Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Only the Weak ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Only the Weak

 

By Karete-chan

 

Chapter 11:

 

The months since what Bulma had come to refer as the Yotemu-sei disaster had been a flurry of activity on Chikyuu-sei. Not only had the production of her lasers stepped up a notch they had also started to mass produce her shield for some of the more strategic rebel outposts; which left Yamcha wondering why she still referred to the meeting as a disaster since all that had come from it seemed to be nothing but beneficial. She claimed that it had made her look bad, if nothing else, and that was more than enough to be considered disastrous.

Dr. Briefs on the other hand was quite pleased things had turned out the way they had because it allowed him to keep his headstrong daughter further away from the rebels true plans than he would have been able, had they taken her seriously her first time on the job. He had pushed her back into the lab, keeping her busy with refining the lasers and developing smaller and more portable varieties of the shield.

In the back of her mind Bulma was aware of what her father was doing, but with all the work she was faced with, didn't really care. It was keeping her occupied, giving her a great excuse for avoiding Yamcha whenever she wanted, and allowing her to talk more with all the off-worlders who came through to work at the lab periodically. Apart from learning more about the structure of the universe outside her home planet, which was far more varied and structured than she ever dreamed, she loved hearing about the small things that seemed so trivial but ran through almost every culture. Her favourite were the rumours revolving around the overlord, Frieza.

They weren't all pleasant and most of them were far from true but Bulma had made a habit of collecting them nonetheless. She even kept a list of her top five:

The rebel's master tech had a machine that could take out Frieza in one go, providing he had been suffering from a cold for a month previously.

They had hired an assassin and even as they spoke he was infiltrating the ship planing to poison Frieza in his sleep.

Frieza was really a girl and all anyone had to do was marry her and everything would be fine.

The being named Frieza didn't really exist and it was all just a ploy from weapons brokers to keep them all in business.

The man who had sat quietly through the meetings on Yotemu-sei was really the master-tech and not the loud mouthed, blue-haired woman that had done all the talking.

The last one always made her laugh because she could just see Yamcha's eyes glazing over of anyone so much as mentioned the word `blueprint' in his direction.

Bulma lent back in her chair and the tired support mechanism squeaked in protest. She sighed and tapped herself lightly on the side of the head; reminding herself that despite his flaws he really was a good boyfriend, even if she hadn't seen that much of him lately. Admittedly, her work was putting a lot of strain on their relationship, strain that it didn't really need, considering her wavering feelings lately, but it couldn't be helped. She would see him tonight anyway. It had been more than two weeks since they had been on a proper date and she had promised that she would be available for dinner.

She glanced back at her computer screen where a schematic for a small hand sized version of her laser spun serenely on the screen. But dinner was hours away and there was always work to be done.

 

~*~*~*~

 

OneBlack sat alone behind a tall pile of crates and wished, not for the first time since coming aboard the ship, or even in her life for that matter, that everyone would just up and go away and not ask her to do anything for more than five minutes.

Her arms ached from the mornings work. The cargo team she was a part of had thought it hilarious today when they found that there were guards goofing off down in the cargo bay where they had been sent to reshuffle crates for an incoming shipment. Guards, she mused, seemed to find it endlessly amusing that she existed and so went along with the other slaves when they asked that she be made to do most of the work. Most because there had been at least four crates that would have been impossible to move on her own.

She rubbed her upper arms and cursed Frieza for being so malicious that he didn't even purchase forklifts for his slaves. If such a thing as forklifts existed outside of her home planet. Having garnered just a little information about the rest of the universe it seemed just about every planet had people that were either super strong or had such advanced technology that such simple things as forklifts were sneered at.

She dropped her head in her hands. A few months ago she would have jerked away in disgust but by now she was used to her smell. Behind her, the cargo bay had gone silent; she couldn't even hear the footsteps of those she had come down there with. She looked down at her hands again and smirked to herself. She would have no better opportunity to try.

Slowly she cupped them together and concentrated.

It happened much faster than the first few times she had attempted it, under Petak's stern gaze and the other's awed looks.

OneBlack tilted her head to the side as if that would give her a better understanding of the pretty light she cupped in her hands but then frowned at it and let it flow back into her. She tried it again, this time shutting her eyes and imagining it sitting in her right palm, burning like fire, ready to throw at a moments notice.

She knew it wouldn't work, since all the ki manipulation Petak had been teaching them had been simple things such as using it to push small objects away or to keep a weak field around themselves for a few seconds, of which TwoBlue had been the only other one to be able to do it. The purpose of the training was so that they could gain a moment to flee if they ever found themselves in a threatening situation but when she opened her eyes the intensely glowing ball of light sat there, waiting silently for her to throw it and destroy the first thing she thought of. The destructive ball of light represented the first glimmering of her old confidence that she had known since being torn form her old life.

“You've been busy.”

She dropped it causing the tarp at her feet to catch alight. Stomping madly to put it out she looked around, hoping against hope that the voice had not been addressed at her. As she looked up at the figure perched on top of the crates next to her, her heart sank.

“Last time I saw you, I thought I told you to leave crap like that alone,” Radditz smirked down at her.

She dropped her gaze and backed away, hitting the crate behind her. Shit, shit…

He scowled. “Give it up, I'm not going to kill you, you're too entertaining. Frieza can do it himself when he finally finds out about you. Meantime you can tell me who had the guts to teach you to use ki.”

Trying to stop her hands from shaking by squeezing them into fists so hard that her nails dug into her flesh she shook her head and then tapped at her throat.

“That so huh?” He propped himself up on his elbow. “You're down here all the time right?”

She nodded slowly, wary about what he was about to do.

“Great. Well, since you can't or won't talk, you can show me where the latest batch of sweet goods is.”

She looked at him incredulously, completely forgetting that she wasn't supposed to look anyone directly in the eye.

He glared back, seemingly unperturbed by this, and jumped off the crate to land lightly next to her. “What?” he asked. “Haven't ever heard of anyone liking sugar before?” He pushed her shoulder so that she staggered back out into a walkway.

Grudgingly she led the way through the maze of crates.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Vegeta sat, absently prodding buttons on the console pad in front of him, with no light save the glow from the screen in the room. Once again Chikyuu-sei had failed to appear on any of the databases he had searched; the one reference that glowed at the bottom of the screen the initial report from a captured Yotemu-jin that the rebel Master tech supposedly came from there.

He frowned, wondering, not for the first time and probably not for the last, if it had been wise to follow up this lucrative lead. Hesitant as he was to do anything suggested by Radditz, the idea of another Saiya-jin somewhere out there in the universe gnawed at his gut. He couldn't shake the feeling that his long haired guard, for once in his life, might be right.

The computer blipped at him and he frowned as a warning message flashed up onto the screen: Access denied. Archive files. Please enter password.

Old files, from before King Kold had come into power.

Vegeta tapped his fingers against the side of the screen. Perhaps, there was something in there; on an old trading route? If planets in the area had been destroyed and passage made inhospitable, new routes would have been set up, bypassing the originals.

He sat up straighter. What if the debris had cleared? There had certainly been enough time for it to do so. If so, then the planet could have been `rediscovered' by the updated planets. Vegeta-sei, had of course still been working off the old system when it was destroyed…

He typed in his regular password. The warning messaged flashed again. A tic started to pulse on his forehead. He tried typing `Frieza', his lip curling as he did so. The warning flashed again.

Vegeta snarled and typed, `let me in you piece of shit technology'. The computer whirred quickly for a moment, causing him to sit back in surprise as it changed screens, before it beeped and the screen went blank.

A fist through the screen made sure it would never turn on again. “Stupid three strikes and out system,” he muttered to the empty room as he thought about how to best approach the task of securing the real password and a new console.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Zarbon had hoped to speak to the head of the slaves later on the day he had last left his quarters. Unfortunately, Frieza had had other ideas and had insisted that he join him in dealing with the witless Ginyus who had been waiting for weeks in orbit around Planet Frieza no. 79.

While it had been far from the top of the list of things he had wanted to do that day, or for the week that the return trip and dealing with a most likely to be irate Captain Ginyu would take, he had thought it a thoroughly sane idea on Frieza's part as he would be there to talk his Lord out of having to replace another Ginyu member so soon after the last.

But it had been boring beyond belief.

First he had had to sit though a complete explanation of the loss of the rebel ship and the effort they went to on Yotemu-sei to secure the information they had. Winding his head around the elaborate hand gestures Ginyu made and judging from the looks on his subordinate's faces, the actual events had gone something like this:

Arrived at Yotemu-sei, beat up the natives for information, found the rebels, lost the rebels, and took anger out on everyone else for two weeks.

It wasn't any more than he had expected, not where the Ginyu's were concerned. Even if the Mastertech did turn out to be a Saiya-jin it wouldn't have taken much to get past the Ginyu's collective genius.

After he'd finished his extremely short and damning report back to the information techs that Frieza kept on hand he went down to the exercise rooms, looking for someone to spar with while he waited for his Lord to come to the inevitable conclusion that he had wasted his time. He found Jeice and the two entered into a barely friendly match which ended the same way as it did the first time they had met.

Zarbon struggled to his feet at the end, nodded to Jeice and limped towards the door. An Untouchable met him halfway and reached out to support him as he walked but he batted her hand away and growled at her so fiercely that she reeled back and fled from the room. He heard Jeice chuckle behind him.

“Ah, always so disappointed when they see that your disposition doesn't match the face.”

“I've no need of them,” he replied evenly. “Unlike some I have taste.”

He heard Jeice snort derisively behind him. “Not what I've been hearing.”

Zarbon turned to face the red-skinned Ginyu. “And what is that your keen ears have been hearing stuck all the way out here in an orbiting ship for two weeks?”

The barb made no change to Jeice's face. “Untouchables are Untouchables but they're still slaves and that means they love to gossip. You used to go to the tanks for every little scratch and bruise, now your tank stats are down by half and you refuse to let any Untouchables in your quarters at certain times of the day.” He cocked his head at him. “What're you hiding?”

Zarbon regarded him quietly for a moment. He had never really harboured resentment towards the younger man for beating him at that tournament all those years ago, not even if it had been his last chance to be semi-free of Frieza's clutches. The young and unwary Jeice at the time had beaten him fairly and most likely would have done a better job of it had he known that if he had lost his life would have been forfeit. He may not have considered him a friend, but he was definitely not an enemy. He decided to risk the answer.

“One of the slaves has been attending me when I call for h…them.” He had almost said her but corrected the mistake at the last minute as that would have been the point that the single-tracked mind of Jeice would have picked up on. As it was he received a suggestive leer in return.

“`Attending' you huh? So who is it?”

“Pull your mind out of the slums! I have no interest in fornicating with something that cleans out the cannon fodder's rest-rooms.”

“Still doesn't answer my question.”

Zarbon looked away. “I don't know who the slave is or what they are called. Only that they are the filthiest things I have ever seen and that it pains me to have them in my presence.”

Jeice's eyes widened. “You mean one of them? Those stupid, mute females the other slaves make fun of? I never thought you'd let one in the same room as you!”

Zarbon fixed his golden gaze on him. “Females? How many are there?”

“Dunno. I've seen one or two. One delivered me a package once; I think her hair was red under all the gunk smeared on it.” He stopped and looked at him quizzically. “Why all the questions?”

“I want to know why they haven't been punished yet,” he had answered as ambiguously as possible.

The conversation played over in his head again and again as he sat cramped in the pod that was speeding him back to Frieza's ship. He hoped he had not made a mistake in speaking to Jeice about it and that the information that he was having help from a female slave would not make it back to Frieza's ears. He had, he mused, come to rely on her far too much, even past the point where he could kill her. He reasoned that despite her many and glaring faults, she was punctual and precise in what she did and how she did it and that he had come to expect her to always be there. She represented perhaps the only stable thing in his day to day life.

A sudden thought struck him. Jeice had said that they were made fun of because they were stupid and mute. The mute part he did not deny because the woman had made no sound even as she had walked on her battered feet; but stupid? He had not seen that in her eyes. She was alert to the world around her, followed instruction too easily and knew what had to be done before it was asked to often to be considered stupid; and she had not yet been punished for her filthy state. It would take a clever mind to not been seen by other officers so often that they became a concern.

He frowned out at the stars through the little porthole as the onboard console beeped and Frieza's flagship swung into view. His curiosity tweaked, he now edged to speak with Petak more than ever. Thankfully Frieza had found more urgent matters to attend to somewhere else and wouldn't be back for some time.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Dinner with Yamcha, Bulma glowered was not what others would consider `dinner'. Certainly she didn't consider a baseball game `dinner'. Not even if it did come complete with hot dog, drink and novelty sized #1 hand.

She was not a sports person. She'd never played at school or after and considered most exercise to be waste of her valuable time. Bulma was one of the very lucky few who had genes that rendered exercise redundant. Sadly she had the misfortune of having a circle of friends who did nothing but exercise or `spar' as they preferred to call it. To that end she now had a vast amount of knowledge about martial arts embedded in her brain but not one scrap of it helped her to enjoy baseball. She just couldn't see the point of hitting a ball as hard as you could and then running in circles. What was the point in ending up where you started?

She sighed, loudly and dramatically, trying to catch Yamcha's attention, hoping that if she could whinge for long enough for him to give in and leave, they might actually find a restaurant still open.

He ignored her, his eyes riveted on the game and nearly knocked her on to the person next to her moments later when he jumped up to cheer with the rest of the crowd as someone made a home run.

She scowled and pushed the arm of the fat tattooed man next to her off her shoulders. He grinned and said, “Great game huh?”

She forced a smile back. “Terrific. Uh, could you excuse me? I need to go to the little girl's room.”

The man swung aside and let her pass.

When she reached the top of their row of seats she glanced back. Yamcha's eyes were still glued on the game; he hadn't even noticed that she'd gone. Sighing, she headed down through the stadium and made her way home.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Try it again.”

“It's fine. I can do it now. You don't have to be so pushy.”

TwoBlue frowned. “You're the one who was complaining about sitting down all day. You'd think with your feet they way they were, you'd be grateful that Petak loaded the roster.”

ThreeBrown sat down heavily on her hard bunk. “He only did it because he adores FourGrey so much.” She shook her head. “How she managed to make him understand with out speaking to him I don't know.”

TwoBlue gave a small smile. “She always was good at charades. Used to beat the pants off me all the time.”

“Well I am grateful,” ThreeBrown said, rising to her feet again. “If I had to stand up anymore I don't think I would have ever walked again.”

The blue-eyed girl snorted and checked the readout by the door. “Hah! Walking wasn't the only problem. If you should thank anyone it should be our elusive arsehole Frieza. He's the one that sent your major stress source away for the week.” She stood and shuffled between the beds to the door. “I've got a shift starting soon so I'm going to see what food I can scrounge up or I won't be eating for fifteen hours. You want anything?”

“To go home?”

“Chocolate Soufflé and a shot of vodka it is then,” TwoBlue smiled ruefully. “Just practice walking some more, you almost don't wince now.” She hit the button to open the door and walked out.

OneBlack sidled in as it slid shut.

“You look harassed,” ThreeBrown said as she hobbled between the bunks.

The taller girl grabbed the side of one and hauled herself on to one of the top beds. “Since when don't I?” she replied. “I'm going to get wrinkle lines before I'm twenty.”

ThreeBrown didn't crack a smile and sat down again. “How long do you think we've been here anyway?”

“The answer `too long' is an understatement.”

OneBlack watched as ThreeBrown nodded and gazed sadly at the floor. Hoping to get some reaction out of her, she recounted the story of her run-in with Radditz some hours earlier omitting the part where he caught her playing around with ki manipulation.

She felt guilty about this but she had not told any of them about Radditz knowing exactly what she was and most likely, having some idea about what she was up to. Having constant fear of injury from guards was enough without having her friends wanting to kill her for not being more careful.

“Rumour has it you're good with a needle,” she said, hoping to change the subject. “Maybe you'll get out of having to stack crates with me when your feet get better.”

“Not likely.” ThreeBrown was now attempting long strides down the centre of the small room. “As if they would make us do something just because we're good at it. It's more fun if we cock it up and get hurt instead.”

“Cynicism doesn't work well on you,” OneBlack frowned.

“Yeah, well there's not much room for optimism on this ship.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Frieza regarded the trembling man in front of him quietly. “And you have seen him?”

“I have Master Frieza,” the man answered. “With my own eyes I saw him board the rebel ship.”

The room they were in was underground, deep in one of Frieza's many secret bases, the positions known only to a select few. The lighting was dim and the décor sparse. This was not a place Frieza used for regular audience.

“Did you speak with him?” the Tsiru-jin lord asked softly.

The man shook his head. “N-no, Master Frieza, he spoke very little to any of the elders, his slave did most of the talking.”

Frieza delicately took a sip of wine from a glass proffered by his current favourite Untouchable. The dim light made her long purple hair gleam softly. “I did not think it customary that Yotemu-jins would deal with a slave.”

The man forced a chuckle. “We did not know what to expect. It has been years since a Saiya-jin had set foot on our world and never one to oppose you. We thought it best to let it slide.”

“Let it slide,” Frieza repeated softly. He handed the glass back to the Untouchable. “Well I am glad you came to tell me this.” The man's eyes glimmered with the first stirrings of hope. “But I can't have you telling anyone that I know now, can I?”

The Untouchable had been in her Master's service for years, but even she had to close her eyes before the man stopped screaming.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Once again I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I have no intentions on giving up on this but I'm a busy girl and have just finished my last year at University. Add to that more pressing projects and artwork that needs to be finished coming out the wazoo and it leaves me very little time for my pet project.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Drop me a line for any questions (except about `wazoo' - that's figure of speech and as far as I know, a nonsense word).