Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: Firstly, I'm sorry about the lack of updates on anything in the last 2 months. I was on a decent run, but my life got turned upside down (again – I will not be sad to see 2014 go) in November when my dad had a heart attack. He's fine now, but it (a) freaked the crap out of me, and (b) put me in a real funk, where nothing DBZ related appeared in my brain or on the page. You can thank tumblr for pulling me out of the fandom funk – there's just too many good fandom related things on there. I'm on there under piccoloisgreen, if anyone is interested.

Secondly, this chapter is definitely not a drabble – I've gone way over the word limit of one of those. I still want to keep this story a 'drabble-fic' (whatever that means… I sort of just made it up :P ) but this is one of those chapters where a lot of plot needed to get moving.

Reviews are always appreciated. I'm not going to beg, but I will say it's useful to get an indication on what you readers think. :D

Lastly, I hope you all have a wonderful New Year, and best wishes for 2015. My New Year's resolution – to finish my fics!

Vegeta

Year 753

He waits alone in the engine room, listening to the constant whir of the machinery around him. The sound disturbs him more than it should, and a stray shiver runs down his spine. In an instant of vulnerability he allows his tail to unfurl, his fur standing on end as the chill runs through his body as he remembers that there is nothing but a few inches of metal between the room he is in now, and the cold death of space outside the ship.

He has spent the majority of his life aboard spacecraft, but Saiyans were never made to be confined. He itches for freedom whenever he is trapped in the same ship with Frieza, knowing too well that the bastard can survive in the vacuum of space – a place that he cannot. It is a cold reminder of his mortality, the disturbing reality of his situation. He will never be free until Frieza is dead, but the power the Cold wields is still too far above his own. Until he is a Super Saiyan, he is useless against Frieza.

The mastertech – Bulma – is another factor to be considered in all of his plans for Frieza's demise. He needs to know what technology she is creating, and who she is crafting it for. He has had two months to contemplate what he witnessed in the elevator – capsule technology, she called it – and all the implications it could have. How many weapons, poisons, food, equipment could be stored that way? It irritates him that one small woman could mean the difference between his success and failure; that she may have already provided Frieza with ki drainers that could seal his fate, or worse, that she will have something he needs to defeat Frieza. He does not like having to rely on others for his survival.

He curls his tail back around his waist, listening as tell-tale footsteps signal her arrival. Torch light flashes against the wall as she rounds the corner, cutting through the dark of the room. He steps forward, into the beam, and hears her gasp in response. Good.

She squints at him, and he can smell her fear. But she holds her head high, as she did when facing Frieza, and does not hesitate to speak. "You wanted to meet with me," she states, her voice calm, though he can hear the quickness of her breath. For a moment he's tempted to mess with her, to really bring out that fear, but thinks better of it.

Instead he says "This way," and turns to lead her into a secluded part of the vast engine room, where the huge pistons that pump continuously with shroud them from the view of anyone who happens to wander in. He's brought women here before, though never for this purpose. "They won't see us from the door."

She follows him silently, and once behind the screen of equipment she shuts off her torch. He watches as she braces herself back against the wall, taking a small pill out of her pocket. With a twist the pill in her hands becomes a small tablet, her eyes squinting against the light of the screen as she sets it down on a spare barrel, her fingers flying deftly across the surface.

"Tell me about this caps – " he begins, but she cuts him off with a quick "Shhh!" and a wave of her hand. He growls under his breath at her insolence, but takes a step closer so that he can peer over her shoulder at the tablet screen. She holds up one finger, signalling wait, and he frowns at the foreign language that scrolls across the screen. He's never seen a writing system like this one before.

The tablet emits a small beep, and her shoulders relax, the lessoning of tension visible in the way she turns her head towards him, a small smile playing on her lips. "There are no wires anywhere near here," she whispers, "so we're safe for now."

"Hn," he snorts, angry at himself for failing to consider such a thing. "I don't see why Frieza would bug the engine room, of all things."

"On the contrary, he's bugged it before. I heard it used to be the go-to place for hook-ups on board – and Frieza likes to know what's going on in his ship." There is a teasing tone to her voice; she looks at him knowingly as she says this, as if she knows all of his secrets, and he feels a sudden rage bubble forth. He will not allow some tech to mock him, and his hands have her pinned back against the wall in an instant, his nose pressed to hers as he snarls in her face.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he hisses.

"N – nothing!"

"Bullshit! What do you know?" he snarls, shaking her by the shoulders for emphasis. Her teeth clatter together, and she grunts, attempting to butt him in the head. He steps back, dropping his arms, glaring at her in the dim light of the tablet, left discarded on the barrel. She glares back, chest heaving as she takes gasping breaths, the light giving her features a sharpened look. With that face, she looks downright dangerous.

"You should be more careful," she bites out, all humour gone from her voice. "Frieza and his favourites keep a close eye on everyone, including you. I read your file. He's caught you on camera here before – with a girl, years ago. She fell pregnant. He had her killed for it."

He feels the blood drain from his head at this revelation, his ears ringing, his chest constricting, squeezing the air from his lungs. It's not about the Koribian girl, though he remembers suddenly the way her body felt so good in his hands, and the way she would clutch at him with a tenderness he'd never known before. No, it is the confirmation of everything that he has ever suspects him that rocks him to the core; Frieza has been watching him for years – more so than he ever thought – and that thought alone is enough to make him feel trapped, used, and panicked.

The woman before him shifts, shuffling her feet as her expression softens. "There are no cameras or wires here tonight. His surveillance tends to move around the ship – they only focus on one area at a time. No one is listening now."

"And what would you have done if you had found that they were watching tonight?" he hisses, his tail unfurling to curl in angry waves behind him.

"Found the bug and destroyed it," she answers, straitening her neck guard. "They're not monitored live – I could have interrupted the sound and video bites, made it look like a malfunction. They'd never know." She pauses for a beat, before adding, "I've done it before."

"And you trust me enough to come here today." His tail catches on something behind him with a thud, and pieces of equipment clatter on the ground.

"What choice do I have?" she laughs bitterly. "You could have ratted me out months ago, and you didn't. I can't move forward without… without help," she bites out. Her eyes shift, meeting his gaze directly. "And neither can you."

It's easy to get caught in that blue stare. "Explain," he demands, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Frieza is getting impatient – he wants me to finish my current project for him. It's very important that I don't, but if I continue to drag my feet he'll probably kill me."

"I'm guessing the project isn't your little toy gun."

She pauses, picking up her tablet. "No," she whispers, and takes a reluctant step towards him. "It's ki-draining technology – to begin with, at least. He wants me to look at technology that can increase ki, too. Biomechatronics, android armies, cloning… he wants all of that." On her little screen she pulls up an image of what must be a prototype for the ki-drainer, a nasty looking collar in charcoal grey.

Standing this close, he can smell more than just the fear on her, though there is plenty of that. She catches him watching her, and her blue eyes widen, deep pools that still seem so alive, despite her current captivity.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth to wet her bottom lip, and he thinks, suddenly, that it would be so easy to lean in and taste that lip with his own tongue. She is, more than anything else, a beautiful woman.

But he has no time for foolish thoughts, and instead settles on a solution that is entirely practical. "What's to stop me from killing you now? If you're dead, Frieza will never have his ki drainers. Perhaps I should break your neck, and save myself any further trouble."

He sees the shiver that runs through her, but rather than cowering at his words, she seems to steel herself against them, standing tall, shoulders back, her eyes piercing in their intensity. "That's not your best option. I'm not the only scientist working on this goal – I know Frieza has someone else, but he's got them hidden away on Frieza 5, and they're working independently. For all we know, they could be finishing up their version of the ki-drainers now.

"Besides, you're going to want me to stick around, if you're going to have any chance at defeating Frieza. Think about all the training technology I could create for you, and all the files you'll be able to access if I'm around. Hell, perhaps Frieza will end up trapped with a ki-drainer around his neck?"

"Your capsule technology – "

"It allows me to hide a lot of stuff under Frieza's nose – but working like this is not sustainable. It's too risky, and I can't dedicate enough time to the projects that I need to be working on. The longer I stay here, the more Frieza will expect from me. You're running out of time."

He growls under his breath, his mind running through the implications of what she is saying. "You want to escape," he states.

"I want to destroy Frieza," she replies, her tone dark enough to ignite a fire within his own belly. "I want to take him and his family down. I want to see Zarbon beg for mercy. So yeah, I want to escape. I need to, or I'll be trapped here forever. I suggest you think about doing the same."

He doesn't like her telling him what to do. He likes the idea of working with her even less. If she were Saiyan – if she had been equipped with the same sense of loyalty to him as his men have – than perhaps he would feel different. Yet for all of her brave talk, he knows she is in need of help – without him, she has no hope of escaping Frieza alive.

He can feel Frieza's noose tightening around his own neck. He is running out of time.