A/N: This is the longest chapter I have written so far. I couldn't stop any sooner, so I apologize for the long delay, but I couldn't find any place to divide it. The next one probably won't be so long, but I never know in advance. Please tell me which you like better - short or long chapters. Thanks!

WARNINGS: graphic rape, lots of pain, cussing - do not read if easily offended!

To VampireGoddess: Thanks so much, I am always glad to hear that people appreciate my writing style, because English is not my native language. Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

To Kegger007: I feel really flattered that you like my story although you usually don't like rape or yaoi. Thank you! I hope that I didn't make Vegeta too much OOC in this chapter though… As for Beginning: you will have to wait a little bit longer for an update because I want to make the last chapter the best one, but at the moment I have a tremendous writer's block on this story. I already know the plot line, but I can't convince myself to actually write some. Until then, this story will have to be enough.

Nightmare

Those bastards. Staring at me as if I was some piece of meat. I hate them. Isn't it bad enough to get beaten by that son of a bitch, but to have everybody witness it? That is the utter humiliation, and I think he knows it. The son of a bitch seems to have made it a task for him to break me, and those official beatings are just another tactic to reach his goal. But I will never yield, I am the Saiyan no ouji!

As if sensing my arrival, the Aisu-jin is turning his attention to me.

"Ah, the monkey has finally arrived!

I hate his girly, slimy voice, and I have to grit my teeth to not retort something I would regret later on. I just remain silent and seething, suffering the laughter of the guests. That bastard is simply too powerful to fight against, but at least I get stronger after every beating I receive. Some day I will have enough power to get my revenge!

I keep that thought in mind when I feel a steely fist in my gut, making me double over in pain. A kick into my face that was so fast that I never saw it coming sends me sprawling through the room, landing in front of a guest. Shaking my head to get rid of the stars dancing in front of my eyes, I glance up at a blue, fishy face that is grinning down at me maliciously. The fat, ugly alien bubbles happily:

"Weak monkey. Shame to your race of brawny dimwits!"

My rage is growing. It is bad enough that I have to listen to that kind of speeches from Furiza, but from somebody so much weaker than me? I will not allow that soft, fat asshole to insult my race! Hatred starts boiling in my veins as I slowly get up, fixing him with one of my most menacing glares. The fish-person doesn't seem to recognize the danger he is in; he just smiles and taunts me further.

"You can do nothing to me you weak monkey. See, your lord Furiza is calling for his pet!"

With those words, he spits at me some slimy, green goo. It lands in front of my boots, almost touching the tips. That was one step too far. Howling in anger, I release a massive ki-blast directly at him. His screams are music for my ears, but sadly he is nothing more than white ashes within a few seconds. The other guests shrink back in fear of me, and they are scared. That will teach them to not insult the Saiyan no ouji.

I have to congratulate myself at that deed, but soon my satisfaction turns into horror when a high, repulsive voice, that also haunts my dreams, laughs.

"Naughty, naughty. That was an important ambassador from the LeBoda-system. I will have to teach you better manners. As much as I despise them, I can't have you incinerating my guests though."

With those words, I am thrown into a world of agony. Merciless punches rain down on me, bruising, hurting. His first kick breaks a few ribs, but before I can even realize the pain, he is already there and holds my forearm in both of his hands. He is waiting until he has my full attention and until realization dawns in my eyes; then he jerks his hands a little bit and breaks my forearm with a dry snap. I fall to my knees as pain courses through me, gasping desperately for air, but refusing to utter any sound. Just when the brunt of the pain has gone by, he snaps another bone, this time my right shin.

For an almost immeasurable period of time, I stay in a burning hell of agony because the bastard is slowly crippling me and he even takes delight in it. He breaks one bone after the other, always giving me time to recover in between so that my senses register every ounce of pain. Soon, I can't move any more as I am a limp pile of trembling flesh, and my broken tail hurts the most. But that doesn't seem enough for that bastard as he kicks me into my ribs so that I get to lie on my stomach. One of them must have punctured my lung as I have to cough up some blood, and I am half delirious from all the pain.

Just when I have gathered enough strength to try moving despite my broken bones, a searing hot lance runs down my back. My mouth contorts in a silent scream, and all my muscles contract spasmodically. His evil chuckle fills my ears, and it is the only sound that prevails over my agony.

"You like that, don't you?"

Another lance of pain is thrust into my back, burning, searing, and the stench of scorched flesh is filling my nose. My whole world is filled with the fire that is licking at me, making me gradually loose my sanity. I am not aware of the time passing, my whole mind is filled with infinite moments of agony, and I can't tell anymore if I scream or not, and I don't even care anymore. I just want it to stop! Please!

Just when I am about to jump over the brink into the blackness of unconsciousness, the torture stops. I lie there limp, broken, panting, pained with every breath. Slowly, my mind returns, making me wonder why he has stopped. Usually, he would beat me senseless and leave me on the floor, so why not today?

"That should teach you to not incinerate my guests any more!"

My back is burning horribly, and the stench of my own flesh makes me almost vomit. Stars are dancing in my vision; there is a ringing in my ears, and I desperately beg for the blackness to take me over. But it doesn't seem to be that bastard's will that I could escape him so easily, because suddenly, I can feel his hard, icy flesh at my bare bottom, and it is burning as badly as my back.

What does he want to do? I don't like that one bit, he has never behaved like that before. I can hear his heavy panting, but it doesn't sound as if he was exhausted, so why does he do that? Panic begins to rise in my throat, and I start trembling in fear, having lost all of my self-control during the previous beating.

Suddenly, an agonizing pain is ripping through me as he shoves his icy cold flesh inside me so brutally that muscles tear and my broken bones are painfully ground together. But all the pain is not as horrible as the hard and cold thing inside me. I shiver uncontrollably, whimpering, trying to crawl away from the terrible sensations. Then that bastard talks to me again, his cold breath whispering hoarsely along my ear, his putrid stench reaching my nose.

"Ungh… deliciously tight … but don't run away, my little monkey-boy … we haven't even started yet!"

His cold hand clamps down on my broken shoulder, pressing my rear against him; and then, he starts to move inside me, hurting me more with every thrust. I am too weak to do anything, I can only whimper at every lance of pain that sears coldly through my body, and I can feel the hot blood trickling down my ass. The hard, cold flesh inside me almost feels like an icicle, and it hurts so much, it is so painful … worse than all my broken bones together.

Then, suddenly, he grunts heavily, making a shiver of repulsion run down my spine, and as if that had been a sign, some icy liquid spills into me. His utters one long groan, and grasps me tightly, crushing my battered frame against his icy body with unimaginable force. My bones grind together, and I scream out in pure agony, all my muscles cramping up from the pain.

Some time later, he releases his hold on me, but the hand on my shoulder remains. He removes his now limp flesh with a sick, slippery sound that easily drowns out the boisterous cheers of the crowd. The cold liquid inside me is slowly mingling with my hot blood, dripping to the floor, stinging in my wounds. I feel so humiliated and want nothing more than to escape into the soft, velvet blackness of oblivion that is already dancing promisingly at the edges of my mind.

The icy hand on my shoulder does not leave, it starts shaking me, and everything else vanishes, only the hand remains. From far away, I can hear a soft voice becoming louder by the second. Suddenly, I realize what it is saying.

"Vegeta!"

My eyes shoot open, and my body is reacting without any conscious thoughts of my mind. Within a split-second, I have the one who touched me in a deadly headlock. My heart is racing, and adrenaline is pumping through my veins, an after effect from the horrible nightmare.

Slowly, I find back to reality, and I realize that I am choking the female. Her face is already turning blue from lack of oxygen, and her struggling gets weaker. Quickly, I release her, watching her fall on the ground, and she holds her throat in pain. She is lucky to be still alive, I could have snapped her neck so easily…

Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to get rid of the tumult of feelings that nightmare has left me, to get my self-control back. When I am calm enough again, I open them only to stare into that female's face. She whispers, perhaps afraid of me.

"Bad dream?"

Yeah, I guess you could call it that way. But that was much more than a simple dream. I wish it was one because then I could just forget it; however, this is what took place in my past, and I am haunted by it, no chance for it to be buried in oblivion again. Damn that fucking bastard!

With a hoarse voice that had tensed up during the nightmare, I warn her:

"Don't ever try touching me again when I am asleep. You are lucky to be alive."

From the rising sun, I gather that I have slept for maybe three, four hours at the most, but that is more than enough for me. I have still the bad after-taste of that dream in my mouth, and I want to get away from them for a while. The two males probably think I haven't discovered them yet, but their stares on my back make me uneasy. Not bothering to turn around, I head towards the forest, calling over my shoulder.

"I go hunting."

Then, I disappear between the trees without a sound, leaving them behind. At first, I just wander around aimlessly, trying to soothe my restless mind by walking. Every time I have that nightmare, I am not back to my usual self for a few hours afterwards. Normally, I would go off to train then and suffocate those thoughts by pounding myself senseless, but I can't do that here. They are so pathetically weak here that they could never imagine what I am capable of, and I don't want to cause a stir. Instead, I focus completely on the hunt, forcing myself to enjoy the tracking of my prey.

Within a few minutes, I have caught sight of the animal I have been following, and I study it. It runs on four legs, but they are not as thick and sturdy as the ones of the bear. Instead, they are longer and more gracile; its whole body is built for speed and agility rather than for brute strength. It is covered in reddish-brown fur, it has hooves, and some strange twigs are sticking out of its head. It is looking around carefully, then it lowers its head to the ground and bites off some of the small green plants that cover the clearing. It obviously is an herbivore, probably the prey of those bears. And if that bear should be able to eat it, my alimentary system can digest it as well.

I close in from downwind, and before it can react, I have already grabbed its head and snapped its neck with a quick jerk of my hands. This time, I eat my fill where I have killed the animal, not wanting to hear any comments on how disgusting my eating habits are. Sparing only one of its rear legs, I deem it enough for the two males and the female as I have seen how little they eat. I never had imagined that anybody could survive on so little food.

I carry it back to the camp, not bothering with incinerating the rest of the carcass. I don't care if any predator finds the bones and the innards I have left, but I make sure that they can't follow my trail to the camp.

I have no clue why I even bother with those weaklings, but I think if I want to learn more about this planet, it would be best to have some 'guides'. Of course, I could always set out on my own, but who knows how those weaklings are going to react, and I want to get this damned chip out as soon as possible. I will probably be very weak afterwards, and during my healing, I can't protect me myself properly. No, it is better to help them now, and with their honor code, they are bound to do me a favor later on.

As I near the clearing, I can already hear them talking animatedly; the male called Rick seems to be telling another one of his stories. I close in on them hidden by the shelter I have made, and when I am almost able to touch them, the female asks:

"Hey, did you hear something?"

The males are listening, and I am deathly quiet, wanting to see if they can detect me. For heaven's sake, the wind blows my scent exactly towards them, and they should at least be able to pick up the smell of food. When the brown-haired male finally answers, I am stunned at so much incapacity.

"Nah, I hear nothin'. Pro'bly just a fuckin' rabbit."

Rabbit? I guess that a rabbit is something harmless considering that they are not scared at all. Do they even know what their noses are for? Or are their senses so underdeveloped? I know that their night-vision isn't as good as mine, but that their senses are that bad, I can't actually believe. They probably have never learned how to use what they've got. Pathetic.

Stepping out from behind the hut, I growl:

"Just a fuckin' rabbit, eh? That fuckin' rabbit could have killed you before you even knew what happened."

They look up at me in shock, not quite knowing what to say. Snorting, I let the meat drop to the ground in front of them and retreat to 'my' tree. Sitting down, I watch them and pretend that I can't hear their whispering. They are probably deaf, too.

"How did he do that, man, I never heard him move!"

"Yeah dude, and how can he be back so fast? I didn't saw him carry a weapon, but he's back in under 'n hour!"

"I don't know, guys, but he found me yesterday, and there he killed a bear with his bare hands. The bear didn't hear him either…"

The two males look doubtfully at her, picking up their knives to cut the meat into smaller pieces while the female who is wearing the jacket of one of the males, is starting the fire again. Hesitantly, the smaller male continues the conversation.

"Hey, man, yesterday when we walked to tha' fire, we didn't hear him either. Ya think he's one of tha' special forces? The way he's jumped when Melissa touched him says he knows how ta kill."

"Yeah, right dude, den why do ya dink he's here bodering wid us green recruits?"

"Don't know, man, lookin' tha' we don't get killed?"

Shrugging their shoulders, they proceed to roast the meat.

So there are some stronger examples of their pathetic race. Special forces? Doesn't sound that bad. They seem to have a lot of reputation. Perhaps I could use them to make me more inconspicuous. If I have to integrate into their society, I could join this group because it sounds as if they had a high priority, thus they probably have the best access to technology and other supplies. I will have to think about it.

Soon, the scent of roasting meat wafts through the clearing, and a while later, the female calls that 'breakfast' was ready. Do they have to find a new word for everything they have? On that bastard's base, we only were allowed to get food twice a day, and nobody bothered to find names for the two meal times.

The two males immediately join her at the fire, but she refuses to let them eat. Instead, she looks over at me and asks me if I also want some. I shake my head in disgust; firstly, I already had my fill, and secondly, I don't socialize with weaklings. But that will become awfully hard when I am supposed to integrate into their society. I will have to get used to them sooner or later.

She is starting to try to convince me of joining them when something is nagging at the back of my mind, and I grow stiff. The female who is still looking at me seems to notice that and immediately shushes. I concentrate on the evasive feeling. Something is not right here, the sounds of the forest have changed almost imperceptibly. Those flying creatures aren't tweeting or chirping any more, they are rather screaming warnings. Then, I hear some leaves rustling, and it sounds as if something big was stealthily moving through the forest.

Silently, I get up and disappear between the brushes, trying to find the intruder. Quietly, I round the clearing, keeping my senses open for any information. There, a whiff of a sweaty, male humanoid in his prime. Now that I know what I am looking for, I can clearly hear him creep over the ground, remarkably quiet for his species. But we are still more than fifty yards away from the clearing, and I have already detected him.

Using my skills as a hunter, I stalk him from behind. He has focused all of his attention on the clearing, and he doesn't seem to bother with his immediate surroundings. He also wears pants and a shirt like the one the other three have been wearing, all camouflage colors, but he has covered his fair skin in mud and he is clearly better at moving soundlessly. He is probably no part of that survival group, so I wonder why he is here then.

Deciding to get some answers, I silently appear behind him and grab the back of his jacket, hoisting him into the air, and immobilize him completely within a split second. I was careful to not use too much of my strength lest I killed him, but he still moans in pain. Ignoring his discomfort, I start asking.

"Who are you and what do you want here?"

He stiffens a little bit, but seems to get over his shock fairly well, and answers in the precise, military way that I have gotten used to over the past twelve years of my life.

"Sergeant Miller, Sir, my task is to return all recruits to base camp!"

Sergeant? Is that a title or a name? Miller? And Sir? It would be better for his health if those weren't insults. But for now, I ignore those words, determined to finally get some useful information.

"Then why are you sneaking around?"

"I got orders to test the attention of the recruits as well as practice my stealth-technique, Sir!"

I have learned to never trust anybody who is even remotely dangerous, so I let him dangle from the scruff of his jacket and carry him at arm-length to the fire. At first, he struggles for a while, but then he surrenders to my tight grip. When I return to the fire, the three humanoids, that are eating the meat, jump up and salute the male that I hold. He seems to be part of their army and he apparently has a higher rank than them. Nevertheless, I want to make sure.

"You know him?"

The female still has not moved from her attention position, but answers.

"Yes, Sir. This is our trainer Sergeant Miller. He is assigned to our squad of recruits."

Without hesitation, I drop the male to the ground and walk towards the tree I have come to call 'my' tree. I pretend that I don't notice their stares in my back, and I settle down, seemingly not paying attention to their talking.

"Move, recruits, no formalities needed here!"

The three humanoids relax and return to their meal. 'Sir' seems to be some title of respect, and 'Sergeant Miller' is either the rank or the name of the male I have found. At the moment, he is talking to the female.

"Private Smith, you seem to be injured. What happened?"

"Sir, I ran into a bear, and it bit me several times. Vegeta who brought you here has taken care of my injuries and he has bandaged them. They hurt, but not so much that I couldn't walk anymore. Do you want to join us for breakfast, Sir?"

The leader eyes the roasting meat wearily.

"And just where did you find that meat?"

They look at each other, then the brown-haired male answers, surprisingly without accent.

"Sir, we didn't find it. That guy brought it to us about an hour ago. He gave us a whole rear leg of a buck that was till warm and the blood was not clotted yet, so I guess he freshly killed it. Without any weapons, unless he has hidden some away. Sir, do you know that man?"

The sergeant shakes his head.

"No, but he is good. I was really quiet, but he snuck upon me without making a sound, and he immobilized me before I could react. Then he carried me more than 50 yards with one hand, and I weigh a lot. Perhaps a member of a special unit. He seems to know you, where did you meet him?"

The female who is listening intently, answers the question with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yesterday. A bear was attacking me, and he came out of nowhere and killed it. Afterwards, he tended to my wounds. But, did you say 50 yards, Sir?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Sir, do you think you could be heard from 50 yards?"

Now, the sergeant furrows his eyebrows, too. Damn it, perhaps I was a little bit too suspicious, their hearing seems to be really bad.

"I don't think I would hear myself from twenty yards."

"Well, Sir, he hard you from that tree he is currently sitting at, and his attention was focused on me. He went rigid, and then, he disappeared into the forest without a sound. A few minutes later, he came back together with you."

"He must have got one hell of good hearing, and additionally some heavy training. He is probably listening to us right now."

They all send nervous glances at me, and the smaller male whispers almost in awe.

"Wow, man, I thought those guys were only in movies! Rambo, or Schwarzenegger!"

"Well, he is a good example of what humans are capable of."

I have to snort. No, I am definitely not a 'human', and it irks me that they dare to call me one of their pathetic race. But, on the other hand, I can't tell them now that I am from another planet.

What am I going to do? Come with them to their base? Follow them in secrecy? And what about the chip? I will have to get rid of it sometime. And that should better be now, when the female still remembers her debt towards me. Making a quick decision, I walk over to their camp and look at the female. Harshly, I demand:

"Come with me."

Without any question, she gets up and follows me until I think that we are out of hearing range from the males. I abruptly turn around and ask her gruffly, because I am not good at making conversation. I have learned how to kill and how to survive, but not how to talk.

"Do you get sick at the sight of blood?"

She shakes her head reluctantly and asks "Why?"

I ignore her question completely and growl.

"Go back, get a knife, and meet me at the lake."

She stares oddly at me. What is she thinking with that underdeveloped brain of hers?

"Can I trust you?"

That is indeed a strange response that defies every bit of logic. If she was afraid that I would do something to her, the answer to her question would not be satisfying as I could lie. If she is not afraid of me, then this question is pointless. Nobody has ever asked me that before.

"Yes. What is more important: Can I trust you?"

She is clearly surprised and seems at a loss of words. Probably not what she expected. I didn't expect that either; it seems that her stupidity is rubbing off on me. I can see the wheels in her mind turning as she combines the information. After several minutes which I wait impatiently, she is finally able to answer me hesitantly.

"Yes, you can trust me. How long is it going to take?"

She probably hasn't understood yet, but she has agreed. Very good. I shrug my shoulders.

"Depends on how fast you find it. Something between ten minutes and two hours."

Nodding once, she turns around and heads back to the fire. As soon as she is out of my sight, I go to the lake, hoping that I have done the right thing. The mere thought of being vulnerable is terrifying, and I won't be at my full strength for several days afterwards. But she is indebted towards me, so she won't try anything. She has an honor code after all, doesn't she?

Doubt begins to rise in my throat, and that is not good. If she is to remove the chip, I have to trust her completely and let my defenses down. Otherwise she will never be able to harm even a hair on my body. I don't know if I have made a mistake, but it is too late now. My pride is not going to allow me to back out of the deal, so I can only go forwards in hope that it won't kill me.

I can hear her breaking through the brushes, and I get up to find her. When she sees me, she nods and goes to my side. I can see that she has the knife with her, and some strips of cloth, too. I am glad that she doesn't ask any unnecessary questions but jumps to the topic immediately.

"What am I supposed to find?"

"A chip. It has been implanted somewhere beneath my sternum, so I can't find it on my own. It will be your task to locate it and get it out."

Her eyes darken.

"Why has it been implanted?"

I can feel that everything depends on that one question. If I answer it the wrong way, she won't help me, and without her help, I can't get the chip out. Carefully, I look for the correct words.

"So that the bastard can keep track of me. I have escaped, and I don't want him to find me."

"Who is he?"

Shit, I can't tell her about Furiza, she might think me a lunatic as this shitty planet has never even heard of other races. What else could I tell her? Something that will provoke a lot of emotion within her. But what could that be? Suddenly, an idea pops up in my mind.

"You saw the scars on my back?"

She nods, eyebrows still furrowed. I continue in hope that I will convince her.

"He made them. Each and everyone. That bastard has …"

Trembling with anger, I cut off in mid-sentence. I am never able to speak of that son of a bitch without being shaken by rage and hatred. One day, I will kill him for what he has done. I will have the ultimate revenge for my people, and nobody will hold me back. That fucking lizard will pay…

A soft hand touches my arm and throws me back into reality. I react on instinct and prepare a vicious blow for the one who dared to touch me. Luckily for her, I can control myself just in time before I hit her; she would have had at least a broken arm if I hadn't stopped. I don't think she has any idea at what danger she has just been in as she merely stands besides me, completely unfazed, and looks down at her feet, whispering:

"Sorry for asking. But I had to make sure that I didn't help a criminal escape."

What are criminals? She talks of them as if they were bad. Are those 'criminals' some sub-species of their race? And they keep track of them with chips? Their technology must be quite advanced, perhaps I can get off this pathetic mud-ball after all. That gives me some new hope, I couldn't accept the fact that I should become old and die on such a weak planet. Not wanting to expose my sudden mood change, I grunt:

"Are you going to do it or not?"

She nods determinedly, and her eyes are blazing.

"Yes. Nobody deserves that. I hope you can escape him forever. But are you sure you want to do that right here? I have no medical experience, and it will hurt a lot. Heck, I could kill you unintentionally!"

"Pain is not an issue. The sooner the chip is out the better. And you will do no such thing as killing me."

"But I don't know anything about doing surgery, the only thing I do know is that the surroundings have to be as sterile as possible to prevent an infection!"

"My immune system is strong enough to kill any bacteria or virus, and you will just have to look for the chip. The rest I will do myself."

She looks at me in doubt, but doesn't complain any more. I remove my shirt and lie down on the stone where I have already treated her wounds. Curiously, I watch her as she goes down to the lake and wets a piece of cloth. Is that some kind of ritual she has to perform for some reason?

She comes back to me and wipes the skin of my chest clean. Ah, I think she wants to get the dirt away to have 'sterile surroundings'. The wet cloth feels cold against my skin, and I have to suppress a shiver. I already told her that I am not so weak that simple bacteria or viruses would faze me. I don't know if I should feel insulted, but finally, I decide to give in to her ministrations and let the tension go out of my body.

The touch of her hands is as feathery and light as the caresses of Radditz during that special night, and I can feel the soothing heat of the stone beneath me. A cool breeze is playing around me, petting me, ruffling my hair. Closing my eyes, I relax and let the warmth of the sun invade every pore of my body, enjoying the feeling of her soft hands against my bare skin. Her voice is quiet, but full of tension as she wipes over my body.

"Here is the knife. I don't think I can do that myself, so you have to do it. I know that I am weak, but I will do my best and try to not get sick. Is that enough for you?"

Sleepily, I grunt a yes, concentrating on relaxing as far as possible so that the knife will penetrate my skin. Its handle is cold and heavy in my hand, and some deep instinct of self-preservation tries to stop me. But with only a small exertion of will-power, I rest it an inch under my sternum, trying to find the right place. Then I press down forcefully, always careful to not injure any important organs.

There is one good thing that my years of training under Furiza have taught me: how to control pain. I have been beaten and tortured virtually every day; I have been injured to the brink of death and been left alone to suffer for countless hours. During that time, my already high pain tolerance has been increased a thousandfold, and I am able to stay relaxed despite the agony raging above my stomach.

"Now look if you can find the chip."

She approaches me hesitantly, gagging slightly at the sight, but she doesn't spill the contents of her stomach. She softly touches the skin around my self-inflicted wound, but stops there. I growl impatiently. Perhaps it has been a mistake to trust her.

"Get on with it or do you want to leave me now?"

She swallows audibly, and her face gets a green hue. She opens her mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. After clearing her throat several times, she has finally found her voice again.

"Erh… no … but I have never done something like that before, and I don't want to hurt you …"

She doesn't want to hurt me. Is that a joke? How does she expect to survive in an army if she can't hurt or kill her enemies?

"Look, I didn't make that gash for nothing. You can either go on or leave me to do it myself, but choose fast. I don't want to be here forever!"

She throws her head up indignantly and with anger. Determination fills her eyes, and she seems to steel herself for the task. Perhaps she is not as weak as I have perceived her to be, because she reaches for the bloody knife with a steady hand and starts to look in my wound.

Secretly, I am glad that she chose to do it, as I probably wouldn't have had any chance of finding the chip myself. I could only have felt around for it, and the chance of finding it that way is very small. Relaxing, I let her do the work. The smell of my blood penetrates the air and makes it sweet and heavy. It mingles with the scent of the trees, the warm stone, and the cold lake; and this heady, spicy mixture is almost lulling me asleep despite the pain.

Warmth. Nice and warm. Warm stone, warm sun, warm blood.

On that bastard's main base, it had always been cold; the cold metal, the air-conditioning, and the planet itself was covered in ice. The bastard himself: Always icy cold when he is outside me or inside me; he has a cold and cruel soul in an icy body.

But now, the warmth is penetrating my muscles, heating my skin, and even the hot pain is almost comfortable. I am much more relaxed than I have ever been on that bastard's base or in any spacepod, and my breathing is deep and even. Sometimes, she uses one of the strips of cloth to pat away blood that is blocking her sight. She presses it down with a soft, gentle touch on my overly sensitive flesh, and it reminds me very much of that one night. With an almost purr-like vibration in my throat, I ask contently:

"Can you already see it?"

She flinches, and the knife in my chest lurches a little bit, dangerously close to an artery.

"Be quiet, you scared me. That could cost you your life. Do you know what exactly the chip looks like?"

Thinking back, I am trying to remember. I was only seven years old when they had implanted it, and I was much too scared to remember any details. I only know that there had been four aliens, one had held my legs, two my arms and shoulders, and the fourth one had cut my skin open to implant the chip.

That had been my first encounter with pain that didn't come from fighting. I had thrashed around wildly, and I had screamed, but they were too strong. My already high pain tolerance had forced me to stay awake during the whole procedure, and when they released me, I bolted out of the room as fast as I could, leaving a bloody trail on the floor.

Weeks afterwards, I had nightmares about that incident. I could feel the burning agony deep insides me while I couldn't move, and I always woke up with my muscles completely cramped up and a bad taste in my mouth. What did the chip look like? My memory refuses to tell me that detail, but the pain had felt stronger, more in the center of my body. Thinking about it, I answer her.

"I don't know exactly. Probably not bigger than my thumbnail. And its location is deeper down."

Then she goes back to her work, and I let myself become entranced by the warm sunshine and the thick scent again. I don't know how much time has passed, but her smooth and quiet voice interrupts my day-dreaming.

"Vegeta? Are you awake?"

I grunt an affirmation over the pain that has become deeper, more difficult to ignore. It is a hot lance that has dug itself down to the core of my being, burning, searing, wanting to cloud my mind. She continues quickly, sensing my agony.

"I have found the chip. It has grown into some muscle that is constantly moving, so I can't get it out."

It feels as if she hadn't cut through my diaphragm yet, so I guess that muscle isn't my heart. That would have caused a lot of problems. Still, a muscle that is moving despite my relaxed state is probably controlled by my vegetative nervous system and important for survival. After some thinking, she tells me.

"I think it is your diaphragm. You will have to stop breathing for a while so that I can cut the chip out. How long can you hold your breath?"

Well, I am glad that it is not some other muscle that I can't stop for some time without causing severe damage to my body. The period of time I can stop my breath is limited though, and she will have to work fast to get it done before I have to exhale again. Pain is shooting through me as every heave of my chest moves the wound and makes the edges grind together, but I grit my teeth and talk calmly.

"Up to twenty minutes. But at the moment I guess not more than seven or eight minutes. Enough?"

"That will have to suffice. I will start working as soon as you are ready."

I take in a deep breath, exhale it quickly, and then inhale as much air as possible, ignoring the searing agony with every breath. Tightly shutting my mouth and my nose, I start living from the oxygen stored in my lungs and my veins alone.

It is a strange feeling when somebody works on your diaphragm, almost as if you had the constant urge to cough or hiccup. I have to concentrate hard to suppress the reflex of contraction that is almost triggered by the prodding of the tip of the knife, and sweat is starting to form on my forehead. It is very exhausting to stay calm and relaxed when every fiber of your being tells you to move, get away from the pain, do something; but I ruthlessly suppress those instincts.

A few minutes later, she whispers slowly.

"It is free now. Hold your breath just a little bit longer, then I can get it out. By the way, what are you going to do with that wound? No, don't answer me, you should hold your breath. I don't have a needle, nor would I know how to stitch a wound; all I can do is wrap some cloth around it and hope that it will stop bleeding. Ok, I got it now, you can breathe again."

She has been talking the whole time she was trying to get the chip out, and that has given me a good distraction from the stinging pain. I still think this female is pathetic, but not as brainless as the males back at the camp-fire. Perhaps it won't be that bad to meet more of those 'humans'. Reaching a hand out to her, I demand rather friendly:

"Give me the chip … please."

Wordlessly, she hands me the small, black, blood encrusted square and continues to wipe the blood away from my stomach. I stare at the tiny piece of technology, and angrily crush it between my fingers. Now nobody will be able to find me. Inaudibly sighing with relief, I lie back and let her clean all the blood away, enjoying the soft sensations that pose strong opposition to the throbbing pain.

From how strong I still feel, I gather that I didn't loose a lot of blood, maybe only an eighth or a tenth of my blood-volume. That is not much; at 30% blood loss it would become dangerous, and with everything more than 50% only a regen-tank could help. At 70% blood-loss, you are as good as dead, but I have already survived such a situation. Twice. I prefer to not remember them.

I am panting heavily, trying to control the pain, while she wraps the cloth lightly around my chest. The bandages are immediately colored red from the fresh blood, and I have to growl at her to secure them more tightly. Perhaps she is not as intelligent as I thought. She doesn't know anything about dressing wounds, because then she would not hesitate to cause a little bit more pain in order to staunch the blood-flow.

When she is done, I sit up slowly to get used to the lightheaded feeling of blood-loss. I carefully slip in the spandex top again, and the added pressure staunches the bleeding to the point that there is no danger of bleeding to death any more. With every step, a sharp pain rips through my stomach as I had to cut some of my abdominal muscles to get to the chip, but I have fought with much heavier injuries before so that shouldn't hinder me from moving.

But she doesn't look as if she could cover great distances because she is deathly pale and limps heavily, favoring her right leg, the one without the bite mark. She should have healed sufficiently by now, so what is wrong with her?

I don't say anything but motion for her to sit down on the warm stone that has small spots of my blood on it. I unwrap the bandage on her thigh to check on her injury, and I can't believe that it still looks as bad as yesterday. The wound is neither infected nor does the flesh smell rotten, so what is the matter?

Finally, I decide that it is their nature. They seem to be heavily susceptible for infection, so why shouldn't it take them forever to recover from injuries?

Dipping the cloth into the lake, I clean it from all the dried blood and sterilize it again with my ki, rewrapping the wound tightly so that the skin can close itself. She hisses in pain, but doesn't say anything. Next, I check on the rest of her scratches, and I am not very pleased to see that only the smallest ones have healed. With such a slow healing rate, they probably die from the most simple illnesses, and it is a miracle that their race isn't already extinct.

Shaking my head, I get up and walk back towards the camp. I can hear clearly that she follows behind me, stumbling through the vegetation. A few minutes later, we arrive at the camp-site, just in time to see Sergeant Miller drag two more human males out of the brushes.

What the hell is the matter with this place, those humans are multiplying faster than you can blink and they even come in different colors! But it is quite interesting to see that at least some of them have a skin as dark as mine; that means that I won't stand out that much.

Still, why does everybody in this god-forsaken forest come here? I hope that they can care for themselves, because I am neither a baby-sitter nor a fucking nanny!! Growling viciously, I demand to know where those two came from. The Sergeant answers for them.

"Sir, they are two other members of my squad and they say they have just tripped over this place accidentally. One of them needs medical attention immediately, he has a badly fractured shin. Could you please help him as you seem to be a professionally trained medic?"

Pheh, professionally trained medic my ass. That is just fucking great. Just what I thought. Now I am a nurse and a nanny in one person. I already regret helping that puny female, it would have been a lot less trouble to just let her die and kill everybody else. I am the Saiyan no ouji, not a doctor! But perhaps I can get out of this.

"How far is your base-camp?"

"About five miles."

Damn. This distance isn't a big problem for me, but judging by those humans' small power, the female probably won't be able to make it, and the injured male will have to be lucky to cover half the distance. I guess I will have to play doctor again.

Grumbling to myself, I walk over to the wounded male who is lying on the ground and I inspect his wound. The whole front of his shin is a bloody mess with a sharp splinter of white bone having broken sticking through the skin. He is lucky that no artery has been severed, otherwise he would already be dead. I will have to splint his leg if he is supposed to walk five miles, and it better be a damned good cast, otherwise he will never get far.

I set out into the woods and come back with two straight sticks a while later. None of them has moved from their spot, only the dark-skinned male is now sitting besides the injured human and talking to him in a low voice. When I want to bend down to the wound, the dark-skinned male jumps up, takes my hand and starts babbling.

"Thanks so much for helping Dustin, he really is in a lot of pain, and he can't move, and I thought he had to die out there, I am really glad that we found you, and that you can help him, I don't want to loose Dustin, …"

Will that human ever finish his monstrous run-on sentence? After a minute of his worthless babbling, I have enough and roar angrily.

"Shut up! He won't die because of a broken leg, and soldiers have to be able to bear a little bit of pain! Now you have two possibilities: Either you are quiet and learn something or you get the hell out of here! Understood!?!"

"Yes, Sir!"

He shrinks back and retreats a little bit in fear. At least he is quiet now, I couldn't stand his annoying voice. I hope that not all humans are as talkative as him, otherwise I will have to find another way of living here.

With a swift move, I rip off the bloodied pants' leg just over his knee. The shin is swollen badly and has an ugly black and blue color, but at least the flesh doesn't smell rotten yet, so the injury can't have been more than a week ago. Careful to not make the fracture worse, I feel around for any splinters. Every time I touch his skin, the male screams in agony, and my ears start hurting.

Really, either he can be quiet or have at least the decency to fall unconscious, but no, he has to scream right into my sensitive ears. I think it was a mistake to land on Sol 3, I would have been better off looking for any other planet to land on. Fed up with all that noise, I reach up and pinch a few nerves on his neck, hoping that it will work on his anatomy, and suddenly, he is quiet.

"Wha…? How did ya do that? Did you kill him!?!"

With an impatient jerk of my hand, I reach up to the dark-skinned human and pinch the exact same nerves of his neck. I think he didn't even see my move, because his eyes are only a little bit surprised, then he slumps over unconsciously. Finally they are quiet, they were on the best way of giving me a tremendous headache.

My nimble fingers finish the examination of the fracture, and then I reset the bone. A small tug on his foot makes the free end disappear under his skin; and because he is lucky and it is a clean fracture, the two bone ends meet without any problems.

Bandaging the wound with some cloth of his pair of pants, I look around for some more rags to make a cast. I finally decide that the dark-skinned male won't need his jacket, and rip it apart. Quickly and with countless years of practice, I tie the two sticks tightly to his leg so that the fracture can't move any more.

I pay special attention to the part above the fracture, so he should be able to put at least part of his weight on the injured leg as the make-shift cast will serve as an exoskeleton, removing any pressure from the bone. It still will hurt though until the bone is healed, but the leg can be used without causing further damage to the wound.

Slowly, I get up, minding my own injuries, and walk away from the two unconscious males. They are going to wake up soon enough, and I have no intention of accelerating the process. Deciding that I won't go with them, I turn towards their leader.

"As soon as they wake up, you are going back to your base camp."

"But Dustin can't walk with his broken leg!"

"Yes, he can. He should be able to cover the five miles."

The short male buts in on our conversation.

"Why can't we make a stretcher for him?"

A stretcher? What the hell is that? Sounds like some instrument of torture to me. But their leader seems to find it a good idea and starts to cut off two strong limbs of a tree. Then, he ties them together with his jacket, and the other two males give up their jacket, too. It looks rather ridiculous and it is completely unfunctional if it really is what it seems to be. The leader barks out orders.

"Private Tucker, Private Henders, put Private Jonson on the stretcher. Move!"

"Yes, Sir!"

They both salute their superior and take the hideous contraption with them. They lay it down on the ground next to the injured male so that the two sticks are about two feet apart. Together, they have to strain to lift him up so far that they can lay him on the three jackets that connect the two sticks. I can't believe it how weak they are. They can't even properly lift a weight as small as their own.

Finally, they have settled the male between the two branches, and they pick them up, lifting the injured male from the ground in the process. I think I was right to guess that it should be a portable bed, but it doesn't fulfil its task properly. The injured male is jostled around with every step, his head lolls limply from side to side, and sometimes his wounded leg bumps against some tree roots or the ground. He could fall off any moment, and his position looks completely uncomfortable. I think this is one of the worst ways of carrying an injured person. I would rather walk on two broken legs than be tortured by such a misconstructed apparatus.

The human commander addresses me formally and with quite a bit of respect as if he finally realized that I was his superior.

"Sir, would you please come to base-camp with us? Two of us are injured, and in the wilderness that is dangerous. We could use a man with your abilities."

No, I won't accept his offer to go with those annoying, constantly babbling humans to a place where there are even more of them. I think was mad when I had that idea of joining their 'special forces', I would get nothing more than a tremendous headache from their talking. But just as I start to refuse the request, the female speaks up.

"Sergeant Miller, you are wrong. We have three injured people. Vegeta is wounded the worst of us all, and he has lost a great deal of blood."

Pheh, a great deal of blood. Compared to how bad I usually looked after a 'monkey session', this is nothing. I swear, if one of those puny humans would prick their finger, they would already scream that they were bleeding to death.

"Really, you don't seem hurt to me, and I can't detect any signs of excessive blood-loss. Anyways, if it is true what Private Smith says, you have to come with us to get some proper medical treatment. I won't deny that you are very skilled in treating wounds, but they still might get infected."

Shit, now I have to go with them; the female sounded as if she didn't take 'no' as an answer. She would nag around so long until I would finally give in and have a tremendous headache from her high, screeching voice. Reluctantly, I give in.

It is really surprising how their bodies can't even defeat simple bacteria or viruses. How pathetic. Additionally, they heal awfully slow. The bitemarks of the woman would have been mere scrapes on my body after a good night's rest, but they still look almost fresh to me. How long is it going to take to heal broken bones then? A month? I could almost pity them, but it is their own fault.

Grumbling angrily to myself, I decide to get it over with as soon as possible. I walk over to the dark-skinned male who is still unconscious, and when nobody looks at me, I wake him up with a short electrical burst of my ki. It is funny to see how his already curly hair suddenly puffs out and triples in volume, and he sits up and rubs the spot where I had touched him. Before he can say anything though, I snap at him in a very foul mood.

"Get up! We are leaving."

Turning around abruptly, I leave him and go back to the other group. When their leader sees us, he only nods and disappears between the brushes, apparently expecting us to follow him. The woman immediately limps after him, leaning heavily on a stick that she uses like a crutch. The two males with the 'stretcher' follow, making the trip as painful as possible for the injured human.

The dark-skinned male is surprisingly silent, but I don't want to take any chances, so I let him go first, making me the taillight. I quickly slip on my weighted armor that I have discarded yesterday. Never would I leave a piece of Saiyan technology behind, but it makes me realize painfully that I still have a fresh wound on my chest. Ignoring the complaints of my body, I put out the fire which was still glowing, then I follow them, prepared for a few long hours of walking.

After maybe half an hour, the unconscious male wakes up, and like I have predicted, he sooner wants to walk than to suffer that kind of torture. He has been dropped a few times, and his head was banged on fallen logs a few times, so I completely understand his decision. He now uses one of the bars of the stretcher as a crutch and limps through the forest. But he slows us down even more, so I guess those five miles will take us a hell of a lot more than three hours.

Grumbling, I trail behind. Really, it would be a lot faster if I just flew there, but I guess I can't do that as well as I can't show them my tail. From what I have seen so far of them, they would freak out, and my chance of being inconspicuous would be gone like smoke out of a window. That is fucking great, and I am not even sure why I care and why I don't just blast all of them to hell. Damn it!

A/N: So, how did you like it? If you review, please tell me if you like long chapters like this one better than the shorter chapters 1&2 or if you want to have even shorter chapters than those (not more than 3000 words). Thank you!