"He did it!" Bulma couldn't believe it. Knowing she'd never agree to leave the planet without them, her father had actually drugged her and packed her up in the space ship they had worked so hard on. He had done what he had wanted her to do ever since that god damned Emperor had arrived. He had wanted her to survive, to leave Earth and keep on living, saying she was the only one who could be able to do it, the only one who could survive. Her face crumbled and her lower lips began to tremble as tears fell from closed eyelids. Pained moans escaped her mouth as she began to crawl toward the navigation console, thinking sluggishly that he must have had given her too much drug because her body felt ten times heavier then normal. Tears fell on the metallic floor as she desperately tried to reach the navigation console before it was too late. She had to save her parents. She had to go back! As her arms trembled with the effort to raise her from the cold floor, Bulma took at last her first glance at the beginning of the end. "Oh dear God, no!"
There was no time to do anything. There was no hope. Now that she was confronted with the truth, there could be no more denying. Her world lay still intact in front of her, but for how long?
The young blue haired woman stood unblinking, unmoving, numb, as she watched the last of the Emperor's combat fleet retire from their position from all around the globe. Blue eyes following the soon disappearing residue of hyper speed as each one of the combat ships vanished into the darkness of space. With her heart beating wildly, the earthling looked on as the last ship flew from view in a burst of hyper speed, leaving only the Imperial ship behind, emperor Cold's ship.
Her heart to her throat, Bulma's whole body trembled as she glued her gaze to the last and most impressive ship of all the fleet. She knew the meaning; it was her world's last minute before total annihilation.
Glancing at the Emperor's silver and red ship, Bulma thought for a second to close the ship's shield to expose herself to the cunning radar of the Imperial Ship, and thus ending her private misery to share her race's fate. But the face of her father came to her mind, the pride and hope she had seen shinning in the same blue eyes as her, stilled her hand as it reached the shield's control. The sight of her father and his aides as they worked feverishly to complete their small, perfect Starship, the ship that would allow Earth's memory to survive in the tides of time, made her retract her hand shamefully. A phrase her father had spoken to her, while trying unsuccessfully to convince her to take the Starship echoed in her mind:
"Of all the Earthlings, you, daughter, will find a way to survive. Through you we will keep on living, you are Earth's most precious gem, live daughter dearest, live! That is why you must leave the planet."
Tearing her eyes from the executioner, Bulma tried to take in as much of her world as she could before the coming end. The perfect blue of the ocean, the swirl of white clouds and the brown continents where millions upon millions still breathed and lived.
Tears drenched her face as the end finally began; a beam of pure white erupting from one of the ship's weapons punctured the world below. A soul-wrenching moan spilt from her lips as she saw the atmosphere turn from lively blue to deadly dark, signalling the end of all life. Like that, in a second, 7 billion hearts were turned into nothing, never to beat ever again; thus was the power wielded by the emperor. Bulma felt a part of herself die with her brothers and sisters, her soul felt suddenly dead and empty, she felt as if all life had been drained out of her.
A tiny part of her had held on for dear life on a shinning hope, a hope that something would happen, that the Emperor would change his mind, that a meteor would crash into the imperial ship; anything to prevent this from happening. She had not truly believed in the end of her world, it was an unfathomable reality that was beyond her mind. But now as she saw it with her own eyes, there could be no more denying, no more hope, it was happening.
The beam stopped, and the young woman watched through a veil of tears as the ship left the solar system, leaving the heated core to explode on its own.
A crying Bulma, knowing she had to flee herself from the dying world, sent a final adieu to her loved ones, her voice transformed by a well of grief so deep it knew no bottom.
"Papa…Oh…Papa" Her voice wavered to silence clenched by pain. "Mama, my…dear, dear mama…I love you!"
A thick, protective sheet of Urathium steel began its descent on the space window as her trembling finger pressed its activation button. With sobs now convulsing her body, she slowly sat back in the pilot seat barely seeing her trembling hands as they fasten the seat belt. She moved with the slowness of being completely heartbroken, her heart overwhelmed by a psychological pain so deep and powerful that even if a part of her knew she had to act, to flee before the explosion of the core, she couldn't bring herself to move faster. Moving without the will to do so.
The computer's shrill alarm told her there could be no more hope of escaping the incommensurable force of Earth's explosion, and in a way she was glad, let faith decide if she was to survive or not. With no hope in her heart, and devastated, she did the only thing she could do; she pushed the shield to maximum and sent a prayer to her recently deceased family.
The radar and computer warning her that the core had finally exploded and that the backlash wave was coming at her full force interrupted her small prayer. Bulma could only shut her eyes tightly and brace herself as the ship was rocked as if standing amidst a cyclone or assaulted by a tsunami's anger. Bulma began feeling faint, as if her mind was suddenly plagued by a black hole, everything alive inside was being sucked into an endless darkness. Her emotionally overloaded brain had finally reached its limit, and as it went to overdrive, Bulma gladly lost it, plunging head first into the whirlpool of nothing and. She knew no more.
She had to wake. There was something needing her immediate attention, she could feel it, she could almost hear it, an annoying, recurring noise on the frontier of her conscious hearing. Without really wanting, she let the noise in, knowing it wouldn't go away with her ignoring it. Ah, there it was, a loud beeping. Her damn alarm clock probably. A sigh escaped her lips as the last vestige of sleep began evaporating, extending her arm to the bedside table on her left, she tried to shut it off. A frown graced her eyebrows when her hand caught only air. Where was that damn table? Upon opening her eyes, reality came crashing in. The beeping wasn't her alarm clock, if only it were that, it was the ship's alarm! Something was wrong. Bulma felt a wave of dark emotions raise in her mind but she managed to push it back to where it came from knowing she had to concentrate on the pressing matter at hand. She focused her blue eyes, examining the numerous consoles and computers, fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to access the source of the alarm.
Her eyes were tiny slits as she read the system diagnostic paper in her hand; the shield was off. Not only off, but also completely unresponsive and would remain so without repair. Its reactor had completely fried due to the force of the backlash. Luckily the shield had held on for the duration of the energy wave, but its delicate circuitry and wires hadn't been able to manage and safely process the energy overload.
Shutting off the now annoying alarm, Bulma unfastened her seat belt and went to grab her tool capsule. She had to fix, it she couldn't go on in space without a shield, how long would she last without it? She'd fix it and after…after "After what?" What was she suppose to do now that her home world…now that her home world was … gone. Her lips began to tremble uncontrollably as the truth she had managed to keep at bay for a little while threatened to pour out its insanity on her already fragile soul, her beautiful features were soon transformed by grief and pain. She was alone, oh god she was completely alone, the last… her world was… Bulma grasped her head with both hands with a pained yell as she physically tried to contain the tidal wave of pain that wanted to wash on her sanity, to crush her under its weight. By the sheer force of her will, the last Earthling pushed all the pain, memories and feelings aside. She would not think about it, not now. She could not think about it! Not now! Later, later she promised herself. Later would see her drowned in an ocean of sorrow. But not now, now she was going to repair the shield reactor and survive this. With her will dipped in strong Urathium and her mind on the brink of pain driven insanity, Bulma went to the machinery room.
Silence reigned in the small ship, not a noise was heard, and even the delicate hum of the machinery had fallen silent. Nothing stirred, it seemed as if time had lost all power, like life itself had forever stilled. Almost all lights were off, plunging the ship's interior in near darkness. The only lights visible were the lights of the several computers and consoles casting a soft yellow light, tingeing all edges in dim sunlight like glow.
In the pilot seat sat an immobile Bulma, her frozen face cast in a veil of yellow glow. Now that the necessity to act was over, now that everything that could be done was done, she had sat in her chair and as if a spell had fallen on her, had not moved since. Barely breathing not even blinking. Her mind was blank. Her grief was so intense that her mind had simply shut down, leaving only the automatic functions on. Her tool case lay in disarray beside her; she had not even taken the time to encapsulate it, what was the point anyway? The shield circuitry had not only fried, the reactor had also melted under the sheer amount of heated energy to process, and Bulma had faintly wondered how come it had managed to hold on during the backlash wave. Her father had a hand in that, of that, she was convinced. Circuitry she could repair but, building another reactor, it was impossible without the necessary parts. She was a genius yes, but not a wizard. She could not make spare parts appear out of thin air, so she simply gave up, she couldn't fix the reactor, and without a shield she was doomed. What was the point of building the ship and putting her in it if she was going to die in space without a proper shield to protect her? Maybe fate was being cruel, placing her in the front row seat to witness her planet's destruction, to leave her to die in the vastness of space afterward. She had dropped her tools on the ground beside her seat and sat in it, to remain there unable to react, to think, lost in the throes of a catatonic state
It was in the pilot seat that she found herself, when an insidious thought slowly began making its way up through her tar-like consciousness. When the idea bubbled to the surface of her mind, she blinked, reluctantly returning to a semblance of life. There was something she could do, something her father had place in the ship, just in case, to be used just in case. Bulma stood up in a dreamlike state, walked to the back of the ship like a zombie, all her muscles slack and face emotionless. She knew which drawer to open and which capsule to take, she didn't even had to finger the small inscription on the side of the grey-white oval shape to know she had the right one in her hand. Without a thought or hesitation, she pressed the top part of the capsule and threw the thing on the ground in front of herself, making its contents return to their original size in a puff of smoke. Bulma didn't blink when the sting of the smoke reached her eyes, she didn't wait for its thickness to clear before stepping beside the large refrigerator like object. Her fingers pressed the small buttons as she set the machine and a door swished open, the aseptic smell of the interior reaching her nose, without a second to waste she stepped inside and heard the door close behind her, locking itself. The last Earthling allowed herself a second of doubt as a thick cold liquid began filling the metallic interior. Bulma felt a tremor of fear as she felt the liquid make its way over her head, a beginning of panic when she realised she couldn't bring herself to breath in the disgustingly gluey liquid. Opening her eyes in the weird water she forced herself to calm down, this was her salvation; if she didn't breathe the liquid in she would drown. Closing her eyes once again and letting out the last oxygen she had in her lungs, Bulma opened her mouth slightly and swallowed the liquid feeling its coldness making its way inside her stomach. Before panic could claim her again she breathed the thick cold water letting it infiltrate her lungs, her body began rocking with spasms as her instinct went into overdrive, reacting heavily to the fact of breathing water instead of air. All movements suddenly slowed as she felt as if strong arms circled her body, she felt all limbs go limp and her mind grew heavy with sleep. The anaesthetic in the liquid, she faintly thought, was taking effect. Barely a second after falling asleep, the thick liquid turned into the coldest ice, ensuring that nothing would ever trouble the beauty that lay in a frozen immobility, asleep forever. It would take several years for someone to find the ship and its precious cargo.