Part 2

The warrior's scowl deepened, making his face almost unrecognizable as he advanced on the wailing child. Gritting his teeth in an effort not to blast the kid 4 lightyears away, Turles growled and yanked Gohan up by the nape of his neck, dark eyes beating into the little boy's. He only cried louder, nursing his swollen jaw and several other bruised places.

Turles snorted in disgust and dropped his young nephew, glaring at him. "Any other Saiyan of your age would've gone through this at least two years ago," he growled, tail snapping back and forth in clear annoyance. "And YOU can't even make a simple ki ball! You're practically USELESS you crybaby!"

Gohan looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I want my daddy," he declared with a hiccup. "And my mommy."

"Your dad is DEAD, kid," Turles hissed, booted foot inches from contact with Gohan's chest. "As for your mom, she won't be walking for quite some time. Which means it's just you and me."

The half-breed hiccuped again and whimpered as he pushed himself to his feet. "You're mean." Turles raised an eyebrow at the seriousness of the boy's tone. His tiny fists were clenched and face full of hatred. The scene was almost laughable. /After all the people I've killed and all the other shit I've been called, "mean" just scares me to death./

"That ain't the half of it, kid,' Turles said with a smirk, crossing his arms and letting his foot lash out. Gohan didn't see the blow coming and was sent flying across the room. Again the hybrid's cries reached the older Saiyan's ears and he chuckled. "I'm downright ruthless."

"Stop it you bully," Gohan whined, rubbing the blood from his cheek and dragging his filthy sleeve across his eyes. "Leave me alone!"

/So now I'm not only mean, but I'm a bully too?/ Turles thought with a smirk. /But if he wants me to leave him alone…/ Slowly advancing on the little boy, he grinned and chuckled darkly. Gohan backed up a few steps at the aura his uncle had. Turles' black eyes were radioactive with his idea, and with his bloodstained clothes plus his satanic expression he looked about as trustworthy as Jack the Ripper on a PCP high. Yet he gestured to Gohan as if he were Santa Claus anxious to hear his Christmas list. Turles held out his hand with a smile, sending chills up the little boy's spine.

"Come on, kid. I'll take you somewhere where I know NO one will bother you for a LONG time." Finally Gohan's hand slid into his, and Turles closed his strong fingers around the tiny digits with a grin. /And all I'm gonna ask is that you stay alive while you're there. It won't be hard. The Arlian jungles are wonderful this time of year./

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She surprised herself by actually dragging herself to the door when a loud knock came, threatening to send the Saiyan concrete flying inward at her. With a hiss, Bulma reached for the knob with her good arm, yanking it open with much effort. Doing her best to scowl down whoever dared to wake her before noon, she found Nappa smirking at her.

"What the hell are YOU doing here?" she demanded, hand automatically going to nurse her sore shoulder.

"You're supposed to be in the labs in 10 minutes," he said briskly, noting her nightgown's sharp plunge and quickly averted his eyes. "And from what I can see--" He didn't get to continue as Bulma slammed the door in his face and stormed back to bed.

Nappa growled and flung the door back open, scowling darkly. "Woman, WHAT is your problem?"

Bulma glared at him from under the comforter. "Let's see. I was kidnapped, beaten, humiliated, then told to get to work when I can hardly MOVE. So I'm going back to bed. Screw Vegeta, and the king, and anyone else who tries to get me up before I'm ready." With that, she nodded and laid down, breathing heavily.

Unaffected, Nappa tore the blankets off the bed, making Bulma sit up so sharply she nearly lost her balance. "NOW, woman. It's what slaves do, regardless of their condition."

"Anything before noon should be considered unholy and therefore banned," she growled as she rolled off the edge and stood with her arms crossed. Nappa glared at her and she lifted her chin in a very princess-like fashion. "Do you mind?"

"No," he replied, then realized she was about to get changed. /Not that I DO mind…/ He scowled and nodded, heading for the door. "Five minutes, woman. Then I'm coming to get you whether you're dressed or not!"

"Yeah, yeah. Go check on that nosebleed!" Bulma shouted after him, then shook her head. /O, Kami, what have I gotten myself into?/

Changing as quickly as possibly, she tried to find out what would move and what wouldn't. And wasn't surprised, though dismayed, to find out that most of her joints wouldn't but her mouth could. /Well, there's ONE plus side anyway./

As promised, 5 minutes later, Nappa threw open the door impatiently. "WOMAN!"

"Chill out," Bulma growled, trying to convince her hair to stay in the proffered hair tie. /Come on. This is so easy a SAIYAN can do it! Comb hair. Hold hair with right hand, pull tie with left. Scream in pain when dislocated shoulder helps out./ Finally frustrated beyond her control she threw the offending object across the room at Nappa, followed shortly by the hairbrush.

He raised an eyebrow as she growled and marched past him. "I think you need to follow your own advice."

Bulma whirled around and poked him in the chest. "I'm up and dressed, aren't I? And let me tell you, that's a feat in itself. If you think I'm going to be friendly and cheerful on top of that, you've got another thing coming, pal." She blew her bangs out of her reddened face and stalked down the hallway.

Nappa gently grabbed her good arm and pulled her in the opposite direction. She wrenched her limb from his grasp and growled, walking just behind him. /Gods, she's beautiful when she's angry…/ He shook himself before that train of thought reached the next station. /O, no. Prince Vegeta would kill me if he found out I was after his latest slave. Not to mention the king./

Bulma scowled when he stopped in front of a pair of double doors, then looked down on her as if she were an annoying insect. "Do you need help finding your way back?"

"No, I'm standing here looking lost for my health."

"I'll return for you at the end of the day," he replied, grinning. "And don't get yourself killed. The ship would be awfully dull."

"What a pity," she growled as he walked off, muttering to two guards who had been slacking off. Turning her attention to the lab, she sighed. "Now, how am I supposed to get in without hotwiring the thing?" As she wandered closer to investigate, the doors hissed open. Grinning, Bulma jammed her hands in her pockets, then winced.

"About time, wench." She was already beginning to hate that all-too-familiar voice. With a sickeningly sweet smile, Bulma turned to face Vegeta. "Get to work. Everyone else has already started."

Bulma's eyes fell on a clock just above his head and she smirked. "My shift starts in another minute and a half," she replied. "Anyway, no one's told me what I'm supposed to be doing, let alone how to do it." Then she paused to consider something. "And what's the all-mighty royal ego doing down here among the likes of us?'"

Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm overseeing the work done by the SLAVES, wench. Which means you listen to me."

"I listen to the king," she shot back, seeing him stiffen. "And I STILL don't know what I'm doing."

The prince smirked and nodded behind her. Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the machine she'd been admiring in the other lab, only this one was more high-tech. "Figure it out, wench."

"That doesn't answer me."

Vegeta only shrugged. "Maybe if you were here on time--"

"I WAS!" she interrupted, growling. "Learn how to use a watch, you pampered palace brat."

With that she turned back to the Saiyan equipment with a scowl. /Damn. All right, if this is the reset button, and this is the on/off switch, then this…/ After a few minutes of fiddling she stood back, triumphant. Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the smirking prince and grinned.

"Hey, CACTUS HEAD!" she called, getting almost everyone in the room to halt whatever they were doing. She grinned even wider and leaned against the metallic box. "You're making me learn how to use an alien WASHING MACHINE? What the hell is this thing doing in a LAB?"

Vegeta's eyes widened in shock and his lower jaw became just the slightest bit lax. Then he scowled and shrugged. "You will do as you are told, wench."

Bulma smirked at him. "Right. If I can't pull my hair back what makes you think I can carry something?"

"I told you to," he stated simply. "Now do it."

"O, that's all fine and dandy, but here's a new break. I AM HU-MAN! Got that? HUMAN! I CAN'T carry big huge loads of wash because I'm not strong enough even when I'm NOT injured!" She mentally smiled. /THAT what capsules are for./

Vegeta was unimpressed. "Get to work, wench. It's 5 minutes past the starting time."

Bulma glared at him incredulously before gently slapping her own cheek and grunting. Deliberately walking over to the locks, she rewired the inside and marched out into the corridor. Looking both ways, she chose the right side and continued her early morning stroll.

The prince grabbed her arm and spun her around roughly, bringing tears to the scientist's eyes. Bulma bit her lower lip as his grip tightened, determined not to show any more pain in front of him. Especially when she remembered the enjoyment he got out of watching her being beaten. /Sadistic bastard./

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, shoving her against the wall and sending more pain ricocheting through her body.

"Um… this way?" Bulma guessed, watering blue eyes glued to his chin. Unlike when she was with Nappa, she didn't try to free herself or get TOO sarcastic.

"Straight to the dungeons," Vegeta snapped, then smirked when he saw the alarm on her face. "Maybe I SHOULD send you down there. Maybe it will teach you some respect for a Saiyan prince."

"Right. As you can see, YELLING doesn't do any good, and beating me only makes me more of a bitch than I already am," Bulma replied with a smirk. "I think you're running out of options."

Vegeta leaned in closer, watching her flinch when his hand came up to rest just above her head. They were lightly pressed together from chest to knees, and Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to squirm. Vegeta's blazing eyes weren't in anger at her, but at himself for getting these feelings. Things he hadn't felt since puberty.

/Why am I getting these annoying emotions NOW? And about this infernal woman? A slave. A HUMAN slave!/ He growled, making her wince again before opening one eye to warily regard him. Vegeta glared at her and snorted. "You'd be surprised, wench."

Bulma pressed herself even further into the wall so she could look at him. "I'll make you a deal. You get me into someplace where I can actually USE my talents and I'll help you get your power above 5 thousand."

Vegeta looked at her skeptically. "And how are you planning to accomplish this, wench?"

She felt the "I don't know" forming and quickly clamped down on it. "It worked with Gohan, didn't it?"

"I'll consider it," he acknowledged, freeing her from her cornered state. "Though I've seen your 'work.' It does nothing to benefit the Saiyan empire."

"Has anyone ever told you you talk like a fucking computer?" Bulma asked hotly.

"Has anyone ever told you you talk too fucking much?" the prince shot back, smirking.

"Yeah. When they can get a word in edgewise," she said with a grin, then yawned. "Dear KAMI I'm tired. And you can thank bastard number 3 for that. I was awake all night trying to think of the best way to kill him." Vegeta let her walk off, and there was only one thing Bulma could think: /And I thought MONDAYS were bad!/

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A small whimper escaped her tightly closed lips as the prince shoved her into a small room at the end of the lab. She fell into a chair, looking at him with wide blue eyes, and Vegeta scowled, firmly shutting the door and locking it. Bulma's heart leapt into her throat as he advanced, scowling. She pushed herself as far away from the Saiyan as she could get, but a little thing called a wall prevented her from escaping.

Vegeta leaned over her, one hand supporting him on the wall as the other reached down for her. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, then shivered as he used her shirt to pull her to her feet. "Stop cowering, wench. I already promised your safety to the king. No one here will bother with you unless ordered by me."

"O, THAT makes me feel better," Bulma snapped, but he smirked at her. Her outburst had just proven that she trusted him enough to believe that he -- or anyone else as long as he was there -- wouldn't hurt her.

"Why didn't you tell me that you can't read, write, or speak our language?" he demanded, ignoring her last comment. She shifted uncomfortably, and Vegeta noticed how stiffly she still held herself. /Humans. Any other respectable species would've been totally healed by now./

"I THOUGHT it was common sense when you take someone from a planet where nobody believes in aliens and put them on a ship from Kami-knows-where. Then again…" She trailed off and grinned at him.

The Saiyan snorted at the implied insult and shook his head. "Wait here, wench. I'll return soon."

Bulma stuck her tongue out at him, followed shortly by the one-finger salute. It was highly unsatisfying, but better than nothing. One he was out of sight, Bulma let herself collapse on the chair and put her face in cupped hands.

/Where is all this COMING from? I mean Nappa couldn't do TOO much because he takes orders from these idiots, but WHY am I giving lip to a guy who doesn't have to ask permission to kill me?/ She was about to investigate that thought, but the door shot open and she sat up, looking guilty.

"Hello, woman," a voice said smoothly, and Bulma leapt out of the chair and into the corner. Turles ducked his head and grinned at her, followed shortly but Vegeta. "It's nice to see you in good health."

Bulma closed her eyes, breath coming short. /How could he do this to me? If it wasn't bad enough watching what he does now I have to EXPERIENCE it too?/

The prince's eye was caught by the sudden movement, and he smirked at he noted how she looked with a flushed face and eyes wide. It was then he saw the stark terror in them, and it was caused by Turles. He glanced at the warrior, who stared at her hungrily and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. /If he DID do anything to her…/ he vowed to himself before he realized what he was doing. Shaking himself, he scowled. /She's only a slave. Worthless./

Vegeta looked down on her and lifted an eyebrow. "Wench, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Not him," she whispered, and as keen as Saiyan ears were, he still had to strain to make out the words. "Please, not him. Get Nappa to do it. Please?"

Vegeta grunted and pulled her to a stop only three feet away from Turles. "As an Elite, he has more important duties than dealing with a lowly slave."

/Yeah, but he's the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm their latest sex toy!/ Bulma thought and was tempted to say it out loud. Instead she redoubled her grip on his wrist and shivered when Turles' eyes fell on her again. /Damn him! He's even dumber than he looks to leave me here with a rapist! Pretty girls don't make it here./

"I expect you two to get started immediately," Vegeta said and Bulma winced as she looked up, noticing the heat in the Saiyan's eyes. She swallowed thickly and backed up a few steps, which resulted in her falling into the previously occupied chair. /I think I'll keep an eye on them. That wench was never actually scared enough to show it until now./

"Of course, my prince," Turles answered sincerely, never taking his eyes from Bulma.

Vegeta again glared at him and nodded slowly. "Good. I'll come back in an hour to see how well she's learning things. Start with the basics."

He closed the door behind him and Turles grinned. Bulma's already wide eyes got even bigger. "So, woman. Where shall we start?"

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"For Kami's sake, can't I even make a simple BOMB without you hovering over my shoulder?" Bulma demanded, swatting at Vegeta without taking her eyes from her work. He was surprised when he realized she'd yelled at him in Saiyan. Perfectly.

The prince blinked, then grunted. The slave flung her hair over her shoulder and grinned at him knowingly. "I guess Turles is of more use than I thought," he muttered to himself.

"For once, and ONLY once, I agree with you," Bulma said, carefully tipping a neon orange mix into a steaming red one. She bit her lower lip as a few drops splattered into the concoction. "He's an amazing teacher."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her. "Is this praise for a Saiyan coming from YOU, wench?"

Bulma shrugged and wiped her hands across her pants, then turned to face him. "And WHY do you keep calling me that? Do you even know the MEANING of the word?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

He smirked yet again. "Literally, diplomatically or insultingly?" he asked casually. When she refused to answer, he nodded. "Get back to work. Wench."

Shaking her head, she replied, "Not with you looking over my shoulder ALL the time. Go bother someone else. Tell the evil bastard I paid him a compliment. Just go AWAY." When he didn't move, she sighed and shoved past him, taking residence in a small corner. Sitting cross-legged with her arms on her knees, she smiled. "Then YOU do it. It's not like you don't know HOW by now. Kami knows, you watch me enough."

He sneered, about to answer when another technical slave stuck his head in the door, muttering something in rapid Saiyan to Bulma. With a theatrical sigh, she got to her feet and shook her head. "I am living among BLOCKHEADS!" When the other shouted insults didn't contain one word of profanity, Vegeta was seriously considering sending her to the medical wing.

He caught her by the arm and scowled. "Are you feeling all right, wench?" She looked at him like he just fell out of the stupid truck and nodded. "Then why haven't you cursed him inside out yet?"

"Hmm…" she began with a sly smile. "Could it be because I LIKE the guy? Nah, can't be it. Let's see… because he's not a royal, arrogant bastard? Nope, not that one either." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, glaring at him.

Vegeta, getting the point, scowled and threw her in the general direction of the waiting slave. "Get going wench."

"Glad you said that AFTER you busted my arm," she growled, shaking the injured limb. "Remember, us 'weak humans' are fragile. And I can't blow up the labs with only one good arm." Grinning at the technician, she motioned toward the doors. "Lead the way."

The Saiyan scowled and glared at the other scientists, who went back to work in a hurry. The… verbal debates between the Earth native and the prince were becoming spectator sports, much to the annoyance of both. She had to be the only slave that he let talk back to him and live. He himself was wondering what to do about that.

Vegeta rapped his gloved fingers against the table and glared at the clock. /What could that damned wench be DOING? She's missing work./ When Bulma hadn't returned after nearly ten minutes, he growled and kicked in the door, not bothering with the code. There, he picked up the last of their conversation.

"…SUCH an idiot. I know his REAL power level is over 5,000, but that blundering ASSHOLE doesn't seem to notice he's holding back. Kami knows why. If *I* was him I'd blast my daddy to Kingdom Come and back just to prove that I could." Bulma looked up when her friend yelped, then knelt, shaking. A shadow fell over her and she closed her eyes. "Let me guess. I opened my big mouth just when he walked in." Turning around, she grinned. "Do I get my brand-new car now?"

Vegeta scowled, not understanding the reference and grabbed her arm. "What took you so long wench? And why do you keep saying I'm stronger than I am? Is this some sort of mockery?" he growled.

"Well, pick one question and let me answer it," Bulma said before he could start shaking her. "And hurry up. I'm not missing my lunch break AGAIN because of you."

Ignoring her last comment, the prince grunted. "What the hell is keeping you?"

"The fact that THIS thingy here is missing about 15 VERY important parts, courtesy of a certain Saiyan idiot," she replied with a smile. "But it's no problem to fix. I ran into the same problem when I was testing my new g--"

"Your new WHAT, wench?" Vegeta pressed, smirking at her. When he took a step forward, Bulma put up her hand. He smirked even wider at her pitiful attempt to stop him.

"O no you don't," she replied with a firm shake of her head. "I can fix you damned little playtoy, that's all you need to know." His eyes fell on the still-kneeling slave and Bulma snorted. "And he doesn't know his ass from a hammer so it doesn't matter what he tells you."

"Your WHAT, wench?" he demanded again, scowling.

"Guilt ray?" she asked with a small smile. He glared at her and she shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head."

"The truth would be appropriate," he growled.

"What is this truth? The greatest genius in the world has been defeated by this tiny word!" With that, she fell back into the wall with one hand to her head, the other over her heart. "What is the world coming to?"

"Enough theatrics, wench. Either you tell me or you tell Turles," he threatened.

Bulma brightened. "Fine. I'll tell Turles tomorrow during lessons. Now, if you excuse me, I have my lunch break in 3 minutes." She grinned and winked at the men before disappearing out the doors. Vegeta turned, just figuring out what had happened. /That damned wench. What is she up to?/

The slave behind the prince voiced his opinion in a much simpler manner: "How does she DO that?"

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An eyebrow was raised at the warrior as he practically skipped by, smirk dangerously close to a smile. A few blinked at the improved attitude, but Nappa knew better than to trust anything that would make Turles happy. Yet he was headed away from Bulma, which made the older man breathe a little easier.

/Pretty soon the brat will be ready for REAL training, and in the meantime Vegeta's taking longer and longer to check up on us every day. With the boy gone I can concentrate on the woman./ Keeping a straight face was getting harder and harder to do, so he finally let it slip into a cruel smile as he headed toward his nephew's new holding cell. /But for now, it's time to deport the kid./

Gohan growled at him as he stepped into the room, smile breaking out into a full-blown grin. "What do you want?" he snapped, surprisingly, in Saiyan.

Turles blinked, then his grin widened. "It's time for you to go, kid. We don't have all day so come on."

"No! I'm staying here!" he muttered firmly, crossing his arms. As much as he stuttered in his native language, his Saiyan was clear and smooth. As was his glare, which reminded Turles of the prince.

"Brat, I don't have time to--" He was cut off as Gohan's clenched fists started to sparkle with electricity. As soon as he noticed the lightning-shaped flashes of light, a thick beam of red light shot at him. Out of instinct, he put his arm across his face to bar the attack and growled when it bounced away. "Why you little--" He stopped again as he brough his blocking arm down and felt the sudden jolt of pain. Looking at the scorched flesh, bubbles and blisters started popping up on the burn.

"I'm staying here," Gohan repeated, sitting down with his tail flicking behind him in annoyance. He crossed his arms, black eyes focused on his uncle's stunned face. "And where's my mom? I want to see her."

Turles smiled, chuckling darkly as he examined the extent of his injury. "So I guess the little bastard isn't such a baby after all, is he?" Without giving Gohan time to reply, he grinned. "Fine by me. You can stay, brat. But the day after tomorrow your training starts. And we'll see what the king thinks of you." He checked his singed armor as he walked out the door and closed it slowly behind him. /So I guess I'll make my move tomorrow./

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Vegeta eyed the pair as Turles tapped Bulma on the shoulder, gently reminding her of the time. She threw her hands up in exasperation and yelled quite a few things at him that neither Saiyan could clearly understand. There was one phrase that made Vegeta smirk: after running low on insults, Bulma had simply called him a "bloody bastard." Which Turles actually understood.

"WENCH!" the prince yelled over the roar of machinery and the half-matched battle of wits. "GO!"

With something that sounded distinctly like "Fuck it," Bulma dropped the vial of clear liquid and some brown powder on the table and threw her longer hair over her shoulder before following her tutor. Vegeta was in a minor state of shock after seeing her obey without so much as a scream of protest. /Finally I'm getting through to her./

From inside the room, Turles waiting until the prince was out of sight before looking back at his beautiful charge. He licked his lips in anticipation as he walked toward her. Bulma, ignorant of his thoughts, flipped through a book and sighed, squinting at the tiny print. Leafing back a few pages, she paused long enough to scan the material before looking up. In that short time he'd arrived at her side and sat down, tail almost brushing her thigh.

"Turles…" she began, then froze when she noticed how close he was to her. She moved over just the slightest bit. "I don't get this whole thing with the--"

The warrior smirked and leaned in to kiss her, one hand going roughly to her shirt and yanking on it, sending buttons flying and the fabric down almost to her waist. The other one ran through her silky hair and pulled none-too-gently on it before cradling her head. Bulma whimpered as she realized that she couldn't pull away and started to shiver. /No, Kami, please…/

Turles stood and started to lean her back, fingers still tearing at the confining cloth. Finally the scientist closed her eyes and grunted, bringing her leg up in a straight line to where no man ever wanted to be kicked. He was stunned enough for her to slip out of his grasp. Bulma, not thinking entirely straight, slid to the ground and saw his tail loosening. She didn't hesitate as she took it and squeezed, nails and teeth gouging at the same time. Turles let out a howl and fell to his knees.

"Sire, I was getting worried about--" Nappa stopped as he heard his partner's cries a split second before Vegeta did. They didn't pause before rushing off, Nappa blasting a hole in the back wall of the lab and going straight for the out-of-the-way room. /If he's yelling that means that we better get ready for a fight. It's not just anybody who can get him to make this much noise./

Vegeta was well ahead of him by now and didn't even blast the wall out of his way. He simply plowed through it, shaking the dust and plaster from his eyes as he did a quick scan of the room. Whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't it. Bulma, half naked and shaking, was crouched in the far corner, leaning against the wall. Turles was flat on his face, fists pounding the floor almost regularly as Bulma's grip continued to tighten.

The prince didn't know whether to laugh or blast the warrior straight to hell. He didn't know where the sudden possessive feeling came from, but he wasn't going to just stand around long enough to sort out its origin either. Nappa's impression of a landed fish lasted a few seconds, then he shook himself and moved to Bulma's side. She only started to quiver more violently, sending another wave of pain to Turles.

He gently took her hand and tried to extract her nails. Not being able to accomplish the feat in one try, he debated cutting them off. Then Vegeta solved the problem by growling and walking purposefully toward the Saiyan. Bulma's eyes snapped open and she misinterpreted the look on Vegeta's face as she shrunk even further into the corner. "No…"

"Quiet, woman," Vegeta growled, turning his attention to a half-sobbing Turles. "I'm here to deal with this bastard." Nodding for the other warrior to get up, he stood over the younger man with an expression Bulma had only seen once in her life; the same look she had when she witnessed the torture and murder of her parents. The look that was just short of her crying in rage. The look that made even Nappa shiver.

"Come on, woman," Nappa said gently, offering her his gigantic hand. She flinched, then tried to smile, having it come out lopsided and looking more like a grimace. "We should get you some clothes."

"Let her stay!" Vegeta ordered, glaring over his shoulder at them. His ki rose significantly as he noticed Nappa had his arms around her shivering form, and Bulma glanced warily at him. /That's the closest he's been to not holding back,/ she realized despite her fear-fogged mind.

"Sire, I really don't think she--" Nappa gulped when the prince's glare focused on him and he nodded slowly. "As you wish." Bulma's arms tightened around her torso and she leaned on him, adrenaline wearing off. Even so, all of her senses were still at a fever high, and she could hear Turles' heavy panting as Vegeta pulled him to his feet.

"You were warned," Vegeta growled through gritted teeth as he took in the younger man's frazzled appearance, "that the king and I have ensured her safety. What made you think you could get away with this?"

Turles, for his credit, knew better than to answer, and the prince scowled. He then slowly smirked, seeing the alarm in the other's black eyes. Without ceremony, Vegeta grasped the bloody end of Turles' tail and yanked on it, pulling the whole thing off. Nappa winced and Bulma sunk to her knees, unsupported as Vegeta stalked back toward them.

"What would he have done if he actually got to go through with it?" Bulma wondered as she watched Vegeta disappear through his hole in the wall.

Nappa spared one last glance at his broken companion. "Killed him."

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Leading a half-naked woman through the main cafeteria during the beginning of the afternoon meal wasn't the most brilliant thing Nappa had ever done Despite knowing that Saiyans were completely focused on food the first five minutes of the twenty they were given to eat, it was against any odds that they wouldn't notice something as out of the ordinary as this.

The threatening stares from the women and uncanny silence from the men made Bulma press closer to Nappa, ignoring the abrasive material of the armor and tightening her grip on the front of her shirt. He kept his power level near his maximum as a warning, and most of the Saiyans did take a few steps back, a few of the more daring young men trying to see how close they could get before Nappa got to them.

Bulma actually felt the flick of a tail against the top of her leg and she silenced a shriek before it was half voiced. Over her head Nappa's fist connected solidly with the guy's face, grabbing his tail as he flew back. The entire crowd moved away as Nappa halted, putting one arm across Bulma's shoulders and glaring full circle at the gathered Saiyans. Very few could stand the burning gaze and practically withered under the look. Bulma shivered and let the warrior's arm pull her back against him, tensing. The gesture was more possessive than protective, and she wondered why.

"She is under the protection of the king, the prince, and myself," Nappa growled, silencing the rest of the mutterings. "Anyone who even vaguely tries to make her his mate will go through any punishments the prince and I decide on." That thought alone sent shivers through his audience. If they were still alive after Nappa got through with them they would severely wish that they weren't. Her eyes flashed. /I'm just another THING for them to own,/ she realized and hissed under her breath.

Without another word, Nappa gently pulled Bulma away from her spot against him so he could walk without tripping over her. The cafeteria was silent except for the heavy footsteps of the Saiyan warrior and the lighter, timid ones of Bulma. When the door shut with an audible click, not one eye blinked.

"Don't worry about them, woman," Nappa said calmly, pulling away even more when he realized that she was still shaking. "They won't try anything that stupid when they know who you're under."

Bulma glared at him half-heartedly, emotions gone haywire. "I'm not worried about THEM," she said in a soft hiss. Even so close, Nappa had to strain to hear her. /I'm worried about Vegeta. He doesn't NEED permission to do whatever he wants to me./

"Then who?" Nappa asked, and she turned her head away, pretending to be focused on an interesting crack in the wall. He sighed and shook his head, willing to leave the topic for now. He knew Vegeta would "visit" her to get all the details, which would only terrorize her further. She didn't need him doing the same thing now.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, until he noticed her half-hidden limp. He also eyed the dark streaks of mostly dried blood on her back, and from the looks of it, it ran down her chest as well. With an audible growl, startling her, he grabbed her upper arm in a grip hard enough to make tears come to her eyes, he pulled her down an empty hallway.

"Why didn't you tell me he hurt you, woman?" Nappa demanded, glaring at her. Bulma gritted her teeth and tried to pull her arm away. It was then the Saiyan realized that his anger had gotten the better of him and he hastily let go. She nursed the sore limb with a vacant expression on her face, not looking at him. "Well?"

"Well what?" she snapped, stopping and moving her knee to try and ease the pain. Glaring up at him, Bulma flicked her hair out of her eyes in annoyance. "I would've thought it was obvious when I was sitting there BLEEDING all over him."

Nappa grunted and steered her in the direction of the medical wing, scowling but watching how hard he held onto her. Every time Bulma made a face he loosened his grip. Finally she couldn't keep up, her knee having taken the brunt of the damage. /Damn,/ she swore, trying to keep the joint from locking up. /I wish I'd known this was going to happen BEFORE I kicked him. This fucking HURTS./ She surprised herself by not complaining about it literally every step of the way. In fact, it was only because silent tears started streaming down her face that Nappa even knew how much pain she was in.

The guard paused long enough to tug her even with him, then swept her off her feet and laid her over his shoulder, bracing her knee with his arm. Bulma growled and reached for his tail, which he tapped her on the top of her head with. "I have outgrown that weakness as well, woman."

"Put me down! I am NOT a sack of potatoes!" she yelled in his ear, making him wince. His arm hand moved from her ankle to her waist, keeping her from squirming as they came to a door. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He looked at her calmly out of the corner of his eye, saying nothing as he punched in a code. Bulma grunted in pain when she tried to move and found herself firmly tucked between his shoulder and his arm. Blue eyes wide, she pounded on his back, shredding her knuckles.

Nappa plunked her down on a table and scowled, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her sides, averting his eyes when her top started to slide. "Stop that, woman. That's only another thing to be treated."

"Why am I even HERE?" she demanded, making a valiant attempt to cross her arms. "All it is is a few scratches and--" She cut herself off when something that felt remarkably like a needle slid into her back. "What the--"

Nappa looked over her head at the doctor. "Thank you. Now, woman, you are one of the most intelligent slaves on this ship, but I think your common sense in nonexistent." Bulma only scowled and he smirked at her. "What if you were mixing chemicals toxic to humans?" he asked, seeing her eyes darken. As she thought that prospect over, he nodded to the other Saiyan. "Put her in one of the tanks."

"NO!" Bulma's hands almost came off the table and Nappa was surprised at her sudden strength. A look of complete and utter terror came over her face and the guard shook his head, glancing at the needle. Supposedly it had held a tranquilizer. Supposedly.

"And why not, woman?" he demanded in exasperation. Yet he couldn't help feeling a little admiration toward her. /She's been orphaned, kidnapped, tortured, almost raped, and practically sold out to the enemy, and yet she STILL manages to be a pain in everyone's ass./

"Because I prefer my clothes ON," she stated simply.

"You're half undressed already," he said, crossing his arms and freeing hers.

She rubbed her wrists tenderly, glaring at him before she spoke. "My point exactly."

"Mine too." Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the doctor, who was slightly amazed at the goings on. Nappa rapped his fingers against the table. "What do you think?"

"If she doesn't want to go in the tanks, she doesn't have to. She'll just be here longer," he answered with a kind smile. Bulma, despite herself, found herself smiling back.

Nappa rolled his eyes. "You don't have to give a second thought to HIM, woman. He won't do a damned thing that you don't want him to do." With a smirk, he added, "I thought you might appreciate that."

She refused to acknowledge that and turned to the younger Saiyan. Before she could open her mouth, Nappa grunted and started toward the door. It had already swished open when she glanced over. "Nappa," she called softly, and he paused, looking at her. Playing with the hem of her shirt, she looked down with a slight blush. "Thank you."

============================================

There came an exhausted sigh from behind her as Vegeta stormed into the room, murder clearly set in his expression. Ignoring the doctor, he marched over to Bulma and snatched away her doodles and figures. She only eyed him, noticing for the umpteenth time how low his power stayed even when he was on the verge of becoming a raving lunatic. /Raving being the key word,/ she thought to herself as she glared at him. /As for lunatic, he's already there./

"Woman!" he growled, and she raised an eyebrow. /Since when did he stop calling me 'wench'?/ Vegeta's fist landed on the table, nearly splitting it in half. "Why weren't you in the labs this morning?"

"Well, could it be that I was nearly RAPED two days ago?" she declared in a sneer. "No, that's too obvious. How about the fact that I can hardly bend over because there's not a part of me that hasn't been bandaged yet? Don't think that's it either."

She was about to go on but the prince got there first. "I don't care, woman. You are a SLAVE, and you will work, injured or not!" His hand came dangerously close to hitting her, and Bulma flinched at the sound of the impact. But she wasn't about to back down.

"Fine," she hissed, trying to sit up straighter. The doctor merely put his hands on her shoulders to keep her down. She growled and scowled at Vegeta, baring her teeth. "When I drop a chemical that turns the floor into atoms and we all get sucked out into a black hole then maybe, just MAYBE, you'll figure out how much of an idiot you're being." Bulma took a deep breath, realizing that yelling at him had actually taken effort.

Vegeta's arm came up threateningly, but she only glared at him with cold blue eyes, practically daring him to hit her. /So weak, and yet she's not afraid./ He scowled at the thought and his hand lowered. He had to think about that one.

"Sire," the doctor piped up quietly. The prince's burning gaze landed on him, and he nearly lost his nerve. Clearing his throat, he continued hoarsely. "She should only be in here another day or two."

"She would be fine if you'd put her in there to begin with." His eyes flicked over to glance at the empty tank across the room, then settled back on Bulma, who had stopped looking at him and found a rather interesting stain on the floor to study. He couldn't help but notice the slight shiver at the mention of the regeneration tanks. He smirked at her and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You have a problem with them, woman?" he demanded, amusement lacing his voice.

"Damned right," she answered, trying to jerk her head away. When she couldn't, she glared at him wordlessly and crossed her arms.

When it finally became clear that she wasn't going to elaborate on her own, Vegeta scowled and pulled her off the table. "Explain, woman," he demanded, releasing her chin. Bulma leaned against the table, closing her eyes until the white spots disappeared. "NOW," he growled.

"Sorry," Bulma moaned sarcastically. "But when my head, my back and my leg are holding a which-hurts-worst contest, I put everything else on hold. ESPECIALLY a pampered palace PRICK like you." She thanked Kami that he didn't know exactly what a prick was and glared up at him. "You can wait."

She eased back onto the table and stretched out, groaning from the effort. /I'll kill the bastard with my bare hands,/ she decided as she looked at the scowling prince. /Then him./ He seemed to be waiting for her to continue, and not patiently. Vegeta's tail was whipping behind him so fast he could hear it.

"I've waited long enough, woman," Vegeta said firmly, crossing his arms. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I've got my pride," she answered with all the dignity of the prince. "Or what's left of it after Turles and Nappa DISCREETLY showed off what happened to the entire ship and crew." The acid in her voice made even the Saiyan blink. "After that I'm sure as hell not going to be put on display."

"You're ashamed," he summed up with a smirk. Bulma's eyes flashed dangerously and the doctor, too afraid of Vegeta to object, rested his palm on her arm. The prince's eyes fell on the man's hand and he felt a sudden surge of rage and jealousy. /O for the love of Kami. What's his problem now?/

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Of what? Being seen by anyone who saunters by? Sorry to say that's ALREADY happened. In spades." His face went blank at the Earth expression and she rolled her eyes. "And guess what happened THEN? NAPPA was with me and some idiots tried to pull something. Can you imagine what will happen if I'm in here with just HIM? The whole protection plan just took a flying leap out the window." Then she scowled. "Not like it was working all that well to begin with."

Vegeta's expression darkened and he seemed to think that over. He turned to the doctor and nodded. "Heal her in two days. After that she will be in the labs whether or not you succeed." He gave another solid glare at Bulma and left.

She sighed and relaxed under the Saiyan's hand. "Hell has no wrath like a woman scorned," she muttered with a lazy smile. "Or just me on a bad day."

============================================

The woman was a proven medical miracle. Vegeta watched from the shadows as the doctor ran his hand through his unruly Saiyan hair and ranted incoherently. The prince finally picked up that the sedative that he'd given her on her first day was finally starting to kick in, and Bulma was wobbling back and forth in an effort to stay awake. Vegeta smirked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. /So it seems that humans aren't quite as weak as I thought./ Any Saiyan drug given to her took anywhere from 10 to 24 hours to start working, as the poor man was figuring out.

He mentally shook his head and turned his thoughts to the warriors on the other side of the room. A handful of men had made it back to the mother ship and were currently in the rest of the tanks. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the face of their leader. He scowled darkly, seeing how much of a resemblance there was to Turles. And, according to Bulma, both looked exactly like Kakorrot. Yet as he saw their power levels, he raised an eyebrow. /I think I just found the brat's next trainer./

His attention was drawn back to the blue-haired slave as she slid forward, stubbornly keeping her eyes open. The doctor hovered at her side, blocking his view. Vegeta grunted, getting the other Saiyan to straighten. Bulma sighed as she fought the drug, but the doctor smiled and gently laid her back, pulling the blankets up to her chest.

"That will keep you out for a few days, woman," he said kindly, removing her infamous notepad and chewed-up pencil from her lap. and placing it gently on the mini table next to her bed. "When you wake up, you should be completely healed."

Vegeta pushed away from the wall and neared the unconscious Bulma. Never taking his eyes from her, he growled to the other man, "How long will she be in here?"

"I don't know, sire," he admitted shakily. Something about Vegeta gave him the creeps, though he would never admit it to the prince. "It's taken this long for the sedative to work, so I don't know how long it will keep her unconscious. I know for certain that it will be at least a day."

"Alert me when she's healed," Vegeta ordered, finally looking away when he realized where he'd been staring. /Woman, I don't know what kind of witch you are, but I will break this damned spell,/ he swore to himself. Glancing down at the notepad, he found several diagrams and sketches. Cocking his head to look at it, Vegeta snorted and disregarded it as worthless.

The doctor, however, jumped at the new subject. "Sire, she wanted me to tell you about these," he began, flipping through the pages. He handed the booklet to the prince with a strained smile. "She said something about returning a favor."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow as he skimmed the perfect Saiyan writing, gaze turning thoughtful. Bulma spent almost three pages telling him how stupid, arrogant, short, and bastardous he was. Then again, the insults were there to prove a point, as she noted how much he held back and how not to. He smirked down at the sleeping Bulma and tucked the entire pad into his armor.

"It will make some interesting reading," Vegeta admitted with a sly smirk. Then he glanced back at the other Saiyans. "Tell me," he said, turning to face the other row of tanks. "Which one of them would be able to prepare a potential warrior for a full moon presentation?"

"I think the leader," he said meekly, looking over the men. "Bardock." Vegeta smirked and looked at the scarred Saiyan. /Perfect./