Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A/N: This one is the longest chapter yet (woops, I'm supposed to keep these short) and took me quite a few sittings to get through/edit, hence the delay after my good run at the beginning of the month.
Remember to join the We're Just Saiyan community on Google+ if you're looking for a great B/V community!
The song I listened to on repeat when writing this chapter is The Last Stand by Koda. It's awesome, so check it out.
I'm dedicating this chapter to Nelicquele79, who has drawn a wonderful piece of fanart for chapter 11 of this story. It's now the cover image for this fic, and I hope you will all go to her DeviantArt profile and check out her amazing Vegeta fanart. I've put the link on my profile as I can't add links within the body of stories. Thank you Nelicquele79!
Bulma
Year 754
She dresses in front of the mirror, and for the first time in five years it is not standard tech clothing that she puts on, but the uniform of a warrior. The navy blue leotard covers her from ankle to neck, the sleeveless design highlighting her pale arms, her muscles toned after years of labour under Frieza. She pulls on white boots, and a simple white and gold piece of armour. It has no shoulder guards or hip panels, but it provides some protection across her torso, and that is better than nothing.
Today is the day she will prove that her life is no longer dictated by Frieza, and as she ties her long blue hair into a neat bun, she flashes a feral grin at her reflection. Hair complete, she adds her final adornment – her sky-blue scouter that fits snug over her ear.
She looks fierce.
The scouter beeps, alerting her that someone is approaching, and Vegeta's gravel voice shoots through the receiver. "Woman, it's time."
"My name is Bulma," she reminds him pointedly, and hears one of the other Saiyans sniggering down the end of a scouter. She leaves her old tech uniform discarded on the bathroom floor, and passes through her empty bedroom. She has cleared the place out, capsulizing everything, including the mattress from her bed. Only the steel frame of the cot remains bolted to the wall; it is not worth the effort to remove it.
She only wishes she could see Frieza's face when he realises his beloved mastertech has up and left.
She doesn't bother to look back as she steps into the hall, her timing perfect to fall in line behind Vegeta. He glances back at her, and for a second she sees more than just mild curiosity in those black eyes, but then he turns towards the upcoming lab, and the moment is gone.
He flanks her as she keys in the passcode to the laboratory, and they enter silently. Like every other night, the lab is empty. Perfect.
"We have five minutes in the lab," she says quietly, pulling a capsule out from her armour. It lands on the ground with a soft pop, and is replaced with a large tarpaulin she's taken from the stockroom and altered. She stalks around it, logging into the first computer she reaches. Behind her, Vegeta begins to pile equipment from the lab in the centre of the tarp, taking anything and everything of value. He works quickly, his movements often too fast for her to keep track, and her heart soars as she watches the pile of machinery and tools – computers, solder irons, coils of wire, 3D printers – grow ever bigger.
When her account boots up she plugs in the small drive she's worked on, and watches her virus transfer, knowing it will disable Frieza's mainframe and decimate all working technology on board. The other techs will be able to clear the virus – eventually – but by then Frieza and his lackeys will have enjoyed weeks of torture with limited use of their systems.
She pulls her drive from the computer, and sets the virus to release in half an hour, adding a countdown timer to her scouter screen. "Half an hour until the virus is installed in the main system," she says, knowing that all three Saiyans are listening through their scouters. "We can't be here when that happens."
Her scouter flashes the name Nappa as a transmission comes through. "Upper pod deck is clear, Prince Vegeta." The voice is a deep baritone, and she frowns, glaring across the room at Vegeta. According to the plan she agreed on, Nappa was supposed to be guarding the lower deck.
"Lower pod deck is clear," and her scouter shows that it's Raditz this time. "But there's been a fuck up – there's only three pods here."
Her heart skips a beat, and her glare turns into wide-eyed shock. For a moment, Vegeta's expression mirrors her own, and the knowledge that he can feel such fear hits her hard in the guts; a cold reminder that on this ship he is still considered weak when compared to the big guns. "What do you mean, there's only three pods?!" he yells, and she cringes as his voice echoes back at her through her scouter. She'll have to fix the delay in the broadcast.
"The fourth one isn't here – the launch pad has been disengaged so it must have been –"
"What do the records say?" she interrupts.
"Wha – "
"Go to the control panel and look at the ship log. It should tell you who took the fourth pod." Her heart is pounding in her ears, and she glances around the lab in a panic, momentarily at a loss for what to do next. Seconds pass, and there is still no reply through the scouter.
"Raditz!" Vegeta hisses, and his voice echoes "Raditz!" through her earpiece.
"I fucking don't know!" comes the reply. "What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?"
"Shit," she curses, catching Vegeta's eye again. "We need to get to the pod deck!"
Vegeta's collected enough lab equipment. It takes no more than a second to capsulize the tarpaulin, designed to store everything sitting within the four corners of the plastic mat, and as soon as this is tucked down the front of her armour they leave the lab and run down the hall, following pre-programed directions that lead to the pod deck.
"Hurry!" Vegeta hisses, looking at her over his shoulder as she strains to keep up with his pace. She's sprinting, her chest burning as she gasps for breath. She hears him growl, and shrieks as he comes to a stop in front of her, causing her to slam painfully into his chest. Only his arms, locked like a vice around her, prevent her from falling backwards. His expression is severe as he hoists her into his arms, and the hallway begins to rush by at a dizzying speed.
She frowns and keeps her eyes trained ahead, angry that in a matter of seconds she's been reduced to a damsel in distress, sitting tense in the arms of this prince. Despite this, she keeps her mouth shut. It makes sense for Vegeta to carry her; the pod deck is half the length of the ship from the lab, and she needs both time and energy to disconnect the tracking devices in the pods. She eyes the time displayed on her scouter screen. Twenty seven minutes until the virus is released.
Vegeta runs through the path she has mapped out for them – an indirect route that avoids any current surveillance areas. Both their scouters beep as he reaches an apparent dead end. "Hidden door on the left. Stairs direct to P deck," says her pre-recorded voice through the scouter.
She clings to Vegeta as he takes one last glance behind them before sliding through the door to the stairwell. He takes to the air, and she has to close her eyes as they drop down the centre of a stairwell that curves in on itself, her stomach roiling from the quick descent.
When the world stops moving around her she opens her eyes to find both of Vegeta's men standing before them, the three remaining pods ready to deploy behind them. Vegeta sets her down on shaky legs, the after-effects of his flight making her momentarily dizzy.
"I've taken care of the weakling guards on the upper level," Nappa says with a cruel smirk, and she can't help glancing at the giant's meaty hands, stained purple with blood. Not for the first time, she wonders what the hell she is doing working with these beasts. She stuffs away the sick sense of guilt that curls in her gut; her role in the deaths of Frieza's guards is something she can contemplate later, but there is no time for that now.
"Someone must have taken the fourth pod," she says, glancing at Vegeta. "There's meant to be four here, ready for the Koribian squad tomorrow."
"We will have to share," he sneers back. "You won't fit with the others."
She shivers under Vegeta's dark stare, though it isn't out of fear. Her scouter beeps again – twenty five minutes! – and she strides between Raditz and Nappa, Vegeta hot on her heels. All three men hover over her as she hacks into the log that records the coming and going of pods. "Shit," she hisses, and behind her, Vegeta lets off a string of curses.
As she feared, it's Zarbon who has taken a pod. Only he and Dodoria have the authorisation to take physical leave of the ship without a scheduled purge. Sweat breaks out on her neck as she scans for his pod's location.
"Twenty minutes!" she cries, reading the estimated time of arrival.
"Hurry! Get to work!" Vegeta snarls, shoving her towards the pods. "If Zarbon returns –"
"I know!" she spits, cutting him off as she throws her toolbox capsule on the floor. Seconds pass in an agonising wait as the first pod door lifts slowly. "Open the others!" she orders, pointing at Vegeta's men.
The tracker is hidden in a panel above the red leather seat in the pod, requiring her to climb right into the small ship. She strips of her scouter, replacing it with a torch headband, and slides in, her hands slick with sweat as she begins the process of unscrewing the panel. Outside, Vegeta watches, and his tense energy seems to fill the air.
"You need to work faster than that, Woman," he growls.
"You need to shut the fuck up!" she yells back, ignoring the shocked grunts of his men behind him. "I can't work with your ugly mug in my face! These panels have bombs attached to them, so I will work as fast or slow as it suits me!"
She refuses to pay Vegeta any more attention, despite the nasty language that he shoots her way. Slowly, the world around her disappears as she finds her rhythm, and the tracking device, along with its inbuilt bomb, comes away from the rest of the ship. She cradles is carefully in her hands, crawling backwards out of the pod, and sets it down on the ground. "Don't touch that," she warns, moving to the next ship.
"Fourteen minutes," Raditz says, and Vegeta growls, his tail twisting through the air. Nappa, she notes, has disappeared, presumably on guard duty.
She repeats the process with the other two pods, each time the tracking device coming away with ease. "Three minutes!" Vegeta yells as she crawls out of the last pod.
"Capsulize the tools!" she yells back, tossing him her screwdriver set. He moves swiftly, tucking her toolbox capsule down his armour as she sits on the ground and opens up her small medical capsule, selecting a scalpel and a shot of local anaesthetic. The tracking device in her arm must come out before she leaves – it too has a tiny explosive embedded within it, set to go off if she is more than a mile away from the ship. The blast would kill her, and likely take the pod engine with her.
"Nappa, Raditz! Into the pods!"
It is a rush as the two men run, diving into a pod each. Their doors close, and the pods drop down, the airlock doors closing around them. She grunts as Vegeta kneels before her, shoving her scouter haphazardly over her eye. "Forget this and you'll lead them to us, fool," he growls under his breath as he snatches the scalpel from her hand.
"The anaesthetic!" she cries as he grips her right arm, and in a panic she tries to twist out of his tight hold.
"There's no time," he growls, and she screams as the scalpel slices through her skin, fire erupting down the length of her arm. She howls as he digs out the tracking device embedded there, and for a moment her vision blacks out.
"Do not faint on me," she hears him growl, even as she slumps against his chest. The worst of the pain is over, though she wishes at this point that he had just lopped her whole arm off, less pain, she thinks, please, less pain. Cut it off.
Her sight returns to her as picks her up, and she screams as his manhandling sets the fire racing across her skin. She blinks and they are in the pod, the door closing around them. There is a loud clunking sound, and as the pod drops her heart drops with it. Through the glass the metal walls of the ship is replaced with the emptiness of space.
"Zarbon."
She's in too much pain to notice much of what Vegeta is saying. Her arm has been lit on fire, she is sure of it. She can't look.
"Stitches," she whispers, hoping that Vegeta hears her over the hum of the firing engine. He does.
This time he administers the anaesthetic, and the cold numbness that creeps over her arm is the greatest relief. Without the searing pain, she is able to notice more of her surroundings, and realises that she's sprawled out across Vegeta's lap, her head supported by the armrest. She can't look at the blood – she's too close to throwing up, already – and instead watches Vegeta's face as he bends over her, needle and sutures in hand.
His expression is intense, as usual, his frown at odds with the delicate movements of his gloveless hands. He catches her watching, though, and his last few stitches are rough enough that she hisses through a stab of pain, despite the anaesthetic.
He wraps the wound in silence, and she stares at the ceiling. She knows that she should feel more, should feel something, now that they are away from Frieza's ship.
All she feels is exhaustion, and a gut-wrenching sickness that she is now entirely facing the unknown.
"The coordinates?" she asks quietly.
"They've been set."
She's too tired to move from his lap, and there's nowhere else to go, anyway. She closes her eyes with a sigh, and finds that she does not have the energy to open them again.
"That was too close," Vegeta says.
Yes, she agrees, though the word doesn't quite form on her lips.
"Stasis sleep activated," she hears, the electronic voice pleasantly feminine. The smell of stasis gas surrounds her, and then,
nothing.