Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

Bulma

Year 754

The lab is silent around her, the only sound the hiss of the solder in her hands as it connects with wire and metal, binding these together until the thing in her hands is no longer just any object, but her creation, her weapon against Frieza. At this hour, when all other techs are sleeping, she can almost imagine that this is her father's old lab at home, and that she is not trapped in this nightmare of an existence.

The endless pressure of being Frieza's pet mastertech has had few benefits, but one has been her ability to wield some control over the environment in which she works. Since her first meeting with Vegeta, she has opted to work through the artificial 'nights' on board the ship, taking her 8 hours of allocated rest during the day. The solitude of the midnight hours has given her the opportunity to work on her personal projects without arousing suspicion, and she has been able to accomplish more in the last four months than she has in the year before that.

This productivity is due in part to her new – albeit reluctant – alliance with the Saiyans. Though it disturbs her to know that her future rests so heavily in the hands of three bloodthirsty aliens who are famous for their violent tempers, she knows she has made the right decision. To work with Vegeta and his men – to escape Frieza's clutches – is far better than the alternative. Without the Saiyans, she wouldn't have access to half of the materials she needs to leave.

They are almost ready to put everything they have planned into place, and she allows herself a small, nervous smile as she snaps the casing of a scouter back into place. This one is hers, the glass eyepiece sky-blue in homage to her purged home planet.

She has prepared four scouters, one for each of them. They run on their own frequency, undetectable by any of the equipment Frieza has available. She tucks them safely into the capsule box she has created, along with her small selection of weapons and other equipment. Once capsulized and hidden in her pocket, she allows herself time to relax, turning her attention back to the data she is forging to satisfy Frieza of her 'progress' for another month.

If all goes to plan, she will be long gone before Frieza even looks at the file.

. . .

The minutes drag on as she waits for Vegeta to appear in the depths of the engine room, but it is to no avail. After an hour of waiting in the dark bowels of the ship, she has no choice but to conclude that something has gone wrong, and that she needs to leave. They will have to reschedule their final meeting.

She tucks the small infochip she has prepared for the Saiyans back into her bra – the only truly secure place she has to keep anything – and makes her way out of the engine room, walking quickly through the halls that lead out of the basement area. She takes the stairs, jumping two at a time, unable to shake the sudden chill that settles at the base of her spine. Even on L Deck, where the halls glow under the fluorescent lights, the feeling that someone is watching her remains, and she hurries to return to the lab.

"Bulma."

She jumps, whirling around to confront the voice that has called her from an adjacent hallway, only to come face to face with Zarbon. He grins down at her, his pretty face doing nothing to hide the menacing look in his eyes. She takes in the red blood that coats the front of his armour and drips from his right hand, and her breath hitches. Mammals have red blood, and the only other mammals are on board are the Saiyans.

She does her best to compose herself, taking a step back so that she can look Zarbon in the eye without craning her neck. "I'm working, Zarbon. Have a good night."

She turns, intent on holing herself back up in the lab, but Zarbon's strong grip on her shoulder prevents her from moving any further. "I never took you for a nocturnal creature," he states, jerking her back around to face him. "Why the sudden change?"

She lurches back, stepping back out of his grasp once more, and does her best to keep her voice calm, despite her hammering heart. "I get more work done without the company of other techs," she hisses, burying her hands in the folds of her gown to stop her from running them back through her hair – a nervous habit she has developed over the years. The last time Zarbon got jealous of her hair, he shaved it all off.

"I need to go, Zarbon," she says. "Lord Frieza wants a report by tomorrow."

He grins once more, his lips curling back as he bows in a parody of gentlemanlike behaviour. "By all means, go on your way. I would hate for you to disappoint Lord Frieza."

She doesn't look back as she all but runs down the hall, shutting the lab door behind her. She waits another hour before she is satisfied that Zarbon won't return, and only then does she dare to use her personal tablet to hack Vegeta's file once more. As suspected, the most recent entry is only minutes old, another medical report from the ship's doctors.

Patient brought to infirmary in unstable condition. Broken nose. Left humerus broken. Hole in upper right torso. Multiple lacerations. Patient submerged in Bay 29 r. tank for three hour cycle.

The words swim before her as her vision blurs, each breath now a great, gasping sob that racks her body. She clutches at her chest, unable to draw enough air, her limbs shaking as she bends forward, collapsing in on herself. She can't take it anymore – she was made to live under blue skies and sunshine, not on a spaceship where aliens routinely murder one another. None of this is fair.

Eventually the tears subside, and she can breathe again, the feeling of sheer panic gone, though she feels weak, her head pounding. She hates that she has broken down, hates the fact that she can have such weaknesses here, in a place where it will get her killed. In the five years she has been here, she has never shed a tear in front of anyone, and she's not willing to let that start now.

Anger is a better feeling, even if it is, in part, self-loathing. It fuels her through the long night, and she finishes her report for Frieza on autopilot, submitting it along with a series of blueprints for weapons that she will never build for him.

On her own device, she hacks into the mainframe that controls all regen tanks, messing with the programming of the tank adjacent to the one Vegeta has been placed in. Almost immediately the call-out comes through to the lab for a tech to come and fix the tampered medical equipment in Bay 29.

She's the only tech available on this lonely night shift, and so she takes the call. She'll still be there, fixing another broken regen tank, when Vegeta wakes up. By then the doctors will have left, and it will be easy enough to pass on all the information the Saiyans need.

In two days, they will leave here for good, or die trying.

A/N: If anyone is interested, I listened to the Interstellar soundtrack in its entirety while writing this.