Disclaimer: yah yah, same old, same old, blah blah blah.
The Perfect Flaw
Chapter IV
"How the hell could anyone have gotten into that room?" Semuld snapped, turning his head to scold his men that lagged behind him. He swore, sometimes he just wished he could run the control center by himself; these men they called Second Class were morons. Sometimes he felt he could do a better job without them.
They stopped before the main room's door, the guards' worry rising. What if there was someone in there? What that mean for them? They would be considered failures of their duty, and would most likely be banished by both their families and from Second Class. Death would be of less shame.
Their identical thoughts came to a sudden end as the aluminum door slid open, granting them access to an empty room. They sighed in relief, thankful for the fact that it may have been all in their imagination. And even though they would still be punished for putting the Commander through all this trouble, it sure beat getting stripped of their rank. Skeptically Semuld entwined his beefy fingers behind his back as he entered the seemingly empty room. Like a tiger, his eyes wandered the area, searching for anything that may have been suspicious, unaware of the invisible woman who had ducked beside the table.
What were the chances of someone as young as she having a heart attack? Bulma hoped they weren't high, because she sure felt as though she were about to have one.
That had been so close, it wasn't even funny.
She had a pretty good hunch that her invisibility device was about to die, considering how its power had just flickered a moment ago, leaving her visible for a split second. Frantically she'd repeatedly pressed the button, ecstatic when it finally complied. She then had dove from the chair and huddled impotently beside the table, feeling an inexplicable fear rush through her as the door slid open to reveal the exact person she'd been trying her best to avoid.
Commander Semuld.
Heartless and cruel; maybe even as cruel as the Prince himself. He cared for nothing except power, merciless even to his own flesh and blood. Rumor had it that his son, Private Airnu, had been serving under him and had failed a mission. His punishment: dying by the hands of his own father.
All she could make out were his gold-tip boots as they stalked into the room. As he stopped a few inches away from her, Bulma could feel her fear multiply tenfold, and she wondered if Semuld and the other Saiyans could perhaps hear her heartbeat that now beat with no control or comforting rhythm. It thumped hard against her ribs, as if trying to escape itself.
But she knew, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she couldn't stay there all night. She had to make a move. Tentatively she climbed silently to her feet, relieved when the Commander continue to focus his attention elsewhere. It was the strangest feeling, being right there, just a few feet away from one of the strongest Saiyans alive besides Royalty, being just feet away from her death.
She chose the wrong time to take a step: she should have taken it sooner. Just then, Semuld turned in her direction. Bulma's eyes grew wide in fright and as though her feet were glued to the floor, she found she couldn't move. Instead she continued to live her nightmare, watching in dread as he walked slowly forward, extending a gloved hand toward her chest.
She found her strength abruptly at that moment, just before she could feel his fingers on her face, and swerved to the right, just narrowly missing his touch. She observed as he continued to reach out even though she wasn't there anymore, until he came to pile of papers that lay upon the table.
It was time to go. Now. The ship would be ready for her when she got there, coordinates and all, and she didn't want the risk of anybody discovering it was open, even if it was unlikely. Hurriedly yet carefully she absconded through door and down the hallway, assuring herself that she was almost there, and soon she'd be home free.
Meanwhile, back in the room, Semuld came upon a finding, something that caused his lips to form a tight line in displeasure. The pile of documents, the documents which he had organized so carefully and so perfectly, were mussed. One even lay on the floor. "Someone was here." His eyes narrowed. "And I'm going to find out who."
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Almost there. Almost there!
She sprinted now, elated as the row of spherical, white pods came into plain view. She was finally there, so close to escaping, so close to being free! She had one minute until launching: plenty of time.
She stopped beside the pod, once again hearing faint, angry voices from down the hall she'd come. Her attention was then drawn to the white flicker below her, which she immediately recognized. Oh no— oh no— not now! There she was, her coat, her arms, her legs, all for planet Vegeta to see.
Not sparing another worried glance behind her, she nearly leaped for the pod door, unsatisfied with the speed at which it opened. "Come on, you piece of shit! Open for the love of God!" She found it useless to keep quiet any longer; they already knew she was there.
As she braced her arms on the slick outside of the pod and ducked into the small opening, she could make out running foot steps that echoed behind her. Instinctively she turned her head, gasping when she saw the three Saiyans turn the corner of the hall, including Commander Semuld. His eyes widened in shock. "Stop! Don't you dare get in that pod!"
Bulma felt near tears as she sprung into the ship, praying to whoever was out there that she was safe now, now that the door had shut.
"I said 'Stop', you bitch!" thundered Semuld as he skidded to a stop to extend his open palm. When he saw her face in that tiny window, staring back at him with a look of smug victory, that's when he lost it. Unscrupulously he rid of his rage, allowing it to escape through his hand in a myriad of consecutive beams. They hit it head on, leaving Semuld unsatisfied when they appeared to be of no effect to the impervious space-pod. Unfazed by his attacks, it then took off in the blink of an eye, vanishing into the depths of space.
"Sir, those pods are ki-proof!" Drekkun stated stupidly, oblivious to the blunder he'd just made.
"I know that, dammit!" came the defensive response as Semuld spun around, releasing another army of powerful blasts that hit Drekkin square in the chest. A fog of smoke formed around the attack, leaving the smaller guard shocked by the Commander's temper as he slowly backed away.
And when the smoke cleared, nothing but ash remained.
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She . . .couldn't believe it. She was free. She was really free.
Bulma now lay within the comfortable chair within the pod, savoring the feel of something else besides her rundown mattress beneath her back. She stared through the small window in front of her, taking in the vast blackness that enveloped her like a sea of night waters.
She'd really done it, hadn't she? She was really going to see her father; her Earth. Mark had told her of vast lands of green and luscious trees that soared to the sky and yellow sun. She'd always dreamed of seeing it; now her fantasy was going to come true.
"Destination: Sector 7, Earth," the computer stated in monotone. "Time of arrival: 23 hours and 14 minutes."
Wow. Good thing she'd brought food and water with her. What the hell was she supposed to do for a whole day? What if she had to go to the bathroom?
A sudden, unnerving thought crossed her mind: would they follow her? Would they go through bunches of trouble, just to track one slave down? Why would they? What would be the point? They could live without the Great Bulma Brief's inventions, couldn't they? Were they that helpless without her?
She also couldn't help the pang of guilt in her stomach. She couldn't help but feel guilt for not telling Mark, leaving him to probably start worrying about her, the hope of them being together being crushed into dust. Also for every other slave on Vegeta. Why was she the only one that deserved to be free? While she was off to start a new life, they were still trapped on that planet, suffering every minute of every day. Even though Bulma knew there was nothing she could have done, she still felt this weight of guilt heavy on her tired shoulders.
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"Sire."
Urgently Commander Semuld marched into the Throne Room, kneeling before his King upon the red carpet. He didn't find it fair that he had to take the blame for his men's actions; they were the ones who had failed their guard duty. He just hoped the King would forgive him. "There's— er— been an escape, your Majesty."
King Vegeta straightened in his throne, shooting the Commander a questioning glare as a silent command to continue. Meanwhile the Prince stood stiffly beside him, just having finished an interesting conversation with his father. The King had accused him of being spoiled, which had been very displeasing to young Vegeta's ears. He then had found he and his father wasting the following minutes bickering uselessly, when he could have been training. He was grateful for the Commander's interruption.
Semuld reluctantly continued. "One of the slaves— well— somehow she found out the password for the space-pods— and— er— escaped. She'd heading for Sector 7, Sire."
Prince Vegeta listened with mild interest. "Well why don't you just change the coordinates in the system to direct her back here?"
Semuld hesitated, wondering whether or not he should answer the question. "I can't," he said, his voice soft with shame. "She's hacked into the system and made it so I can't change the coordinates. It would take at least a couple of days before I could fix it."
The Prince broke the silence with a dry laugh. "The sly bitch!"
"What I'd like to know," the King began darkly, ignoring his son's remark, "is how she was able to make it past the guards in the first place?"
The Commander hesitated again. "I-I'm not sure."
King Vegeta then leaned back, rubbing his beard as he pondered the situation. "Well I think we can all agree that we've underestimated some of our slaves' abilities, now haven't we?"
"What do you propose we do, Sire?"
Another silence followed as the King sat in his pensive position, his eyes squinted in deep thought. Semuld waited patiently for his answer, just thankful that his Lord wasn't entirely angry with him. Abruptly he straightened once again, signaling his decision. "Bring her back here."
"S-sire?" The Commander hadn't expected this. He'd been expecting more of a "Set some stricter limits for those insolent slaves. Show them their place!" kind of suggestion. Instead he'd suggested this, much to Semuld's surprise.
Meanwhile Prince Vegeta shared in the Commander's shock, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Why bother, father?" he asked sharply, his tone making it obvious that he thought the older Saiyan had finally gone senile. "It's just one slave that escaped. It's not like there's a flock of them scheming ways to get past the system. Just let the desperate girl be. It'd be a wasted effort."
The King turned to his son with a cold glare. Sadly, Vegeta was too familiar with it to be fazed. "Oh, but there will be flocks, my boy," he explained venomously. "You see, if this one slave escaped— news does spread quickly, and next thing we know, a plethora of slaves will follow in her footsteps, wondering why they can't be free as well."
The Prince shrugged. "So? Just kill them."
"Ah, but if we do that," he continued, wagging his gloved finger wisely as though he were speaking to a child, "then we're going to have to kill a lot of slaves. And do you know how expensive some of them are, considering the fact we bought them from Frieza?"
In response, the Prince turned his head with a small "hmph!", a stalling until he could think of a good protest.
Feeling a bit out of place with the father-son quarrel, Commander Semuld cleared his throat, catching the King's attention instantly. "So, do you wish for me to send a ship to Sector 7, my Lord?"
King Vegeta did not answer right away. Instead, a wicked smirk formed his lips as he shot his son a sly-eye. "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," he slurred deviously, his smirk broadening as the Prince's gaze snapped to him in suspicion. "My son will be going to fetch the slave."
Appalled, Vegeta's tail tightened around his waist subconsciously, his fists clenching at his sides. "What!"
"You know I think you're a spoiled brat. Do me a favor and leave for a while. Your whining is exhausting."
The Prince ground his teeth at the blatant insult, and in front of the Commander: how dare he! "Why you old fool—."
In the blink of an eye the King stood face to face with his offspring, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I'm still King, whether you like it or not," he pressed through gritted teeth, his voice quiet and menacing. "And as long as I am King, you are the Prince and will follow your father's orders . . . understood?"
Vegeta knew he could have easily fought back with his father. He could have easily protested again and started a possible fight. But to save himself from further embarrassment, his jaws clenched as he struggled in accepting defeat.
The King smiled, recognizing his son's look of surrender. "Good," he commented softly before turning back to Semuld. "You're dismissed, Commander. Make sure to prepare two pods for the Prince."
Vegeta was bewildered anew. "Two pods?" he queried, a trace of dread in his words. He didn't know why he asked; he'd already had a feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"One for you, and one for Kitser."
He barely suppressed the growl. He despised Kitser, who followed him as if he were chained to his heel. No matter what the Prince did, he just couldn't rid of the midget-toad. He couldn't kill the little nuisance due to the fact that it had been a gift from Frieza. And to be perfectly honest, Vegeta had a hunch the lizard had done it just to annoy him, knowing that if he were to kill it, then it could mean serious consequences. "Why Kitser?"
"Do you know how hard it will be to track down that one slave, with her low ki! You'd never find her." His words were so supportive. "Bring him along. He's a scientist. He'll think of something that will help you to pick out her exact life force."
Vegeta ground his teeth; it was all he could do from attacking his father right there. So instead he assaulted the King with his disdain, his glower vowing to making his father pay.
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Kitser grinned as he spotted his Lord, hopping toward him exultingly. "Why hello, M'Lord! What would you happen to be doing on a fine night like this?"
Vegeta rolled his eyes. It was so sweet in his mind. He could imagine himself blasting the toad into oblivion, never having to hear his screeching voice again. The day Kitser shut up, would be the day of the Apocalypse. He'd cut right to the point. "You're coming with me on a mission," he grumbled as the creature jumped to his side.
Kitser gasped with delight. "How wonderful, M'Lord! To where! To where!"
"Sector 7: Earth."
The servant gasped again, a smile forming on his pukish-green lips. "Oh, what a coincidence!" he exclaimed. "That's one of the planets that's said to be a host for the Dragon Balls!"
Vegeta's eyes widened at this. The Dragon Balls, if they existed, were on Earth? And they'd be right there for the taking? Surely they were guarded by someone though, right? If not, it'd be too easy to just take them, and make the wishes that he so longed for. To think, if he had immortality and power, he could rid of that arrogant lizard, Frieza, and his kin; meaning he'd also be able to rid of Kitser. He nearly smirked at the thought. "Really?"
How interesting indeed.
Very well, he'd go to Earth to fetch the fugitive . . .
But he'd make sure to find the Dragon Balls as well.
A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! Although I would like to thank those of you who are reviewing, for your support. Just keep'em coming, and I'll keep updating ASAP.