, but we're not
going to need them," she said. Carefully manipulating the controls, she
swung the craft around and trained the spotlight on a section of ocean
bed that was glowing on the sonar display. "Look at that!"

Craning his head to peer over her shoulder, he could make out a
shelf of rock that slanted sharply into a fissure. Partially obscuring
it from view was a large domed mantle of coral reef. If it hadn't been
for the Dragonball radar guiding them, they would have never discovered
the opening. "That's not a natural formation," he said. It was not a
question.

"No, it's not."

At the prospect of some adventure, he brightened. "I think we're
hot on the trail of your elusive alien kidnappers. Can this vessel get
through that opening?"

His interest was contagious. When it came to matters of curiosity,
both of them were renowned for shelving any common sense. It was one of
the traits that made them so much alike (and got them into so much
trouble). Grabbing the yoke of the small submarine, Bulma smiled. "We're
going to find out!"

It was a tight fit. The sides of the craft scrapped audibly along
the rough rock, sounding like nails across a blackboard. The instant
they were free, a fierce current sucked them downwards. The Dragonball
radar guided their steady descent until the water around them turned as
pitch black as printers ink. Strange creatures darted in and out of the
spotlight, some displaying startling luminescent colors that were
mesmerizing. Looking over Bulma's shoulder, Vegeta thought about
Installation 15 again and betrayed a brief tremor.

"Are you cold? I'm sorry but I've got the heat as high as I dare,"
she said.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, casting a wary eye around the small
cabin. With all of his time spent in space pods he knew that the
confines of this craft shouldn't be bothering him but his nerves were
suddenly raw with tension. His breathing increased the more he thought
about the secret base and his last encounter with Frieza. He had been
stranded on the ocean and had almost drowned.

Almost drowned...

I-I think he's scared, Bulma thought with a shock as she felt him
tremble again. He was breathing far too quickly for it to be dismissed
as simple excitement and his arms were wrapped around her waist with
almost painful force. She placed her free hand over his and squeezed
gently. He didn't return the gesture but she thought that she could feel
him relax, just a little. "Not much longer now. We're almost on top of
it," she said, stating the obvious. She hoped that hearing her voice
might calm him further. "After we get the Dragonball we'll check into a
hotel and order up some room service. What would you like? Steak? Some
Lasagna? Maybe Chinese?-"

"Anything but fish," he finally responded in a low voice. It was a
lame attempt at humor but when she laughed, he felt some of his anxiety
lessen. It was amazing how the woman seemed able to read into his
emotions and redirect them with a simple word or gesture. Despite the
circumstances, he could think of no other place that he'd rather be than
crammed into this sardine can serving as her chair. He squeezed her
waist and then relaxed the pressure. It was as close to a thank-you as
he could give her.

"Twenty feet... fifteen... ten..." Bulma had been letting the
current pull them down to save power and now engaged the rotors to slow
them down. Angling the spotlight, the pair was greeted to the familiar
sight of a circular orange orb. "There it is!"

"... about fucking time..." she heard the Saiyan mutter distinctly
under his breath.

She landed the craft beside the Dragonball and the motors
disturbed the accumulated silt to expose a gigantic graveyard of ruined
planes and boats. The carcasses of abandoned vessels went on further
than the small spotlight could reveal. "There's no way all of these got
here by accident," she whispered.

"Looks like there's something to your triangle myth after all," he
agreed, leaning around her to look out of the nearest view port. "Some
of the wrecks don't even look damaged. It's like something pulled them
down here. It's almost like we're in a-a-"

The pair cast one worried glance at one another and said at the
same time: "-NEST!"

"Hurry up and get the ball!" Vegeta shouted while she frantically
donned a pair of cyber gloves and manipulated the craft's robotic arms.
She was close to panicking and her shaking hands were causing the
mechanical pincers to falter. After the third attempt, she managed to
clasp the Dragonball and push it into the small hold in the belly of the
submersible. Just as she was retracting the arms in preparation to
leave, a black tendril came out of the gloom and wrapped itself around
the right support. It swung the craft up and around in an effortless arc
and slammed it back down into the wreckage.

Inside, the pair were thrown around the small cabin and Bulma
slammed her forehead against the hull and greyed out. She landed on top
of Vegeta who was lying on the floor and looking up at the unfamiliar
controls wondering what he could do. Black tentacles like steel cables
began to crisscross around the submersible. The heavy steel frame of the
craft began to groan as the malicious limbs steadily tightened.

Vegeta instinctively raised his hand palm-up to the front window
but he was able to retrain himself from firing a blast just in time.
This far down, the ocean pressure would pop Bulma like a grape and he
doubted that he would fare much better. He was a desert breed, not well
suited to extreme water conditions and learning to swim had only been
out of necessity. If he thought for one instant that he had a chance to
survive, he'd blast an exit and flee.

But... he couldn't leave. And in his arms was the reason why.

Bulma stirred and pressed a hand against the bump that was rising
on her temple. It took only a few seconds for her stunned mind to grasp
what was happening. There was a sound like a pistol shot and a hairline
crack formed along the five-inch thick glass of the front view port. A
spider web of others quickly joined it as the tentacles tightened their
grip. Along the seams of the craft, salt water was starting to spray out
of twisted rivets, soaking her in a chilling shower.

"Oh god," she choked and strong arms pulled her close into a
comforting warmth. She found herself looking at Vegeta's tense features.
"You-you're staying?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Oh Vegeta, that's so-"

"I'd never hear the end of it from your loser friends if you died
on me."

"-sweet," she muttered without surprise. Despite his unique
reasoning, the end result was the same; He was staying right beside her
and was probably going to die with her. She hugged him with panicked
urgency. "Vegeta, I love you. I want you to know that."

The craft lurched and he felt his ears pop, an indication that the
pressure was dropping in the submersible. It was seconds away from
imploding. "I know it. You wouldn't put up with all of my shit if you
didn't," he said honestly.

Despite her terror, she had to betray a small laugh. "I'll look
for you in heaven."

"You'll have a long search," he said soberly. "I'm going to be
headed in the opposite direction."

"Then I'll wait for you until the end of time," she promised and
kissed him just as the front portal exploded.

>>>>>

Even before he opened his eyes, Vegeta knew that he was alive and
breathing and the immediate thought that came to mind was: Dodged the
bullet again. Hnh. I've got more lives than a fucking cat.

His lungs were straining with effort and he coughed, feeling thick
liquid in his throat and nasal passages. He was still underwater but
damned if he wasn't breathing the stuff. He wondered idly if this was
some new Super Saiyan transformation until he opened his eyes, squinting
through the murky liquid. It was mildly luminescent and contained a
faint bluish hue. He was contained in a distinct sphere of what he
realized was liquid oxygen. Beside him, still unconscious, Bulma was
floating in another glowing sphere.

He called out to her and the words came out as a strangled gurgle.
Wincing, he tightened down with his mind and projected clearly; -Woman,
wake up. Do you hear me? WAKE UP!

An expression of discomfort crossed her face and she rubbed her
aching forehead. She opened her mouth to complain and started choking on
the thick liquid. She began clawing at her throat in desperation,
thinking she was drowning.

-You're not drowning! He yelled at her. –You can breathe the
stuff. Just take small, shallow breaths. That's it.

She followed his advice and slowly adapted to this new medium. It
was entirely foreign to her and not at all pleasant. It felt like she
wasn't getting enough oxygen and her entire body trembled with the
effort of trying to draw a decent breath. It took several minutes for
their unique situation to dawn on her and she looked over at her husband
urgently. She was no telepath but she could single out her thoughts
clearly enough for him to pick up. -Where... where are we?

-Not sure, he sent back to her. He briefly investigated his small,
watery prison. It was about ten feet in circumference. When he attempted
to poke his fingers through the edge, he felt numbing cold rush up his
hand and a pressure that immediately caused his joints to swell and
ache. He pulled his hand back in quickly. –Probably somewhere close to
the 'nest'. Don't reach beyond the limits of the sphere. They're
protecting us from the cold and pressure.

-So... we're trapped, she said meekly.

-Could be worse. We could be dead, he responded, stating the
obvious.

She glared at him and made the mistake of trying to yell. He
crossed his arms and visibly gloated at her inability to use her most
strident defense; her mouth. I could definitely get used to this, he
thought privately.

When she recovered her wits, she projected; -How on earth can you
stay so blasted calm?

-You think this is my first time in a hopeless situation? Every
extra second to live is a chance to strategize and come up with a plan.
You're the supposed genius here- What do YOU suggest we do?

Her mind whirled with possibilities. The only thing that really
made any sense was; -We... wait and see what happens.

He gave one short nod. –I don't think we'll be waiting long.

As usual, he was right. With the exception of the radiance that
the globules emitted, there was only blackness that encircled them on
all sides. It could have been minutes or hours, time was difficult to
judge down here, but eventually a new presence began to present itself
with a subtle glowing luminosity that increased in brilliance. Neither
Saiyan nor Earthling knew quite what to expect but when the first
creature scuttled up to them, the best emotion to describe what they
both felt was disappointment.

It was small, vaguely crab-like in structure with a squat, glowing
body that was albino white and possessed several segmented legs for
locomotion. It had claws on its front legs that had opposable thumbs for
manipulation of objects. Poised on the end of two slender stalks were
eyes that ogled them with passive curiosity.

Vegeta was unimpressed. –A stupid crab. I wonder if it's edible.

Bulma was looking around and felt a sharp jolt of fear. –VEGETA!

When he turned, he saw that the creature wasn't alone. Swiftly
joining the first scout, several more scampered over to see what all the
fuss was about. Before long, the newlyweds were surrounded by thousands
of the crab-like organisms. They varied in color but not in the basic
body shape and the largest was only two feet across.

-Boil up some water; we're having a feast, Vegeta thought with
bitter amusement.

She glared daggers at him. –Will you knock it off? This is
serious!

-Can't be helped. I'm hungry.

... always hungry...bottomless gut...

-Hey! I heard that!

Ignoring him, she swam down as far as she dared in her liquid cell
to catch a closer look at the crab-like beings. Thousands of eyeballs
regarded her and nervously clicked their claws together. Patting her
chest for emphasis, Bulma tried to speak her name. It came out as an
indecipherable gurgle of sound.

-What the hell are you doing? the Saiyan demanded.

-I'm trying to communicate with them! she shot back. Patting her
chest again she forced out, "Bulma." She pointed to Vegeta. "Asshole."

His eyes narrowed in anger. –You are really pushing it-

The strange crabs shut their eyes and a collective buzz resonated
through the water, "... buhhhl-mahhh..."

-It worked! She flashed him the victory sign. –They understand me!

He looked around doubtfully. –They're just mimicking you, that's
all. Stupid little bastards-

"... ahhhhs-hooooole..."

-I don't know, Vegeta. They seem pretty smart to me, she thought
back with a broad grin. She received a lethal glare as a response and a
sensation in her mind that was similar to a door slamming shut. He had
rudely shut off their rapport and swam around in his sphere until his
back was to her.

Sighing, she focused her attention back on their captors. They had
stopped their nervous fidgeting and appeared to be waiting for her to
say something else. "Who- what are you?" she spoke slowly in the thick
liquid.

A multitude of eyes glanced around. "... noooot liiike
oooothers..." came the puzzled response.

Not sure of what to make of that statement, Bulma tried again, "We
mean you no harm. If you let us go, we'll be on our way. We won't tell
anyone about you."

"... noooot scaaaared..."

She wasn't sure of that was a question. "I'm not scared. I just
don't want any trouble. I only want to go home-"

At the word 'home' they became agitated and danced anxiously
around one another as they babbled in their own enigmatic language. At
the sound of it, Vegeta whirled around and stared at them with wide
eyes.

-Vegeta? she attempted, hoping the Saiyan was responsive to her
thoughts.

He looked over at her. –They're speaking Galactic Standard.
Extremely old Galactic Standard. I can barely follow it.

-What does that mean?

-'Standard hasn't changed its form in over a thousand stellar
cycles. That must mean...

"How old are you?" she asked them.

At the sound of her voice, the creatures quieted and peered back
at her with their strange eyes. They made an odd series of utterances
that seemed to make little sense to her. She looked to the Saiyan and
saw that he was frowning in confusion. –Vegeta? What did they say?

-They don't know numbers very well. 'A hundred hatchings', 'one
hundred thousand hatchings'; each crab contradicts the other, he shook
his head. –They argue like a bunch of brats.

Realization dawned on her face. –That's because that's what they
are!

-Say what?

-They're babies! she told him, looking around at the collection of
aliens surrounding her. They were all roughly the same size and
appearance and she figured she had a pretty good idea why. "Where's your
mother? Is your daddy nearby?"

Scowling in disgust, Vegeta sent to her, -Why don't you whip out a
tit and offer to breast-feed them while you're at it?

"Shut up, Vegeta!"

"... ahhhhs-hooooole..." the alien crabs chimed together.

Gritting his teeth, he snarled out some choice expletive in
Galactic Standard and the crabs visibly jumped in surprise. They turned
tail and scurried back into the protective darkness until the pair were
left alone.

-Oh, that's just great! You had a chance to play ambassador and
you blew it! Bulma fumed.

-Diplomacy was never my strong suit, he stated aloofly. –Who
knows? Maybe they went to go fetch 'daddy' for you. He coughed out smug
laughter until two gigantic claws dropped down on either side of his
sphere. A gigantic crab easily fifty feet wide lowered its bulk to stare
down at him. It didn't look happy.

-You know something? I think you're right, Bulma said meekly.

The adult crab rumbled in a deep bass tone that vibrated through
the water and seemed to shake Vegeta right down to the bones. It was
still that bastardized version of 'Standard but he caught the jist of
what the monster was demanding- roughly translated as, "Just who the
hell do you think you are?"

"Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans," he stated proudly.

The huge eyeballs regarded him with only vacant animosity. "Saay-
Ahn... whaat iis Saay-ahn?"

He couldn't believe his ears, although he supposed it did make
some sense. Saiyans had only become the scourge of the galaxy in the
last hundred or so years. At the time when these creatures roamed space,
Saiyans had been crouching in the dirt picking fleas out of their tails.
"It's a race that's going to eat you with butter if you don't show me
some damned respect!" he shouted fearlessly up at the other alien.

Blinking in clear astonishment, the crab snapped its mammoth claws
together and then, surprisingly, backed off. It regarded the Saiyan
moodily for a moment, swiveled its eyes at Bulma, and then came back.
"Noot oof thiis woorld..." it muttered. "Liike uus...?"

"Sure," Vegeta sneered, inwardly shuddering at the thought of any
kind of resemblance between them.

"...straanded..." the adult said sadly, settling its huge bulk
down in the sand as if in surrender. In its faltering manner, it
grumbled out a long, meandering tale of its life story that took over
forty-five minutes to relate. By the time it was finally done, Vegeta
was nearly at his wits end and close to blasting the creature just to
get it to shut up. He had a headache from trying to sort out the twisted
language. The little hatchlings hadn't been talented conversationalists
but the adult was the crab-like version of Forrest Gump.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Bulma cut in with; -Well?
What did it say?

-A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away-

-Vegeta! Get serious!

He rubbed his temples with a grimace. –It's the usual stranded-
alien story: They came to earth, lost power, and got stuck here. They
thought the earth crafts they took might have a compatible power supply
to replenish their own resources. No luck. They've given up.

-Well, have they tried the sun? she suggested.

He frowned at her. –Are you talking about solar power?

-Sure! After all, the sun is the oldest power supply in the
universe, she said happily. –Why don't you ask him if they tried that?

-They've been stuck on this planet for over a thousand years! Are
you trying to suggest that they haven't thought about doing that at some
point in time? Nothing is that stupid!

Seated next to them, the huge crab began nibbling at its claw,
realized that it was chewing on itself, and put the appendage back down.

-Does that answer your question? Bulma asked dryly.

Vegeta's mouth twitched as he considered how to relate her
suggestion to the crab in a manner it would understand. It took another
half hour of difficult translations to hammer the idea home. At one
point it even looked like the Saiyan was playing a frantic game of
charades. Bulma watched all of this from the sidelines, wishing she
could contribute to the conversation before his limited patience gave
out. He was close to exploding and his thoughts were radiating colorful
overtones of rage, disgust, and sheer frustration.

At long last, the crab's eyes widened and it jumped up on its legs
and scurried off into the darkness. Vegeta slumped wearily in the sphere
and through their rapport, she could hear him muttering, -...thick-
headed, just like trying to argue with Kakarrot... Gah!

Amused, she asked him, -Any luck?

He regarded her with half-lidded eyes. –How am I supposed to know?
I think I got the point across but the damn thing is stupider than a bag
of hammers!

-Well, for what it's worth, I think you did great. I'm very proud
of you, she told him. –When we get out of here, I'm going to reward you
for being so patient.

One heavy eyebrow cocked up. –...What kind of reward?

-Well, for starters I was thinking of giving you a nice, slow
massage. How about that?

He frowned. –I'd sooner get a blow-

The water rippled with sudden pressure waves that shook them in
their spheres. Before either of them could question the source of the
seismic quakes hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the slender tendrils that
had crushed their submarine burst out of the ground and moved skywards
with blinding speed.

-I think the big fella understood you, Bulma remarked. All around
them was a thick forest of swaying black cables. She had little doubt
that they could reach the ocean's surface; after all, they were capable
of dragging down planes. She hoped that exposing the entire collection
to sunlight would help the crabs get the energy that they needed. –I
just hope that it isn't night up there or we're going to be in for a
long wait.

-You really know how to set a guy's mind at ease, he grumbled. He
had been preoccupied with his hunger before but Bulma's suggestion of a
sensual reward now whetted a different type of appetite. When they
finally got their hands back on each other, he had no intention of
letting go of her anytime soon. The episode at the butte had just been a
temporary setback and he was eager to make up for lost time.

-Vegeta-LOOK! she shouted, pointing up.

-I'll be damned, he muttered in rare astonishment.

The tentacles were starting to glow. Currents of pale energy
throbbed through the cables like a rhythm to a heartbeat, gradually
increasing in speed until the pair had to look away or risk going blind.
Each tendril became a glowing chain of white-hot fire; drawing energy
from the sun and channeling it deep into the ocean bed where a
millennium-old craft began to rumble with new power at long last.

One by one, the alien cables retracted back into the shuddering
ocean bed. At long last, a final straggler effortlessly slid past the
bewildered pair taking its valuable light with it. They were now left
alone in their solitary confinement, far below the surface and acutely
aware that no one topside knew where they were.

Bulma felt some of her eternal optimism start to lessen the longer
they waited. –They wouldn't just leave us here! she said nervously. –
They-they wouldn't do that, would they Vegeta?

It didn't help that he wouldn't immediately answer. He was
starting to feel some doubt of his own. In their excitement of returning
to space, it was highly possible that the crabs might have overlooked
them in all of the confusion. They appeared to have a one-track mind
and, up until now at least, it had appeared to be focused solely on
breeding, if their explosive numbers were any indication. –Woman-Bulma,
I don't know-

"Goo hoome noow," a voice announced, making them both jump in
surprise. The adult alien was back, almost prancing on its huge legs and
miraculously avoiding all of the youngsters running around underfoot.
"Haapy-Haapy... jooy-jooy! Hooooooome!"

"Right. Home. Good for you," Vegeta said roughly. "Now it's your
turn. You'll take us topside and let us go. Understood?"

The large adult cocked its head to one side curiously. "Noot coome
wiith?"

It took awhile for the Saiyan to process the offer. He finally
shook his head and said in a softer voice, "I'm right where I want to
be."

Bulma became the target of the crab's scrutiny for a long moment
before it turned to Vegeta and rumbled out a query. She didn't know what
he said as an answer but he was smiling and had nodded in her direction.
The two aliens exchanged some puzzling banter for a short while. At long
last, the huge adult offered the prince a respectable little bow and
waddled over to Bulma and did the same. "Thaanks yoou," it grated out in
mangled English.

"You're welcome," she responded, smiling as all of the little
hatchlings began echoing the sentiment of their parent. One by one, they
retreated back into the stygian darkness until it was just the
newlyweds.

-What did you two talk about? she asked.

-They'll let us go when we reach the surface.

-Is that all? It seemed like there was more to it than that, she
said knowingly.

He passed her enigmatic little smirk and said nothing.

-You're not going to tell me, are you?

His smile broadened. –We aliens like our secrets.

>>>>>

Just before sunset, the calm waters of the Atlantic began to boil
and froth as if exposed to tumultuous currents. In an explosion of
water, coral, and debris, a circular-shaped craft of gigantic
proportions burst from its oceanic prison and entered the atmosphere of
earth for the first time in one thousand years. It lingered there for
one the span of several seconds, hovering like a dirty soap bubble
before something shot out of its underside and landed in the water.
After that, it glowed star-bright and shot into orbit with amazing
speed, leaving a scar in the atmosphere from its rapid ascent. Several
sonic booms echoed across the ocean like thunder.

Bobbing in the waves, Bulma and Vegeta were coughing and retching,
trying to get all traces of liquid oxygen out of their aching lungs.
"Air... never tasted... so sweet," she choked out in a hoarse wheeze.

Lost to a bout of coughing, Vegeta simply nodded in agreement.
He'd had his fill with being trapped underwater and being confined to a
small space. His ordeals of the last year were still too fresh in his
mind and floating in the ocean was another similarity he just couldn't
deal with. He grabbed Bulma with one arm and the object she was holding
with the other and blasted them out of the water before she could react.

The nearest island was several kilometers away and he deposited
them safely on a deserted beach and then sat down in the sand. It had
turned out to be a very long day and he felt like he had gone ten rounds
with the Earth's Special Forces. It was hard to believe that just that
morning they had driven out to the movie set on the Arid Wastes. The
confrontation with Dorothy Pereaux felt like it had happened a hundred
years ago.

She looked down at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, fluffing his hair back up to its normal
jagged appearance. "I'm not used to talking my way out of trouble. I'd
sooner use my ki. Diplomacy is damned exhausting."

She sat down beside him and kissed his cheek. "You did just
great," she said and held up the object in her left hand. "How did you
manage to get them to give us the Dragonball?"

Pulling off his waterlogged boots, he said, "I told the adult that
it was your egg."

"You did what?!"

"It was the only thing it understood. They didn't know what it
was," he said with a vocal shrug.

Bulma gaped at him and then fell back in the sand giggling weakly
at the irony. She saw the Saiyan's sour look and laughed even harder. He
sighed and decided to let her humor run its course. She had earned the
privilege just for stating the obvious that the aliens should use solar
power to recharge their engines. It would never have occurred to him.

As her laughter tapered off, she laced her fingers behind her head
and smiled up at him. The sky was assuming a deep amber as the sun began
its descent and the light played off of his face and the brown
highlights of his hair. Beads of water trickled down his neck and ran
down his body suit. She grabbed the material on his arm and ordered,
"Take that off."

The weariness in his dark eyes lifted. "I will if you will," he
parried.

She sat up and unbuttoned the yellow jacket and then pulled off
the black top without hesitation. She stretched back in the sand and
waited. Vegeta scored no points for finesse. He grabbed the neckline of
the suit and simply tore it off to the waist. Stretching out beside her,
the pair began making out on the beach. It started out as gentle
caressing and kisses, but before long they were rolling around on the
sand like a pair of ardent teenagers.

Arms and legs intertwined, they tumbled up against something firm
and really didn't register anything until there was a subtle cough above
them. Reluctantly parting long enough to spare a glance, they both
recoiled from the sight of an elderly couple staring down at them in
amusement.

Even more shocking, the pair were nude.

"Young love. Isn't that just adorable, Morris?" the old lady
cooed, marveling at the play of muscles across Vegeta's back and arms.

"Yes, Abigail," Morris agreed, smiling toothlessly at the sight of
Bulma's bare breasts.

"What the hell? Who are you? And what the hell are you doing here
with no clothes on!" the heiress screeched, trying to hide behind the
visibly shocked (and disgusted) Saiyan.

"We're from the resort," Morris said matter-of-factly.

"What resort?"

Abigail gestured down the beach. "It's just around the bend. The
La Buffa Nudist Resort."

Vegeta collapsed backwards into the sand. Ugly, naked humans.
Great. His day was just getting better and better.

"We're hurrying back because it's almost time for the buffet,"
Morris added.

That got Vegeta's attention. He immediately sat back up as his
stomach released an audible growl. He could tolerate the sight of some
naked flesh if there was a filling meal as a pay-off. Beside him, Bulma
sighed in surrender and didn't even bother to argue. The Saiyan had been
on extraordinary good behaviour for the entire day and deserved his
reward. She could wait until he got something in his stomach before
giving him a reward of her own making.

"Well, if we're going to eat there, we might as well go check in,"
she suggested as she got to her feet and dusted the sand off of her
body.

"Er, dear, weren't you listening?" Abigail said. "It's a Nudist
Resort. That means clothes aren't allowed."

"I heard you," Bulma said. Without missing a beat, she pulled down
her pants and threw them into the stunned Saiyan's lap. "Carry my
clothes, will you honey?" she giggled and took off running down the
beach wearing only her boots.

For one stunned moment, Vegeta couldn't even move he was so
completely thunderstruck. Finally he jumped to his feet and started to
chase after her before he remembered the Dragonball. Juggling her
clothes and the mystical orb in his arms, he ran after her shouting,
"You get back here! I'm not going to have strange humans stare at my
naked wife. BULMA!"

Slowly following after the odd pair at their own measured pace,
Abigail turned to her husband and asked, "Should I have told them that
it's Senior Citizens Week at the resort?"

Morris' wistful smile broadened. "Naw. They'll find out soon
enough," he remarked with a laugh. "It should come as quite a shock."

As it turned out, THAT was an understatement.



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Chapter Five: The news of Bulma and Vegeta's marriage hits the papers.
How will the pair deal with the scrutiny?