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THE SIEGE

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Chapter XI

Recollection

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Dawn was approaching and the time to depart with it. As each minute came and went, the anxiety that lived in Bulma's chest intensified. She was reluctant as she mulled over the opportunity to call it off and accept life as it was. Then again, that opportunity wasn't an option anymore. She had already decided to face the challenge. It was a long and arduous road ahead, and she had a lot to fulfill. For now, she rested on her father's bed, in his cramped room as he tapped away on a keyboard.

Her hands were clasped under her head and her knees were drawn to her chest. The sound of a purring cat momentarily calmed her beating heart. Scratch was curled into a tight ball against her back.

Bulma couldn't sleep that night. She had tossed and turned in her bed, but the growing frustration kept her conscious. In the early hours, she could no longer bear it. She had dressed for the expedition early and fled to her father's chambers. Vegeta had kept his distance since their previous encounter. At least he was keeping his temper subdued, to her relief.

Lying on the lumpy mattress, Bulma sighed again.

"What is it, dear?" her father inquired, still focused on the monitor.

For a while, she had no reply. Remorse lingered in her being for him and the overwhelming undertaking he had been given since the Seige. He was a martyr and he accepted the title though it had been forced upon him.

"If you had the opportunity..." Bulma murmured, cautious of her words, "to bring mom back, would you..?"

The constant clamor of his fingers upon the keyboard ceased and he turned in the office chair to regard her with a tense expression. He seemed offended by the question, as if it shouldn't require an answer. Then he seemed comforted by the notion.

"The natural response would be of course," her father replied with a reticent tone, "but the reality is that it is beyond my control."

"I came back," Bulma's replied as she sat up. Scratch stirred with a yowl, aggravated by her movement.

Her father was visibly bothered by her response as he shook his head. His hand rested on the table near him and his fingers tapped restlessly on the scraped metal. His gaze shifted from her to the wall and beyond.

"Death is absolute."

Bulma could see her inquiry had caused him unnecessary angst. She wanted to reassure him that it was not an absolution, that she could undo all that pain that had been done. But to promise such things would only disturb a wound that may never heal. So she let the conversation dissipate.

After a few moments, Dr. Brief returned to his studies and inquired on a more rational subject, "have you packed for your journey, dear?"

"Yeah, I'm not taking much, but I have everything I'll need."

A leather tote rested at the foot of the bed. Unnecessary weight would do more harm than good, so she only packed a few items; a pistol and a spare magazine, a flashlight, some rations and fruit, a few capsules, and spare clothes. She rummaged through her father's locked medicine cabinet and collected bandages, a few pain killers and other first-aid items. Should they be in need of anything else, they would have to search the terrain.

Bulma had decided to leave the Dragon Ball in her chambers, inside the satchel from where it was found. She couldn't risk losing it in search for the others.

Finally, the lethargic clock struck six and Bulma rose from the bed, prepared to face the surface again. With her doting father in tow, she advanced to the vestibule where the lift waited to take them to the surface. Her heart pounded against her chest.

A crowd had gathered even in the early hours to see off the departing duo. Their weathered faces looked on without a word. A small girl wearing a thin, white dress stood behind the crowd. She smiled at Bulma as she passed. Her pale lips were thin.

Vegeta was already waiting near the lift with his arms crossed and back against the wall. His gaze was intense upon her, yet he said nothing. He wore the clothes she provided, but carried nothing else. Bulma wasn't stunned to see Yamcha among the gathering. She wouldn't allow him to accompany them on this venture. He would only be a burden to her. His place was here, protecting the compound in their absence.

Yamcha greeted her with a weakened smile. His heavily lidded eyes suggested he struggled for sleep as well. He shifted his weight on each foot, visibly restless.

"Be careful," he manager to mutter as he placed a wary hand on her shoulder.

Bulma offered a final farewell to her father and boarded the lift. She could detect Vegeta's presence as he filed in behind her. The foreboding uncertainty was enough to make her swoon, but she mustered the courage to wake shove the revolving door shut. The Capsule crest swung away with it, sealing them within. The heavy, metal pod lurched.

The familiar tremble of the lift made her stomach turn. The hazy morning light began to pour in through the dusty crevices. Under the groan of the lift, she could hear the prince's coarse laughter. Finally, they came to a halt and the door swung open, exposing them to the surface. The atmosphere of the early morning was tranquil.

Vegeta brushed passed her in haste, springing from the lift like a caged animal tasting freedom. His stance was poised as he surveyed the environment. Their was an eerie breeze that bothered the blooming peach trees. The overgrown canopies shuddered, discarding leaves that were swept into the flow of the wind. A flock of birds swarmed in the sky before settling on the remaining shell of an office building. Moss was climbing the vacant Capsule buildings. Blossoming foliage flourished in the weathered craters left by the Seige. Bulma emerged from the lift, planting her booted feet onto the ground with caution. Looking to the east, she remembered the landscape. She knew if the Dragon Radar still resided at her last location, it would be in that direction.

Vegeta spun suddenly to face her, "Well? You've wasted enough of our time."

Bulma indicated to the east, where the sun's golden light leaked through the hollow buildings. She began to speak; to instruct that they should keep their presence inconspicuous but he was already gone. He took to the sky with ease, his wake stirred the trees.

"Hey!" Bulma shouted in futility before shaking a fist at him in frustration. If they encountered trouble, Vegeta certainly wouldn't shy away from confrontation. Sighing, she moved on, stepping over disheveled earth and debris hidden beneath a dense layer of greenery.

Vegeta was already far distance ahead, perched on a rooftop overlooking the wasteland. She struggled to keep up with him, but the obstacle course of crushed vehicles, garbage and rubble made for a troublesome attempt. He would frequently cast impatient insults from where he remained aloft. She ignored him, focusing instead in the slippery coat of foliage on the highway. She passed an intersection filled with burnt vehicles and recognized them from the previous voyage.

Peering through the windowless panes of a yogurt shop, Bulma observed thick vegetation and hazy cloud of pollen so dense it made her sneeze. She pressed on, ducking under an illegible sign. A stray cat indulged in a pool of stagnant water. It fled when she came near and disappeared through an open drain. Within, she could hear the muffled mews of a kitten.

Birds chirped to greet the brilliant orb that rose over the skyline. The warmth met the chilly atmosphere, causing dew to form on the shattered windows of abandoned vehicles. Bulma paused to admire pallet of hues that painted the sky. She flinched when Vegeta descended from the sky and landed skillfully a few feet before her. His expression suggested severe impatience, as always.

"Why are you idling, woman?"

"I'm sorry I'm not a quick as you are," Bulma replied defiantly, pressing passed him, "I don't have the luxury of flying over this mess."

"One of your many faults," he snapped with a cruel laugh. Bulma shrugged off his remark and moved on, skirting an overturned dumpster. If she desired to make this endeavor remotely bearable, she would have to disregard his criticism. He would purposefully make this difficult for her.

An hour or so passed and the sun had risen to illuminate a city of ruins. If humans persisted among the wreckage, they kept hidden from the light. In the distance, a group of crows bantered. Already feeling exhaustion, Bulma messaged her aching shoulder beneath the strap of the tote. She brushed off a layer of soot from her khaki shorts, grumbling under her breath.

Soon, she came to a familiar precipice; a massive crag filled with rubble and vehicles. She remembered standing in this same spot that night, observing mangled bodies. Those beings were gone now, stolen by predators. Shaking off the revulsion, Bulma headed north to bypass the destroyed street. She approached a haunting structure, a singed moving truck frozen in time. She recalled the inferno.

She wasn't far now. Meeting an adjacent avenue, Bulma began to sprint. Uncertainty dwelled in her stomach. What would she do if the Dragon Radar was gone? What would Vegeta do...?

Bulma could hear him overhead, following closely. Finally, she reached the stretch of highway where her final moments were spent. The evidence of that night was still present. A skeleton bearing a familiar crest lay broken between two vehicles. A gaping laceration bore through the bricks of a nearby book store. Glass littered the flourishing grass that had sprung through the asphalt. Bulma advanced towards a crushed, red sports car.

It was here. The cabin of the vehicle had collapsed and the tires were missing completely. She discovered a rusted pistol near the windshield, but nothing else. Her heart raced within her chest. She held her breath as she reached between the broken glass of the driver's side window. For a moment, her hands clawed at nothing but grime and asphalt. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks.

Suddenly, the car lurched and collided with the wall of a adjacent coffee shop. It crashed though the storefront, crushing tabletops and abandoned dishware with a sickening clamor. Bulma fell backwards with a scream as glass sprayed her face. When she regained the courage to open her eyes, she discovered Vegeta standing over her. He was staring down at her caustically.

Rising to her feet, Bulma searched the emptied parking spot. She discovered the lost bag. It was tattered and emptied of its contents. Panicked, she tossed it aside and rummaged through the debris.

Finally, she found it. Wedged under a battered car seat, rested the Dragon Radar. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief that quickly fled when she examined the weathered device. The interface was cracked. The dial on top would barely depress. She wasn't stunned to find that it wouldn't react to her probing. She gave it a gentle shake. She couldn't hear the presence of water damage, but something inside rattled against the metal interior. It would be a difficult task to repair it, but she had faith in her ability.

Bulma held the radar to her chest; the metal was cool against the flesh over her clavicle. Hope blossomed in her mind, but she remained wary. There was no guarantee that she would be able to repair the device with the supplies allotted. Perhaps she could search the abandoned labs and warehouses at Capsule for the items needed. Once again, she felt motivated and excited to return home after a successful expedition. Then, she felt an apathetic hand snatch the radar from her grasp.

Bulma glowered at her haughty companion who examined the device with cynicism. She groaned as he began to shake it vigorously.

"This contraption is supposed to lead me to Kakarot?" Vegeta scoffed as he pounded the radar against his open palm, like a barbarian. Bulma lunged for it, but he evaded with ease and a callous laugh. She rested her fists on her hips in defeat. No matter, she would repair it certainly fascinate him with its ability. It was one of her prized inventions, after all. If he didn't smash it beyond repair, of course.

"It'll lead us to the remaining Dragon Balls, duh!" She replied with an upturned nose, "I told you that."

Vegeta pressed the dial with unnecessary force and ignored her objections, "Too bad it's but a worthless piece of junk! Your trifling human technology bores me."

"Hey!" Bulma protested as she indicated him with an incriminating finger, "I'll have you know mankind has come a long way thanks to Capsule's trifling technology, pal! Once we get out of this mess I'll be sure to give you proper introductio—Are you even listening?"

He was ignoring her, once more. But his attention was drawn farther east, down a winding avenue that led downtown. He appeared initially apprehensive, but veiled it quickly with intrigue. Turning towards her for a moment, Vegeta carelessly tossed the Dragon Radar to her and she fumbled to catch it.

"Looks like we have company," he announced with a wicked smile and before Bulma could protest, he took to the air. His wake made her fall backwards onto the fractured asphalt. Composing herself, she watched his gleaming trail vanish over the rooftops, heading east. She began to call after him, but realized it would be of no use. He wouldn't back away from the challenge despite the risk. She shoved the radar into her tote and wrestled with the thought of returned home without him. Perhaps whatever confrontation he was foolishly getting himself into would rid her of him for good. She would face an unspeakable punishment if it did not. With a gruff sigh, she pursued him on foot, praying he wouldn't cause them anymore unneeded distress.

Running down a clogged alleyway for several minutes, she debated on using a capsule. If he ventured far, she wouldn't reach him at a reasonable rate. She only had a few, none of which would navigate this heavily congested city easily. Grumbling to herself, Bulma pressed on until there was an angry burning in her chest. Ducking beneath a hanging, rusted stairwell, she emerged from the alley and into a pedestrian walkway. The cobbled path was lined with emptied bars and shops. She remembered spending many weekends here; bar hopping with friends and purchasing many unnecessary, expensive clothing. All part of a fleeting lifestyle. Walking slowly now, she passed a small stage where local bands gathered to play for passerby. The wooden trellis had collapsed upon the burnt platform.

Peering through painted shop windows, Bulma observed nude mannequins laying in defeat on the grimy floor. The shelves were robbed of their contents long ago and dust took their stead. She noticed a designer purse resting on the floor of a particularly grandiose parlor and debated on taking it, but decided against it. She came to a once popular bar at the apex of the shopping district where it intersected with another cobbled path. Curious, she peeked trough the broken doorway; the shelves over the bar were smashed and absent of any alcohol. Surely, that was one of the first things to go after the Seige. The robust, wooden tables were also destroyed and laying in heaps on the stone floor. Without the glow of ambient lighting and crowds of overly jubilant patrons, it seemed eerie, haunted.

Bothered, Bulma moved on, passing empty coffee shops and clusters of misplaced benches. Ahead, she would come upon a small park located at the center of once opulent art galleries and jewelry stores where she had spent many of her hours in her previous life. Blossoming trees with dense, unkempt canopies were scattered around the grassy knoll. A stagnant fountain featuring a dancing woman took refuge on a small mound at the center of the park. Many winding paths eventually lead to this deity locked in frozen performance. Her stony hand was raised into the sky in a graceful display. Still several feet from the park's entrance, Bulma could see the trapped dancer and it made her ill.

Vegeta stood just beyond the gateway, locked in a verbal conflict with two soldiers bearing familiar armor. One, a tall and hideous man with vibrant, green skin, seemed entertained by Vegeta while the second, a shorter, lanky creature, visibly trembled. Both possessed scouters over one eye. The taller soldier, presumably the leader of the two, stood with his bulky arms crossed before the fountain. His scrawny, fish-like accomplice took his place next to him, with a shuddering blaster in his scaly hands.

Instinctively, Bulma crouched against a dented trash container and retrieved her pistol from her bag. She had hoped to not have made use of it quite so early in this journey. With a trembling lower lip and drumming heart, she listened as they trading remarks.

"And here I thought, I was finally rid of mighty Prince of all Monkeys," the leader's booming voice echoed through the courtyard. His large, beady eyes observed the haughty prince from where they rested on a his horned skull. His wide maw revealed sharpened incisors as he grinned.

"Sorry to disappoint," Vegeta replied, clearly devoid of any empathy. His posture was perfectly rigid and his fists were clenched at his sides. He had gone without physical conflict for some time now and he was visibly eager for fresh blood. Bulma decided it was best he get it out of his system now before they returned to Capsule.

The shorter soldier turned his quaking head towards his superior and manager to mutter in a pitiable tone, "Uhh, sir, don't you think we should warn Lord Freiza that Vegeta is still living?"

The tall oaf surrendered a roaring sound presumed to be laughter, " There is no need! I'll rid Lord Freiza and the universe of this nuisance myself!"

Vegeta gave a defiant scoff, "I doubt you would have the opportunity to warn your precious Freiza, regardless."

Unappreciative of the threat, the grin on the taller soldiers face vanished. Lowering his beefy arms, he made several lumbering steps in Vegeta's direction, but the prince relented no gesture of fear. The shorter soldier, however, yelped audibly and aimed his blaster at Vegeta. His terrible tremble would certainly affect his accuracy.

"Is that so?" The pompous soldier inquired as he cracked his massive fingers with a sickening sound, "Well, it has always been my desire to test your notorious prowess. Let's see if you're as powerful as you claim to be, monkey!"

"It would be my pleasure," Vegeta replied with a low, cruel cackle. A moment passed and he vanished with a striking agility. The hulking soldier spent several seconds in bewilderment. The trembling soldier surrendered a second yelp and began searching the trees frantically. The green monstrosity opened his hideous mouth to grant another polished insult but was abruptly interfered by a crushing strike to the back of the skull. Momentarily stunned, the lumbering oaf stumbled forward before spinning on his elastic boots to unleash a barrage of screeching blasts. But he was too slow and Vegeta easily eluded him, landing several feet below the looming creature to deliver a sickening jab to the stomach. Blood sprayed from the soldier's gaping maw as he was flung backwards.

The scrawny soldier holding the blaster wailed in terror and began firing aimlessly. The rippling blasts sailed trough the air, shredding through the tree's and burning through the brick of a book store across from Bulma. She struggled to contain a cry. The exhaust off the smoldering rubble swept over her and she held her nose to withstand the urge to cough. She could hear the turmoil continue; there was the revolting cry that was similar to a dying animal. Peering passed the metal container, Bulma was stunned to see the bloodied soldier lying against the edge of the fountain. His trembling had stilled. His blaster lay at his boots, drowning in his viscous blood and weeping smoke.

Vegeta was in the sky, overlooking the trees. The remaining soldier stood beneath him, firing volley of energy blasts into the sky. The Saiyan evaded them all, letting them slash through the morning sky and collide with the billowing clouds. Vegeta unleashed a blast of his own, one far greater in power than any of his adversary's. The screaming, blue energy cascaded from the prince's palms and crashed into the earth, engulfing the nearby trees in an inferno.

The soldier barely evaded and took the sky in pursuit, trailing smoke. Bulma ducked away as the the fiery blast illuminated the canopies in a dazzling, surreal blaze. Blossoms abandoned their branches and were swept onto the walkway and away with the breeze and smoke. She could hear them trading blasphemies once more but they were but garbles over the hellfire. Then, they engaged on combat again, with Vegeta leading his enemy with ease.

There was a final strike; a meticulous fist delivered to the oaf's chest and he fell to the earth. Bulma watch in horror as he plummeted and was impaled on the concrete fountain. The dancing creature's extended arm was drenched in blood and flesh. Averting her eyes, Bulma dropped the pistol to her feet and held her face in revulsion. People came here to escape the struggles of life; it wasn't the place for such carnage!

Bulma wanted to disappear into her misery when she felt a pair of hostile hands grasp her arms and drag her from her hiding place. Her calf scraped along the cobbled ground and she cried out in pain and fright. The smoke from the burning battleground filled her lungs and she screamed, causing her cough terribly. She peeled her eyes open and discovered a soldier shouting something into her face. His alien eyes and razor sharp teeth sent chills trough her being. His reeking breath was enough to burn her nostrils. A repressed terror quickly flooded her mind and she panicked. She remembered that night. She remembered being alone and then her world going black. Not again! Never again...

The urge to escape consumed her and she flailed wildly until her boot struck the monster against the chin. He lurched back with a howl, dropping her onto the ground so he could claw at his face in agony. Lying on her back and propped onto her elbows, Bulma backed away as she watched her attacker recover and lunge for her once more. With claws extended, he fell upon her and grabbed at her throat. She realized then that he shouted at her in a language unknown to her.

Bulma could see the pistol resting on ground a foot or so away. It was just out of reach of her begging hand. She could feel the creatures claws raking at her neck. She delivered a meager punch towards his screaming face; one enough to stun him. He howled again in pain and his vehement grasp on her throat loosened to claw aimlessly at the sky. Then, she had enough mobility to reach for the pistol, aim it and fire. The blaring din struck the wall of the stores along with the hideous creature's blackened blood. And his horrid screeching fell silent as he lay in a heap before her. The gaping cavity where his unblinking eyes once were sprayed the foul liquid onto the pavement.

Rolling, onto her stomach she struggled with the desire to wretch. The newfound silence was shattered by an unfeeling laughter. She dropped the pistol to clasp her hands over her face. Truly, she wanted to be anywhere but her. It wasn't her desire to kill, but she would do so if needed. Small amounts of blood dribbled from the minor scratches on her neck, but her calf bled severely. She drew herself to her knees and reached for her tote. In her chest, her heart raced and she breathed deeply to calm it.

"You've surprised even me, woman!" Vegeta continued to laugh. He had taken refuge since his short-lived battle against the remains of a tree. "I was prepared to let that hideous creature devour you, yet your pathetic human instincts allowed you to live."

"You're heartless," Bulma murmured, facing away from him to shield her urge to sob. The pain in her leg was tremendous, but his words were far worse. Despite what he said, he would have certainly intervened simply because he required her. For now. That was the damning truth; if in the end, this journey did not result in her favor, he would kill her along with anyone else. Her father's face danced in her mind. Furthermore, he already made it painfully clear that he would push her to her breaking point. More and more, the hope she had found was diminishing.

With shaking hands, Bulma struggled to shirk her inner turmoil to rummage through her tote for the medical supplies. Hastened by the revolting stench of her recent victim, she quickly disinfected and bandaged her wound. Rising to her feet, she skirted the vile cadaver and fled the battlefield.

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