Chapter 50: Severed.
AN: Well! Beginning of Part 2! Mwa! I hope you're not all too mad at me about this. I'm hoping that most of you are excited about my new ideas and plans, and the extra 30 or so chapters! Anyway, I'd like to ask those of you who are really distraught about Vegeta to please keep reading. . . I really think you'll all like how everything turns out. :)
Sorry about the short chapter. Next one will be a biggie!
Thanks for all the awesome reviews!!
~J. J
_______________
She had no idea how many hours had passed.
Time was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that. . .
Bulma whimpered as the thought flodded through her brain again, washing away all hope, draining all courage. She wanted to ignore it, wanted to pretend that it wasn't true. Yet, it was.
Vegeta was dead.
She could not feel him through the Bond that they shared. She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but there had always been a faint sensation humming pleasantly at the back of her mind, reminding her of him in every way, reminding her that he was there. . . and alive.
Now, that feeling had been torn from her. Yanked violently from her mind like a severed wire. It had hurt, she realized. It had hurt her physically. Where the sensation had once been present, there was now a dull burning feeling. It felt like empty, lifeless fire searing away at her temples. But the pain in her head could not compare to the pain she felt at losing him.
What had happened, out there? What was the massive shape that had come straight at the ship? Even stranger was the blue, white-hot light that had pulsated from where Vegeta had walked. She had assumed it to be him powering up, at first. That thought that whipped through her for a split second before the object had hit. Yet, she had seen Vegeta power up. His aura was blue. . . but had never turned white. It had become so brilliant before the hit, that Bulma had thought, crazily, that it had turned golden.
Something dripped off in the corner, a few feet from where she lay. She was lying on her back, in the same position she had been in when she had realized that Vegeta was gone. The walkie-talkie was still clutched in her hand, although now there was no static. Only dead, eerie silence from the other end. She tried not to think about how that had happened. She didn't want to consider, just yet, what exactly lay outside the doors of the ship. Not yet.
Sparks flew and random machinery shortcircuted inches from her body. An oily substance coated her hair, and she could feel blood oozing thick from a gash in her forehead. She was cold, but that didn't matter. She was bleeding, but that didn't matter, either. What mattered was that the only person she had ever truly loved was dead, leaving her to die alone on a broken ship in the middle of the universe, her belly filled with his child.
Bulma's eyes snapped open. Child. Baby.
She cried out as she sat up. Too fast, she thought, as she went down again. Blood rushed to her head in a sudden river, and she cried numbly at the pain of it. Her body screamed at her unwilling to get up just yet. She panted for breath and wipped the sweat from her eyes.
In the trauma of it all, she had forgotten about the baby.
Bulma felt sudden rage boil up inside of her. How could she have been so stupid? So pathetic? Lying here for hours, in a pool of oil, blood, and Kami knew what else, while her baby stirred within her? How could she have been so selfish? Thinking only of herself. . . despairing when there might yet be hope. Tears ran from her eyes. She felt ashamed of herself for being so useless. Vegeta would have scoffed at her. He would have been terribly insulted, to think that she cared naught for their child, and only for despair. The ship might yet be able to get her home, or at least somewhere. She -did- have something to live for. Her fingers touched her belly gingerly.
She had his child to live for.
Bulma knew she had to get up. She struggled slowly into a sitting position, waiting a moment for her head to feel somewhat normal. If she was going to get anything done, she had to check a few things first. "Spider?" Bulma called after a moment into the darkness. Her voice had a somewhat human semblance again, nothing like the strange, hoarse noise that she had screamed hours ago. "Spider! Boy. . . can you hear me?"
She hadn't heard a noise from the Roctorn. She hadn't been listening. Up until now, Bulma had only been able to think of Vegeta. Now, she felt a twinge of pain bubble up in her throat at the thought of the Roctorn being dead. He had saved her life, for the second time. How could she have forgotten about him?
"Spider!" She cried.
A shifting movement alerted her attention. "Spider? Are you OK, boy?" Bulma cried hopefully. She peered into the shadows, flinching when something near her exploded and sent a wire whipping around in the air inches from her. Crying out, she darted away from the wire and began to crawl toward the Roctorn.
A low, piteous whimpering led her to him. Crawling on hands and knees, Bulma stopped as her hand touched fur. Fur matted thickly with blood. Suddenly sobbing, she wrapped her fist in his fur and pulled herself to the giant, furry creature, not caring that he was covered in blood and grime. She pressed her face into his side and cried, her body shaking with shock and emotional trauma. After a moment, Spider laid his massive head gently on her own, cradling her to him with one giant paw. Touched by the gesture, Bulma clutched her friend closer.
She allowed herself only a moment of tears. "You're gonna be OK, boy." She said, forcing herself to pull away from him and face the harsh reality that her friend may indeed be dying. "You'll see. I promise."
She could see his grizzled head peering at her, his golden-red eyes wide with fright and. . . Bulma bit her lip and swallowed back a lump as it dawned on her. Despite the fact that Spider was most probably dying, the only thing he cared about was ensuring her safety. Worry for her, and an intense loyalty, shone in the Roctorn's eyes. He growled low as he struggled to stand. Bulma ignored the way his hind legs lay limp behind him.
"Spider, you just stay there. I'll make you better. Don't you worry, I'll have. . . " she trailed off, covering her hand to her mouth when she saw the extent of his injuries.
A long, smooth slab of metal insulation from the roof of the ship had been jarred loose. . . and slammed into Spider's back. Blood bubbled from the wound, which Bulma could tell was very deep. Nearly deep enough to reach the Roctorn's spine.
Yet. . .
Perhaps not.
Hope. Bulma forced the word into her head. Hope. She repeated it like a mantra as she kneeled before the furry beast and thought about what she was about to do.
"Hold on, boy." She said softly, preparing herself.
Her hands reached out and she felt along the metal for a dull grip. Bulma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Spider seemed to realized what she was doing, and he lowered his head and closed his eyes, too. She could feel his muscles tense as she took a firm grip on the piece of metal, planted her feet apart, wrapped her fingers tightly around it. . .
And pulled.
Spider roared in pain and Bulma shot backward, landing on her bottom. She had succeeded. The piece of metal clanked to her side as she scrambled back toward Spider, frantically searching for something to cover the wound with. Blood began to hemmorhage from the wound, and Bulma pressed her hands tightly around it, desperately thinking for a solution.
Spider whimpered. His eyes fluttered once, and then closed. Blood seeped through her fingers, the surge of it very powerful. Spider was alive, but if Bulma didn't do something about the bleeding, he wouldn't be for long.
"Hold on boy!" She whispered fiercely into his ear.
Their were blankets in the bedrooms and a first-aid kit in the closet. But both of those items were downstairs.
Was there even a downstairs left?
Bulma knew the ship had to be intact for it to still be in the air, and running. Whatever had happened outside, it hadn't been enough to completely destroy the ship. If she could make it to the basement, to where the first- aid kit was in the closet, then she could get bandages, gauze, and pins. There was a very good chance that she might step on the wrong piece of floor, and fall right through. The ship wasn't stable enough.
She looked down at the wound on Spider, the blood seeping from her fingers. She didn't know if Ghost was alive. Right now, Spider was her only chance. If something was. . . outside, then Spider was her only defense. Without him, her chances of survival were much slimmer. She felt tears spring to her eyes. But more importantly, Spider was her friend. He had saved her life nearly three times since she had met him. She was not going to let him die.
She decided. Ignoring the fierce pain in her left leg, Bulma forced herself up. She would do no good sitting here, waiting for Spider's blood to drain. Limping, she started toward the cabin door, where she saw only darkness. The long hallway ahead of her loomed, eerie and shadowed. Sparks flew and things clattered to the floor. Water dripped. Bulma felt her heart hammering in her chest.
Could she do this?
She had to.
Steadying herself, and taking one last look at Spider, Bulma took one step gingerly into the hall. She pressed down experimentally on the floor with her leg. It held. Sucking in a breath, she placed her good hand on the doorframe and took the other step. It held, again. The ship groaned and shifted under her, and she felt the floor beneathe her tilt at an odd angle. Bulma whimpered, closing her eyes tightly. Her resolve dissipated.
Don't be a fool, woman. You aren't in any shape to be a coward.
Bulma gasped. She knew she had only imagined the words, but they gave her enough strength. The words stung, but they also brought hope. And tears. She brought her hands down to her sides and made a fist, bracing her legs against the steady tilting of the ship beneath her. Abandoning all fear, and embracing all her Hope, she set her jaw determindley.
Then she ran.
________________
An hour had passed. Spider's wound was tended to and the bleeding had slowed. The wound had not gone as deep as Bulma had first estimated. The Roctorn's breathing was shallow and quick, but that he was breathing was all that mattered. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, Bulma lay against the beasts side, her head rising and falling with each breath he took.
Ghost had survived the ordeal. Bulma had found him upon returning to Spider. The little Cheribullum had found it's wounded friend, and had grieved beside him as she had applied salve, gauze, and bandages. Bulma had been very relieved to see that Ghost had survived. He was curled against her stomach, now, fast asleep. She wished she could do the same.
She had went through so much trauma in the last few hours that Vegeta's death hadn't truly sunk in yet. That she had something to live for, her baby, was the only thing that made it tolerable. "Where are you?" She whispered into the darkness, her hand on her belly. Tears pooled in her eyes, and for the first time since the crash, Bulma curled her head into her chest, hugged herself, and cried.
Torrents of tears came, and didn't seem to stop. For every tear that fell, another memory of Vegeta would replace it with another. His smirk. His eyes. The way he had blushed furiously when they had first found Ghost. The tenderness with which he had held her in the bathtub, when she was near death. The feel of his skin against her own. The way he constantly insulted her, but made her feel more like a Princess than any other woman alive.
She shuddered as a heart-wrenching sob shook her.
The way he loved her.
Ghost seemed to sense her need for comfort, and wiggled his little arms against her in a half-hearted attempt to warm her heart. Bulma needed it, and held him tightly to her. If she was going to get through this, she needed to still her tears and start making something happen. She was a smart woman. She was a brave woman. She had been through worse. . . hadn't she?
She'd thought, a long time ago, that she was invincible. Vegeta had only made her feel more strongly about that. If she could make the world's most cold-hearted and indifferent man feel Love, then she should feel invincible, shouldn't she? Bulma smiled at that thought, her first smile in hours. She could do it. She could repair the ship. She could help herself.
And yet. . .
The terrifying possibility that she could end up stuck on the ship, floating through space endlessly, waiting to die, was very real. She scrunched up her face and tried not to think about it. She had come to realize that obsessing over the negative things in life didn't do anyone any amount of good. Chin up, Bulma. She thought. Stare the world in the face. Use your brains. Stop those tears.
Make Vegeta proud.
A cynical giggle escaped her lips as she contemplated Vegeta being even prouder than he had been before.
"Spider?" She whispered into the darkness. She touched his fur gently. He felt warm, which was a good sign, and his breathing was slowly starting to return to normal. She gently took Ghost from his seat in her lap and sat him next to the Roctorn, and stood up. She needed to get her ass in gear. Wiping her hand across her face, she decided her first order of business was food.
She was pregnant now, which meant she was eating for two. If any repairs on the ship could be done, they would take days. Perhaps even a week or two, since she would be working from scratch and by herself. The four remaining boxes of bulk food would need to last her.
And. . .
Bulma turned and looked back at her two beloved friends. What about Spider? What would he and Ghost eat?
She closed her eyes at the dreaded thought. It would be foolish to starve herself for two animals that would not live for many more years. Especially when one was already wounded, and ate enough for five. They were her friends, but she was more important. She had a child to live for. She had a baby within her to protect.
Ghost and Spider had enough food to last them a while, too. Bulma and Vegeta had decided that when they would return to Earth, the Cheribullum and the Roctorn would most definetely adjust to human/dog food quite quickly. It was not much unlike their own from R'haksin.
She balled her hand into a fist. A week, tops. That was how long the food would last her. She would have to work day and night, but conserve enough strength to stay healthy for herself and the baby.
Bulma took a step over to the control pannel. Most of the circuit board was intact, but badly damaged. The radar and communication screens were in working order. If any ships were to pass by her, she would appear on their Radar, as they would on hers. It was her only hope of being rescued. If the ship's energy ran out, the communication would fail her. She was standing inside a pitch black ship. Any passing space craft would assume it a Ghost Ship, lights out and no responding communication. A life-scan could always be preformed, but not many ships would go so out of their way on a small, insignificant traveller.
Indeed, she had to work fast.
AN: Well! Beginning of Part 2! Mwa! I hope you're not all too mad at me about this. I'm hoping that most of you are excited about my new ideas and plans, and the extra 30 or so chapters! Anyway, I'd like to ask those of you who are really distraught about Vegeta to please keep reading. . . I really think you'll all like how everything turns out. :)
Sorry about the short chapter. Next one will be a biggie!
Thanks for all the awesome reviews!!
~J. J
_______________
She had no idea how many hours had passed.
Time was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that. . .
Bulma whimpered as the thought flodded through her brain again, washing away all hope, draining all courage. She wanted to ignore it, wanted to pretend that it wasn't true. Yet, it was.
Vegeta was dead.
She could not feel him through the Bond that they shared. She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but there had always been a faint sensation humming pleasantly at the back of her mind, reminding her of him in every way, reminding her that he was there. . . and alive.
Now, that feeling had been torn from her. Yanked violently from her mind like a severed wire. It had hurt, she realized. It had hurt her physically. Where the sensation had once been present, there was now a dull burning feeling. It felt like empty, lifeless fire searing away at her temples. But the pain in her head could not compare to the pain she felt at losing him.
What had happened, out there? What was the massive shape that had come straight at the ship? Even stranger was the blue, white-hot light that had pulsated from where Vegeta had walked. She had assumed it to be him powering up, at first. That thought that whipped through her for a split second before the object had hit. Yet, she had seen Vegeta power up. His aura was blue. . . but had never turned white. It had become so brilliant before the hit, that Bulma had thought, crazily, that it had turned golden.
Something dripped off in the corner, a few feet from where she lay. She was lying on her back, in the same position she had been in when she had realized that Vegeta was gone. The walkie-talkie was still clutched in her hand, although now there was no static. Only dead, eerie silence from the other end. She tried not to think about how that had happened. She didn't want to consider, just yet, what exactly lay outside the doors of the ship. Not yet.
Sparks flew and random machinery shortcircuted inches from her body. An oily substance coated her hair, and she could feel blood oozing thick from a gash in her forehead. She was cold, but that didn't matter. She was bleeding, but that didn't matter, either. What mattered was that the only person she had ever truly loved was dead, leaving her to die alone on a broken ship in the middle of the universe, her belly filled with his child.
Bulma's eyes snapped open. Child. Baby.
She cried out as she sat up. Too fast, she thought, as she went down again. Blood rushed to her head in a sudden river, and she cried numbly at the pain of it. Her body screamed at her unwilling to get up just yet. She panted for breath and wipped the sweat from her eyes.
In the trauma of it all, she had forgotten about the baby.
Bulma felt sudden rage boil up inside of her. How could she have been so stupid? So pathetic? Lying here for hours, in a pool of oil, blood, and Kami knew what else, while her baby stirred within her? How could she have been so selfish? Thinking only of herself. . . despairing when there might yet be hope. Tears ran from her eyes. She felt ashamed of herself for being so useless. Vegeta would have scoffed at her. He would have been terribly insulted, to think that she cared naught for their child, and only for despair. The ship might yet be able to get her home, or at least somewhere. She -did- have something to live for. Her fingers touched her belly gingerly.
She had his child to live for.
Bulma knew she had to get up. She struggled slowly into a sitting position, waiting a moment for her head to feel somewhat normal. If she was going to get anything done, she had to check a few things first. "Spider?" Bulma called after a moment into the darkness. Her voice had a somewhat human semblance again, nothing like the strange, hoarse noise that she had screamed hours ago. "Spider! Boy. . . can you hear me?"
She hadn't heard a noise from the Roctorn. She hadn't been listening. Up until now, Bulma had only been able to think of Vegeta. Now, she felt a twinge of pain bubble up in her throat at the thought of the Roctorn being dead. He had saved her life, for the second time. How could she have forgotten about him?
"Spider!" She cried.
A shifting movement alerted her attention. "Spider? Are you OK, boy?" Bulma cried hopefully. She peered into the shadows, flinching when something near her exploded and sent a wire whipping around in the air inches from her. Crying out, she darted away from the wire and began to crawl toward the Roctorn.
A low, piteous whimpering led her to him. Crawling on hands and knees, Bulma stopped as her hand touched fur. Fur matted thickly with blood. Suddenly sobbing, she wrapped her fist in his fur and pulled herself to the giant, furry creature, not caring that he was covered in blood and grime. She pressed her face into his side and cried, her body shaking with shock and emotional trauma. After a moment, Spider laid his massive head gently on her own, cradling her to him with one giant paw. Touched by the gesture, Bulma clutched her friend closer.
She allowed herself only a moment of tears. "You're gonna be OK, boy." She said, forcing herself to pull away from him and face the harsh reality that her friend may indeed be dying. "You'll see. I promise."
She could see his grizzled head peering at her, his golden-red eyes wide with fright and. . . Bulma bit her lip and swallowed back a lump as it dawned on her. Despite the fact that Spider was most probably dying, the only thing he cared about was ensuring her safety. Worry for her, and an intense loyalty, shone in the Roctorn's eyes. He growled low as he struggled to stand. Bulma ignored the way his hind legs lay limp behind him.
"Spider, you just stay there. I'll make you better. Don't you worry, I'll have. . . " she trailed off, covering her hand to her mouth when she saw the extent of his injuries.
A long, smooth slab of metal insulation from the roof of the ship had been jarred loose. . . and slammed into Spider's back. Blood bubbled from the wound, which Bulma could tell was very deep. Nearly deep enough to reach the Roctorn's spine.
Yet. . .
Perhaps not.
Hope. Bulma forced the word into her head. Hope. She repeated it like a mantra as she kneeled before the furry beast and thought about what she was about to do.
"Hold on, boy." She said softly, preparing herself.
Her hands reached out and she felt along the metal for a dull grip. Bulma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Spider seemed to realized what she was doing, and he lowered his head and closed his eyes, too. She could feel his muscles tense as she took a firm grip on the piece of metal, planted her feet apart, wrapped her fingers tightly around it. . .
And pulled.
Spider roared in pain and Bulma shot backward, landing on her bottom. She had succeeded. The piece of metal clanked to her side as she scrambled back toward Spider, frantically searching for something to cover the wound with. Blood began to hemmorhage from the wound, and Bulma pressed her hands tightly around it, desperately thinking for a solution.
Spider whimpered. His eyes fluttered once, and then closed. Blood seeped through her fingers, the surge of it very powerful. Spider was alive, but if Bulma didn't do something about the bleeding, he wouldn't be for long.
"Hold on boy!" She whispered fiercely into his ear.
Their were blankets in the bedrooms and a first-aid kit in the closet. But both of those items were downstairs.
Was there even a downstairs left?
Bulma knew the ship had to be intact for it to still be in the air, and running. Whatever had happened outside, it hadn't been enough to completely destroy the ship. If she could make it to the basement, to where the first- aid kit was in the closet, then she could get bandages, gauze, and pins. There was a very good chance that she might step on the wrong piece of floor, and fall right through. The ship wasn't stable enough.
She looked down at the wound on Spider, the blood seeping from her fingers. She didn't know if Ghost was alive. Right now, Spider was her only chance. If something was. . . outside, then Spider was her only defense. Without him, her chances of survival were much slimmer. She felt tears spring to her eyes. But more importantly, Spider was her friend. He had saved her life nearly three times since she had met him. She was not going to let him die.
She decided. Ignoring the fierce pain in her left leg, Bulma forced herself up. She would do no good sitting here, waiting for Spider's blood to drain. Limping, she started toward the cabin door, where she saw only darkness. The long hallway ahead of her loomed, eerie and shadowed. Sparks flew and things clattered to the floor. Water dripped. Bulma felt her heart hammering in her chest.
Could she do this?
She had to.
Steadying herself, and taking one last look at Spider, Bulma took one step gingerly into the hall. She pressed down experimentally on the floor with her leg. It held. Sucking in a breath, she placed her good hand on the doorframe and took the other step. It held, again. The ship groaned and shifted under her, and she felt the floor beneathe her tilt at an odd angle. Bulma whimpered, closing her eyes tightly. Her resolve dissipated.
Don't be a fool, woman. You aren't in any shape to be a coward.
Bulma gasped. She knew she had only imagined the words, but they gave her enough strength. The words stung, but they also brought hope. And tears. She brought her hands down to her sides and made a fist, bracing her legs against the steady tilting of the ship beneath her. Abandoning all fear, and embracing all her Hope, she set her jaw determindley.
Then she ran.
________________
An hour had passed. Spider's wound was tended to and the bleeding had slowed. The wound had not gone as deep as Bulma had first estimated. The Roctorn's breathing was shallow and quick, but that he was breathing was all that mattered. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, Bulma lay against the beasts side, her head rising and falling with each breath he took.
Ghost had survived the ordeal. Bulma had found him upon returning to Spider. The little Cheribullum had found it's wounded friend, and had grieved beside him as she had applied salve, gauze, and bandages. Bulma had been very relieved to see that Ghost had survived. He was curled against her stomach, now, fast asleep. She wished she could do the same.
She had went through so much trauma in the last few hours that Vegeta's death hadn't truly sunk in yet. That she had something to live for, her baby, was the only thing that made it tolerable. "Where are you?" She whispered into the darkness, her hand on her belly. Tears pooled in her eyes, and for the first time since the crash, Bulma curled her head into her chest, hugged herself, and cried.
Torrents of tears came, and didn't seem to stop. For every tear that fell, another memory of Vegeta would replace it with another. His smirk. His eyes. The way he had blushed furiously when they had first found Ghost. The tenderness with which he had held her in the bathtub, when she was near death. The feel of his skin against her own. The way he constantly insulted her, but made her feel more like a Princess than any other woman alive.
She shuddered as a heart-wrenching sob shook her.
The way he loved her.
Ghost seemed to sense her need for comfort, and wiggled his little arms against her in a half-hearted attempt to warm her heart. Bulma needed it, and held him tightly to her. If she was going to get through this, she needed to still her tears and start making something happen. She was a smart woman. She was a brave woman. She had been through worse. . . hadn't she?
She'd thought, a long time ago, that she was invincible. Vegeta had only made her feel more strongly about that. If she could make the world's most cold-hearted and indifferent man feel Love, then she should feel invincible, shouldn't she? Bulma smiled at that thought, her first smile in hours. She could do it. She could repair the ship. She could help herself.
And yet. . .
The terrifying possibility that she could end up stuck on the ship, floating through space endlessly, waiting to die, was very real. She scrunched up her face and tried not to think about it. She had come to realize that obsessing over the negative things in life didn't do anyone any amount of good. Chin up, Bulma. She thought. Stare the world in the face. Use your brains. Stop those tears.
Make Vegeta proud.
A cynical giggle escaped her lips as she contemplated Vegeta being even prouder than he had been before.
"Spider?" She whispered into the darkness. She touched his fur gently. He felt warm, which was a good sign, and his breathing was slowly starting to return to normal. She gently took Ghost from his seat in her lap and sat him next to the Roctorn, and stood up. She needed to get her ass in gear. Wiping her hand across her face, she decided her first order of business was food.
She was pregnant now, which meant she was eating for two. If any repairs on the ship could be done, they would take days. Perhaps even a week or two, since she would be working from scratch and by herself. The four remaining boxes of bulk food would need to last her.
And. . .
Bulma turned and looked back at her two beloved friends. What about Spider? What would he and Ghost eat?
She closed her eyes at the dreaded thought. It would be foolish to starve herself for two animals that would not live for many more years. Especially when one was already wounded, and ate enough for five. They were her friends, but she was more important. She had a child to live for. She had a baby within her to protect.
Ghost and Spider had enough food to last them a while, too. Bulma and Vegeta had decided that when they would return to Earth, the Cheribullum and the Roctorn would most definetely adjust to human/dog food quite quickly. It was not much unlike their own from R'haksin.
She balled her hand into a fist. A week, tops. That was how long the food would last her. She would have to work day and night, but conserve enough strength to stay healthy for herself and the baby.
Bulma took a step over to the control pannel. Most of the circuit board was intact, but badly damaged. The radar and communication screens were in working order. If any ships were to pass by her, she would appear on their Radar, as they would on hers. It was her only hope of being rescued. If the ship's energy ran out, the communication would fail her. She was standing inside a pitch black ship. Any passing space craft would assume it a Ghost Ship, lights out and no responding communication. A life-scan could always be preformed, but not many ships would go so out of their way on a small, insignificant traveller.
Indeed, she had to work fast.