Chapter 3 - Unsettled
Hearing Raditz chastise him wasn't something new to Vegeta. In fact, all their lives it was a constant quarrel between them over where their allegiances rightly lie. Without Nappa to mediate, it would be a certainty that Saiyans would have gone extinct by them turning on each other. Mediation it seemed could only go so far this time; when Vegeta returned to their shared quarters looking the way he did, Nappa knew immediately that whatever torment the Ginyus attempted this time had struck a nerve most deeply. Nothing Nappa said could muster a response from him, and Raditz had that look of dread that he tries to hide when he feels like he might be spending time in the hole again; tail twitching, eyes averting their gaze, foot bouncing, daring not to unclench his fists.
Presently, his broken arm, now sore and braced in cast, served only to remind him of his wretchedness. 'Father would be so disappointed. And mother…' Before he could let himself feel the emotional consequences, a presence nearby caught his attention. Holding an IV bottle in one hand while slowly walking up to him came his rescuer. It shamed him even more when he noticed the lesser gravitational pull and how she struggled to keep herself upright. The last thing he had intended was to drag anyone else into his self righteous rampage, but alas, here she stood, looking at him entirely too trustingly.
"I should really take an x-ray of that arm, just in case." She leaned against the wall, pale and bloodied, looking frightfully frail.
"You look like you need it more than I do," he replied, secretly meaning it. He could not bring himself to look at her, unsure why the sight of her bruised and battered evoked indescribable emotional unrest within him. He was still weary of her, sure. She looked harmless enough, frail, even. Her gait was unsteady, and her pulse sounded almost thready. Even her gaze seemed unfocused, no doubt from the blood loss and shock. Sneering, he wasn't sure if he felt disgust towards her for being so weak, or at himself for being indebted towards her. He couldn't figure out what it was exactly about her that he found aggravating and objectionable. Her voice, perhaps? His face remained surly as he observed her from the corner of his eye.
Sighing, she shifted against the wall and replied, "I'm not taking no for an answer. Besides, I need to run some preliminary tests on all of you before I can decide what to do next."
"We aren't lab specimens for you to probe. And I don't intend on being used for any of your machinations, woman." he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the porthole window that showed nothing but blackness.
"I doubt I could persuade you into doing anything for my benefit nor your own, so have no fear of me exploiting you."
Stealing a glance her way from the corner of his eye, he asked, "Why… do you care us enough to take us onboard to begin with?" Silent she remained, merely shrugging. It startled him in a way he couldn't understand. "I don't need your charity, fanash. I don't need your pity either," he spat bitterly, the hurt in his bones literally pulsating with every slighted heartbeat.
"No, it's not pity, and it certainly isn't charity. I'm expecting reimbursement from all three of you eventually for the provisions I've made. For now, you can start by not wandering off just yet."
On the subject of repayment, he had nothing to add, knowing full well that he and his men owe her one hell of a life-debt. There was enough carnage left at her doorstep in the wake of his rampage defending ghosts, and they only managed to narrowly escape guaranteed extinction with her help. It would be rude to refuse the lady on this simple enough request, though it raised his heckles a little when she leveraged his honour as such in order to gain his compliance.
"What exactly do you have planned for us then?" he asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
"Nothing invasive. An x-ray image of that arm. Full blood workup to make sure none of you are carrying harmful pathogens," she said matter-of-factly. "And once you're all healed, some manual labour; help with repairs, moving cargo and such."
He shuddered at the mention of pathogens, though he did not object. "What kind of cargo, exactly?" he queries, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"I don't see how that's any of your business. For all I know, you're looking for a way back into Frieza's good graces. We'll both heal eventually, but even at full strength, I'll be no match for you lot if you decided to take me hostage and turn me in."
He couldn't fault her for that retort, as it did cross his mind in a brief moment of panic. Staring out the porthole and its infinite blackness as he contemplated his choices, all while wondering why she'd risk herself for the likes of him: self sacrifice was not a luxury affordable to Saiyans, and he struggled to understand her motives as he considered his options, figuring out which one was the least degenerate in terms of consequences; that was never an option given to him before, and to suddenly realize it in the face of kindness for the first time in many years, he nodded but once, gaze averted the entire time.
Not hearing any objection, she beckoned for him to follow her back to the treatment room . Far from a death sentence it may be, his pride roiled at the prospect of being prodded like a lab specimen; it had him thinking, 'what further harm could this weakling alien do to us that we haven't done to each other?'
Upon reentering, he saw Nappa leaning against the wall, Raditz now sitting up, neither one sparing him a glance. The blood trail on the floor slowly disappeared as the cleaner bot went about its designated purpose with a whiz. A quick scan of his arm rendered a sharp and detailed image. She looked at it and inspected it expertly for a moment before finally declaring that the break in his radius and ulna had been properly reset. Making sure that the cast had been fastened securely, she then busied herself gathering the necessary paraphernalia for the blood draw. As their host busied herself setting up her instruments, he stood there among them, awkwardly silent, for words could never convey the weight of all that needed to be said. As such, they remained nonspeaking while the good captain collected her samples and cursed through the five broken needles that resulted between them.
"Your dermal strength is… absolutely astonishing," was all she managed to say as he stared at her while drawing a few vials of his blood. She seemed entirely focused on the scientific process more than anything, eyes never leaving the extraction site. Once extraction had been completed , she slotted the vials into the testing ports on the work bench by the medical supply cabinet. "Full range diagnostic testing on all samples. Rush it," which prompted an affirmative response from the computer. While the machines did its job with the sample, she looked at the sample from the glow worm that she collected. Adding it into an empty testing port, she gave instructions to analyze the sample. A moment of static silence passed before the computer notified her of the results of their blood test.
She looked at the display screen and frowned. A brief moment of scrolling through the data felt like an eternity before she looked back at them. "If I could talk to each and every one of you in private -" she said, but was cut off by Vegeta.
"Just tell us what you found and be done with it," he spat, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he would rather admit.
She looked at the other two and sensed no objection. She shook her head once and looked back at the screen before reading the results aloud. "I don't have exact reference points for your species to compare, but from what I can tell you have an elevated white blood cell count and severe nutritional deficiencies. Some anaemia, and blood markers to indicate that you have some internal parasites." None of them reacted to the news for it wasn't exactly news to them. Lower ranking soldiers in the Imperial Army were often the most neglected. Years of living off scraps and the lack of proper care have resulted in them being reduced to living such wretched lives. Moving close to each of them to wave a scanning device, she continued to read aloud the results of their screening process. "And you," she said as she stopped next to Raditz, "have head lice." She looked at him and could almost make them out along the hairline of his scalp.
She turned to look at them and found that they were eerily quiet, staring off into some unknown distance. It was as though they were stunned, though none of them looked surprised. "I have something that will help you with all of that." The silence took on an awkward quality; she busied herself preparing the necessary medicine, expertly estimating the doses and dividing the pills into dispensing cups before handing it to them. None of them moved, and she handed one cup to Vegeta who suddenly struck it from her hand. "Hey, what was that for?!" she yelled, shaking her hand after that quick swat. He remained deathly still, looking intensely at the floor. 'Perhaps this was a very bad idea,' she thought.
"Apologies on his majesty's behalf, fanash," said Nappa as he stepped up, collecting the scattered pills. Not wanting to say anything more, she threw her hand up and stepped back. Not wanting to acknowledge his distress too much, lest he lashed out any further, she busied herself preparing the other remedies before setting them down next to each of their stockpile.
"Make sure to take the medicine as soon as you can. Also, the medical soap will help rid you of the lice. Once we're done here, the sentry droid will show you to your accommodations."
Placing the pills back into the cup and onto the counter surface, Nappa looked at him and said, "We live another day, Vegeta. In our lifetime, I doubt we get many more of those."
Not waiting for Vegeta, Raditz hopped off the gurney with greater care and grabbed the medicine before tossing them back into his mouth. Nappa did the same, and after a moment of brooding, Vegeta followed suit, albeit with great reluctance and suspicion. Satisfied that they had done what was needed, she turned around and left, glancing back at them one last time before giving command to the droid to chaperone them off. It didn't escape Vegeta's notice that she brought some of the medicated soap back with her. It was an indignity that he wasn't quite sure how to handle, least of all when witnessed by someone who wasn't his superior.
A sentry droid, small and round, weightless in mid air spoke in an automated voice, welcoming them onboard before reciting ground rules: 'Welcome aboard the Helianthus. While onboard, please abide by the following rules… Please remain in general access areas only. Brawls will result in ejection of all involved parties. The galley is available for your perusal, should you require sustenance. …' It seemed patronizing, and he was right to feel insulted, having a mind to crush the damn thing, but that soon gave way unexpectedly as they entered the section of the ship that housed the living quarters which was bright with warm illumination. Three doors opened, each one leading to a sizeable room.
They stood before the doorways, peering into the open space; one cot each, with their own commode and shower unit. The ceiling was a decent space away from the top of Raditz's head, a fact that both he and Nappa were slowly learning to appreciate. Not turning his head, but glancing at the taller two from the edges of his vision, it occurred to Vegeta that this would be the first time in a long while where they had their own separate quarters. For as long as he could remember, they were always assigned to the smallest room where more often than not, one of them would have to take turns keeping watch while the other two slept. It was the only thing they happened to be diplomatic about, strangely enough. This time, fortune seemed to have granted them the favour of privacy.
Raditz did not take much convincing before he went into his room, declaring it to be the best thing to finally put walls between himself and a certain pain in the ass. The door to his quarters closed, and muffled sounds of excitement could be heard through the door. Nappa, ever the worrier, glanced over to his lord, who now stood at the doorway deathly still. Unable to offer neither wisdom nor comfort, he allowed silence to linger before he too retreated to the solitary space he was offered.
Alone in the hallway, he looked around and took in every detail, trying to make sense of his bearings. Solid white walls that reflected the light all over with brilliance, black floors that hummed with latent electronic activity. The room before him stood open, the interior a mixture of gray and black. Unable to resist the calling, he soon found himself under the a very well pressurized shower. After leaving the medicated shampoo in for 5 minutes, he took his time soaking under the warm water before it shut off automatically after 10 minutes. A sound chimed throughout the room, announcing that a delivery droid was at the door. Outside in the corridor, a square bot sat open like a box, and inside were fresh clothes that seemed alien to him; the loose fitting pants with drawstrings and a matching top garment with a hood attached. They were both dark gray and made of something soft: he was certain it would rip if he gripped it too harshly.
After dressing himself and having inspected the room thoroughly, he felt the need to wander about, lest he panics over the feeling of being held captive. Leaving his dirty boots and folded uniform in a corner, he walked barefooted. Just before he opened the door to his room, he heard the bulkhead doors open, followed by her light footsteps. He waited for her to pass and disappeared into another area before daring to venture out. As he walked about trying to familiarize himself with the ship, he thought of the woman who runs this magnificent ship. Bulma, her name was; she struck him as a person capable of disarming a man of his mistrust, and that he worried was her intention. And her ship, the Helianthus. She named her ship after a flower, and the irony of it being a stealth ship did not escape him.
Alone and unsure of where to go from there, he went the opposite way from where he remembered treading. Past the living quarters, he stumbled into what seemed to be the cargo bay, half packed with various crates and holding containers filled with water and various other supplies, each one securely strapped to the floor. The area smelled rich with clues of cargo loads both past and present; water, food supplies, medicine. Beyond that came the workshop and fabrication area. He took his time to appreciate the various tools and instruments mounted securely on the wall. The air here smelled tangy with metallic residue and smoke. The next bulkhead passed brought him to a storage space before the engine deck and reactor unit, which, judging from the red outline around the door, is off limits. To his left, another door stood before him, imposing in size and strangely out of place for where it was situated. He tried opening it by pressing the button on the side, but all that happened was a loud beep, followed by 'entry denied'. He stared at it, trying to figure out what it was behind it that justified it being off limits. Beneath the acrid smell from the machinery, he could smell something else, something he was sure he had encountered before, but the years have blurred between the stench of filth and death for him to be able to remember what it was exactly. There was an odd comfort at the olfactory recall, and that unsettled him enough to abandon his curiosity about the locked door.
Hunger pangs started to catch his notice, and he did remember the captain say something about there being food in the galley. Taking his cue, he walked back from where he came from, looking back once more to the mystery door before the doors closed shut behind him. A curious ship, it was. It didn't take long before he found the galley; it wasn't hard to find, considering the mouth watering smell of food.
A selection screen illuminated the center cabinet doors. He stared at it, trying to figure it out. As he approached, an automated voice greeted him: 'Welcome to the galley: on today's menu, we have… spaghetti with mushroom alfredo, and... vegetarian pizza, and… mushroom and tofu soup. Please state your selection.'
"Hm… soup, huh?" he pondered aloud.
'You have selected… the mushroom and tofu soup,' the display announced. Behind the panels, moving gears and apparatus whirred; a slot beneath the display illuminated and opened up, and a bowl of hot soup slid into the open space on a small conveyor, along with the accompanying cutlery. 'Enjoy your meal,' spoke the disembodied voice.
He stared at the steaming bowl for a good while before fetching it. Situated across from the food dispenser were a couple of tables and chairs, solidly bolted to the floor. He sat at the empty space, and stared across the table for a while. A rare quiet graced his mind as he stared into the bowl, the soup smelling warm and hearty. Most of all, it was fresh and unspoiled. Was it poison? He doubted it; why would anyone put themselves at risk to save them only to kill them after? The woman looked absolutely battered when she unveiled herself to them, and he remembered the drop in his stomach when his suspicion was that it was indeed a female being who came to his aid was confirmed. The sting on his pride felt raw. As such, he threw caution to the wind and drank the soup from the bowl in one go. The bowl clattered onto the table loudly when he let it down not too gently.
A moment passed, long enough for it to have had an effect if it the soup were indeed poisoned. His shame increased tenfold as disappointment came to mind upon realizing that it was in fact merely mushroom and tofu soup. There he remained, stewing in self loathing, alone and disgraced for what felt like hours before he slowly roused, making his way back to his room so that he may find solace in sleep. Hopefully, the dreams will leave him alone for once.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He awoke hours later, immediately aware that the ship had stopped moving. Often, he'd rouse from sleep as soon as his eyes opened, a habit that he had grown into since his forced enlistment into the Cold Army's lower infantry. Today, however, swaddled in clean sheets in a warm room, his felt as close to rested as he had in years: he was reluctant to leave the bed just yet. Instead, he stared dead ahead at the bottom of the overhead storage spaces above his bunk space, yesterday's turmoil seemingly far away were it not for the sling on his arm. For most of his life, he served as an enslaved soldier at the foot of a tyrannical master. The one thing that he knew was constant was the state of hardship, deliberately imposed onto them as a reminder of their wretchedness. It was a strange sensation to be where he was, without the sense of urgency of being at the beck and call of his tyrant master. Just as his thoughts drifted, the sound of women talking outside grabbed his attention. He sat up, and focused on the voices.
"You lift your shirt right now or I'll lift it for you, goddammit." A brief silence followed before the unknown woman spoke again: "You look like you've been hit by a fucking truck, for fuck's sake!"
He heard Bulma speak, but in a much softer tone, and could barely make out the words. "I told you, I'm fine," replied stood up and silently moved closer to the door to hear better.
"Did they have anything to do with this? If this bald fucker had anything to do with what happened to you, I swear -"
"No, fanash, we did not harm her," he heard Nappa respond. He didn't appreciate the fact that he and his men were suspected of harming the woman, so he opened the door with an angry slam of the button. The doors whooshed open, and in the corridor, he saw a blonde woman who stood hands on her hips, radiating anger. Good ol' Nappa remained impassive, his face neutral.
Bulma stood against the wall, still as frail as when he saw her last, but a lot less bloody. The bruises on her face and shoulder, however, stood out more than ever in the absence of blood. She looked at him with tired eyes and a faint smile on her lips. "You look well rested." The blonde woman turned to face him and narrowed her eyes. She did nothing to hide her surly disposition, arms now crossed across her chest. She huffed as she turned her attention back to Bulma, her expression softening, concern written all over her face.
Ignoring her blonde companion, she pushed herself off the wall, struggling not to wobble. "I told you, I'm fine. Look, I have it all on video -"
"Yeah, I don't care what happened," rebuked the blonde, "I just know that you having two extra passengers onboard is the direct result of why you look like a plum for how much you're bruising right now. I don't need complications right now, Bulma."
"Three, actually. The other guy was bleeding all over the ship, it took the cleaner bots a good four hours to sanitize everything. He's probably still sleeping it off," she replied in a nonchalant manner.
Exasperated, the blonde threw her hands up and turned around in frustration before palming her face. She shook her head and sighed, knowing that she won't win this round. Her face was set once more with a determined look, no doubt keeping this in mind for later. "Right, then." She stepped up to Vegeta, defiant, territorial almost, eyeing him closer for a moment before turning her head to Bulma. "Did you screen them?"
"Yes, all clear. This is Launch by the way. Launch, that is Vegeta, this is Nappa," she said while gesturing with her bandaged hand. Launch's glare never died down, and Vegeta stared back with equal intensity. Bulma raised an eyebrow before pushing off of the wall and shuffling away.
"And just where are you going?!" asked Launch, displeased that she was left with barely an explanation of events prior, now having to share a ship with three strangers.
"I'm going to see of the if my liver has stopped bleeding!" she said with a dismissive wave, disappearing past the doors.
The blonde fury's scowl never eased as she eyed the two of them wearily, her fists tightened painfully for a moment before clicking her tongue and folding her arms. She let off a hiss as she turned and paced the corridor at a leisurely pace. "Don't let her trusting candor fool ya, I know trouble when I see it, and I am not one to sugarcoat the bullshit." She turned to face them with a side eye that was practically razor sharp.
Despite his simmering malcontent and the insult of being accused of having hurt her companion, the last shreds of reason stayed Vegeta's hand from lashing out, least of all because he was curious about where this new place was, and what fate awaited him and his men after his latest act of insubordination. Being on the run was never something he was comfortable with. "Saiyans never run," he remembered his father once telling him. That being said, crawling back to the tyrant was out of question, no matter how much Raditz insisted on relying on their mercy. The Colds have absolutely none.
Before neither of the Saiyans could think of a retort, a door opened, and out stumbled a very dishevelled Raditz, out of uniform and bleary eyed. It only registered that Nappa too had changed out of his armor, and that they were all wearing similar gray garments. Seeing the third Saiyan, Launch rolled her eyes as though stung by vapours of disdain. "I better not hear about any trouble, or else…" she warned ominously before glaring hard at Raditz, who was still groggy with sleep and injury, before marching off to find her comrade; he blinked sleepily as she held his sight before she too disappeared behind the bulkhead doors.
Not sparing his fellow soldiers a second glance, Vegeta turned back to the solitude of his room. Raditz, now hungry and acutely aware of how his midsection ached but craving food all the same, ignored all the conflict that seemed to bother everyone else in search of food, with Nappa tagging along behind him, shaking his head as he walked along.
Meanwhile, in the infirmary, Bulma sat on the gurney, eyes fixed on the images of her scans, noting that her liver laceration had yet to stop bleeding. Bad news, as it meant that she would need to stay indoors, where the gravity was and where the atmospheric pressure remained constant lest she bled out further. The doors opened, and a very annoyed Launch walked in.
Neither of them spoke as the blonde picked up her tablet and started scrolling through its contents, replaying the footage of the incident that rendered her friend black and blue. "I haven't been able to get a clear signal to The Strand for over twelve hours now and I'm starting to worry. All I have is this garbled message that I think Yamcha sent but I can't understand a single word he's saying. And you, you come back with strays in tow, late as all hell looking like you'd just walked away from a goddamn train wreck."
Always the logical one, Bulma reassures her, "It's possible that there is some interference making communications impossible. Probably a debris field or some nearby star letting out an EM pulse. It happens sometimes, you know. If you had paid any attention at all in astronomy class, you'd know that space is full of disruptive forces."
Not liking that her worries were being dismissed, she squared up to Bulma and looked her in the eyes. "How are you so calm after basically helping three Imperial soldiers commit treason?"
"I… didn't think of it that way, to be honest." Bulma remained sat, staring at the scanned image of her internal injuries.
"We need to get back to our friends as soon as we can, B. And we can't possibly do it safely with fucking bloodthirsty killer aliens hot on our heels. AND we haven't finished packing the rest of the cargo, which, I might add, will probably take a lot longer now that you're injured."
Sighing, Bulma conceded. "Fine. Break out the extra worker droid from the workshop to help with some of the heavy lifting. Maybe get one of the 'strays' to help out if you see them. I'll try and see if I can clean up that message up and figure out what I can do to restore comms, see what's going on between us and them."
Launch stood before her for a moment longer, arms crossed, wanting to tell her off for her carelessness, but knowing how stubborn Bulma can be, it wouldn't be much good at the present moment. Sighing, she shakes her head and says, "you know, I love that you care about people, and wanting to help people has always been why I think of you as a brilliant soul," she said, leaning over, "but if you ever put us in danger again like this, if you can't stay out of trouble, I swear -"
"I know, I shouldn't have gotten involved. It's just that… it all happened so quickly," Bulma blurted in response. She looked at her friend, who soften a little at that admission.
Not wanting to rub it in any more, Launch backed off. "I'm glad you're OK," she said softly, which earned her a smile in return, before leaving to find the Saiyans, leaving Bulma to work on the video message.
Meanwhile, at the galley, the two taller Saiyans were gathered around the food dispenser. "Huh, I wonder what smells nice," said Nappa. Approaching the display screen, and the same automated message greeted them. Selecting at random, they looked at the bowl of soup with fascination as it appeared on the conveyor before them. "Don't mind if I do!" Nappa exclaimed merrily, sitting at the table in the middle of the room before heartily drinking from the bowl directly. Seeing the older Saiyan consume the food without care or worry, Raditz chose the same option and sat on the opposite side, tucking in with gusto.
The sound of footsteps approaching made them turn to the doorway, where Launch stood with her arms crossed, trying not to look annoyed. "After you're done stuffing your face, find me at the cargo bay and help me move some of the crates. Don't take too long." She didn't wait for a response, merely turning on heel and walking away, leaving the two Saiyans stunned. Nappa quickly mopped up the rest of his soup before getting up, ready to help. Begrudgingly, Raditz finished his soup, trying to take his sweet time, but there wasn't much soup left. He got up to get a second bowl, eating at an unnaturally slow pace before finishing that bowl off as well. Eventually, he did get up to find Nappa and see what it was that he was doing.
Loading the cargo would normally take hours, but with Saiyans' help, it took barely 30 minutes, which impressed Launch quite a bit, though she would rather not admit it out loud. The worker bot wasn't even necessary, as Nappa lifted the crates with ease and placed them wherever she told him to. They were halfway done when Raditz decided to join them, and by the time they were done, Launch stood at the empty depot with her hands on her hips, nodding her head approvingly. 'Perhaps they weren't such freeloaders after all', she thought.
After making sure that everything was secure, she dismissed the Saiyans and went on to look for Bulma, who was now on the flight deck. She had her back turned to her, and did not notice Launch as she approached. "How's it going?" she asked. As soon as Bulma turned around, she could tell that something was amiss.
"Listen to this," said Bulma, as she played the message back for her. "I cleared up as much as I could, and the end of it is irretrievable, but I managed to get about 10 seconds of audio before everything gets scrambled up."
As soon as she hit play, Yamcha's distressed voice was clearly discernible through the static, panicked and in a hurry. "I hope you get this, guys. It's messed up over here, you won't believe what's happening… emergen… We're evacuating and relocating to the backup location. I don't know if you guys know about this but there's… things went down, and… I don't know how much longer I can transmit, the signal is getting weake-" The message abruptly cut off as the static noise became deafening.
"I scanned that quadrant and it seems that the closest star to The Strand went supernova," Bulma said quietly. She didn't offer much else after, which was unnerving.
"But you said that it wouldn't go supernova. You were sure of it."
"All scans indicated that it wouldn't. I'm sure of it. I even brought up the recent survey scans; it's stable, there's enough hydrogen and helium to sustain fusion for at least another ten thousand years-"
"I don't care what the scans say, it fucking exploded and our friends are potentially missing," Launch responded, perhaps a bit too harshly.
"He said they were all evacuating to the backup location," Bulma replied reassuringly. "Surely, they made it out? I couldn't find any signs of The Strand in that area… not one single capsule unit. Maybe they did managed to get out."
"Then that's where we're headed. We should leave now," Launch said, immediately strapping into the seat next to Bulma's. "You good to travel, yeah?" she asked.
Nodding, Bulma followed suit, taking her seat before making a ship wide announcement. "This is the captain. We are responding to an SOS emergency and will be departing in 2 minutes. I suggest that all hands report to the flight deck ASAP and strap in before I put this ship at warp speed."
"I say we just punch it and go, I doubt if they'd even flinch. You should see how easily they lifted all the crates just now, I didn't even have to get the worker bot," Launch said casually.
"I did say 2 minutes. If they're not here in 2 minutes, then I guess that's up to them," Bulma replied, busying herself with a quick pre-flight check. Launch scoffed and rolled her eyes. When none of the Saiyans turned up, she shrugged and told Bulma to take off, which she gladly did.
There were a lot of debris in space, and avoiding them at top speed while on autopilot was more than her current set up could handle. The morphine hooked up to the IV pump ran out an hour before reaching their destination; as they approached, Bulma had her left hand doing most of the work. As such, she spent the remainder of the journey in agony, her right hand wrapped in a stiff ball of gauze and bandages, her left shoulder aching against the strap that kept her anchored to the chair while her uninjured hand worked the buttons and levers. Her abdomen felt absolutely tender. At a lower speed, it would have been possible for autopilot to take them there. The only downside was that the ship could only go so fast without her maneuvering it. The headache from her bruised jaw felt almost unbearable, throbbing with every heartbeat. Determined to reach her friends, she pushed through the pain.
Nappa suddenly appeared behind her, and it surprised her how unfazed he seemed by the high speed at which they travelled. Looking at him from the corner of her eyes from where she sat, Bulma could only raise her eyebrows, surprised but pleased at the sight of her alien passenger unfazed by the elevated gravity levels. Gravity correction technology could only take off so much of the forward force; as such, she remained sat, pale and clammy.
"Need anything, q-ball?" asked a nonchalant Launch. Nappa seemed hesitant to speak at first, looking at Bulma, as though worried.
Shaking his head, he replied, "I come to see if you need my assistance."
"We're good here, but you're welcome to stick around," Launch replied simply, focused on nothing but getting to where they needed to get to. Seeing that he wasn't exactly dismissed, he merely stayed where he stood.
Arriving at their final destination, Bulma sighed, eager to be done and over with it. "We're within close range scanning distance, dropping out of FTL warp… now." The gravity leveled out as Bulma brought the ship to a halt, engaging all the scanning instruments as quickly as she was able, and watched the monitors as they relayed the relevant information. She looked at the readings on the monitor with bated breath - only to be left breathless. 'Signal not found.' Shaking her head, she scanned the area again, boosted her instruments to maximum… only to come up with the same result. 'Signal not found.'
"What the fuck?" Launch swore.
Checking to make sure that they were where they were supposed to be, that the instruments weren't malfunctioning, that the sensors weren't damaged or obstructed, Bulma frantically worked the problem, reaching for a solution to the situation, only to come up short. She stared at the monitors, then out the forward porthole, seeing nothing but dark space stretching out infinitely.
Once more, the bio-cuff beeped a warning: '! blood pressure warning - 92/59 ! BPM 143 !' She struggled with the belt straps, hand shaking. Launch's cussing rang in her ears as she stood and turned around. Before she could take a single step, she felt herself fall, but she never touched the ground. Her vision blurred and faded in and out of black. Before she realized, she was carried to the infirmary, Launch's stern and commanding voice sounding far away.
She wasn't sure how long she was out for. Coming to, another IV bag had been attached to the bio-cuff, the latest scans indicating that the liver laceration had worsened. Nappa's bald head bobbed at the edge of her vision, as he stood at the foot of the gurney.
Launch hovered next to her, looking grave. It was that look she always had before having to share bad news. "You should see this," was all she said, before handing her a work console.
It took a while before her eyes could properly focus, but once she read what was on display, all she could do was curse one solitary cuss word. "MARTIAL LAW DECLARED IN ALL COLD EMPIRE TERRITORY. ALL TRAVELLERS BETWEEN COLONIES TO BE SUBJECT TO INSPECTION." Letting the tablet rest on her stomach, she stared at the lights above her, feeling the weight of the situation in its entirety. She couldn't hear a single word Launch was saying. All she could focus on is how exhausted she truly felt, desperately wishing that she would just pass out as soon as possible.