CONTENT WARNING

Graphic violence / torture in scene two.

Aftermath mentioned beyond.

Author's note: Hey, guys, thanks for the reads, & the reviews. I love getting those alerts. Please feel free to keep them coming, & let me know your thoughts as the story progresses.

Chapter 37

Somewhere in space

The small ship drifted through the void of space. Its origin relatively unknown to its captain, and its destination relatively unknown to its sole other occupant. The captain used his thumb to flick the cap off a bottle of Victoria Bitter. The other occupant quickly picked up the discarded trash, and deposited it in the small bag she kept on the handle of her door.

The white haired, red skinned, captain put his feet up on the command console and proceeded to drink half his bottle in one go. "Doesn't this ship move any faster?"

Bulma shook the plastic bag, moving the cap towards the bottom, and quickly turned to face her warden. "I'm sorry, but no." She lied. "The ship is using all available energy."

Jeice swept his thumb across a display, bringing up a power distribution monitor. "So much power to life support systems, none to engines." He shook his head. "Is there nothing we can do to accelerate our, well, acceleration?"

Bulma cupped her chin, contemplating the items she's already secured. "We only have so much energy onboard. While in theory we could overcharge the output, pour extra energy into the engines, it would exponentially shorten our survival time in here."

Jeice took another deep swig. "So, twenty percent shorter travel time..."

"Would lead to about fifty percent less time with life support." Bulma finished his sentence. "Or so."

"And none of the life support systems can be deactivated?" Jeice set his beer down and stretched his arms over his head, before cupping the back of his head in his palms and facing Bulma.

"While I'm not an expert on your biology."

"Yeah you are." Jeice winked.

Bulma dug a nail into the pad of her thumb. She may have been a captive, but she was going to take every chance she could to humanize herself to her keeper, and, and if it happened to scratch some itches of her own, well, she didn't see the downside. "While I'm not an expert on your bodies necessities, I am on my own, and if you want me to survive this trip I need water, I need food, I need air, and I need gravity."

"You are so weak." Jeice shook his head as he returned his gaze out the forward facing windows. "You know that, right?"

Bulma moved to the dining area and sat at the table. "I know, you've made that abundantly clear." She laid her head on her arms and, using an uncut nail, scratched a mark into the smooth surface. It was another diagonal, through another set of four lines. She let out a sigh, her current row was complete, and next time she woke up she'd have to start a new one. "How far out are we? This ship wasn't made for long term habitation."

"Get used to it, Bulma." Jeice closed his eyes. "Featureless walls, floor, and ceilings, a superior officer who could kill you in a heart beat for even a momentary lapse in judgment, and bland, disgusting, or inhumane food. Well, that's just life in the Frieza Force."

Bulma clinched her fist. "If that's what life is like for one of Frieza's top men, I don't want to even think about what life will be like for me."

"I almost envy you." Jeice said. "I may be using you for my own reasons, but your going to be a unique case." He took a deep breath. "There are a few types of prisoners in the Frieza Empire, and you are one of the lucky ones."

"You? Envy me?" Bulma let out a short laugh. "You know, you could turn this ship off course right now. We could head to Earth, and we could live happily ever after. You have a choice in the matter, I don't."

It was Jeice's turn to laugh. "If I were to flee, I would be tracked down, and I would be killed. You would be tracked down, and you would, well, I'd hope you'd spare yourself what they'd put you through."

"We killed Frieza. He is dead." Bulma looked up to see Jeice's reaction, there wasn't one. "Who would track you down, or, if Frieza has other underlings, who would track you down that my friends couldn't handle?"

"Lord Frieza was considered one of the strongest warriors in the universe." Jeice replied. "And while if Frieza was alive I would never admit this, it is true that he is only ONE of the strongest." He took another sip of his beer. "His brother, Lord Cooler, is just as strong, but a lot more brutal of a fighter."

"Goku could still take him." Bulma said. Again, no reaction.

Jeice finished his drink and held the bottle out to his side. He mentally counted to five, and dropped it. Bulma barely made it in time, but she managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor. "And their father, King Cold, while he's retired from his role, he is still around, and still far more powerful than either of his children."

"Frieza's father?" Bulma asked. "I almost hate to ask, but what is he like?"

"Don't know." Jeice answered promptly. "While I did spend some time with Lord Frieza off the record, not in a professional setting, I would never dare to be even slightly familiar with King Cold. His power to Lord Frieza's, is about the same as Lord Frieza's to mine."

"Oh." Bulma replied, depositing the bottle next to the cap, and other assorted useful garbage. "And, how was he as a ruler, before he retired?"

Jeice took a deep breath. "That's before my time." He let it out. "From what I hear though, from what the Captain told me, he was a good man to be led by. The Cold Empire was every bit as ruthless as Frieza's Empire, or Cooler's Empire, but it was a merit based empire. You would have likely thrived there, which, again, is why I envy you."

"That's the second time you've said that." Bulma pulled her chair away from the table, and set her feet on it. "What do you mean?"

Jeice opened his eyes, quickly checked the ship's vitals, and shut them again. "There are a few types of prisoners in our system. While there's not a formal ranking or evaluation system, not that I'm aware of anyway, prisoners with value can earn privileges, be granted freedoms."

"But we're still slaves." Bulma whacked her bare foot on the table top. "Forced to work for someone we hate."

"Hun, we all are, get over it." Jeice chuckled. "Be happy that you'll probably be kept in your own cell, away from the rest of the slaves. You'll be protected. Any harm comes to you? It'll be inflicted, several times over, to those who were tasked with your protection."

Jeice cleared his throat. "Furthermore, you'll be put in a lab. You won't be left to your own devices, not entirely, but you'll be given the freedom to do what you do best."

"What if I refuse to work?" Bulma put her arms behind her head and kicked the table again.

"Same thing that'll happen to you if you keep making that annoying sound." Jeice looked at her, projecting killing intent. "Nothing good, and something to be avoided, at, all, costs." He spoke the last words slowly.

Bulma snapped her feet under the table. "Sorry, Jeice. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." He shut his eyes again, bored with the conversation.

"You don't like this system, do you?" She leaned on her elbows.

"I know I told you there aren't any stupid questions." Jeice smiled. "But you just proved me wrong."

"I'm going to be rescued." Bulma declared. "This entire system, Frieza first, then Cooler, and Cold, and any of their commanding officers, it's going to be dismantled. I told you about the Red Ribbon Army, and what Goku did to them as a kid. Now, now you have me, they have me, even if he thinks I'm dead, he's, he's going to make this right."

"If hope gets you from today to tomorrow, Bulma." Jeice opened his eyes again, making eye contact with his captive. "Keep it, for as long as you need. Because once it's gone, it's not coming back."

"I asked if you liked the system." Bulma cleared her throat. "Because, if you don't, well, you don't need to be a part of it."

Jeice smiled. "For someone this smart, you really don't listen, do you? I already said I'm not betraying the empire. And if I were to, I, you, and anyone that aided either of us, would be tracked down and slaughtered, if we're lucky."

"Humor me." Bulma said. "If Cooler was killed, and Cold too, would you abandon the empire, or would you stay part of the machine, in whatever slot you slid into?"

"If Cooler was gone." Jeice chewed his lip. "If Cold was gone?" He shut his eyes. "Bulma, if word of this conversation ever leaks, it will be a very uncomfortable end for the both of us, but sure, I'll humor you." He took his feet off the console and spun to face her. "If I had the choice, no, I probably wouldn't keep working in this kind of job. While I'm good at it, it isn't really what makes me happy."

"When Goku comes to save me." Bulma smiled. "Will you come with us? I, I mean, yeah, you captured me, you're carrying me to my almost certain death, but, but I get the feeling this could have been a lot worse."

"If Recoome was in my shoes, or Zarbon, uh, yeah, it would be a lot worse. I'm glad you understand just how fortunate of a situation you're in, with me being the one to have come across you." He paused for a moment, winked, and kept talking. "You know what, yeah, if your friend comes for you, and he overthrows Lord Cooler and King Cold, sure, I'd come with you. If your planet can make people who can do THAT, then I'm sure I could become a professional entertainer."

Later

(CW)

Bulma's wrists were secured to the front vertical posts of her chair's armrests. Her elbows were bound to rear posts. Her feet were tied to the chairs legs, and cordage was braided between her legs, securing them both to the seats legs and base. Her upper arms were tied similar to her legs, cord weaved around one arm, across her torso, around the other arm, and behind her back, including several dips through the rails of her back rest.

The final cord, wire, was the loosest of them all. It hung limp from her left shoulder to her right. The two ends went over her headrest, a metal handle on the back side kept her from leaning forward. A thick sack, feeling as if it were made of lead, covered her head, and a similarly fabricated robe covered the rest of her form.

Her stomach growled and she awoke. "Six?" She asked herself before testing her restraints yet again. She winced as they cut into her skin, releasing fresh blood from where her skin was trying to heal. "Fuck."

A massive weight crashed onto her head, groped her scalp. A spider, a football sized spider, walking on her head, pinching her head, digging in, ripping her flesh … the bag was ripped from her face, and a purple and white, thing, stood in front of her. He looked, familiar, kind of. Like Frieza, but taller … sleeker …

He walked to the wall of their cell. It was her first time being able to see her new environment, and it made her ache for her lab. There were tables, there were tools, but, but not all looked to be scientific.

Cooler grabbed a long, narrow, instrument from the wall and returned to Bulma. A flap of the heavy fabric hung from the end that he let dangle at his side, aerodynamic holes dotted the material. Reaching back Cooler swung the tool, and a painful crack rang out, not nearly as loud as Bulma's scream, or the crash of her chair to the ground.

"Do, not, swear." He said slowly, smacking the crop into his palm as he did so. "You do NOT, get to swear. You do NOT, get anything. Your life, is MINE. YOUR body, YOUR soul, YOUR existence, YOUR death, is mine. You WILL do what I say, when I say it. You WILL answer me promptly, completely, and WITHOUT unnecessary details. When I see fit to kill you, you WILL thank me for doing so quickly. If I see fit to draw it out, you WILL thank me for allowing you to be in my company. Do you understand?"

Bulma did not answer immediately. Her cheek was on fire, and her head stood a fingers width off the floor. If it weren't for the tightness of her ropes, she would have cracked her head open right then. Cooler cleared his throat and Bulma returned her attention to him. He was out of focus. Bulma's right eye was blurred by tears, her left by blood, seeping from her cut cheek.

Cooler walked behind her and with one hand sat her chair back upright. He tossed the crop to his left hand and returned to face Bulma, eye to eye. He pulled his left shoulder, elbow, and hand back. "Do not make me repeat my question.

Bulma hung her head. Tears began to flush the blood from her eye. "I understand. I agree."

Cooler twitched his muscles. The crop hit Bulma's right cheek, again sending her to the floor. With his foot he flipped Bulma off her side and on to her back. Walking to where her head lay against her metal backrest, he repeated himself. "You will answer me PROMPTLY, completely." He squatted near her head. "and WITHOUT UNNECESSARY DETAILS!" He lifted the crop over his head and brought it down quickly, sharply, shallowly, down her nose, between her eyes, and over her forehead. A layer, thankfully just the upper most, of skin floated like confetti off her face, following the trail of wind from the fabric, and settled on the ground between Cooler's feet.

"Yes, s-sir." Bulma responded immediately through sobs of pain.

Cooler smiled down at her. "Good. That wasn't too hard, was it?" He moved himself to be squatting next to her head, instead of over it. Drawing back he raked the fabric across her forehead, over her eyes, taking another thin layer of skin. Where the two strokes overlapped angry, red, tissue was exposed. "I do not care if you accept your situation. If you don't, nothing will change."

Bulma clamped her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. She nodded in compliance. She heard several heavy footsteps over her jagged breathing, before Cooler returned to her side.

"Open your left hand."

She took a moment to process the command, but obeyed immediately upon comprehension. A familiar instrument was placed in her palm. Two rubber grips, pivoting around a thick axle, with long, narrow, textured, pincers on the far end. She dropped the needle nose pliers and she did not hear them hit the floor.

She heard his voice, felt his breath. "You will look at me, or you will lose the privilege of eye lids."

Again she hesitated for a moment while she processed the statement. Her eyes bulged open and her breathing tried to match her heartbeat. The pliers were there. If she blinked, her eye lashes would have dusted them.

"Good." Cooler smiled. He was hovering over her but returned to his feet at hers upon her compliance. "Now that we understand each other, I am going to ask you a few questions. Yes or no questions will be answered appropriately. How will open questions be answered?"

Bulma took another five breaths over the next three seconds. "Promptly, completely, without unnecessary details."

Cooler held his hand out towards one of the work benches. The pliers left his grip and slowly returned to a drawer, which slammed closed. "Very good. I knew you were a fast learner." He said. "First question. What is your name?"

Four breaths, three seconds. "Bulma Brief."

"Where are you from?"

Seven breaths, four seconds. "Earth."

Cooler raised his hand towards the same wall he retrieved his crop from. His first tool flew from his hand, replaced with a metal handled device with a bar perpendicular to the grip. On the bar were five metal wheels, each one lined with what appeared to be barbed fish hooks. He sat the wheel in the center of her chest. "In terms that are meaningful to me."

Nine breaths, three seconds. "We're in your database. I don't know our number."

Cooler rolled the wheel down her body, stopping when the wheel hit the metal chair. He exerted no force, and the heavy fabric was still full of small pin pricks. "Good." He stepped on the bottom rail of her chair and flipped her back upright. Leaning down his eyes were even with hers. "What can you offer me?"

Seven breaths, three seconds. "I." She tried to slow her breathing. "Would rather." She clinched her jaw and forced herself to inhale deeply." "Die."

Cooler held his left pointer finger an inch from his nose, an inch from Bulma's, and formed a Death Ball that ate up half the area between them. Not breaking eye contact he lowered his hand, and Bulma's right knee ignited in pain, she thought her scream could shatter reality. "That can be arranged." He continued pushing until he had melted his way through the chair. He looked down, and Bulma's gaze followed.

Bulma maintained her scream for longer than Cooler had expected. That last deep breath she took held out for quite a while. The entire time her body convulsed, shook violently against her restraints, tearing deep gouges into her flesh, clean through her covering.

When she finally gave out, so did Cooler. He dismissed his technique, and walked to replace the pinwheel where it belonged. Opening the door he was saluted by two soldiers, one his own, one recently adopted. "Get her healed and get her to work."

Jeice snapped his heals together. "YES, SIR." He said confidently before rushing into the cell.

Later

Bulma swung her legs out of bed. Holding the support chain in one hand she lowered herself to the floor. She was soar, but still in one piece. Reaching across her bed to where her one robe hung from the opposite chain she studied her body. Parallel lines of dots scarred the length of her arm. Two lines, wrist to arm pit, and three rings around her arm at different heights. Pulling the robe open she mentally noted the unevenly thick, short, scars. She couldn't believe that their medical technology had her skin completely replaced in hours. As her left hand struggled in tying her belt she looked down, before immediately averting her gaze.

Once dressed she approached the wall that concealed the only exit to her chamber. The only non solid wall. She didn't know how air was circulated, there was no breeze, yet no dust was allowed to gather. Using the hand crank mounted next to the door she slowly lifted her bed to the ceiling, providing her more room to work. While the pulley could have been geared to lift the bed in a few turns, the opposite had been done, and weights or a break had seemingly been installed, making a simple daily chore into a vigorous workout. She eyed the slightly smoother panel next to the opening, but opted to start her day first.

Once her first chore was completed she went to the first bench, counterclockwise. The wall over the table had Cooler's tools. She wasn't allowed to interact with them. They were dangerous, and if she hurt herself, he would hurt her worse. She didn't bother dragging her chair over, she didn't feel she could. A ration bar and a glass of water were placed on a small plate, and she consumed half of each. At first she finished her food, and drink, but when she figured out how limited her resources were, she quickly learned to make them last.

She pulled out her chair, Cooler's chair, and sat down. It still smelled of her blood from previous weeks. It still smelled of urine from previous misbehavior. It still smelled comforting, as if it was both sides of a coin. Either she would lose herself to the math, or she would lose herself to the pain. Either way, this chair, was release.

At the opposite bench she scanned through her equations. She couldn't tell for certain if this is how she had done it the first time, but if not, it would be even better, she hoped. The math added up, but without supplies, actual, usable, tools, actual, physical, supplies, she couldn't verify functionality.

She had of course made a micro band before, but the Frieza Force didn't need to know that. Nor did they need to know what functionalities weren't just bugs.

Again she eyed the panel, and after one last review of her documents she decided it was time. She pushed her chair to the back wall, folded her draft sheets, and closed her notebook. Placing the information at the base of the door she pressed the smooth surface and limped as swiftly as she could to her chair.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before a rectangular hatch slid open and two eyes looked in on her. "Prisoner A-7713 … Bulma?"

She fought back the urge to jump to her feet. "Jeice?"

"Yeah, it's me." He said warmly. Glancing to his side he continued. "Why did you call us?"

"I have something to present to Lord Cooler." She nodded towards the paperwork on the floor.

Jeice's eyes followed her direction and he saw the small stack of rolled papers sitting on a blue notebook. Again glancing to his side he coughed. "Stay seated."

The door slid open and Jeice stood in the opening. He kept her in view as he gathered the offering. Flashing her a quick smile he wiped his face clean and rested his hand on the wall. "I will bring this to Lord Cooler at once. Resume inventing immediately." Bulma wasn't sure if there was a second smile, but she felt as if one would have been there if it could have been. Jeice closed the door, flipped the hatch shut, and again she was alone.

Not knowing what to do next Bulma chewed over the moment with another bite of her ration bar, and another sip of her water. Hopefully the good faith gesture would be enough to earn her some more resources. Theory was good and all, but actual, hands on, engineering was her specialty. She moved her chair back to the work desk, opened a new notebook, and began to doodle.

A few days later she had filled the notebook and was in the process of scanning through it to see if anything of value was contained within when her hatch flipped open.

"Entering in five seconds." An unknown voice stated.

Immediately Bulma dropped her notebook on the table, moved her chair back to the rear wall, and sat. As her mental countdown hit zero, so did the guard's. The door slid open and a pair of Cooler's Squadron members stepped aside, and her lord stepped in. As she had learned he required, Bulma snapped her wrists to the ends of her armrests, and her feet to the base of her chair's legs.

The door closed behind Cooler and his eyes roamed over every inch of Bulma, twice. He kept his expression neutral as he pulled a small watch seemingly out of thin air. He gently through it to Bulma and she barely caught it. "Put it on."

She did.

"Activate it."

She did.

She kept her face as neutral as possible as she shrank in her seat. To her pleasant surprise, her clothes shrank with her. A few moments after hitting the only button on the device, her body stabilized. She sat on the edge of her chair, legs dangling over the edge. From tip to toe she was under three inches tall.

Cooler appeared in front of her, standing straight. Without bending down he snatched her off the chair and held her close to his face. "Are you trying to waste my time?" He demanded.

"No, sir." She responded immediately, trying not to notice how uncomfortable his tight grip was.

"What value do you think this toy has for me?" He tensed his hand for a moment. Not hard enough to harm Bulma, but firm enough for her to know just how easily he could wipe her from existence. Normally she didn't mind, but without her chair she felt more exposed than before.

"Logistics, sir." She struggled to keep her breathing even.

"Elaborate."

"Soldiers can miniaturize during periods of inactivity. Requiring less resources and space." She repeated from memory.

"That is value to the empire. I am not the empire."

Bulma gulped. She hadn't anticipated Cooler referring to himself as an individual. She dug her nails into her palm. "It, could, be used for training or recreation? As well as espionage."

"Recreation? You admit it is a toy, and imply I need training?" He tightened his grip slightly, enough that she could barely breath.

"No one can challenge you, Lord Cooler. If you use it in battle it will greatly limit your impact on others, while your body exerts the same amount of energy. If I create a macro band, to have the opposite result on your top men, they may be able to spar with you."

Cooler contemplated that for a moment, and the idea wasn't awful. "Espionage?"

Bulma nodded excessively. "Your subordinates love you, we worship you. New people to the empire may not. You, or your men, could directly listen in to their conversations," Cooler's grip tightened. "And confront them immediately upon their betrayal."

Cooler didn't react, but lowered his hand to his side and simply turned and exited the cell. "My father, your god, King Cold, has summoned you."

Bulma's stomach sank.

Two steps later Cooler tightened his grip and brought Bulma back to his face. "You must have been too far away, because I didn't hear what you said."

Bulma's nails drew her blood. "Thank you, Lord Cooler. I am not worthy of this honor."

"No, you are not." He handed Bulma to one of his underlings, who placed her in a small metal box.

The walls were cold, the floor was hard, and like her cell there was no obvious way for her to be getting air. Worse though was the darkness, complete and absolute. She felt her box jostle as her carrier walked, but no noise, no light, reached her.

Failing to stand Bulma chose instead to lay flat in the center of the room, or as close as she could find to it. If she closed her eyes, ignored the chill, ignored the unbending surface, she could almost pretend she was somewhere else. Memories of large ships, small planes, and recreational vehicles, threatened to flood back before she quashed them.

One sleep later she was awoken by a sudden lack of material under her, followed by a painful impact with the floor. Her prison had been set down, and the lid was being removed. A deep blue hand came from the light, and removed her from her lonesome. Placed upon a stool she was told to deactivate the micro band, and she did so.

The room she found herself in was massive when she was shrunken, and just as large when she wasn't. Several dozen yards to either side were walls, and half a dozen feet in from them were solid columns supporting a glass ceiling, that from her forced perspective, seemed to be only a few inches in any direction. At the far end of the great room was a throne, cut from the same stone that formed the columns, as just as tall. Sitting upon the throne was a red cape, under black and gold battle armor, around a light purple giant of a frost demon.

Standing beside the over sized Arcosian was a disturbing sight. A human, or someone who could have been one, was both on guard and on hand. The man was on his way to eight feet tall, and aside from his shocking blue hair could have passed for one of her own. Remembering her own uncommon hair color, her heart ached for a moment before she suppressed it. He wasn't human, he couldn't be, but, he's the closest she'd seen since Namek.

On the opposite side of the throne from the humanoid was another being, far, far smaller than either of his comrades. He had large ears, a pointed snout, and whiskers. Furthermore he was covered in a soft looking fur, and only stood about half as tall as the blue haired man.

"Kneel." The Arcosian said, and Bulma obeyed without hesitation. "Your device interests me."

Bulma was not asked a question, she stayed silent.

The giant waved his left hand forward slightly and the smaller companion stepped forward.

"Greetings." He said. "I am Dr. Utadnuk Sirf. I am one of the chief engineers, working directly under King Cold." He gestured over his right shoulder. "How flexible would you consider your design to be?"

Bulma relaxed slightly. This was the first scientist she had met, and he seemed to be at relative ease. "I consider it fairly flexible." She removed the device from her arm. "The biology of the wearer shouldn't influence the use."

"I have identified several areas of rigidity. Can you identify any?" Dr. Sirf kept his hands in his lab coats pockets and his eyes on Bulma's.

Bulma turned the device over in her hands for a few moments, all eyes on her. The design was simple, smooth, seamless. Anyone that wore it could be shrunk to less than five percent their normal size, and their mass would follow. "Perhaps a way to control how much you shrink? Or, maybe we could alter the beings volume, but not mass? Or mass, but not volume? Or, if we adjust the amount of shrinkage, we could make it work the other direction as well?"

"Yes, those are all points we will be addressing. Furthermore, it only impacts the one wearing it, not their surroundings. The sphere of influence seems to be limited, and we need to adjust it to work on larger individuals." He again nodded over his shoulder. "You will be working directly under me until these concerns are addressed, and this device is capable of mass production for our use."

"Wait." King Cold said, bringing his hand to his chin. "Why are you wasting my valuable subordinate's prototyping team's time?"

Bulma tilted her head at the true ruler of the Cold Empire. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."

King Cold closed his hand, and it slid off his chin as it shifted to a fist. "Why were these flaws not worked out before the prototype was created?"

Five breaths, four seconds. Bulma lowered herself from kneeling to bowing, on her hands and knees. Lowering her forehead to the floor she closed her eyes. "I am sorry, King Cold. When the existence of flaws was pointed out I was able to identify them, but I did not consider them before sharing my research." She couldn't see what the frost demons were doing, but she felt King Cold exchange silent words with his son. She felt Cooler smile in anticipation.

"What is left in her cell?" King Cold addressed someone behind her.

"Nothing unique, sir." A voice barked back. "We brought her notebook."

Bulma's mind flickered back to her chair, her bed, her room.

"You." Bulma looked up as she was addressed. "Now work under Dr. Sirf. Treat him as you would treat me or my son. He will be reporting your progress, and if he is disappointed, I will be as well."

Bulma touched her forehead to the ground once again. "Thank you, King Cold."

Later

Dr. Sirf looked between the electronically displayed diagrams on his screen and the open circuitry on his work bench. Bulma sat on the opposite side of the table, and was doing the same. To the untrained eye they were performing microscopic surgery on a spider web, where each thread was actually a complex network of crisscrossing wires and chips.

"How many mistakes do you see?" Dr. Sirf asked. "Both complete failure points, as well as inefficiencies."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sirf." Bulma said. "I don't see any issues with the device. It appears to have been built to the exact specifications I designated."

Dr. Sirf nodded and lowered a metal square over the exposed electronics. "Neither do I." He sat a needle thin screw in place and began tightening it down. When it was secure Bulma had already prepared the next one for his attention. "You will be testing the device first."

"Yes, sir." Bulma nodded, preparing another screw.

A minute later the new micro band was sealed and ready for testing. The name micro band was no longer suitable though, as the technology was woven into a standard issue battle glove, so it could fit anyone with a humanoid hand. The glove itself was small, child sized, but when Bulma slid it onto her hand it expanded easily.

"Shall I begin?" She asked and received a nod in return.

Bulma pushed her chair back and moved toward the center of the lab. A scale was placed there, and Bulma stood upon it. Placing the pad of her thumb against that of her pointer finger she took a deep breath. Slowly she slid her thumb towards her palm, and slowly the room grew around her. Stopping every few seconds for Dr. Sirf to take notes, she eventually shrank to the maximum amount, again, standing just under three inches tall.

"Very good." Dr. Sirf said. "Next, adjust mass."

Bulma adjusted her thumb to her middle finger and repeated the same process. Oddly, she felt no change, but at each interval Dr. Sirf took extensive notes, and she saw the numbers on the scale decline with her own two eyes. Just over four grams. Man, who needs a diet when you could just slide your weight away?

"Good good. Now, return your height." Dr. Sirf instructed.

Bulma did as instructed, and oddly enough she did not feel unusual when she was again standing far taller than her superior. "Mass next?"

"No, wait." Dr. Sirf sat his notebook down and approached the woman. Without asking permission he placed one of his gloved hands on either side of her waist and effortlessly lifted Bulma into the air. "Interesting." He said as he sat her back on the scale. He took her hand in his and flexed her fingers, completing his observation by pinching the skin on the back of her hand. He pulled on the flesh, and Bulma winced slightly. "My apologies." He said. "While your mass is greatly reduced, your durability is somehow being maintained. That is not what I expected."

"That, doesn't make sense to me either, actually." Bulma admitted, pulling on her own fingers.

"Do you have any theory as to why that would be?" He asked while taking notes.

"Honestly, no, not yet. I can try to figure that out next though, if you wish?"

"Let's finish testing this version before we move to the next. If I'm right, it won't be an issue, but if we can figure it out, the knowledge could be useful for future projects." He clicked his mechanical pencil and nodded. "Now, return mass, and keep going as far as you safely can."

Bulma slid her thumb along her middle finger until the scale once again read a bit over one hundred pounds. She pondered for a moment why the scale did both metric and imperial units, and how even in space they used the same two systems they used on Earth, before returning her attention to the test. She slid her thumb to her ring finger, empty, and began increasing her mass. When she reached her palm she lifted her other arm. Again, nothing felt different.

"Incredible." Dr. Sirf said. He glanced at her feet. "Approaching two, thousand, tons. You must remember to thank King Cold for supplying us with non penetrable materials to build this lab." He looked back at her face. "How, are you standing?"

"I feel completely normal." She said. "I'm, what, thirty two thousand times heavier than normal?"

"Nearly thirty three thousand." Dr. Sirf corrected.

"And, my body, just accepts that." She stepped off the scale and walked back to the work bench. Dr. Sirf clicked his pencil again and prepared to write. Bulma turned her chair around and sat on it … immediately falling to the floor, the crushed metal and plastic flattened beneath her. "I guess I'm glad I'm not wearing shoes?" She smiled.

Returning to her feet she picked up one of the bowed legs of her chair. It had escaped being completely pancaked, but was still bent beyond repair. Taking a deep breath she sat one end in her open palm, and pressed into it with her other hand. The leg was crushed, slowly flattening at the ends as the center bowed even further. A moment later she had worked the material into a sphere, roughly the size of a marble, and aside from paint, completely solid throughout.

"That, shouldn't be possible." Dr. Sirf wrote quickly. "And, the last feature?"

Bulma touched her thumb to her pinky, but stopped before sliding it down. Looking around at the lab, at the walls, at the ceiling. Where she had walked along the floor, with her incredible mass, leaving no mark. "I don't think there's enough space in here, Dr. Sirf."

Dr. Sirf smiled and nodded. "That, is very observant of you. Without reducing your mass, remove the micro band, and lets see what that does."

Bulma followed the order and sat the glove gently on their table. No effect. She pushed on the surface, still no effect. "I think my mass returned to normal?"

"We are scientists, my dear." Dr. Sirf smiled. "We don't guess, now, back on the scale."

Later

Bulma and Dr. Sirf knelt in front of King Cold. The blue haired man was at his normal post, and Frieza stood where Dr. Sirf had before. While his father wore standard armor, Frieza himself was proudly naked aside from a clear scouter.

"Begin." King Cold instructed, and Bulma slid her thumb down her pinky, and she began growing immediately.

Frieza's scouter beeped as the human double, tripled, quadrupled, in size, and continued to grow. Oozaru were large, but when the human finally stopped growing she was far, far larger. She stayed on her knee, as she should, but with no effort she'd be able to reach pillars on both sides of the room at the same time. He grinned.

King Cold looked up at the giant human. "I do hope this won't damage my floor."

'It won't, King Cold." Bulma bowed her head, her hair, as thick as spaghetti , framed her face. "My size has increased, but my mass is unaltered."

"You were unable to alter your mass?" King Cold glared up at her.

"I am able to alter my mass freely, however doing so may damage your chamber. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Bulma raised her left hand, ready to stroke her ring finger if requested.

"That will not be necessary." King Cold drawled.

"Father, I have a few, ideas." Frieza's smile grew. "May I take her?"

"You will be responsible for her results, but yes, you may." King Cold waved his hand dismissively, and Bulma took the sign and returned to her normal size.

Author's note: I always thought the micro band had potential, and unfortunately for Bulma, so did King Cold.