Chapter 7 – As the Seed Begins to Rise

"Okay, demon woman," started Vegeta, his suspicious, hateful eyes narrowed on her arrogant form. "Let's say you do manage to hide on my person somehow. How exactly will that benefit the mission?"

Surely he wasn't that dense? Or was it that he thought so lowly of his former master that Vegeta honestly didn't have any idea how paranoid most tyrants tended to be?

Hands once more falling to her hips, she returned his glare. "Because unless you know how to enter a computer system and locate hidden files and delete them – including trackers, so that we can remain hidden from Frieza – then you're going to need me."

Bulma knew from his momentary pause that she'd won their little spat and it took a great effort hiding her victorious grin.

"You admitted earlier that you don't understand alien technology," he finally responded. "We will hardly have the time to stand around while you educate yourself."

Turning on her heel, she approached her work table, fingertips grazing one of her inventions. "I've been working on this for months now," she told Vegeta calmly while placing it over her ear and activating it. "I went from the basics, taking apart Raditz's scouter, decoding it and translating everything so that I could understand it."

"Where the hell are you going with this?"

Bulma looked over her shoulder before turning fully, hands on hips and chest pushed out as she showed off her latest invention proudly.

He was unimpressed to say the least.

Rolling her eyes, she gestured towards the green scouter and grinned.

Still, there was no reply.

"I made this myself, asshole," she snapped, uncaring of the results.

"So you made something there's already thousands of," Vegeta snarled in response and folded his arms across his chest. "That doesn't mean you will be able to hack into Frieza's systems."

For such a short man he sure was a whole lot of angry, Bulma inwardly grumbled. Instead of showing her annoyance any further and getting herself beaten up (since Vegeta had already agreed he wouldn't kill her), she removed the scouter and sighed, putting it back down on the workstation.

"The scouters were created by Frieza's men, right?" He nodded. "And they were more than likely the ones who created the systems for Frieza's ships." Again, another nod and she smiled. "Then it'll be a cinch. Once I hack into the system – and by the way, I've been able to hack into stuff since I was nine years old – I'll hook my scouter up to the ship we choose, download the system I modified onto it so that I can understand it, then as soon as I disable the tracker, we can escape."

Not for the first time, his eyes narrowed and she bit back the automatic warning of giving himself wrinkles from scowling so much. "That sounds too simple."

She snorted. "That's because I dumbed it down, stupid saiyan. Would you like for me to go into technical jargon?"

It worried her when he smirked, but he settled said worry when he muttered, "You're either brave or stupid, little human. Usually, a creature as inferior and weak as you would run rather than fight back."

It didn't matter whether he meant it as an insult, because she sure as hell was taking it as a compliment. From what she'd seen and heard of the ruthless prince, Bulma knew that he was cold-hearted and would rather tear a person down than admit they had bested him. She'd expected him to lash out at her for talking down to him as much as she had in the past half an hour alone, but instead, he'd yet again proven her wrong.

"Is that because you hold the controls for this contraption?" he questioned, gesturing to the collar and cuffs. "Do you get off on being an insolent wench because you know I can't kill you?"

Oh.

Oh no.

She was in dangerous territory, wasn't she?

Swallowing, Bulma responded, "Hardly. You could just kill me and take the controls."

He scoffed at that. "Like you're actually carrying it on your person."

"And risk facing you unarmed during a bad mood?" she shot back. "When we've both already established that I can't always control my mouth?"

The hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to stand on end, her body's natural survival instincts warning her that she was most definitely entering dangerous territory. The smartest thing to do in that moment was retreat while she still could, especially now that she had alerted him to the presence of the controller that would grant his freedom being in the room – being on her. But how was she supposed to do that when he was standing between her and the door?

"Is that so?" he muttered, a nasty smirk pulling on his lips.

It was pure instincts that had her stepping back when he moved towards her and Bulma cursed when her back bumped into the workstation. She was trapped and she released a shaky breath as Vegeta closed the distance between them, smirking down on her hatefully, caging her in as his hands came to the station on each side of her body. All she was capable of doing was staring into his eyes, the darkness of them seeming endless, threatening to swallow her whole – like she would never see the light again, should she lose herself in them.

Prior to what she'd previously believed: Vegeta was actually a few inches taller than her and while he was still short, it meant she did in fact have to look up to him, much to her irritation.

She looked up to no-one!

Yet…

A sudden movement on his part (that her mind screamed was absolutely offensive) had her squeezing her eyes shut and her whole body tensing, chanting a prayer to the Gods that had abandoned them so far, hoping they would finally take pity on her.

But nothing happened.

Warily, she cracked an eye open, only to frown at the confusion on his face, his hand remaining outstretched towards her throat.

She swallowed hard, still unable to relax her muscles. One wrong move and she would be dead. It was plain and simple.

"Why won't you use it?"

Her frown deepened. "W-What're you talking about?"

The sound of his fist slamming down onto the workstation right next to her and unsettling her inventions had Bulma flinching and squealing in fright. "Don't play dumb," he snarled at her distrustfully, leaning towards her until their noses were almost touching. "The controls. Why aren't you using them against me if I'm threatening you?"

What was the point? Either he would snatch it away from her before she had the chance to use it or kill her the second it was turned down again. As soon as it was used, it was game over for her and she wouldn't ever be able to get him back on earth's side – if he didn't kill her, that was.

"W-Why would I want to hurt you?" questioned Bulma, unable to think of a single excuse.

"To keep me in line," came his muttered response. Narrowing his eyes further, he stunned her by lowering his head slightly, sniffing her neck. "I can smell the fear on you." Her eyes were wide by the time he met her gaze once more and vaguely, Bulma was so very glad that she had showered earlier. She'd had no idea a saiyan's sense of smell was so freakishly strong. "You could make it so that I can never harm you."

Hardly. If she relied on electrocuting him to keep him in line like he was a dog she was trying to train, then he would attack her the first chance he got. Or abandoned her entirely when she needed him most, leaving her to a fate worse than death. Like he'd said earlier: even Frieza would take an interest in her appearance. Who's to say he wouldn't leave her to face something like that? To be violated and murdered in such a horrific way?

"Do it," he goaded, smirking once more. "Shock me."

Why the hell was he pushing her like that? "Are you a masochist or something?" she demanded, only to shrink back when she expected something harsh in response for her angered words. When there was nothing, she squinted in his direction, frowning when she saw him watching her. "What is it?"

There was a great distrust in his eyes as he regarded her, but how he could see any of her features clearly, Bulma was unsure. She sure as hell couldn't see a thing because of how close they were.

"You purposely piss me off but refuse to use the one thing that could keep you from harm."

It wasn't a question, but she answered him anyway, saying, "I guess I just… don't want to hurt you."

The suspicion increased and she noticed the fists by her sides tightening, making her nervously meet his eye once more. "You said so yourself: I had a hand in your planet's destruction."

Yes, but…

But what? Had it been Chi-Chi in her position, the woman wouldn't have thought twice about using the device on him, leaving it at its highest setting until it eventually killed him in the worst way possible. That or it would leave him in such an undignified mess that he wanted to kill himself – if Vegeta was the kind to succumb to suicide, but purely based on how proud he was, she sincerely doubted it. No, Vegeta seemed more like the kind who would overcome it simply to spite his captor, to then enact his revenge.

Wait.

Pride.

Tipping her chin back with false haughtiness, she said bravely, "I refuse to be the one to break our deal. How pathetic would I look if I couldn't even uphold my side of the deal, especially since you have the toughest part?"

Would it work? Would stroking his seemingly humongous ego really work in her favour? Would it keep him from breaking their deal and killing her for the controller?

"Listen," she said with a sigh, all pretences dropping. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of walking on eggshells around here-"

"Eggshells?"

"Earth saying," Bulma told him and waved her hand dismissively. "What I'm trying to say is that it's getting old fast that I can't be myself around here because I'm too scared that you're going to murder me if I say the wrong thing and piss you off. And I'm tired of Chi-Chi and Gohan hiding away. And I don't want you to think that I'm going to use this thing against you the first chance that I get – chances are, unless you really do turn against us, I won't even use the damn thing." Shrugging, she leaned back against the workstation, meeting his gaze calmly. "I have too much class to lower myself to such cowardly standards – though that doesn't mean I won't do what I have to to defend myself. It's a pretty scary place out there, especially when everyone's got some kind of super strength that I have no hopes in contending with."

Stunning her completely, something that looked akin to respect flashed through his eyes and Vegeta pushed away from the desk, though didn't move any further than that. He continued to watch her closely, head tilting ever so slightly like he was contemplating something – it was similar to the way her father would examine a new invention of hers, only minus the pride.

"Cutting out your useless rambling, you're basically saying that you want to be able to insult me without suffering the consequences."

She copied him when he smirked. "I'd say more freedom of speech."

He turned his back on her and started walking away, saying with a huff of amusement, "Very well."

The next few hours were spent preparing herself for informing Chi-Chi of their plans, for she knew the woman would more than likely explode with disbelieving rage. However, Bulma had an ace up her sleeve that would – without a shadow of a doubt – work in bringing her onto their side and taking part in their ridiculously dangerous plan to obtain a better ship.

Gohan.

Gohan was unknowingly her ace. If all else failed, then she would use the boy to get Chi-Chi on board, either through exaggerating just how old the ship was and how likely it was to break down in the middle of space (leaving them stranded until they all eventually starved to death or suffocated once the oxygen ran out), or she would tell him that they could potentially find a lead on his father. Despicable to get his hopes up, yes, but they couldn't stay on their ship any longer. It was getting riskier by the day.

Catching herself just as she started wringing her hands together, Bulma scolded herself, letting them drop to her sides. Like hell she would work herself up over a conversation with Chi-Chi – because that was what it was, she reminded herself firmly. A conversation. They needed a new ship, meaning it wasn't up for negotiation. If Chi-Chi wanted to risk her life staying on their old, beat up piece of–

No. She wouldn't leave her behind, no matter what.

Sighing, she knocked on the door to Chi-Chi and Gohan's bedroom, banishing her nerves as she waited patiently for the door to open and once it had, she entered without waiting for permission, coming to stand in the centre of the immaculate room. Like her own: it consisted of a double bed, a wardrobe and a desk that was currently occupied by a studying Gohan, although he peered up at her curiously.

"Back to work, Gohan," reprimanded his mother. Coming to stand closer to her, she raised an eyebrow, asking, "Well? What do you want?"

Hardly a warm welcome, but Bulma knew she kind of deserved it. "We need a new ship," she told her, getting straight to the point. There was no point in beating around the bush.

"Why? Because his highness doesn't have a bedroom fit for royalty?"

Again, she knew Chi-Chi had every right to be angry with her. It didn't mean it wasn't annoying, though. She merely gritted her teeth and put up with it. "No, because this one is old and it's getting to a stage where I can't keep working on it. It's costing too much."

The anger faded and was replaced by concern. Grabbing Bulma's arm, she tugged her out into the hall, warning her son to have the rest of the questions done for when she returned. It was only once they were out in the hall that she resumed their conversation, frowning worriedly.

"Won't it be more expensive buying another ship?" she questioned. "Where would we even get one? Will this one last until we find a replacement?"

Bulma smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's kind of the thing. We won't be buying one."

"What?"

"We're going to steal one," she told her, growing serious and preparing herself for war. "From one of Frieza's bases."

Silence.

And then…

"Okay."

Okay? Just like that? Why the hell was she agreeing so easily? Surely Chi-Chi was angry with her for introducing her son to stealing and most likely fighting, too (well, not introducing him to the latter, but getting him involved in fighting, nonetheless)?

"That's it?" asked Bulma warily and she frowned. "You're okay with it?"

"No," Chi-Chi told her, also frowning. "I'm not okay with teaching my son to steal, but… I'd rather that than risk his life travelling on a ship that's probably older than Master Roshi."

As hot-headed as the younger woman could be, Bulma was so very thankful to find she was also rational at times.

"I want us all to sit down tonight at dinner and discuss a strategy together," she ordered, leaving no room for arguments. Narrowing her eyes fractionally when the brunette looked ready to disagree, Bulma cut her off, saying, "We'll all be involved in this plan, Chi-Chi. How likely will it be to succeed if we can't even sit in the same room as each other?"

"I just…" Irritably, she shook her head, double checking the bedroom door was shut firmly before continuing, muttering with a frown, "I don't understand how you've so easily agreed to this madness, Bulma. You're the smartest person I know – not one of, but the."

It was a backhanded compliment, in her eyes. "Then don't question my intelligence now. Vegeta is our lesser of two evils if we want Goku and our planet back."

Chi-Chi rubbed at her forehead, groaning. "I dread to think of Goku's reaction when we find him and he sees Vegeta is on our side."

Yeah, he would probably be stupidly ecstatic and raring to–

Blue eyes threatened to widen, the blood chilling in her veins.

Vegeta had already stated he didn't hold any grudges against Gohan, but the same wasn't said about Goku. Also, from what she'd deducted from their short time together, she knew he was all about his pride and revenge – going off the simple fact that he'd been livid with leaving the vendor alive after all he'd gone through. Who was to say…?

Gods, she was so fucking stupid, wasn't she?

Plastering a smile on her features to keep Chi-Chi in the dark, Bulma patted her shoulders, saying, "It'll be fine. Goku would no doubt find the humour in the situation, right?"

The half-lie was bought, the younger woman melting ever so slightly. "He always does."

"Maybe you should go check on Gohan now – make sure he's still studying hard," she suggested, grinning at Chi-Chi's nod. "We'll get started on dinner shortly."

Without waiting for a more official ending to the conversation, Bulma spun on her heel, allowing the fake smile to drop as she faced the reality of her situation.

Chi-Chi had been right all along. Vegeta agreeing to help them was too easy and she was so fucking angry with herself for failing to see his ulterior motive, especially considering it was so obvious. Any idiot could see it, yet she'd overlooked it entirely, too excited at the prospect of taking a step forward in their journey to retrieving Goku and saving Earth.

Rather than face Vegeta head on and accuse him of her suspicions, Bulma slipped into her lab and made sure to lock the door behind herself, pulling the controller from the confines of her bra (putting it in her pocket had been too obvious in her mind) and setting it down on her workstation.

It was a simple remote with controls even a child could understand, so her guess was that a beginner had created the collar and cuffs – maybe even in a hurry, if luck was on her side. If that was the case, she'd have her plan executed in a matter of an hour or two, though one wrong movement and Vegeta would know she was fiddling with it.

Retrieving her size-changing watch, she placed it beside the controls, fingers tapping a thoughtful rhythm on the workstation as she contemplated the pros and cons of combining the two.

On the one hand, Vegeta would never suspect a thing and if he did happen to turn on them, there would be little to no suspicion regarding her other inventions – the older ones, anyway. If she were to introduce a new invention, however, he would no doubt be wary of it. The hardened warrior in him would undeniably expect something like that of his enemy.

But damn it, she was no strategist. She was a scientist and the two were completely different beings. Vegeta, on the other hand, was a seasoned warrior and had been the leader of his saiyan squad – the big oaf who'd easily been quadruple his size had obeyed his every order and Raditz, Goku's weirdo brother, hadn't possessed a fraction of the power of those guys.

It was all strictly precautionary. If Vegeta didn't betray them, then there was nothing to worry about. If he did, then she would fry his smelly ass.

What was the point in saving Goku, after all, if Vegeta turned on him the second Frieza was dealt with? He'd barely escaped their last battle with his life and had been banged up in hospital for so long.

No, the potential grudge was too big to ignore. Just as Vegeta had a hand in her planet's destruction, Goku had had a hand in the saiyan prince's captivity and humiliation. That would never be swept under the rug, would it? Not for someone as proud as himself.

The parts of Vegeta she'd witnessed during the battle's broadcast was little to go on, but enough for Bulma to get a brief reading on the guy, especially when coupled with their interactions since making their deal.

Vegeta was proud and stubborn. Back on earth, she'd believed him to be heartless and emotionless, given the destruction he'd left in his wake without a care and while the former was still true (he'd murdered one of the last saiyans in existence), he was in no way emotionless. He couldn't be. No, something had to keep pushing him forward. Something kept him going during his imprisonment. Something bigger than his vendetta with Goku.

What was it?

Grabbing her stool, Bulma settled herself down and focused on her task at hand, immediately placing her magnifying monocle on.

He said he wasn't what he was now, in the beginning. That was what he'd said to Gohan regarding their conversation about Frieza and Goku's supposed inevitable turn to the dark side. Did that mean Vegeta had once been like Goku?

No, the thought was laughable. It was difficult picturing someone like Goku ever falling onto the same path as Vegeta. He cared too much about life and freedom. He doted on his friends and family and even gave his enemies the benefit of the doubt. Yes, he got pumped up for battle, but he despised killing and that was proven when he let Piccolo go, even after the horrors he'd caused.

Twisting a screw free with a screwdriver, Bulma bit her lip, placing it down in the small, glass dish she used to keep from losing small pieces. There was nothing worse than believing she'd finished a project, only to go to close it all up again and realise she was missing a screw.

While she was still experiencing great annoyance towards herself at so easily agreeing to the deal and forgetting about Goku's hand in Vegeta's humiliating defeat, Bulma didn't agonise over it, for what was the point? Fretting wouldn't help the situation – her intelligence would. And with the modifications to the controls, she would gain the upper hand easily, should Vegeta turn on them.

As she'd predicted: it took just over an hour to switch the chip from the remote into her watch, adding a new sequence to ensure it remained undetected. So, even if Vegeta got his hands on the remote nothing would happen and if she needed to resort to using the shock collar, then all she had to do was press the locking button on the side of her watch five times, which would change her size-altering watch to his worst nightmare.

Slipping the monocle from over her eye, Bulma assessed her watch, ensuring it looked the exact same as it had when Vegeta last saw it. She couldn't risk him noticing any differences and calling her up on it. Happy that there were none, she returned it to her wrist and the controller to her bra, under the guise that she would continue to hide it on her person.

She paused in leaving her lab, surveying the inventions lining the walls and counters.

Next step, she inwardly told herself: find a way to make the watch indestructible.

Or, more realistically, find a backup plan.

But that would have to wait, Bulma told herself as she heard Chi-Chi calling for her, waiting to start dinner.

They had a plan to formulate.