Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Saiyan Games ❯ Mystery date ( Chapter 2 )

Ok this is the disclaimer. I don't own the rights to DBZ that's the privilege of Akira Toryiama I am not profiting by writing this story, I'm just a huge fan with far too much time on her hands *^_^* please don't sue!

Part two

After dinner Bulma quickly went back to her room to rearrange her hair and redo her make-up, before rushing outside into Yamcha's waiting sky car.

"See ya later mom!" she called out as the engine roared into life and they set out on the start of their mystery date.

"Are you ok?" Yamcha asked looking her up and down with a look of concern.

"What are you talking about? Of course I am!"

"You just look a little pale and tired, that's all." He replied.

"Its ok there's nothing the matter with me, I just had a strange coming together with a Saiyan computer game!" she grinned, pulling down the visor and checking her complexion.

Yamcha's concern morphed into confusion.

"Don't worry sweetie." She smiled, flipping it back up, satisfied that she didn't look too much like a ghost. "It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it another time, but I really don't want to talk about it now."

Yamcha just shrugged his shoulders and continued to drive. They left West-Capital City and continued on the main road for about twenty minutes before finally turning off at a small junction. The neat tarmac road quickly changed into a gravel dirt track and Bulma became a little worried. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"There" he replied pointing in the direction of an over-sized grandstand. The floodlights were lit and she could see a few people milling about close to the entrance.

"What is this place?" she questioned. "If this has anything to do with baseball Yamcha, I suggest you better start praying to Kami!"

"Relax Bulma, I promise you that this has absolutely nothing to do with baseball!" he smirked.

"Oh, alright then, so what has it got to do with?"

"Take a look for yourself." He grinned as they drove up to a chain link fence that allowed a decent view inside of the stadium.

"Yamcha," she exclaimed clapping her hands together. "Is that a race track?"

"Sure is."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that in about half an hour you'll be racing around on that circuit in the car of your choice." He said smugly.

Bulma's mouth dropped in absolute astonishment. "I don't know what to say Yamcha, its too fantastic! How the hell did you manage to organise this?"

"A friend of a friend." He replied secretively. "Now shall we go inside before they think we're not coming?"

Bulma excitedly nodded her agreement. Yamcha did the gentlemanly thing and walked around to open her door, and allowed her to step out. In a flutter of anticipation she held his arm tightly to her chest and they walked into the main entrance of the imposing building.

They managed to skip the majority of the instruction involved in the ordinary process. Bulma already had an advanced licence and insurance cover as part of her every day job, and she soon found out that Yamcha had been having secret lessons to bring him up to speed. It hadn't taken him long to pass the advanced exams. One of the perks of being a Z warrior was that making quick decisions at high speed came as naturally to you as waking up in the morning.

All that had to be done was to get into their racing-gear and choose a car. The first part of this process was quickly achieved, but the later was more time consuming. Yamcha showed himself to be a typical red-blooded man and picked the Dodge Viper. His jaw dropped almost as soon as he saw it and she could see a slight wet patch appear on the floor as he drooled over the beautiful car in it's blue and white colors.

Bulma had to take a little longer to make up her mind. It was a difficult decision to make, at some point or other she had already driven most of the cars that were on offer. She ran around the large garage looking at all her options. Rows of cars stretched out in neat succession and demanded her attention until eventually her eyes rested on the perfect choice.

Her hands ran over the Maclaren F1's British green racing colors and her eyes skimmed over the beautiful leather interior as she felt her way along its angled hood. Her Dad had once told her that the trunk was lined with 24-carat gold and an almost wicked smile passed her lips.

Another couple had joined them at this point and they were introduced as their rivals for the evening. The cars reappeared not long afterwards; a small team of mechanics for the ensuing race had specially prepared them. The rules were meticulously laid down before they all headed out of the instruction room and onto the circuit.

The engines started in a roar. The lights switched off automatically giving the all clear, and all four cars sped away down the start-finish straight and into the formation lap.

Bulma was in her element. She hadn't felt this way for ages. In her line of business she was finding it harder and harder to get that adrenaline rush that even from a small age she had craved for. Each ensuing lap made her more and more confident. She welcomed the g-force as it pressed her torso back into the seat and snapped at her neck under the heavy breaking. The strain on her entire body was lost in an almost child-like euphoria that rushed over her in waves.

Half an hour of intense action packed racing had passed. Bulma and Yamcha had completely outclassed the other two competitors and were content just racing each other. Only a few more laps remained as Bulma tried in vain to gain on the Viper in front of her. She was all over his exhaust but couldn't do much about getting passed him. Every time she even so much as got close to an overtaking position, the aerodynamics of the car shifted and snatched at the wheel, slowing her down. The Dodge had a straight-line speed advantage that made it difficult for her to get close enough to get the drag she needed from his slipstream. She was becoming frustrated. She hated loosing. At the last corner of the penultimate lap she saw Yamcha cockily raise one hand from the steering wheel and wave at her. That was too much for her to cope with and she lunged up the inside of the track, trying to outbreak him. It was a bad move; she wasn't able to loose enough speed. The back end stepped out as she desperately tried to take the corner. The stresses being exerted began to make the car twitch, until all traction was lost and she found herself bouncing over the gravel trap and crashing headlong into a wall of tyres.

Yamcha saw the accident from the rear view mirror and immediately came to a stop. He tore at the five-point safety belt and made a quick exit. In a matter of seconds he had flown to the side of his girlfriends car and peered in side. He breathed a huge sigh of relief as he saw that she was conscious and beating up on the controls in utter frustration.

"Kuso! Piece of shitty European crap!" she shouted at the mangled car, making Yamcha laugh.

"I was going to ask if you were ok, but I can hear that you're just fine." He smiled.

"Well thanks for the concern Yamcha, but could you please get me the hell out of here, the door seems to have jammed." She pushed fruitlessly against the twisted metal.

Yamcha ki'd up slightly and allowed a small ball of energy to form on the tip of his index finger. He started to cut the door supports and roll cage away to make enough room for her to crawl out. After about three minutes the metal fell away. Bulma tried to move and make her exit, but a stabbing feeling raced through her right leg as she twisted it, and forced her to sit back down.

"What's the matter Bulma?" asked a worried Yamcha.

"I think I've done something to my leg!" she said between gritted teeth.

"I had better go get help!" He stated before turning away to fly off.

Bulma called out for him to stop. "Yamcha don't you dare leave me in here. I can handle the pain just get me the hell out!" she screamed getting more and more anxious.

He agreed and gently pulled her out from the wreckage. A small scream escaped from her lips as he lifted her, but the pain was just about manageable, and she motioned for him to continue. As soon as she was safely in his arms, she looked down at her leg only to see that it was hanging limply and at a strange angle. It had several minor scratches over it and a small shard of metal had imbedded itself just above the knee. "Looks like I dislocated it." She mumbled more to herself than Yamcha.

"I better take you to Western City Hospital!" he announced looking slightly pale.

"No it's too far away, besides I saw signs for an on-site medical centre as we walked into the main entrance earlier. They should be able to fix it up no problems."

Yamcha seemed to turn even paler at her words and started to stammer. "I… I… I don't think that's a good idea." He sounded confused and unlike his usual self.

"Look here mister!" Bulma shouted as another wave of pain flowed over her. "This leg hurts like hell! I need to go to the medical bay here to get a shot of something to kill the pain. If they can't do anything else for me then we'll go somewhere else, ok?"

She had made her point and Yamcha grudgingly agreed. Taking her to see the Doctor there was last thing that he wanted to do, but she was hurt and needed treatment. He had to put his personal feelings aside. So without another word of protest he powered up and flew her to the surgery.

Bulma lay on the hospital style bed watching the auxiliary nurse as she prepared the syringe destined for her leg. "When's the Doctor going to get here?" she inquired.

"Shouldn't be long now." Replied the nurse in a soothing voice.

In the background Yamcha shuffled and looked out of the window, mentally cursing himself for bringing Bulma there. All he had wanted to do was to make up for his poor behaviour to her over the last three months. This wasn't one of the brightest things that he had ever done, but he was desperate. He could sense that Bulma was changing. It almost felt as though she was growing out of him, and he was willing to try anything to keep them together. He had screwed up, yet again. He knew that this was going to be the last straw. They had been together long enough for him to learn how she reacted in certain situations. He was in for it big time, and was trying hard to find the courage to tell her what to expect before it was too late. Slowly he turned from his obscure corner to try and prepare her and defend himself. To try and somehow make his actions less to blame than he knew they really were. Just as he was about to begin the double doors swung open to reveal a short, but exceedingly pretty woman dressed in a doctor's coat. Her long dark hair was tied neatly away from the strong and beautiful features of her face.

Yamcha heard her gasp as she stepped back in astonishment from her intended patient. She blushed and her eyes darted towards the corner of the room where he stood gazing down at the floor in total embarrassment. It was too late; there was no chance to explain, no time to do anything. He was going to have to wing it and hope for the best.

Bulma did a double take, but still couldn't believe what she was seeing. She looked at Yamcha and he turned to avoid her gaze. "You're right. I think I would prefer to go to the main hospital now." She said, calmly trying to sit herself up. Her arms pushed at the bed for a strong enough hold to slide her body underneath and she grunted slightly as the pain in her leg made her realise that the anaesthetic hadn't fully taken affect.

"Bulma, I can explain!" he began.

"Save it for later Yamcha. All I want to worry about is finding the quickest way to get out of here!" she interrupted.

"Try and relax babe! Aijin is one of the best doctor's on Chikyu. You need to have that knee re-located as soon as possible, so just let her look at it and then we'll go!" he pleaded.

"Don't call me babe you baka! All this time I thought that you had been trying to please me, but you take me out on a date to the place where she works. I can't believe you could do this too me, but I guess I was wrong in thinking that you would ever change." Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, but were swiftly driven back. She wasn't willing to let Aijin see her cry.

"I'm sorry… I" He didn't know what to say.

"We'll talk about this later." She affirmed, before turning to face the now very confused and disorientated doctor. "I don't believe that we've ever been properly introduced." She said addressing her in tones of total composure. "My name is Bulma Briefs, and I believe that you are the girl that my boyfriend sleeps with behind my back?"

Aijin didn't know what to say or where to look, but slowly nodded her confirmation.

"Ok then. Now that we are properly acquainted could you possibly do something about my knee?" As she spoke her expression changed from a smile to a grimace at the thought of not being able to get away.

Aijin did as she was told and soon set the knee into the correct position. All her cuts were carefully cleaned and covered before a straight brace was Velcro'd tightly around the length of her leg. Sets of x-rays were taken that fortunately revealed only minor ligament damage and she was ordered to stay off the leg for four weeks, before being referred to a doctor in the city for extra treatment.

After two hours of absolute agony, Bulma wearily limped out of the treatment room on the crutches that had been provided for her. "I want to go home now, please." She addressed to the man standing at the reception desk. "Could you possibly order me a taxi?"

"Hey Bulma you don't need a taxi. My cars out front and I'm taking you home!" Yamcha called over emphatically.

Bulma looked over to where he sat. "I don't want to talk to you Yamcha." She sighed.

"You can't say that Bulma, I need to explain. I need to make this up to you. Tonight was supposed to be fun and I don't want it ending this way!"

"And what exactly do you want from me Yamcha? Do you want me to say that its ok? That bringing me here was a sweet idea and to thank you for letting me come on a double date with you and you're other girlfriend? Not in this life time!"

"Ok! I know that's asking too much, but I need to talk to you calmly and try and work this thing out! He begged.

"Whatever you've got to say you better make it quick." She sighed.

"It isn't the way it looks Bulma. Aijin and I are only friends now I promise you that!"

"I remember you promising me two months ago that you were being faithful, and if it wasn't for chance I would probably still believe that you were! How can you possibly expect me to believe a word you say?"

"Because I love you Bulma and no-one else! You've got to believe that!"

"I don't know what to think anymore!" she replied honestly, "But there's something I need to know before we go any further."

"Whatever it is you want to know I'll tell you." He promised.

"I want to know who helped you organize our date this evening?" She began almost choking on the words, "Earlier when we were in the car you said that it was thanks to a friend of a friend. I want to know if that friend was Aijin?"

He bent his head to the floor.

"All I want is the truth Yamcha. Tell me!"

He looked up at her with two puppy dog eyes. They shone in the artificial lights, and expressed exactly what she didn't want to see. "Yes." He replied in a hollow whisper, "Aijin organized it all!"

Without saying another word Bulma turned back to finish her conversation with the receptionist. "Tell the taxi company to make it as quick as possible, I don't want to have to stay here any longer than I have too." She ordered, trying not to let her voice falter. She could see the look of disbelief in Yamcha's eyes as a tear fell down the side of his face. She turned away unable to see him cry. The last thing she wanted was for this to hurt even more than it already did, but she would be deluding herself and him if she let it continue any longer. This was complete proof of how much they had changed. There was a time when even a glimpse of affection from a girl would make him blush and shy away, but look at him now. Her heart secretly clenched. This was it. This was the end of years of happiness and heartache.

A strong pair of arms gripped around her waist and a chin rested gently on the niche between her neck and shoulders. "What does this mean?" Yamcha asked nuzzling into her soft skin.

"It means I'm tired of playing games with you Yamcha." She replied regretfully. "It's over."

She didn't feel sad or angry or any other of the associated feelings that she thought she would. To be honest she actually felt a little relieved. Almost as though a huge burden had been lifted from her chest.

"You don't mean that Bulma! I know you don't, you've said its over before and then changed your mind. You know we're made for each other!" he pleaded.

"Not this time Yamcha. This time I mean it, and if you don't believe me then look into my eyes."

The determination expressed there was real enough, and he saw as much. "So this is it?" he asked clinging to her even closer than before.

She nodded.

He turned her to face him and kissed her passionately on the lips. "And now?" he asked letting his lips trail from her mouth and down her neck.

"Hai." She sighed pushing him away. "I love you Yamcha with all my heart, but it's just not the same anymore. It's not enough"

"I love you too Bulma Briefs." He replied "Surely that means something?"

"It does. It means that we will be so much more to each other as best friends, and not as lovers." She replied.

"Friends?" he questioned, not liking the way she put emphasis on the word.

"I can't help it! However much I want us to stay together, I'll never be able to trust you in any other way."

Yamcha closed his eyes. He'd been expecting this, but not now. He wasn't sure if he couldn't handle not being with her anymore, just the thought of it hurt so much. He had expected her to get angry, to cry, to ask him if he loved her, to do something, anything to show that she still cared. The look of composure and finality in her expressions exasperated him and made him loose all confidence in his abilities to get her back.

"Do you understand me then Yamcha?" She asked seeing his expression turn to one of resignation. "Can you let me go?"

"I had a feeling that this was coming," He replied, "I've seen how much you've altered in the passed few months. I just need to know if there's anything I can say or do to make you change your mind?"

Bulma shook her head.

"Then I guess there's nothing more to be said." He whispered looking into her big blue eyes and tracing the outline of her face with his fingers.

A good ten minutes passed and not a word was said between them. Neither knew what to say to the other until eventually a voice rang in the spacious reception breaking the deadlock. "Cab for a Miss Bulma Briefs."

"I've gotta go now." She said picking up her crutches and moving towards the door. Yamcha followed and opened it for her. The night air was refreshing for them both as they followed the taxi driver out into the parking lot. "Still friends?" she asked holding out her hand as they stood at the open door of the waiting taxi.

"Always." He replied, taking it in his and gently caressing the back with his thumb. Tears covered his cheeks as he stood staring at her silhouetted against the night's sky. "I'm sorry for being such a baka. I never meant to hurt you." He asserted with deep underlying emotion.

A strange heat flowed over her body as he said the words and he stood before her enclosed in a blue shroud of energy. In the blink of an eye he placed a kiss on her forehead and flew away, leaving the words "I love you Bulma-Chan" behind him.

"I love you too Yamcha. Make sure and take care of yourself." She whispered after him, before climbing into the waiting cab and setting off in the direction of Capsule Corporation.

By the time she finally arrived back at home it was getting pretty late. She hobbled into the living room and saw a note on the coffee table from her mother. It informed her that both herself and Dr. Brief were already asleep and that there were some leftovers in the fridge if her and Yamcha were feeling hungry. A slight twinge pulled at the side of her face as she saw his name written on the small scrap of white paper.

Deciding to discarded a crutch for the sake of mobility, she continued through to the kitchen in quest of the before mentioned food. Awkwardly she manoeuvred her damaged leg passed the chairs of the break fast table, and continued on her way towards the refrigerator. The door glided gently open, and she started to rummage inside. She looked about trying to find something that she wouldn't have to reheat, and eventually pulled out a plate with a couple of slices of homemade quiche on it. The cellophane that covered it was carefully unwrapped and she sniffed the contents cautiously. It smelled ok, so placed it on the table, gingerly sat down and levelled her now swollen and sore leg on the chair next to her. Her hand grasped the metal of her one remaining crutch and tried to lean it against the kitchen units behind her. Gravity was proving to be a problem. Every time she placed it upright a tell tale squeak was heard and it fell towards the floor. On her fifth attempt to make it stay still a noise came from the entrance and made her look over her shoulder. She was being watched. Vegeta stood in the doorway with his arms folded and his nose in the air. "What are you trying to do?" he grunted, moving closer to where she sat and taking the crutch from her hand.

"Gees Vegeta don't you ever sleep?" she replied, watching him place the crutch gently by the corner cupboards.

"What have you done to yourself woman?" He demanded pointing to her leg.

"I had a little sparring session with a rather gorgeous car."

"Looks like the car won." He replied.

"Ha, didn't look that way when they were winching it away." She giggled causing her leg to twinge and send a little more pain her way. She winced.

"Typical human, can't even handle the tiniest amount of pain." He sneered.

"Thanks for the sympathy Vegeta, did you want something?"

"I just came to get something to eat!" he grumbled. "And don't worry I'm not staying long. The last thing that I want, is to see you and your pathetic mate being all gooey together, and putting me off my food."

"Well you won't have to worry about that baka for awhile!" she spat.

"Oh?" he said raising a suspicious eyebrow. "And why would that be?"

"It's really none of your business, but if you must know we broke up."

"So you do have some brains after all then." He mocked "It took you long enough to figure out how to use them."

Bulma just turned and faced the other direction. She wished he would hurry up and get what he wanted and leave. The tears that had hovered on her eyes for that last two hours were trying to surface and she felt that this time she wouldn't be able to control them.

"Not that I blame him," Vegeta continued, thinking that his last speech had been far to close to a compliment, "Who wants to worry about a loud mouthed, bitch like you?"

Ordinarily his cruel words wouldn't have gotten to Bulma, but this time her emotions got the better of her. One salty drop escaped and ran down the soft curves of her cheek. Others followed and to Vegeta's surprise she started to sob uncontrollably.

He wasn't entirely sure what to do. How to handle emotional women wasn't exactly top on the list of things that a young Saiyaling Prince was taught to cope with. She had never cried at one of his remarks before. In fact he didn't believe that he had ever seen her cry at all. She was always so strong willed and full of energy that this sudden display of weakness unnerved him. He was unsure of how humans behaved in these situations. His thoughts went back to when he had first arrived on earth. A need to find out more about the planet he was on had drawn his attention to television. He had found it the least compromising way to gain the information he required, and had spent hours watching the multitude of channels that were available at Capsule Corp.

Mostly he watched the news programs, the destruction and violence of the inferior creatures had been an unexpected surprise, but he had also flicked through a lot of daytime chat shows. Usually they consisted of unfit females, crying into handkerchiefs and hugging each other. There was no-way he was going to compromise his dignity by hugging her, he might unconsciously want to make her feel better, but he still had his pride. He had to find another way.

Images of all the contact he had had with the inhabitants of earth crowded through his mind in search of the information he needed. Unexpectedly Kakarrot's big smiling face was before him. He remembered a show of affection that the dopey Saiyan frequently bestowed on that half-breed brat of his when he was tense or confused. That was it. Surely a simple action like that would be acceptable.

It took a while for Bulma to get full control of her actions again. When she began to become sensible of what was going on around her she was amazed to feel a hand resting on her shoulder. Vegeta stood behind her trying to look disinterested, but the simple action had spoken volumes. She blinked away the remainder of the tears and turned to face him.

"What?" he snapped.

She didn't reply and just stared at him as he walked haughtily towards the refrigerator to carefully study its contents. She sighed and tried to eat some of the food in front of her, but had lost her appetite in tiredness. After staring at the plate for a couple of minutes she gave up, and dismissing the food entirely, tried to get up. The movement sent yet another sharp pain through her leg and she screamed out.

Vegeta jumped at the sudden noise and bumped his head on the inside of the fridge. He was about to shout an insult in her direction when he noticed that her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily. He could also see that her face had gone pale and she was about to loose her balance.

Fortunately his reactions were quick and he managed to speed across the room just in time to catch her before she hit her head on the floor. "Weak human!" he snarled at the unconscious woman in his arms. "That's twice you've put me through this today."

Gently he changed his grip and manoeuvred her into a more comfortable position, before slowly walking out of the kitchen in the direction of the family rooms. He nudged the door of her bedroom open with his foot, laid her gently on the bed, and was about to turn away and head out of the door when her voice made him look back. "Thank you Vegeta." It whispered.

He turned around just in time to see her smile, before she again closed her eyes and fell asleep. "Just don't expect me to make a habit of this woman." He growled and left.

With the door safely closed behind him, Vegeta padded quietly back down to the kitchen. Once again he headed for the refrigerator and searched the contents. There were lots of cold meats, fruit and salad vegetables to choose from. He grabbed an armful and sat down at the table.

Something was bothering him, normally the food laid out would have been gone in seconds, but half an hour had passed before the plates were cleared. He found his concentration slipping. The determination that almost perpetually drove him to push himself to the limits, to attain new plains and reach ascended power had become somehow strangely subdued. They still burnt with an intensity that most people would have thought of as obsessive, but they had lost the domination of his whole being. Something else rivalled them. He had fought with this feeling ever since coming back from looking for Kakarrot in space. It had only been a slight impression to start with, but as time had worn on the sensation had grown and developed into a something that had plagued and tortured him. As a warrior he had always known that it was the little things that you had to look out for, but he had never thought that his own thoughts could turn against him in such a humiliating way. A human of all things, and not just any human, a bitchy, out of control, loud mouthed, blue haired human. Why did things like this always happen to him? All he had ever wanted to do was become the strongest fighter in the universe. To conquer a few planets and take his rightful throne as the ruler of them all. Why did something always have to get in the way? His father, Frieza, Kakarrot, and now her, they all had a hold over him, albeit in different ways. He groaned and rested his head in his hands, massaging his temples. As a Saiyan he could go for days without rest and frequently had, but that night he really felt a need to get some sleep.

Without delay he left the dirty plates for Mrs Brief to deal with in the morning and made his way upstairs. Unfortunately the bedroom that had been designated for his personal use was further down the hall than hers was. He softly paced along the corridor and froze as he reached her door. He was about to scold himself for showing such a sign of weakness when he heard a noise coming from inside. Vegeta knew that one of his major faults was a tendency to be overly curious, but moved closer to the door anyway. It sounded as though she was crying. This time the tones were different and more familiar to him than the emotional outburst he had witnessed earlier. They were tears of physical pain and his throat dried and stomach knotted as he heard them.

There wasn't anything he could do. If he went in there now he would be compromising his dignity to a degree that would be unbearable, and even if he did what help would he be? He would have simply bruised his ego for nothing. No he couldn't do anything, he just had to keep on walking and try not to think about it.

He kept his resolution with regards to the fact that he carried on down the hall and to his own room, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about her. He walked to the en-suit and turned the shower on making sure it was on the coldest available setting. His spandex body suit was quickly disposed of and he stepped in hoping that the cold water would wash away all thoughts of her. It didn't help, it just gave his mind more time to wander and contemplate his own situation, and that was always dangerous to his peace of mind. Sometimes he wished that he had never been brought back to life when Frieza had killed him on Namek. An eternity in hell didn't seem all that bad when placed up against an average day at Capsule Corp watching her and wanting her so badly, but knowing that he could never do anything about it. A kind of half smile appeared on his face as he remembered that at least he wouldn't have to put up with her constantly flaunting her relationship with that weak excuse for a fighter anymore. That would at least be one very satisfactory omission from his every day torture.

He had tried allsorts of tactics to try and get her out of his thoughts. Training only helped clear his head in so much that he found it hard to let his mind wander when large balls of energy were being deflected and sent hurtling towards him. Leaving and living out in the wilderness for a few days had helped, but it was only a temporary solution and meant that he had to surrender his use of the gravity room. The only way he had found to completely eradicate any thought of her was hooking up to the link, and now even his peace in that occupation was about to be shattered. Why had he agreed to train her? He knew it was only going to make things so much harder to tolerate. There was another result of that over active curiosity of his. All his life he had been cursed with being the cleverest of a superlatively thickheaded race. Even when the computer was linked up to hundreds of other men he had always known that he would never be able to explore its full potential. His desire for a competent challenge had blinded him to the side effects of such a step. He had wanted to find out for a while now how well developed her mind really was. The link would give him an opportunity to test her and train himself at the same time. He believed that she might be able to help him unlock it's hidden powers, and the temptation of being able to compete with someone who might actually be able to challenge him was too much of a delicious opportunity to pass up. He just hoped that it would be enough to allow her to come up with a more competent computer program. That way he could spend more of his time avoiding her.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and exited the shower. Quickly drying himself he pulled on a clean pair of shorts and lay down on the bed still with his arms crossed and displaying that ever-present scowl. He looked up to the ceiling and studied the aertex intently letting his vision blur, and forced him self to fall asleep.