Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dragonball AU ❯ Ten! ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

         Guilt. He finally recognized the emotion. It was a funny, unpleasant feeling resting cumbersomely in the back of his head. Heavy. Raditz couldn't remember the last time that he felt like this. And it was all Kakarrot's fault. Maybe they'd both get lucky and Kakarrot wouldn't remember a thing.
         "Do I get my own round thing this time?"
         "Huh?" Raditz glanced at his brother, "I'm not sureVegeta-Sama, does Kakarrot get his own pod this trip?"
         "No. He's too stupid."
         Raditz smirked, "Harsh."
         Nappa grunted, "Not when you're talkin' about Kakarrot. I'd say he's bein' nice ."
         "Okay, kid. Looks like you're with me again." Raditz picked him up and tucked him under his arm, "You sure you don't have to go to the bathroom again?"
         "Yeah. I just went, Radiss-San"
         "You'd better not have to."
         "Get in the pods and shut up!" Vegeta glared at the other two.
         "Yes, Vegeta-Sama"
         "Radiss-San?"
         "What?" He set Goku in his lap and settled himself in the pod.
         "What's a mission?"
         Raditz let out an exasperated sigh, "Just hold still right now, Kakarrot. I'll explain on the way."
         "Okay."
        
 &nbs p;       *                          *                          *

         "I didn't even ask them how long they'd be gone!" Bulma complained to the empty room, "Oh, great. For all I know I'm going to be stuck here for a month with nothing to do!"flopped onto one of the chairs and instantly regretted it when her soft bottom met the hard surface of the seat. "Ow!" she adjusted to find a more comfortable position, "I'm bored already!" She stared at a wall panel for 34 seconds. "I don't want to read any more stupid manuals." she crossed her arms, "Great! I have nothing to do but eat! I'm going to be so fat when they come back that no one will even recognize me!"

         *                          *                          *
         "I don't know why yer so upset with me ! I didn't know you'd end up spendin' all day in jail fer a kiss!"
         "I'm not upset." Yamucha gritted out between clenched teeth, "Now, I want you to take a look at this map," he looked away from the controls of his capsule boat to pass her an intricately folded sheet of paper.
         She unfurled the map, "Where are we now?"
         Yamucha leaned over and tapped an area some fifty miles off shore, "There. I want you to look for any islands. We'll search them one by one if we have to."
         "But But I don't need the map for that , Yamucha dear. Why don't we search that island over there?" She pointed off into the horizon.
         "What island?" He squinted.
         "That one!" She stood up on the floorboard and leaned over the edge of the boat, pointing more insistently.
         "I think" he squinted harder, "I think I see it" He looked over at her, "Sit down ! And for kami's sake put your seatbelt on!" He grabbed her by the back of her cape and yanked her back into an appropriate position. What was she thinking? Did she want to get herself killed!?
         She gagged and tugged her cloak away from her neck, "Ow!" she jerked the fabric again and glared at him, "When we're married I'm not going to put up with that kind of treatment! You'll be darn sorry for what you just did!"
         Yamucha edged away from her sheepishly. He really felt sorry for whomever the girl really would end up marrying. "So where'd you say this island was?"
         She smiled, her anger dissipating with his compliance, "That way."
         He still couldn't see the island, and he needed some kind of direction to go by, otherwise he might end up going in circles, and that would really make Chichi mad. "Pu'ar, compass."
         In a puff of smoke and a "bamph"-like sound effect, the gray cat had morphed into the desired object. She looked up at her master, "We should be going north by northeast, Yamucha-Sama."
         Inanimate objects that talked and looked at him never failed to creep him out, no matter how many times his loyal servant performed this trick.
         "I know that." He really didn't, but who would dispute the word of the Great Desert Bandit? "I just need you to stay right here," he set her on the dash, "while I'm driving."
         "Sure thing, Yamucha-Sama!"
         "Wow! That sure is neat! Kin I learn to do that!?" Chichi had jumped out of her seat again and was perched over the dash, blocking Yamucha's view of the cat-compass.
         "Chichi, would you please sit back down? I need to see the compass. Besides, if I hit a wave you're going to go flying."
         "Oh, Yamucha dear, it's so sweet of you to worry about me like that," she simpered, taking her seat once again.
         "Heh," he laughed nervously and concentrated harder than necessary on steering the boat.
         She hummed to herself and absently kicked her short legs, "D'ya see it now?"
         "No. All I see is the sun's reflection on the water."
         She waited a few moments, "Now?"
         "No."
         "How 'bout now?"
         "No."
         She blinked a few times, "Now?"
         "No."
         She sighed and was quiet long enough for him to think she'd given up asking, "Do you"
         "I said no." He interrupted, "How about this When I see the island, I'll just say 'Chichi, I see the island,' okay?"
         She looked skeptically up at him, "How do I know you won't forget?"
         Yamucha groaned.
         "You better not start getting testy on me again." She gave him a warning glare.
         Uh-oh. "My darling, Chichi, I apologize if I seem a bit short lately. It's just so hard for me to suffer any delay in this quest." He wished he could face her while he spoke. It would make this statement more convincing, "You see, the sooner we complete this mission, the sooner we can return to your father's castle to be married." He hazarded a quick glance in her direction. It was enough for him to see that she was buying it. She was an emotional thermometer, and the mercury was all the way up.
         "Oh" She placed her hands to her hot cheeks, "I I didn't think of it that way, Yamucha dear"

         *                          *                          *

         "Yes !" Raditz finally growled at his brother, "We're here! Now stop asking me!"
         "Tell me about the mission again?" Raditz had tried to explain several times, but he was never very specific, leading to much confusion on the part of the younger Saiya-jin.
         "It's a job we're gonna do. For Furiza-Sama."
         "What kinda job?"
         "An important one." He replied, as they entered the atmosphere of Citrus-sei.
         "What're we gonna"
         "Kakarrot ! No more questions!" He slapped Goku in the back of the head. "We're here."
         The pod slammed into the ground, jostling its occupants.
         "Can we get out now? I gotta pee."
         "Again?" Raditz pushed the hatch open, "Don't go far." He started tinkering with the controls to the pod. 'Kakarrot's not gonna remember a thing,' he reassured himself. He still couldn't quell the uneasiness in his gut.
         Goku strutted around the pod, looking for a good place to relieve himself. This place was all funny looking with weird trees like he'd never seen before. He wondered if he were somewhere near the place where Bulma-girl said she was from. He decided that, since they were in the sky for so long, and Bulma-girl did say that she was from real far away, that it was entirely possible that that was where he was. Now if he could just find her house

         *                          *                          *

         Three enemy pods have landed. The next wave of troops should be arriving soon. The soldiers of Citrus-sei readied themselves, trying to mount a decent attack after suffering such heavy casualties. None of the planet's citizens would acknowledge it aloud, but there was an atypical grimness to their mannerisms. No one had much hope of winning this war.

         *                          *                          *

         "Aren't you finished yet?" Vegeta demanded of his underling.
         "Almost, Ouji-Sama." Raditz replied, not taking his eyes from the electronic device.
         "Watcha doin', Nii-san?" Goku tried to peer over his shoulder, but he was too short. He wouldn't have understood what Raditz was doing, anyway.
         "You'll see." After one final adjustment, he sighed and sat up. The projected image was in place. Now all that was left was "Kakarrot, look at the sky."
         He glanced up at the pale, slightly luminous orb for a second, "That's real pretty, Radiss-san, but" The boy's tiny body stiffened, and his breathing became rapid and shallow. His normally cheerful countenance had taken on a disturbingly uncharacteristic snarl. The transformation would not be long in coming.

         *                          *                          *

         Dodoria was quite nervous. Furiza-Sama hadn't mentioned his failure in subduing Citrus-sei. He hadn't forgotten. Furiza-Sama never forgets a failure. Whenever punishment was delayed, it was always worse. Much worse. Dodoria cringed inwardly, hoping that his sovereign, by some miracle of fate, had forgotten.
         "Dodoria-San?" He purred pleasantly.
         "Yes, Furiza-Sama?" he tugged at his armor with his enormous pink hands, straightening it. Furiza hated slovenliness in his men.
         "Your ship Your personal ship, I mean. How large is it again?"
         "N-not large, Furiza-Sama. Six decks, a couple dozen crew members."
         "I see." Furiza turned to face his subordinate, "And how qualified is this crew of yours?"
         "They they're good enough for me, Furiza-Sama."
         "So, tell me Dodoria-San, do you need a scientist?" Furiza smirked suggestively.
         Dodoria smiled broadly, abandoning his trepidation, "Why, Furiza-Sama, I believe I do."

         *                          *                          *

         "I trust you've collected the brat, Raditz?" Vegeta demanded over the transmitter in his scouter.
         Raditz resisted the urge to snarl obscenities at his sovereign, "Yes, Vegeta-Sama. He's right here." Almost unconsciously, Raditz smoothed the child's blood-and-gore matted hair away from his forehead.
         "I don't hear him whining."
         "He's sleeping." Raditz almost growled.
         Vegeta either didn't hear or chose to ignore the impudent tone his underling's voice, "There's been a change of plans. We don't have enough fuel to return to Furiza's ship. We're stopping at my ship to refuel."
         "Yes, Vegeta-Sama." He replied as Vegeta cut off the transmission.
         " 'Nii-chan?" Goku murmured.
         "What do you want, brat?" he replied softly.
         "I don't feel well." he nuzzled his face into Raditz's thigh, clutching a lock of hair in his fist.
         "What's the matter? You're not going to puke on me, are you?"
         "I don't think so."
         "Then what is it?"
         "My head feels yucky."
         "Get over it."
         "Okay." He shifted his position and fell back to sleep.
         Raditz tried to do likewise.
         The journey was tortuous. What little sleep Raditz managed to get was interrupted by Goku either shifting positions or snoring. The customary antics of his sleeping brother usually didn't disturb him, since most Saiya-jin could sleep through an elite's temper tantrum. Raditz decided that he must still be wound too tightly from the battle. He didn't really get a chance to let loose, since the people of Citrus-sei, already weakened and demoralized, were so easily defeated. The culmination of the battle was anticlimactic at best.
         Goku woke up when they were minutes from the ship that served as the Saiya-jin's home. Yawning, he looked up at his brother, "Nii-San? When are we gonna get to do our mission?"
         He had forgotten. "You missed it, brat." he put on a scowl for the boy's benefit.
         "Missed it? How?" He looked crestfallen.
         "You slept through it, you lazy little bastard." He gave the boy a good cuff to the side of his head for emphasis.
         "Oh. I'm real sorry, Radiss-San." He rubbed his skull, " I'll help next time."
         "Hn. What makes you think there's gonna be a next time!? After screwing up like that"
         "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"
         "Just shut up, Kakarrot."
         "Okay." Goku clasped his gloved hands in his lap and stared at them.
         "We're almost here. Hold on tight." They were jostled about as the pod was sucked into the shuttle bay.
         Nappa and Vegeta were already out of their pods, when Raditz, with Goku under his arm, exited his pod.
         He set the child down, "Go to the bathroom, Kakarrot."
         Goku nodded and did as he was told.
         "Do you want me to start the refueling procedure now, Ouji-Sama?" Raditz bowed to the shorter man.
         "No, I want you to take a nap first." he grated, sarcastically, "Idiot." He crossed his arms and immediately regretted it. He was covered in grime and bodily fluids. For all the enthusiasm he showed on the battlefield, once he was off of it, Vegeta hated to be anything less than impeccably groomed. He was, after all, a prince. "Once you've begun the process, do as you like until I call you." with that, he left the shuttle bay and made his way to his personal quarters.
        
 &n bsp;       *                          *                          *

         "Three-million, eight hundred-forty-thousand nine-hundred and thirty-two bottles of pop on the wall, three-million, eight hundred-forty-thousand nine-hundred and thirty-two bottles of pop. If one of those bottles should happen to" Bulma was interrupted when the door to the chamber slid open. She got out of the chair where she'd been lounging sideways, and took several steps toward the entrance, "It's about time you guys got back, I've can't believe you" she stopped short.
         The person standing in the doorway wasn't one of the Saiya-jin.
         "Bored huh?" The spiny, pink blob leered down at her, "I'll just have to take care of that for you."
         She gulped and took a step backward. The creature's hideous appearance would have been sufficient to frighten her, even if he weren't threatening her, "W-who are you?"
         He grinned and licked his segmented, purple lips, "Your newemployer. Furiza has given you to me as a science officer." he finished suggestively.
         "Employer? Look, bud, I don't know who you think you are but I don't remember applying for any job. Besides, I'm supposed to wait here for Goku and his friends, so you got the wrong girl."
         He took a few steps toward her, as though he were unaware that she was speaking, and she backed up, to avoid him. He reached toward her with one rubbery-skinned hand and she stared in horror at the fleshy nubs protruding from his forearm. "Come here."
         "Not a chance!" she exclaimed, as she maneuvered herself so that the chair was between them.
         He smirked, enjoying her resistance, "It'll go easier for you if you do what I say."
         She clutched the back of the chair desperately, "Y-you don't want to mess with me!" she shrilled.
         Chuckling, he replied, "And why's that?"
         "Becausebecause I'm already someone's hostage!"
         "Oh, yes. Vegeta." Dodoria laughed, "The little monkey prince. Don't tell me you were hoping that weakling would frighten me."
         Vegeta? A weakling? Oh, Kami, how strong was this guy, then?
         "Now, get over here." he ordered again.
         Maybe she should just do it. Just let him do whatever he wanted and he'd let her live. Her lip trembled, and her face filled with indecision.
         He saw her painful deliberation, and his smile widened with satisfaction.
         He looked as if he'd already won. She was terrified and he was smirking at her. Oh, there was no way in Hell she was going to let him get his way now. She made up her mind that she'd rather die. "No."
         He frowned, as though he were wondering if he'd heard her right, before jerking the chair out from between them.
         Bulma shrieked and tried to put more distance between them. She backed up as far as she could. Panting, she placed on hand on the cool wall behind her, and glared at the ugly pink freak. She'd heard somewhere about techniques for surviving torture. One of them was to feel contempt for your torturer. She wondered if it would work in this situation as well.
         "Either you learn to obey me, or you don't live very long. You got that?" he hissed, coming closer.
         She tried to speak, but all she could produce was a small high-pitched sound.
         "Huh. Scared?" He cracked his knuckles, "I don't suppose you'll take too long to break."
         Just stay mad. I'm stronger if I'm mad . She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly as dry as chalk. I've managed to survive living with psychotic aliens this long Somehow she knew, however, that this was different.

         *                          *                          *

         "I'm not sure that this is the right place." Yamucha frowned after he tied the boat up and peered around the island, "I mean, what kind of martial arts master lives in a pink house?"
         "Well, I think it's pretty." Chichi hopped out of the boat and landed gracefully on the sand, " 'sides, it says 'Kame House' on th' side. Ain't he s'posed to be some kinda turtle hermit, too?"
         Yamucha put on his best "intelligent" face, "That's right. Well, there's only one way to find out." He straightened his shoulders and marched up toward the door.
         Chichi followed aimlessly, curiously peering around at her surroundings.
         "Hello?" Yamucha knocked at the door, "Anybody home?"
         In a moment, a pretty, dark-haired woman answered the door, "Yes?" She had on an apron over her tube-top and jeans, and was carrying a feather duster, "Oh! Are you two selling chocolates for school?" She beamed at them
         "Wha..?" Yamucha mumbled, slack-jawed, "I'muh We Umheh" He turned red and stared at the doorknob.
         "Yamucha-dear! This is no time for actin' silly!" Chichi crossed her arms and frowned at him before turning her attention to the woman, "We're lookin' fer my papa's old master, Muten Roshi. Is this his house?"
         "Muten Roshi?" the woman blinked her dark eyes in confusion before smiling, "Oh! You must mean Kame Sen'nin!" She giggled, and waved her feather duster, "He's out training with Kuririn right now, why don't you come in and wait for him? I've just made tea and Oh! Would you like some cookies?"
         "Um That sounds good, but D'ya know how long he'll be gone?" Chichi bit her lip anxiously.
         "Oh, he's always home by dinner! Come in!" The girl moved away from the door and gestured them inside with her feather duster.
         "Uhum um Ium" Yamucha sputtered as he was led inside.
         The woman blinked at Chichi, "Your friend doesn't talk much, does he?"
         "Oh, don' mind Yamucha-Sa'. He's just actin' silly. Oh, and I'm Chichi. Thank you for inviting us in." she added as an afterthought.
         "It's no trouble really!" She trilled, "With the boys gone all day, I get a bit bored! My name's Launch! It's really nice meeting you."
         "Hehheh" If it was at all possible, Yamucha would have turned redder.

         *                          *                          *

         Trying to ignore the pain in her face and neck, Bulma resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die. She brought one tentative hand to her cheek and carefully prodded what must have been a truly spectacular bruise. The pain made her gasp, but she was pretty sure that nothing was broken. She clenched her jaw in an effort to remain silent. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself.
         She hadn't even seen the blow coming. Logic suggests that something his size would be slow and ungainly, but the speed with which he'd hit her was as effortless as it was unbelievable. 'Momentum equals mass times velocity ,' she thought nonsensically.
         She touched her palms to the floor of his shuttle to steady herself. Unlike Vegeta's shuttle, this one had no chairs. When the pink man had to adjust his controls he did so standing, otherwise, he sat on the floor of the shuttle, like her. Where Furiza's ship had been frigid, her new captor's vessel was warm nearly to the point of discomfort. The heat, coupled with the blow to her head and an added possibility of dehydration, was making her stomach swim with nausea.
         It was not a large ship, but the girth of the man made it seem much smaller than it actually was. She had drawn herself up to take up as little space as possible, as far away from him as possible. When he'd carried her half-conscious to his ship, the feel of his unnatural, spongy flesh was possibly the most revolting experience in her young life.
         She wanted to rest her head on her knee, but that would hurt too much.
         "Girl," He drew closer to her.
         Involuntarily, she tried to pull away, but was blocked by the wall at her back, making a small noise of mingled fear and disgust.
         He chuckled at her display of weakness, "Girl, you gotta name?"
         "Most people do." she bit out.
         He raised his hand in warning, and she gave a soft cry and flinched.
         "Let's try this again. What's your name?"
         "B-Bulma." she whispered, staring at the floor, ashamed that she'd given in.
         "Bulma" He said the name slowly, as though he were tasting it, "That'll do." He gripped her by the shoulders, "Head up. I want to look at you."
         She stuck out her chin defiantly and stared at a spot over his right left shoulder. She could at least try to keep a small shred of dignity.
         "You'll call meDodoria-Sama." He smiled, self-satisfied, "Master will work, too."

         *                          *                          *
        
  &nbs p;      Fear is prickly. A strange, cloying, vulnerable feeling spreading from one's back like wings. The doctor observed the hunched shoulders and abrupt, skittery movements of his captives, appreciating the unique beauty of their fear. They were quite good at hiding their discomfort; had he been any less observant he would have thought them both completely comfortable. But their cool façade couldn't fool as great a genius as himself.
         He observed them from behind the thick, bulletproof glass of his homemade prison. "Children." He smiled at them, almost genially, "children."
         The boy rewarded him with a glare before turning his back on the old man; the girl merely glowered at the floor and didn't bother to respond at all.
         "You would be wise to pay attention to me, children," he coaxed. When they didn't respond, he pressed a small button next to the thick wall of glass, sending an electric pulse through the small chamber. After what he deemed an appropriate amount of time, he released the trigger and waited for them to stop writhing. "Now, are you prepared to listen?"
         "W-what do you want, old man?" The girl was the first to recover her voice.
         "Tsk. Tsk. That's no way to talk to me. After all, you will soon owe your entire new existence to me."
         "He's insane," the boy whispered to his sister.
         "Now, I have some questions for you."
         The siblings looked at each other in trepidation.
         "Oh, not to worry," the doctor continued, "Nothing too invasive. I know how you children like your privacy," he smirked. "We'll start with your ages."
         Neither of them looked as though they would respond. The doctor made a point of resting his finger on top of the button threateningly.
         "Fourteen." The boy responded abruptly.
         "That old? You don't look it. And the girl?"
         "The same." he murmured coldly.
         "Your names?"
         "I don't know."
         "Well, isn't that convenient."
         "What do you want with us, old man?" the girl reiterated.
         A small zap this time, "I told you," he commanded after the effect of the shock was wearing off, "Not to call me 'old man.' I am the greatest genius on Earth, and your future creator. You will call me Doctor."
         "Fine." She righted herself, "What do you want with us, doctor ?"
         "Tohelp you. Of course, I'll expect your help in return, but the entire arrangement should be most beneficial for both parties."
         "What is that supposed to mean?" She said as though she were discussing distant events that had nothing to do with her.
         "Perhaps I'll show you now." Deactivating the door's locking mechanism, he strode into the cell.
         The boy lunged at him, but was brought up short by a brutal, backhanded blow. "Wait your turn, boy." The doctor then turned his attention to the girl. Grasping a thick fistful of hair, he started pulling her from the cell.
         She let out a small, birdlike cry, before stifling herself. She wrapped her hands around his wrist, clawing at him ineffectively with her short fingernails.
         "Enough of that." he shook her, annoyed, as he relocked the chamber.
         The boy was slowly getting to his feet. He shook his head, and, noticing his sister was gone, he stumbled toward the glass, hitting it with his fists, "Bastard." he rasped.
         "Now, my dear," the doctor pushed the girl into a metal examination table, "I'm afraid it will be rather impossible for me to remain a gentleman about this." Readjusting his grip on her hair, he started pulling at her clothing.
         "What are you doing?" finally panic crept into her voice, "Let me go! Stop it!"
         "Don't worry, child, it's nothing personal." he chuckled, "But I cannot work around the clothing, you see, so it has to be removed."
         "No!" She kicked at him and missed.
         "Enough!" he physically lifted her and placed her on the examination table, changing his grip to anchor her by her throat. "You will cooperate." He managed to pull her vest off, and was in the process of tearing her shirt. The skirt was less difficult. Once the snap and zipper were undone, it was simply a matter of wrestling it down her flailing legs.
         The dark haired boy looked on, his eyes full of helpless rage. In a fit of desperation, he threw himself at the thick, unpitying glass, damaging his body, but not even scratching its surface.
         Fight. Fight. Fight. It throbbed in her veins. Kicking, shrieking in fury and fear, but there was nothing she could do. Her every defense was being stripped away, until there was no barrier left between her bare flesh and his rough clothing, abrading the sensitive skin of her thighs, and belly. Painful across her half-formed breasts and nipples. When had he pressed himself against her? She flailed at him with her small fists, but it had no effect. He was much stronger than his appearance would suggest.
         The girl was still struggling. Not that he'd expected her to behave, but still He hadn't expected that he would have such a physical reaction to her thrashing resistance. It was only logical, he concluded. She was, after all, a very pretty young girl, totally naked and totally under his power. It wouldn't take too much time for him to indulge himself, he reasoned. Perhaps it would teach the both of them a lesson as well. Of course, he wasn't sure what exactly that lesson would be, but at that point, he didn't much care.
         He was too close. She breathed as he exhaled, and felt that she was suffocating. He shifted, no longer pressed against her, and the cool air converged upon her unprotected skin. She tried to use this opportunity to free herself. She thrashed violently, but he still held her throat and her struggles only served to further diminish her air supply and increase the sharp bite of pain in her larynx. The rough tweed of his trousers chafed along her thighs, forcing them apart. Cold, exposed and vulnerable for one second, and then heat. And with the heat came pain.
         The boy crouched, having given up his assault on the wall. His face was turned away and his eyes were squeezed shut. Blood ran down his palms.
         He would not cover his ears. The memory of his sisters screams would serve as fuel for when he killed the old man.

         *                          *                          *

         Vegeta shook the water out of his currently-drooping mane, smirking amusedly at his uncharacteristic appearance. He wrapped a drying-cloth around his waist and slumped onto his bunk in a most un-prince-like manner, making a wet spot where his hair touched the bedding.
         He was most rudely interrupted when Nappa strode boldly into her chambers. Apparently he'd forgotten that he'd been ordered to knock before entering. Again.
         Vegeta bolted upright glared at his subordinate, "Nappa!"
         "Oops. Sorry, Vegeta-Sama." He made as if to exit and knock again.
         "Never mind. What do you want?"
         "You've got a transmission from Dodoria." Nappa's brow was furrowed.
         "Kkh. Fine." Vegeta stomped over to the compartment where his clothing was kept, and yanked open the door. He stuck his head inside to select one of his apparently-identical suits of clothing, and was struck on the head when something, jarred by his rough treatment of his wardrobe, slid off the top. He growled. It didn't hurt, it was just embarrassing, especially in front of Nappa. He bent over and groped along the floor for the offending item. Snatching it up, he looked at it. It would figure that it was that woman's damned hairbrush. Tossing it onto the bed behind him, he selected a set of armor.
         He turned to speak to Nappa, but paused when he saw the look on the older warrior's face.
         He bore an expression of pure terror. Instinctively, Vegeta turned in the direction of his gaze, preparing to attack, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
         "Nappa, you idiot, what are you staring at?"
         "V-vegeta-Sama What is that?" He pointed at the hairbrush. He was staring at it as though it were something large and nasty and powerful.
         "It's that woman's, baka." He turned away dismissively and got dressed, ignoring the suddenly-squeamish Nappa. He squeezed the last of the moisture out of his hair, returning it to its customary vertical state.
         Then, hurrying out of his room, he made his way to the nearest view screen. It was on the bridge. Unfortunately, Raditz and the brat were there as well, both of them wearing unusually grim expressions on their faces. He ignored them as well and turned the view screen on.
         The fleshy moon of Dodoria's face smiled unpleasantly back at him, "Vegeta! What took you so long? Taking a nap?"
         "No. Do you have a message from Furiza?" It would figure that Furiza wouldn't bother to speak to him personally and would communicate through one of his favorite lapdogs.
         "You might say that." His smile was more of a sneer now; purple segmented lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth.
         "Well, what is it, then?" Vegeta tapped a glove against his hip.
         "I'm just calling to tell you well, you don't need to bother returning to Furiza's ship for the female. Your little scientist has been reassigned." Dodoria let out a harsh bark of laughter, "I guess Furiza thought she'd be of more use on my ship. Or better use, anyway." Dodoria licked his lips and paused a second to wait for a reaction from Vegeta. When none was forthcoming, he curled his lip in disappointment and murmured, "End transmission." The screen went black.
         "Gageta-sama," Goku looked imploringly at his sovereign, "How're we gonna get Bulma back?"
         "You heard Dodoria, brat. We aren't." His demeanor never changed, but the words were accompanied by an odd, heavy sensation and a tightening in his gut. Vegeta wondered if he had indigestion.
         "But He can't take her! She's my friend"
         "Furiza gave the orders. She belongs to him now."
         "She don't belong to no one You can't own someone, 'Geta-sama!"
         "Can't you?" He snarled back. He grabbed the boy by the front of his armor and growled into his face, "The strong own the weak. I could kill you right now, and no one would stop me."
         Goku stared unblinkingly back, "You can kill me, 'Geta-Sama. But that doesn't mean you own me."
         Vegeta shoved the boy away and stalked back to his quarters. He felt odd and he didn't know why. Solitude would be the best remedy.
         Unfortunately, Nappa was still in his room.
         He growled at his long-time servant, "Why are you still here?"
         "Vegeta-Sama What is that?" He was hovering over the hairbrush still. He hadn't touched it, but his face was close enough that he could take a bite of it if he were so inclined.
         "I told you. It belongs to the woman."
         "How did you did she give this to you!?" Nappa sounded unduly alarmed.
         He tossed the brush aside, out from under Nappa's nose, "No, I took it from her."
         "Took it !?" He almost shrieked.
         "She threw it at me!" He responded, becoming defensive for reasons beyond his comprehension. He reminded himself that Nappa was merely his subordinate and as prince, he did not need to explain himself to anyone.
         This calmed the enormous man down somewhat, "So she did give it to you?"
         "No, I took it because she threw it at me." Vegeta bit out, enunciating very precisely.
         "I suppose that's alright then." Nappa said, half to himself, "It's not exactly the normal way of doing things, but what can you expect from a human. Not like we do anything the normal way anymore"
         "Nappa!" Vegeta was already annoyed and something else he couldn't identify. He was in no mood for any of Nappa's quirks, "What the hell are you talking about?"
         "The grooming implement You said it belongs to the woman, right?"
         "Yes." he crossed his arms.
         "And she, uh threw it at you and you accepted it, right?"
         It didn't happen precisely that way, but, Vegeta was eager for this conversation to end, "Yes. What of it?"
         Nappa gaped at him, "You don't know?"
         "Spit it out!"
         "UhWhen a male and a female find themselves to be compatibleum" Nappa took a deep breath and, flushing a bit, he mumbled a long rambling discourse of which Vegeta managed to catch the words, "mating customs, Saiya-jin, females, and grooming implement."
         "Stop right there!" Vegeta ordered, a look of horror on his face, "Do you mean to tell me that that idiot woman is my mate !? Because I took her hairbrush!?"
         Having run out of words, Nappa merely nodded helplessly.
         Vegeta sank onto the bed and crossed his arms. For once, his back was not ramrod-straight. He looked so petulant that Nappa was reminded of him as a young child. "I don't want an Earthling for a mate," he snarled.
         "Uh. Guess you don't gotta worry about that anymore, Vegeta-Sama"
         "Hn." Vegeta stared at the floor.
         "since Dodoria's got her now."
         He'd forgotten about that. Blast.
                           *                          *

         A few convincing tears were not hard to manufacture, since Bulma really was quite in the mood to cover her battered face with her hands and bawl like an infant. However, they made good cover. She maybe a terrified kidnap victim again , but at least this time she had a plan. If there was one thing Bulma was good at, it was looking after number one. She hoped that a sufficiently cowed-looking veneer would reduce her interaction with the ugly pink blob to him posturing and her sniffling. It was working so far.
         She wracked her brain. 'Survive, survive, survive!' was her mantra, and she was hoping that her little ruse would work. It had to, or the most beautiful, talented and intelligent being in the universe would be snuffed out like nothing!
         Soon enough, they docked at another ship, larger than Vegeta's, but much smaller than Furiza's. Her hands started shaking anew at the thought of implementing this newest scheme. She was going to have to show a lot of false bravado in order to be convincing.
         "Get up, woman. Time t'go." Dodoria grunted at her.
         Bulma did the bravest thing in the world.
         She looked right into his hideous ruddy face.   
         And smiled.
         "Well, it's certainly about time." She pouted, "Dodoria-Sama, could you help me up?" offering him a milky-white hand and batting her eyelashes at him, she prayed to whatever gods held jurisdiction over this segment of the universe that ugly-alien boys were the same as human ones.
         He turned pinker, "Uh er Sure" Ham-handedly, his knobbly fingers gripped hers.
         It took every part of her constitution to not blanch and gag at his touch, but somehow she managed to hide her discomfort, "Thank you, Dodoria-sama." she said beatifically.
         "Uh. Yeah." A real smooth talker, that one. Strangely enough, she now seemed to be making him uncomfortable, as he dropped her hand almost immediately.
         Bulma could have cried or laughed like a lunatic for her relief.
         He lead her out of the tiny transport vehicle, and lead her into what she was beginning to recognize as Generic Hangar Bay. No matter whose ship it was, they all seemed to have the same hangar bay.
         They were greeted by several other pink beings. Most of them were much more attractive than Dodoria, however, so great ugliness did not appear to be a racial trait. Nor did corpulence.
         "Dodoria-Sama!" Bowed a shorter, thin pink male, "shall I report to you now?"
         "No. Get out of my way, idiot!" he snarled, pushing the man, "You know I don't like to be bothered when I get back"
         "Er Yes, Dodoria-Sama! My apologies" The man bowed again.
         'Well, now what do I do?' Bulma, despite all of her instincts, turned to Dodoria. Cocking her head to the side, "Dodoria-Sama, would you like me to go to the science lab right away?"
         He looked at her, then looked away, "Science lab..?" He asked stupidly.
         "Of course Didn't you say I was going to be your new science officer..?" She giggled at him, and watched him turn pinker. It was a good sign.
         "Oh Uh" He grabbed the nearest pink-thing and growled, "Show the girl toer the engineering lab." He dropped the underling and stalked off to his own quarters. This was not how things were supposed to be working out.
         Once he had gone, the underling offered Bulma a hesitant bow and beckoned her to follow him.
         The hallways resembled something out of a high-school that had been designed in the sixties. They were even an ugly shade of mint-green. There weren't too many twists and turns, so they arrived at engineering fairly quickly.
         Once she'd been led inside and the doors wooshed shut behind them, she leaned against the wall and slid into a sitting position, cradling her skull between her palms.
         "Er miss..?" inquired the small-ish fellow.
         "Not now. Having a breakdown." She sniffled between silent sobs. All of this stress was going to be murder on her complexion! Not to mention her hair
         "Of course." He responded, as though this were a perfectly ordinary occurrence.
         After several moments, she took a few shuddery breaths and pushed her pale blue locks away from her face. Looking up at the alien she said, "So what exactly does your science officer normally do?"
         He raised a brow, or would have if he had eyebrows, taking in her bruised face, watery eyes and young age, "You don't really expect that you were brought here to maintain our engineering lab, do you?" his voice was half condescension, half pity.
         "Ha. I'm not stupid , you know." she snorted indelicately, "I know what that that arrgh! I know why I was brought here." she crossed her arms, "But, anyway, are you going to tell me what the science officer does or what!?" had she been standing she would have stomped her foot.
         "General maintenance of engine functions, life support and necessary ship controls. Something that requires a little actual knowledge of engineering and science, child."
         "Excuse me!?" She stood up and poked him in the chest, "You obviously have no idea who you're talking to, bud! I could take this entire ship apart and put it back together blindfolded and it'd work better than it does now!" This was, of course, a slight exaggeration, but hey, she managed to fix Vegeta's little gravity problem, didn't she? And increase engine efficiency despite what that overgrown hairball had to say about her modifications She paused for a second and realized that she actuallymissed them. Gaah! How much worse a situation was she in now that she missed the old psychotic aliens who'd kidnapped her?
         "I'm sure you can." He replied in a consoling tone that suggested he didn't believe a word she was saying.
         "Ugh! Whatever!" She stepped around him and starting poking around the consoles, trying to figure out which did what and where their readouts were located. The layout of this engine room was totally different from Vegeta's ship, but luckily, the equipment seemed familiar to her. 'Could be worse,' she thought to herself.
         But these readouts ugh. Terrible! She shook her head and went to a nearby console. Apparently whoever is supposed to be maintaining this ship was on vacation. The cooling unit was working at half capacity, and probably so full of junk that it wasn't doing its job right anyway, engine efficiency was at 21% and, if she wasn't mistaken, life support would crash in about three weeks given the systems current rate of energal decay! She popped open the casing of the console and started poking around.
         "Hey, there, young lady!" The pink man reached to pull her hands away.
         She paused her deft, knowledgeable manipulations to smack him away, "Knock it off!"
         "You can't just go messing around with thatit's important!" he rubbed the back of his injured appendage.
         "Well someone's got to! You're crashing every system you have! I mean what is this..?" She pulled out a bunch of wires attached with some kind of sticky putty, "Is this held together with some kind ofalien chewing gum !? Now, leave me alone and let me keep this stupid ship from blowing itself up!"
         His mouth formed a small, confused 'o.' "Er I'll just" he backed up into a wall. He figured he'd best keep an eye on her. He really didn't know that much about engines, but he knew enough to stop her if she started trying to sabotage them.
         "Ugh! When was the last time you people decided to clean an air filter !?" she shook her hands in the air and shrieked. Now this was something she could deal with.