Author's Note: Hello! I've been busy, as I'm sure most of you were! But now I'm bag bearing treats!

The next two days passed with a certain amount of anxiety. The training was abandoned, and without discussion, the morning katas stopped too, almost as if everyone feared that one false move could trigger the second CO2 scrubber to explode. Bulma knew that once that happened they would have only hours before the CO2 build up began to affect them. Instead they lay around the living area, despondent and fidgeting. Bulma retreated to the flight deck, fretting over the feedback from the ship's various systems, visited frequently by Vegeta, who joined her in anxious over-vigilance, and Puar, who was a natural worrier.

Whenever Vegeta left her alone, though, she also expanded her knowledge of the programming languages of the ship. She tried to figure out how to send a signal to her laptop that the device would actually be able to do something with, and also tried to hack the signal coming from the nearest communication hub and gain access to it. She didn't get far with that, though – the ship's own computer seemed to have measures in place to prevent tampering with the signal. This was more than annoying; Bulma was feeling a gnawing loss of control of her situation ever since the day they left Earth. Filling herself with knowledge about the ship was one way to exert a little more control. She'd also read the flight manuals, so she knew a little theory about how to pilot it too, although she had no hands-on experience and very much doubted that Vegeta would let her practice. The theory was a little comforting though; she was reasonably confident that if push came to shove, she could commandeer the ship if she had to. Now she also wanted more information about how this galaxy she found herself in worked. The Galactic Directory was useful but brief, and gave no hint about how things really operated, the political landscape, nor the social or economic one. She felt blind with ignorance, and it was a horrible feeling indeed.

Whenever she was with the others, she would try and draw more information out of the Saiyans until she irritated them to the point of anger. Nappa, she found, had a good knowledge of many alien cultures and planets, mostly from the perspective of the denizens of bars, gambling dens, brothels and other centres of hedonistic delight. If she'd been planning a pan-galactic bachelor party, he would have been he perfect person to consult, but as that wasn't the case, and also as most of his information was given in an effort to shock her or else relive lewd memories, she got more useful stuff out of Raditz and Vegeta.

'You said that the capital planet of the galaxy is Axis-Rosetta, right? But Frieza is from this ice-lizard planet somewhere. Why didn't he make his home planet the capital?' she asked them at dinner. She had taken Tarble's seat, forcing the boy to sit on the steps with Goku and Krillin, but Bulma thought she was well within her rights to get a seat at the table now and then, and none of the older Saiyans would have let her get away with taking their place.

'Because the hell hole he climbed out of isn't even in this galaxy,' replied Raditz.

'Oh. Really?' said Bulma.

'There are other galaxies?' asked Puar, who was sitting on the edge of the table.

Vegeta chuckled. 'Of course, Daemon. And all the other galaxies are populated too.'

'Uh, the universe just seems to keep on getting bigger and bigger,' observed Krillin from the steps.

Bulma wasn't surprised at that, but she was surprised that there was any kind of contact between galaxies. 'But the distances involved in travelling between galaxies…surely it would take too long!'

'Yes, that's why Frieza rules this galaxy from within it,' Vegeta told her. 'It's a journey of around three years between the heart of this galaxy and the nearest – the one Frieza is from.' He tore a strip of meat from the bone of the joint he'd been eating from and offered it to Puar. The cat glanced up at him. 'It's the softest part of the beast, next to the bone, much better than that tough part you ended up with before,' Vegeta tempted, and Puar relented, taking the morsel from his fingers with her teeth. Puar chewed while Bulma stared. So much for Puar's haughty disdain at being treated like a pet. What was next? Curling up on Vegeta's lap while they watched the holograms?

'Why did he come here then?' she asked. 'Why didn't Frieza stay in his own galaxy and rule that one?'

'Because that's his father's galaxy,' said Nappa. 'That misbegotten demon has a father, King Cold, who has ruled the West Galaxy for millennia. His spawn had to spread out to find new pastures to enslave.'

'Yes, it seems like there's only room for one Cold family member per galaxy,' Vegeta added, feeding Puar another piece of meat. 'Frieza's brother Cooler rules the East Galaxy, and together the three of them and their governments form the Cold Empire.'

'I thought Frieza was the head of this Planet Trade Organisation thing, though?' Bulma asked. 'It sounds more like a company than an empire. He doesn't even call himself a king or emperor.'

'Oh, he calls himself a Lord,' said Vegeta. 'He wouldn't dare give himself a title to compete with his father's. And the PTO is many things. It's a trade and commerce company that controls trade of everything it can get its tentacles into, up to and including the sale of planets. It's one of the ways Frieza makes his money to keep his army, which in turn he uses to control more trade. The other way is through the Cold Empire Banking system, though his father also takes a cut of that.'

'Does he control the whole galaxy?' she asked.

Vegeta shook his head. 'He wishes. There are many uncivilised planets that remain ignorant of Frieza, and even amongst the civilised ones, there are hold outs and rebels and even those that have gotten by simply because Frieza hasn't had the chance to deal with them yet. Those are the "free" planets. There are also Cold Empire Aligned planets that are allowed autonomy in return for having their trade and banking routed through the Cold system.'

'Right.' Bulma was starting to get the idea now. 'So he's running a galaxy wide racket. And you guys were some of the muscle he used to pressure planets?'

Raditz and Nappa sniggered, but Vegeta looked at her coolly.

'We were not merely brawn; we were the shock-brigade. He didn't send us for just any old planet,' he bragged, dragging a bone through the grease on his plate. Then he lifted the bone to his face and sucked it clean. Bulma made a face of disgust, and so he picked up the plate and licked the grease right off the plate, watching her to see what effect it had on her.

'Oh, stop it! Don't you have any table manners?' she snapped at him, taking his bait, even as she knew it was bait.

'Better table manners than you have, I bet,' he told her. 'I just see no point in wasting them if there's no one to impress.'

'You're not impressing me,' she said.

'Exactly.'

As they approached the Grenouillea II system, the Earthlings found themselves filled with nervousness watching the Saiyans getting edgy.

'What do you think they mean, "Change ships"?' Goku asked Krillin quietly. They were sitting in the bubble of the bathroom window, which had become a common place for them to retreat to when other corners of the ship were occupied.

'I asked Tarble that,' Krillin replied. 'They're going to hijack another one from somebody.'

Goku frowned. 'What are the other people going to do when they get thrown off their own ship?' He looked at Krillin and Krillin looked back, each working through their thoughts.

'I'm not sure they'll be in any state to worry about it,' admitted Krillin.

'Well, I'm afraid that they'll be dead,' said Goku, missing Krillin's inference of the same thought. 'We can't let that happen.'

'I'm not sure we'll have any choice!' replied Krillin.

'There's always a choice. A choice between trying to help someone and not bothering to try.'

Krillin flinched. 'Yeah, I guess you're right. But what are we going to do about it, then?'

'I don't know. Maybe we should go talk to Bulma about it.'

Krillin shrugged, feeling an unpleasant weight in his chest. 'Yeah, we should. But I think Bulma might have her own plans that she's not included us in.'

'What do you mean?' asked Goku, surprised.

'I don't know…she's just so…buddy-buddy with Vegeta. She'd even rather sit with them at dinner instead of us.'

Goku gave him an incredulous look that made Krillin doubt his own suspicious heart. 'I don't think she will have forgotten about trying to save the people of Earth.'

'I don't think so either, but you know Bulma – she gets…distracted.'

Goku shook his head. He didn't know of course, and Krillin sighed. Maybe he was just being paranoid himself.

'Okay, then,' he said. 'Let's go talk to Bulma.'

They walked as quietly as they could through the den of Saiyans and climbed the stairs to the flight deck. As usual, Bulma was poised over the console of the ship, reading and typing in the alien script faster the either boy could follow.

'Hey, guys,' she said without looking up. 'What's up?'

'You realise when they "Take another ship" those Saiyans are probably going to kill its crew?' Krillin said without preamble.

She did look up now, looking uncomfortable. 'Yeah. And?'

'And?' repeated Krillin.

'And they shouldn't,' stated Goku.

'Why are you two looking at me like that?' she complained. 'It's not like it's my decision! Of course they shouldn't! What am I going to do about it? For that matter, what are you going to do about it?'

'We don't know.'

'Please tell me you're not going to fight all four of them on a space ship!'

'If we have to.'

'No!' she snapped. 'You can't win! Goku, I will ask Vegeta not to kill anyone, but that's as far as we can go. If we fight them over this we'll never get to Namek, and then not only will we die, but all of Earth will stay dead too! And we DO need to change ships. If we don't, we'll still die, so let me do the talking, and if that doesn't work just…don't think about it and wait till we get the damn Namek dragonballs!'

Goku growled and Krillin felt frustrated by his own maelstrom of feelings. He could hear the sense Bulma spoke, but he was torn between that pragmatism, his own cowardice and what he felt to be the right thing in his heart. He didn't have long to stew in it, though. The ship began making one of its many alert chimes and a message appeared on the console.

'We're dropping below the speed of light,' said Bulma after reading it. 'We're almost in the Grenouillea II system.'

Raditz put them in a slow orbit around the solar system. They turned the fusion drive off and all its scanning equipment on and laid in wait for passing craft. Bulma watched for an opportunity to make her plea for mercy to Vegeta, but it didn't seem to present itself. She was half certain he would scoff in her face anyway, but her instinct told her he would never agree to spare their victims if she asked him in front of Raditz and Nappa. Instead they all sat miserably around the darkened flight deck.

'You all know your parts?' Vegeta asked the other Saiyans. They all replied in the affirmative, so he then made sure that the Earthlings knew what their part was.

'Keep quiet, keep out of the way, and when we say it's safe, start bringing everything onto the new ship. And don't you dare interfere,' he ended, glaring at Goku.

But no ships came.

An hour passed and their attention wandered. Tarble began unwinding his finger-knitting and starting over. Bulma got her laptop back out. Puar fell asleep on the headrest of Vegeta's chair.

'Are we on the wrong side of the solar system?' Raditz pondered. 'Perhaps all the ships approach from the other side?'

'Maybe there's not that much trade at all?' suggested Nappa.

'Move the ship to the other side of the system,' Vegeta ordered.

Then something happened that was the last thing anyone wanted. The other CO2 scrubber gave out, and the alarm went off again.

Panic brought Bulma to her feet before she realised there was nothing she could actually do.

'We've got about eight hours,' she said. 'And only about six of those thinking coherently!'

Vegeta looked at her, his own panic visible in his strained face and deepened breaths. 'Raditz, take us in closer to the planet. There's more chance of finding a ship there, and if all else fails, we can land.'

The ship turned inwards, towards the sun at the centre of the system, which dawned over the console in a burst of shocking light. Even as the reactive filters on the flight deck's dome compensated for the intense brightness, it still dazzled, and Bulma found she could not keep her eyes away from it. It was beautiful and ominous – an intense orange that painted the crew and the flight deck in razor sharp stripes of amber light and black shadow.

'I just got to guide us through this junk-cloud first,' Raditz told them. 'Maybe that's why there's no ships here – there's no big channels through this asteroid and dust field close by.'

'Welcome to Grenouillea Two aerospace, a Cold Empire-aligned Free Planet,' a female voice spoke loudly on the flight deck, causing them all to jump in surprise.

'What the…?' asked Bulma as they all looked to Vegeta and Raditz for an explanation, thought they looked as startled as everyone else.

'It's just a pre-recorded message,' Raditz assured them, still clutching his chest from the fright, but the voice continued to speak over the top of him.

'We hope you enjoy your visit and advise that in addition to Cold Galactic Law, visitors must abide at all times by Grenouillea laws and regulations while within the bounds of this system's outer debris field. A copy of these laws and regulations are being transmitted to your ship's on-board computer now.'

Both the screens on the dashboard and the holographic map table burst into activity, displaying line after line of text scrolling so fast that Bulma couldn't make out a single word.

'No landing is permitted on any of the uninhabited planets of the Grenouillea system without express consent. Controlled landings are only permitted on Grenouillea Two. By proceeding you are agreeing to abide by Grenouillea's laws and regulations and permit Grenouillea Space Traffic Control access to your ship's remote operating facilities, manifest and other personally identifiable information deemed necessary by law and to provide a satisfactory visitor landing service.'

'Fuck!' swore Vegeta. The scrolling stopped and a single question hung on the screen before Raditz.

I hereby grant Grenouillea Space Traffic Control access to this craft's remote operating facilities and agree that any attempt to disengage remote control before the craft is fully docked will result in immediate threat response. Yes? Cancel? Assistance?

'Threat response?' repeated Krillin. 'That doesn't sound very…friendly.'

'It's completely over-the-top,' complained Raditz.

After a pause the disembodied voice spoke again. 'If your ship lacks remote operating facilities, or if you need to speak to a space traffic controller please choose the option of assistance. Should you continue into the debris field without relinquishing control of your craft, a threat response will be triggered and your craft will be destroyed.'

Vegeta hissed. 'What the hell is this? We don't want to land, and we certainly don't want to give up control of the ship to complete strangers!'

He reached over and hit cancel, and the voice chimed in again. 'As you have chosen not to abide with the established landing protocol you may not enter the Grenouillea Two system. On your present trajectory you will be within the bounds of the debris field within two galactic minutes. We advise you change your course immediately to avoid repercussions.'

'The fuck!'

'Woah, that is just a little bit extreme, don't you think?' said Bulma.

'Raditz, turn us around. Quick!' Vegeta ordered.

Raditz grasped the controls and the sun slid out of view again. Then he turned to Vegeta.

'Well, where are we going to go then?' he asked.

Vegeta rubbed his hands over his face, then glowered at the console. 'Continue skirting the solar system. Hopefully a ship will present itself to us.'

'For how long?' asked Bulma. 'We're kind of on the clock!'

'Yeah, I don't want to suffocate,' added Raditz.

'For a while!' snapped Vegeta. 'I'm not racing down to hand over everything to some super-charged, paranoid bureaucrats if I don't have to!'

Puar whimpered a little and Nappa huffed and sat down on the couch next to Bulma, jiggling his leg with tension. Bulma lasted about another two minutes before she couldn't take the restless waiting and undercurrent of desperation any more, and went downstairs. She busied herself by taking inventory of her capsules, packing away clothes and anything else that was out of their capsules, ready for a quick transfer to another ship. Everything except her laptop. This she opened and checked that her "Ship-computer emulation program" (for lack of a better name) had compiled, which it had. Heart leaping with excitement she fired it up and got her laptop talking with the ships computer within moments. She could see that a communication port was being held open by the Space Traffic Control and force-shut it, just to be safe. Then she had the ship look for a signal from a communication hub, and finally she was connected to the galactic information superhighway.

'You're so clever, Miss Briefs!' she congratulated herself, but her delight was short-lived. It was more of a galactic country lane than a superhighway that she had hacked. The information from the Galactic directory was open and unencrypted, but the rest was encrypted and there was surprisingly not much of it. The decrypting programs that she already had on her laptop didn't seem to make much headway on those, though they made short work of the usernames and passwords on the edit functions of the directory. She was tempted to leave a vague threat against Frieza under the Earth's entry, something like 'The wages of sin are death!' or 'Bulma Briefs will have her revenge!' but chickened out.

Instead she checked the CO2 levels from the ship's sensors and felt a tingle of alarm. They had already risen 2%. They might actually have less time that she had thought. Racing back up stairs she told the others what she'd found.

'And how do you know that?' asked Vegeta, standing up out of the pilot's seat.

'Because I connected my computer to the ship,' she admitted, blushing because she'd not meant to reveal this.

'This girl-!' choked Nappa.

Vegeta's eyes bored into her, obviously furious with her, but the crisis of the moment was apparently enough that his anger at her was put aside for now in favour of his anger at the choice they now faced.

'Dammit! We could get torn to pieces on that planet!' he complained to them all. 'If we're going down there, there's no telling what will happen! The Grenouilleans are too powerful, too paranoid and too Cold-aligned for comfort.'

'I'm not saying it's a good option,' Bulma replied. 'I'm saying it's our only option!'

'I know!' he fumed, turning to Raditz who was looking up at him expectantly. 'Do it.'

Raditz turned them into the sun again, and before long the pre-recorded warning sounded again. When the "Yes? Cancel? Assistance?" dialogue boxes came up Vegeta leaned over and pressed "Assistance". A video link sprang up in place of the dialogue box, and a beautiful, pale-brown skinned man with golden eyes and chestnut hair smiled wanly at them.

'This is Bonzanard of Grenouillea II space traffic control. How may I assist you?' And Bulma's breath was momentarily taken away by the beauty of a mere support-desk operator.

'You can assist us by allowing us to pilot our own ship into land,' said Vegeta, getting up to stand at Raditz's shoulder and look down at the man.

'I'm afraid that's not possible, sir. It is Grenouillea policy that ships are either landed by traffic control or guided in by military escort. I see your ship is equipped with remote operating facilities, so I recommend you let us use them. If you opt for the military escort there will be a substantial additional landing fee.'

Vegeta made a disgusted huffing noise and then replied, 'Fine. We'll do it the easy way. What is the standard landing fee?'

'There is a fee of twelve hundred credits for a vessel of your class for the standard landing service at one of the three major ports, an additional fee of three hundred credits for landing at one of the secondary ports, or an additional six hundred to land directly at one of the provincial centres. I would like to advise you that standard landings are taking an average of four hours today, but if you'd like to upgrade to our express service for another nine hundred and fifty credits, you can expect to be planet side in just over an hour.'

Bulma was shocked. She hadn't expected space to be so user-pays. The service assistant smiled again in a patently false manner and looked away at something to the side of the camera.

'You're going to pick the express service, right?' asked Bulma quietly, sidling up to Vegeta.

Vegeta was staring hard at the screen, looking very concerned. 'I don't think so,' he said.

'Four hours is cutting it a bit close, though!'

'I'll give you a moment to decide,' said the assistant. 'Just select the "yes" option in the permission screen when you've made up your minds.'

He disappeared, replaced by the previous screen.

'Are we going to suffocate because we can't afford the landing fee?' asked Raditz, and Bulma realised the reason for Vegeta's reluctance.

'Do we have four hours?' he asked her.

'I think so, but I can't be sure. Really, if you have the money you should pay for the express!'

'We've only got about three thousand credits all up,' he told her, which, although she had no idea what the worth of a credit was, sounded ridiculously meagre to her ears.

'We'd better hope that we don't have to pay for departure too, then,' said Nappa. 'Or the repairs! Fuck! We should have dealt with this money situation before it got so tight!'

'If there'd been a chance, we would have,' said Vegeta in annoyance. 'But we don't normally go anywhere near planets like this one, so it didn't matter that much until just now!'

'Do you have, like, an emergency fund somewhere?' asked Bulma.

'No.'

'More money in a bank? Is there a way of getting a transfer?'

Vegeta looked at her like she was an idiot. 'No! There is no more money! Anywhere!'

This was uncomfortable. One thing that Bulma had never had to worry about on any adventure was running out of money.

'We'll use the standard,' Vegeta said eventually. Raditz hit the "Yes" button and the assistant returned.

'And what is your decision?' he asked, glancing back and forth between the camera and another screen.

'Standard service,' replied Raditz. 'We're not in any hurry.'

The man nodded and began typing, still most of his attention on whatever screen was to the side of the camera. A sign lit up on their console and the man said, 'I've engaged the remote operating facility. Do not attempt to disengage it until your craft is fully landed. If you need more assistance just press the "Assistance" button and I will attend to you. Enjoy your landing…' Suddenly he froze and turned to look at the camera again.

'Enjoy your landing, your Highness,' he said in a much more deferential tone.

On the flight deck there was a collective intake of breath and they all glanced at Vegeta, who had turned rigid and a little pale. Vegeta stared at the assistant for a heavy moment, and then asked, 'How did you know it was me? I'm not standing in the range of the pilot's camera.'

'Forgive me, Prince Doritoni,' said the assistant, seeming a bit flustered. 'I read your name from the ship's manifest. I believe you are travelling with the Princess Cee-Cee, a female aide and a male pilot. I deduced who I was talking to.'

Earthlings and Saiyans alike let out a breath of relief.

'You are correct,' said Vegeta.

'Don't hesitate to contact me should you need anything! I'm your humble servant, your Highness. Er…goodbye,' he signed off, looking apologetic.

As soon as the video link severed they sagged in relief before being elevated to anxiety again.

'I don't know whether it's good or bad that they think we're someone we're not,' said Vegeta.

'Surely a good thing?' said Raditz.

'I suggest we don't tell these assholes that we stole this ship and killed the precious prince and princess,' said Nappa, causing prickly horror to wash down Bulma's body and Krillin to moan.

'Obviously they can't know who we really are, but we certainly don't want attention,' said Vegeta. 'Not to mention, we don't have the money to pull off imitating those royal twits. Once we land, we're lying low until we can figure out how to get what we want and off the planet again.'

'After we've paid this landing fee, how much will eighteen hundred credits get us?' asked Bulma.

Vegeta looked a little wild-eyed. 'Maybe the CO2 scrubber. Or the junction box. Certainly not both.'

'If they think you're this L'Goontian Prince, do you think we should look and see if there's anything about him in the Galactic Directory?' asked Nappa.

Vegeta grunted. 'Good idea, Nappa.'

He made his way to the map table and searched the directory for the entry on L'Goonta. The rest of them clustered around.

They read the short factsheet on L'Goonta, some of which they already knew from watching the hologram library, though "factsheet" was probably not the right word, as it was remarkably light on "facts". It proudly proclaimed the planet a free and independent one, then warned that unsanctioned visitors were not welcome before launching into a description of the virtues and situations of the L-Goontian monarchy. The current (wise, shrewd and level-headed) King was very advanced in age, and his oldest son (visionary and natural leader) hovered to inherit the throne. The King's oldest grandson (the People's prince) had recently married his second cousin Cee-Cee (a delightful and compassionate woman) and they were currently on honeymoon. A honeymoon that went badly wrong apparently, thought Bulma as she frowned at Vegeta.

'Oh, no,' groaned Radtiz as they scrolled down the page. 'There's a picture of the Prince. If they look this page up at all they'll see it's not you!'

The L'Goontian crown Prince Doritoni was a long-faced man with sallow-gold skin.

'Balls,' hissed Nappa.

'And if they realise this ship is stolen…' said Vegeta, trailing off.

But Bulma practically danced on the spot with excitement. 'Guys! I can fix it! I already hacked the Galactic Directory!' she gabbered, and then raced down stairs to do so before anyone could respond. A couple of minutes later the raced back up, carrying her laptop under one arm to find the Saiyans looking confused and wary.

'The photo disappeared,' said Raditz, sounding almost angry about it.

Krillin chuckled. 'That's our Bulma.'

'Yay, Bulma!' said Goku and Puar together, and Bulma posed, preening.

'Not just a pretty face,' she cooed.

But Vegeta was staring at her hard. 'Girl, you altered the records…how?'

'By knowing how programmers work…right across the galaxy, apparently,' she stated.

He looked astonished. 'How? You couldn't even read Galactic plain script ten days ago!' Then he shook his head and leapt on a more pressing question. 'Can you alter the Cold Bank communications? We need money!'

'Well…I don't know. Do you think the bank is in constant communication with the planet?'

'Yes!'

'Well, in that case I couldn't when I tried before, but I only spend a few minutes trying to get at the encrypted data…'

Nappa shook his head. 'No way, Vegeta. No one can break the security around the Cold Bank. Besides, you know it would take days to get a signal to the bank and back this far from the centre of the galaxy.'

Vegeta's face clouded again. 'I suppose you're right. But if she can do it in time, it could be a solution our future cashflow problems.'

Nappa humphed in doubt.

'So you don't have any money in a bank?' asked Bulma.

'Not anymore,' Raditz told her. 'Frieza froze our accounts. Even accessing them sets off alarms.'

'So your…"credits" are cash?'

'Stored-value credit chips,' said Vegeta.

'Which are stolen,' clarified Raditz.

'Speaking of which,' said Vegeta, 'Nappa, Raditz, hand over your chips.'

The other two did so, making noises of reluctance, while Bulma propped her laptop on the end of the console, thinking to have another look at the encrypted traffic. Goku, Krillin, Puar and Tarble clustered around the map table to read aloud the information on L'Goonta and Grenouillea II, but they were soon interrupted by a ping from the console, and the screen next to Bulma came to life again. Vegeta wheeled around, caught in the scope of the pilot's camera and froze as a different face filled the screen. This one was older, greener and wearing some kind of uniform jacket, and twin braids each side of his head, clamped with gold at the tips. Vegeta held up a hand behind him to forestall the others from coming closer.

'Yes?' he asked.

'Greetings, your royal Highnesses,' the new man said smoothly, his teeth sliding back between each movement of his lips to reveal an oily grin. 'I am Major Nobuzz of Grenouillea Traffic Control and I have just been informed of your impending arrival. We'd like to extend a complimentary military escort to the Spawn City spaceport.'

They all hesitated and waited to see what Vegeta would do, and after just a second he replied, 'Thank you. We look forward to landing.'

'Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Prince Doritoni?' the man asked.

'You do,' answered Vegeta stiffly while the rest of them held their breath.

'I'm sorry I was unaware of your visit ahead of time. It is usually our policy to provide an escort to all Heads of State and their representatives. Neither did our Foreign Affairs office know of your coming. May I ask what the nature of your visit is today?'

Vegeta drew a slightly hissing breath. 'Urgent repairs,' he admitted.

The man nodded and smiled again. 'I understand. An unexpected detour. There are several highly skilled and experienced engineers I would recommend to you based at Spawn City spaceport, and I will have them call on you to quote for the job as soon as it's convenient to you.'

Vegeta flinched slightly and Bulma moaned quietly with dismay. This was not low profile, nor did it sound like the cheap, DIY repair job Vegeta had been hoping for. She didn't moan quietly enough, though, as the sound attracted the attention on Major Nobuzz.

'Is that the Princess Cee-Cee I can just see to your right?' he asked. 'I can just see an arm and a delightful shade of blue hair.'

Bulma locked eyes with Vegeta, and saw his alarm barely hidden below the surface.

'It is,' he replied tersely, and Bulma shuffled slightly into view.

'Hi,' she said, and Vegeta shot her a glance of disbelief.

Major Nobuzz grinned again. 'I hear that congratulations are in order for the newlyweds. L-Goontian bachelors must have swooned with dismay when you selected your beautiful bride, Prince Doritoni! I trust you have been enjoying a pleasant honeymoon?'

'I hardly think this is appropriate conversation,' said Vegeta darkly, and the Major looked surprised and then embarrassed.

'My apologies, your Highnesses. I look forward to greeting you in person soon.'

The screen went dead again, and the flight deck erupted in groans, growls and cries of 'What do this mean now?'

Raditz rushed to the other pilots console and began tapping about. 'We've got six interceptors in close range about us!'

'It means we're screwed!' snarled Vegeta. He cast a searching eye over Bulma, then Puar and Raditz. 'Raditz, bring up the ship's manifest.'

Raditz did so, and read it aloud.

'Prince Doritoni, second in line to the L-Goonta throne; Princess Cee-Cee, wife of Prince Doritoni; Captain L'Cheez, pilot and bodyguard; and Lady Pringella, personal chef and aide.' He looked up at Vegeta questioningly as did the others.

'This is worse than any trap,' warned Nappa. 'We've got to fight our way out of this right now while it's just six interceptors we're dealing with.'

'And what?' snapped Vegeta. 'Suffocate in a few hours time? No.' He looked around him at all the younger boys, then back to Bulma and Puar. 'Our strategy has changed. We're going to hustle.'

'Hustle?' echoed Bulma.

'Yes, Princess Cee-Cee, hustle.' He pointed at Puar. 'You're the personal chef. Make like a L'Goontian woman.' Then he nodded at Raditz. 'Put your strippers outfit on; you're the pilot and bodyguard. The rest of you don't exist as far as the Grenouilleans are concerned, and we need to keep it that way.'

The next hour was spent in frantic activity. Bulma made the preparations Vegeta asked for and then tried and failed to make headway against the alien encryption on the data passing through the communication hub again. Giving up, she went downstairs to join the others making plans and donning disguises.

'Your earpieces, will they work on this planet?' asked Vegeta the moment she set foot downstairs.

'I don't see why not,' she replied.

'Then find them. We'll need to stay in communication with Nappa, and we may be split up from Raditz and Puar at times.'

Bulma located them in her capsule of electronics, handed one to Krillin, one to Puar, and kept one for herself. Vegeta watched her and then took them all away again, handing one to Nappa, one to Raditz and putting the last in his own ear.

'Rude!' she exclaimed. 'It's like you don't trust us.'

'You Earthlings are too ignorant of alien cultures to be the effective communicators, plus overall too stupid,' he clarified. 'And I don't trust you.'

Bulma didn't waste the time arguing – today their aims were identical – stay alive, fix the ship and get away safely.

'Now for the disguises,' said Vegeta, leading the way into the bedroom.

Bulma and Vegeta knelt side by side in the open wardrobe to tear through the jumble of clothes on the floor that had been pulled off their hangars and left there since the Saiyans took the ship. Bulma detangled crushed dresses and skirts with increasing worry. Cee-Cee and Doritoni had both been tall and skinny, and none of their clothes were a proper fit for Bulma and Vegeta, but a few pieces here and there could be used – a red, silk shirt with gold embroidery down the front that Vegeta tucked into his jeans so it wouldn't be noticed that it came halfway down his thighs, and a ceremonial sword and belt.

'Vegeta, you need to do something about your hair,' said Nappa, leaning over the two of them. 'It's too recognisable for anyone who knows what you look like.'

Vegeta put a hand over his distinctive stiff spikes and looked at Bulma. 'Bulma, do my hair like on Earth.'

Hurriedly, Bulma decapsulated her own wardrobe and pulled out a brush, hair-tie and the gel, then dragged them all through Vegeta's hair and tied a pony tail at the back while he sat on the corner of the bed. It didn't look much like a pony tail though, as it stuck out in a spray of spikes that were far too cheeky for a proper prince, Bulma decided. A lab technician could get away with that look, but not a future king. Ordering him to hold still some more, Bulma twisted the ends into a knot and pinned them, smoothing the stray hairs in with more gel.

'Urgh, you've tied it so tight I can't move my eyebrows properly,' Vegeta complained as she let him go.

'That's probably a good thing,' she replied. 'It'll stop you from scowling at everyone. Didn't you say we need to lull people into trusting us?'

He didn't reply, merely attempted to scowl anyway, but was interrupted by Raditz walking gingerly into the bedroom followed by Goku, Tarble and Krillin. Raditz had all the pieces of his pilot's uniform on again, his great mane hanging down his back from under his cap.

'Gods, I hope I don't have to sit down in these pants; I'll split the ass in two for sure.'

'What about his hair?' asked Puar, pointing at Raditz.

Vegeta frowned. 'That is also too recognisable, and worse, it's a mess! Bulma, see to it.'

Raditz looked as if he was going to object, but Bulma beat him too it.

'And how long is that going to take? Vegeta, I have to get ready too, you know! I haven't even found something princessy to wear! Can't someone else do it? Goku?'

'Me?' asked Goku, and looked up at his towering over brother. 'Okay, I'll give it a shot.'

'Or even faster than making it presentable, why don't you just cut it all off?'

Nappa and Raditz both gasped in horror but after a beat Vegeta laughed. Raditz clutched at the ropey mass protectively.

'Don't you dare!' he cried.

'Well, you are always complaining it gets in the way,' said Vegeta.

'You wouldn't get shit in it when you wipe ever again,' Tarble suggested quietly from the rear, to which Vegeta sniggered and all the Earthlings grimaced but pretended they didn't hear.

'Calm down, Raditz! He's joking!' said Nappa.

'Am I?' teased Vegeta. 'Bulma, cut his hair.'

Nappa frowned. 'You don't cut a Saiyan's hair, Vegeta – it's his very identity! You know that.'

'Yeah!' cried Raditz.

'Don't be stupid!' scoffed Bulma. 'A hairstyle is not an identity! You look like you're way past due a good hack, anyway.'

'Saiyan hair doesn't grow back, you butcher!' said Raditz, backing away.

Bulma was surprised, but, 'Even so, do you really need all of it?'

'Yes!'

'Well, what are you going to do with it, then?' She picked up the brush that she'd left on the bed and then opened one of the drawers in her wardrobe, wondering if she had any hair scissors. 'We can tie it back, but I really think you should let me give you a trim.'

Raditz continued backing up, stepping on and stumbling over Krillin before he reached the door. 'I'm not letting you anywhere near it!'

'Raditz, I was joking!' said Vegeta, but Raditz grabbed Goku and Krillin by the backs of their necks and dragged them, protesting, back down the corridor. 'What an idiot,' Vegeta mumbled and strode after him, trailed by Nappa and Tarble.

Finally Bulma was left alone to salvage the Princess's wardrobe. Princess Cee-Cee liked long dresses and skirts with loose or low waists and warm hues. She could have been a bit more youthful and sharp with her fashion sense though, Bulma thought with annoyance, and then caught herself with a shock. She was complaining over the contents of a murdered woman's wardrobe! The disquieting thought shocked her into a moment of stillness and shame, but then she flung herself back into her task. She hadn't known the dead woman's name until an hour ago, and had barely spared a thought to her existence and end before then. Now the clothes in her hands now somehow felt dirty, like they were covered in traces of blood.

She knew she didn't have anything she considered royal-esque in her own wardrobe – just a few short, simple dresses amongst her shorts, pants and t-shirts, and a few fancy-dress costumes in her other adventure-capsule collection. Any items she thought might be useful later she flung into her own wardrobe, and then settled on a strange overdress that seemed to be made of looped scarves in red, purple and magenta. It draped, rather than fitted, so she thought no one would notice it was too big. She put on one of her own short, pink dresses underneath for modesty with the overdress on top, draping it as she hoped it was meant to be worn. It was too long, and touched the floor, but she realised that maybe that was a good thing, as she had no shoes to wear with it. The closest thing she had to appropriate were a pair of purple canvas flats.

'I look stupid!' she said to her reflection in the bedroom mirror, holding up the hem of the gown to show her cute, but exceedingly childish (she realised now) footwear. Then she searched the desk drawers, the bedside table and the wardrobe again, looking for jewellery, but found nothing. Surely it was inconceivable that a Princess of a planet had no jewellery, unless the L'Goontian idea of fashion and status was vastly different from her own? What she did find though was a holographic photo in the bedside drawer of a young, horse-faced looking couple, standing hand in hand on the marble steps of some grand building. The dress and train were purple, and the man wore a robe instead of a tuxedo, but she sensed it was a wedding photo, and looking at the obvious happiness in their faces, Bulma suddenly choked on a sob. They'd had no idea what had been about to meet on their honeymoon…

Saiyans.

She bit her lip and forced the tears and thoughts back, and on impulse, threw the holograph into her own wardrobe. Then she dug out another capsule with make up in it. She only wore make up when she was dressing-up, and this occasion definitely qualified as dressing-up, but what she desperately needed was the bronzer. Vegeta was olive skinned enough to pass for L-Goontian, but she wasn't. After dusting herself she hurriedly applied some pink eye shadow and some mascara in what she hoped might pass for a daytime-casual princess look. Grimacing at herself in the mirror, she decided she'd failed, but gave up and packed up her make up and wardrobe again.

Returning to the lounge she saw that Tarble, Goku and Krillin were each braiding a long, tapered plait down Raditz's back while he sat on the steps. Vegeta was inspecting a gorgeous, golden-skinned woman who was pirouetting on the spot before him, wearing a high collared, but figure-hugging dress. Bulma was struck through with shock and anger before realising that it was, of course, Puar.

'Do you think that'll do?' Puar asked Vegeta.

'Very good, Daemon,' he replied, smiling.

'Rather overshot the mark, haven't you?' Bulma grumbled under her breath. Then she turned on Vegeta, feeling suddenly quite belligerent towards him. 'Do you know where the Princess's jewellery might be?'

The males all looked over at her and Vegeta's smile dropped into a frown, and Nappa's frown turned into a smile.

'What the hell are you wearing?' asked Vegeta.

Bulma blushed in anger and embarrassment. 'One of the few things that will actually fit me!' she shouted back.

'Are you sure that actually fits you?' asked Raditz.

Bulma ignored him. 'Where is the jewellery?' she demanded.

'We sold it months ago,' replied Nappa.

'Hot, fucking damn!' Bulma almost shrieked, and the younger boys cringed. She felt close to tears again. 'How am I supposed to pass for a real princess with crumpled clothes and no jewellery?'

'Well, what do you want us to do about it?' asked Vegeta, not quite calmly, but quiet enough. 'Go back in time and un-sell it?'

'No! I don't know! Maybe while you're at it you could go back in time and un-murder the prince and princess?'

Vegeta's expression grew darker and he turned to Puar. 'Perhaps you should play the princess, Puar? Bulma seems to be rather emotionally disorganised right now, not to mention you are wearing an adult's footwear.'

Bulma stamped her foot and fumed, and Krillin and Goku instinctively backed away. 'I packed for adventure, not for some high-stakes intergalactic con game!'

Nappa and Raditz both chuckled at her temper tantrum while Bulma and Vegeta stared each other down. His face was ice cold, while she felt like she was aflame. Into the silence, Puar spoke softly.

'But…Prince Vegeta, that Major guy, he's already been introduced to Bulma as Cee-Cee.'

'Hnn,' Vegeta said in acknowledgement. 'Then I guess I'm pretending to be married to this mess of a female.'

Tears pricked Bulma's eyes again. 'You can talk, Vegeta. What kind of prince wears a furry, brown belt?'

'I do!' he roared back at her.

'Well, it looks stupid!' she told him spitefully. There was an intake of breath around the room, and not even Krillin came to Bulma's aid as Vegeta stalked towards her, his "belt" unlooping and lashing through the air behind him.

'What do you suggest then, idiot? Cutting it off like Raditz's hair?' he hissed.

'Don't be dumb,' she hissed back, not moving an inch as he mounted the first and second steps before her. He couldn't take the top step without either stepping into her or going around her, and now he found himself stuck, looking up to her, waiting for her to fall back in fear, but she wouldn't. Without his trademark spikes, Vegeta's face was allowed to command the watcher's full attention, and Bulma found her eyes wanting to flee the intensity of his cruel and handsome features. She forced herself to keep his gaze though, almost vibrating with this strange feeling of anger and dissatisfaction she had towards him.

'I have some gold body paint,' she told him, trying to calm herself down. 'We should paint your tail gold to disguise it as something other than a tail.'

They glared at each other a second longer, and then Vegeta looked away. 'All right, then. And hurry up; we're surely almost out of time.'

Still glaring at his profile, Bulma hopped down onto the step behind him, opened the fat tube of paint she'd taken from her makeup bag and squeezed a big dollop into her hand. Then she grabbed hold of Vegeta's stiff tail to smooth down its length, but it was immediately wrenched out of her hand, almost yanking her off the step. Vegeta danced away, a truly startled expression on his face as he turned on her.

'What?' squawked Raditz, in amusement or scandal, Bulma wasn't sure. Nappa choked, and even Tarble made a noise of astonishment.

'Don't let her grab your tail!' said Goku helpfully. 'It'll make you go all funny.'

'What did I say to you about touching my tail?' asked Vegeta, turning red.

'Oh, so what!' said Bulma, trying to get her wits about her. 'I just…forgot! Jeez! Don't make such a big deal about it! It was a mistake! Here!' She followed Vegeta and grabbed his hand instead, roughly smearing the paint into his own palm. 'Do it yourself, Mr Sensitive!'

Still red, Vegeta wandered away to hide behind the breakfast bar while he slathered his own tail with paint, while Nappa cocked a brow at Raditz, and Raditz continued to laugh under his breath.

'You paint your tail, too, Raditz!' Vegeta commanded, catching his expression.

Raditz grinned and leaned back, unrolling his tail towards Bulma, the three young boys still labouring on his locks.

'You can do my tail,' he told her in a mockingly seductive voice.

'Get fucked, Raditz,' she replied, but this only made Raditz and Nappa laugh harder.

As the ship dipped under the level of the high cloud, the bright green jungle and swampy green water of the planet loomed up outside the window. A city appeared over the horizon, with tall, white towers and smudges of white, grey and brown structures spreading out from its centre. Closer than the city was something that looked like a smaller, flatter city, but when Nappa looked over Bulma's shoulder to see what she was looking at he said, 'That must be the spaceport we're headed to. Reckon we'll be there in a few minutes.'

'Then let's get into place,' said Vegeta.

Krillin, Goku, Tarble and Nappa went into the airlock to hide in the pods. They weren't sure what would happen when they landed, but just in case technicians or customs agents immediately mobbed the place, Vegeta decided that they should be well out of sight.

Vegeta, Bulma, Raditz and Puar gathered near the rampway, and Vegeta stood with his head bowed, rubbing at his lower lip and generally looking ill-at-ease. Bulma had every capsule she thought they might conceivably need stashed in one of Princess Cee-Cee's clutch bags, and her laptop in its carry bag, still turned on so that it could act as a relay for the earpieces. She was nervous, far more nervous than when she'd been on any dragonball hunt, and uncomfortable with the incompleteness of their plan. The Saiyans were nervous too, and that's what set her on edge. There was such a lot riding on this bluff.

The ship glided into port and then touched down with a soft thump. Bulma reached for the rampway button, but Vegeta knocked her hand away.

'Wait,' he said. 'We're royalty, and they're waiting on us, not the other way round.'

'But we're ready to leave,' she objected.

'So?'

Hearing a noise like a voice from the airlock she glanced over, past the regeneration tank…and then she did a double take.

'Shit! Brolly!' she exclaimed. He still hung naked in the tank, on full display of anyone who cared to walk in. The others gasped at her realisation.

'Gods!' said Vegeta. 'I got so used to seeing him there in the tank I forgot all about him.'

'What are we going to do with him?' asked Raditz. 'We can't take him out of the tank!'

'Maybe we could cover the tank with a sheet?' asked Puar.

This seemed liked such a thin disguise, but no one else could come up with a better idea, so that's what they did; Puar rushed to get some sheets and Raditz to find paper and pen to make a sign saying "Do Not Remove Cover – Light Sensitive Material".

Bulma eyed the closed rampway while she waited, and clutched her gut as it clenched with tension.

'What is wrong with you today?' asked Vegeta, seeing her with her arms around her middle. 'You're all over the place.'

She shook her head. 'I don't know. I guess I'm not happy about pretending to be a dead princess.'

'You don't need to be happy about it; you just need to not screw it up. Speaking of which, when we get out there, don't say "hi" or some other inane garbage when they welcome you. Follow my lead and play dumb if you don't know what to say.'

She dismissed his irritability with a roll of her eyes and then asked, 'If things start going wrong here…you're going to start dropping bodies, aren't you?'

Vegeta gave her an odd look. 'Probably. Why?'

She looked around the ship unhappily before turning glowering at him again. 'Do you think you could maybe try not killing innocent people? Maybe it's a foreign concept to you, "Live and let live", but it means only attacking when attacked, not harming those who mean you no harm.'

Vegeta's mouth opened in surprise. 'Why? What does it matter?'

'Because it just does!' she said. 'Because it matters a whole heap to the people who are just going about their business, and then, boom! Their life is ended because they happen to cross paths with you, or people like you. Like Frieza!'

'I am not like Frieza!' he retorted.

'You and the others killed the people that you stole this ship off! Other than scale, how is that not like Frieza?' She suddenly felt shocked at her own words, wondering if they were true.

'I'm…not like Frieza,' Vegeta insisted.

'Oh yeah? Explain to me all the ways you are not like Frieza. And I don't mean in terms of appearance and biology.'

Vegeta stared at her, outraged, insulted, and speechless. 'I…I…'

'Don't care a fig about other people's lives, just like he doesn't?' she suggested.

'Just shut up!' he spat back at her, losing his tempter. 'Everyone kills at the top of the food chain, and you have no idea what you're talking about!'

Puar and Raditz had hung the sheets and the sign and now stood by watching them argue. Vegeta glanced over at them and then took Bulma's arm, giving her a short, vicious shake.

'Get yourself together! We can't step outside until you can behave yourself. I thought you wanted us to succeed as much as the rest of us do?'

'Of course I do!' she replied, wrenching her arm free.

'Then we'll do what has to be done, and you won't complain about it.'

She glared at him sullenly, fighting the voice of the other part of herself that said he was right – the Earth needed this to succeed, and if Vegeta ended up saving their bacon, she wouldn't stop him no matter what his methods.

She turned away from them all and stared down at the ground for a moment, stewing. She wanted to punish Vegeta for the things she knew he'd done, but maybe she wasn't quite so pure either? He was way more able to kill, and way more eager to as well, but if she had to choose between the lives of strangers and the lives of her friends and family and herself, she knew she wouldn't pick selflessly.

'Okay,' she said. 'Let's do this, then.'

Author's Note: Doritoni, get it? New Zealanders might get the Cee-Cee pun, and L'Cheez (Cheezel, ha ha!), but I'm sure we all get Pringella. Oh, the puns are fun to do!

I don't think it'll be long for the next chapter. As you might guess by the name, this was once one chapter that I chopped in two.