Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far. I'm going to aim to update more regularly from now on.
Bulma
Year 754
The airlock hisses closed behind her, and she takes a deep breath, observing the room from inside her goldfish-bowl helmet. Oxygen floods into her lungs, as it should, and she is reassured that she will survive this crazy manoeuvre.
Or I'll just die trying.
At Vegeta's insistence, they will not be landing the ship on Culampu. Entering into the lower atmosphere will likely mean their ship's details will be recorded, and it's not a risk anyone is willing to take so close to one of Frieza's personal star systems. But without a landing pod on board, the only option is to literally jump ship from just above the thin, outer atmosphere.
She looks across to Vegeta, the fabric of her spacesuit rustling with the movement, and catches his mouth curling into the slightest smirk, as if her get-up is amusing. He can probably hear her heart racing, and she closes her eyes, swallowing back the sick feeling in her stomach. She's done plenty of crazy things in her life – a number of them connected somehow to these Saiyans – but this, this is insane.
Unlike her, Vegeta wears no protective gear, only a plain black spandex suit, far removed from the bulky armour worn by Frieza's soldiers. He's done this a dozen times before, apparently. His ki will act as a shield, a barrier from the vacuum of space, and there is no risk of death. At the speed that he flies, they'll both be well within the planet's atmosphere before she can even take her first breath.
That's what he told her, anyway. She believes him, but it doesn't mean she's willing to risk death by explosive depressurisation just because a guy with a cute face told her she'd be okay. "You're being ridiculous," he'd told her as she'd donned her suit, "my ki will shield both of us," and she thought he might have been offended by her lack of trust. "Better safe than sorry," she'd replied, recalling the disastrous space missions she'd read about in her father's history books as a child.
"Ten seconds until depressurisation begins."
The ship's robotic voice cuts through the cold room, and a shiver runs down her spine. Vegeta steps towards her as the alarm begins to ring, a final warning before the outer door opens. She flinches as his hand touches her back, her breath catching as he scoops her into his arms bridal-style. The alarm light paints his face red as he frowns down at her.
The alarm stops, and the airlock door slides open. For a moment time stands still, and she is there, in space, the vivid purple seas of Culampu glowing through the open hatch.
And then they are flying. For the first few seconds she registers nothing more than a sudden rush, Vegeta's grasp tightening around her as everything else blurs, but she acclimatises quickly, twisting her head to look over her shoulder at the planet below. The purple sea stretches out for a thousands of miles, land only a small line on the curved edge of the horizon.
"We're well within breathable atmosphere now, even for a weak creature like you."
She nods, ignoring Vegeta's barb, and reaches for the switch at the base of her helmet, where she has installed capsulation technology. The glass helmet disappears with a soft pop, and cool air hits her face. Vegeta's ki shield does what he said it would do – although she feels the fresh air, she does not feel the speed of their movement. It occurs to her that his shield has already saved her life by negating the g-forces that would have certainly killed her when they exited the spaceship, and she snorts, shaking her head in wonder. How did I forget that?
"How long until we reach the city?" she asks, shifting slightly in his grip so that she can free her right arm, pinned between their bodies.
"An hour. I'm avoiding scouters. Stop squirming."
She sighs, turning her face back towards the planet below. The scenery, breath-taking as it is, is boring after the first five minutes. She feels distracted, unsure about how she should feel in this moment; should she be grateful for her newfound freedom, or in awe of the fact that she is literally flying above a stunning planet? She used to love adventure.
But Frieza still taints her thoughts, and she imagines all the possible things that could go wrong if anyone from the Planet Trade Organisation is here. Anger bubbles up inside her, a black rage that all too often threatens to consume her. She would never be in this position if it weren't for Frieza. Her fingers itch at the thought of finding the equipment she needs; equipment she will use to build machines that will hone the Saiyans' murderous skills, equipment she will use to build her own weapons of mass destruction. She plots Frieza's death daily. She has turned her grief into anger, and her anger into fuel that feeds the fires of hatred for the monsters that took everything from her. Frieza has done this to her.
She knows this is why Vegeta, who trusts no one, agreed to work with her. He looks at her and sees his own hatred for Frieza reflected back at him. She looks at Vegeta and sees her own anger mirrored in him. He was only a child when he was taken from his home planet and forced to be a soldier, she was only a teen when she was taken from hers and forced to build weapons that kill thousands in an instant.
She avoids the question of what will happen after they kill Frieza.
The cool air bites at her nose. She closes her eyes and tries not to think about the warmth of Vegeta's shoulder under her cheek, or the way his fingers press into the underside of her knee. She wills for her brilliant mind to – just once – think of nothing at all.