Chapter 8 – As We Wait in the Night

She did not fidget. She didn't shift in her seat. Did not allow her gaze to stray.

Ignoring the indignant stare boring holes into her head, Bulma dared to oppose the irate prince of all saiyans by sitting opposite him at the head of the table. The power struggle was obvious to the other two occupying the room, but she paid them no mind, her gaze remaining locked with Vegeta's because showing weakness was a major no-no.

She didn't give him the chance to start the discussion.

She took the lead, much to his palpable irritation.

"Before we dig in, I want to start by saying that, Vegeta, you are officially welcomed to the team," Bulma said, side-eyeing Chi-Chi until the younger woman gave a single, reluctant nod.

"I'm ecstatic to have the approval."

She pretended he hadn't uttered a single word, even though on the inside, his sarcasm had her smirking. "I would also like to add that during dinner, we're going to be discussing a plan to obtain a new ship – well, new to us."

Gohan frowned at that, asking, "Do you mean to say we're stealing?"

What was worse? Shielding a child while they committed an act that, on earth, was always taught to be immoral, or informing him of every seedy detail of their plan and hoping it didn't weigh too heavily on his conscience? When it was the same childish, goody-two-shoes conscience as his father's?

But what would come of lying to the kid? He was too smart not to put two and two together and should they lie, he would grow to resent them for it. Either for not trusting him with the truth, or for not giving him a say in what was happening and utilising his strengths like he was nothing more than a tool to use at their disposal.

Decision made, Bulma nodded once. "We're stealing one."

The conflict wasn't so internal when it played out on his features for them all to see so clearly, and Bulma noticed Chi-Chi fighting back her worried frown, the lines smoothing out when Gohan looked to her questioningly. No doubt he wanted to know what his mother – the woman who'd always fought to create a clear divide between right and wrong, essentially becoming his moral compass – thought of the situation.

"The ship we're on right now is dangerous, Gohan," Chi-Chi explained carefully and Bulma commended her for keeping the indecision out of her tone and expression. To show indecisiveness in front of him would only prove disastrous in gaining his approval. "And who knows? One of Frieza's ships might even give us a lead on your father."

It was highly unlikely, but still possessed a fraction of a chance of happening, so Bulma didn't comment. She was surprised when Vegeta remained silent, also, his narrowed gaze hard and piercing as he assessed their interactions critically.

Asking herself whether he was suspicious of them was pointless, because Bulma knew he was, just as she was of him. Despite their truce (or whatever the hell it was), she knew not to trust a man who found taking another's life (even the life of his own endangered kind) easy. Given half the chance, he would kill her in her sleep and take charge of the ship.

The dining area was small, compiled of nothing more than a metal table that was welded into the floor. With just the three of them it'd been bearable sitting in the cramped room with barely a couple of steps of space on each side of the table, but with Vegeta's domineering presence, Bulma found herself uncomfortable and having to force herself to meet his eye. There weren't even any decorations to distract themselves with.

"When?" was all he asked.

"We leave for the station you mentioned earlier immediately," Bulma responded, back straight and chin tilted upwards. "When we're close enough, you guys can sense for any strong energies to make sure we're not walking into an ambush."

She knew Gohan sided with them when he nodded once, seriously. The sight of his expression sent a wave of nostalgia through her, leaving Bulma to linger in the moment, allowing the memories to assault her mind until they threatened to leave her breathless, before promptly shutting them away again.

But Gods, what she wouldn't give to return to her teenage years, back when life was as simple as needing to find a boyfriend to cherish her. Back to when she and Goku had travelled endlessly in hopes of finding the dragon balls to fulfil her wish, his odd personality and inhuman body repeatedly terrifying and intriguing her, because no child was supposed to be so ridiculously strong.

Goku, she thought without meaning to, heart yearning for some form of good news or at least a hint that he was alive. Please, be okay.

"What if Frieza is there?" asked Chi-Chi.

Bulma was tempted to look at Vegeta for the answers, but knew that by doing so, she would be admitting he was the leader. "We hightail it out of there and pray he doesn't notice us."

"But what if my dad is–"

"We don't stand a chance against Frieza in our current conditions," Vegeta interjected without hesitation, removing any potential for arguments. "Kakarot will most likely die if we attempt a rescue mission in this state."

"What makes you so sure?" she demanded, but despite trying to sound so strong, Bulma could see the worry in her dark brown eyes. "My Goku–"

"Is a sentimental fool who will gladly give up his life to protect those he cares for," stated the prince sharply. "Moreover, he is a full-blooded saiyan – the want to fight runs in our veins and he would not turn down a battle against Frieza."

Or you, Bulma mentally added, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Even if he knows he doesn't stand a chance?"

"Especially if he knows he doesn't stand a chance."

So, it wasn't so much brainless fighting that got a saiyan off, Bulma concluded. It was the challenge it presented, going into battle against an opponent who was, in some way, superior to them.

Did that mean Vegeta longed for a rematch to possibly prove his worth? To regain his title as the strongest saiyan? But what did that even matter when there were only two of them left? Unless it was more to do with pride, Bulma wondered curiously. That certainly made more sense than a meaningless title of being the strongest saiyan. After all, he'd repeatedly called Goku "third class", so with Vegeta being a prince, his pride was undoubtedly wounded from having seven shades beaten out of him by Goku and his friends.

Duly noted, she thought while refraining from frowning.

No matter what, she couldn't show any signs of weakness or uncertainty. She had to remain strong and assertive otherwise Vegeta would stamp all over her, never mind walk.

"The hope is to walk in unnoticed and grab only what we need – we can't get greedy." Just as Vegeta's brow began to furrow and she sensed the snide comment about her intelligence forming, she interjected smoothly, saying, "But hoping won't get us anywhere. We need to smart about it and ready for all outcomes. With it being a station, they'll sense our arrival before we even enter the planet's atmosphere."

"Meaning fighting the moment we leave this ship," Chi-Chi said with a frown.

"Precisely." Looking between the two males of their dysfunctional team, Bulma said, "We're going to need your combined strength to try and keep the noise of our arrival as quiet as possible."

Finally, the overprotective personality Bulma had almost missed kicked in from the brunette and she leaned onto the table, glaring over at her. "He's not killing anyone–"

"Nobody said he had to," she clarified. Like hell she would ever order a child to kill people, even if they were coldblooded aliens. "Just knock them out and restrain them. That way, when they come to, they can't do anything or alert anyone."

"Your weakness will get us all killed," snapped Vegeta suddenly, his tone just as harsh as his expression. "Leaving an enemy alive will come back to bite us all in the ass."

"My dad left you alive–"

"And one day he will regret it."

Don't react, she warned herself when Vegeta's cold voice silenced the room. If she reacted, she would no doubt let onto her thoughts and plans, because no matter how hard she tried, she would never perfect her poker face. And in their deadly game of chess, Bulma knew she had to keep several aces up her sleeve and at that moment in time, she only had one – she had to protect it at all costs.

"Moving on," she said dismissively with a roll of her eyes, knowing that was going to hit him way worse than anything else they had to offer. "Once we find a ship, I need you both to buy me some time to hack into the system. From there, it shouldn't take too long to hook the scouter up to it and override it completely."

"Got it," Gohan confirmed, nodding.

"Are the ships fully stocked?" she asked Vegeta.

"A maintenance crew cleans and restocks each ship when it arrives with enough supplies to last a few months."

Good. That bought them enough time to flee for as long and as far as possible, just in case they gave chase. "And are the main controls located in the docking station?"

"As far as I am aware."

She nodded in thanks. "While I'm working on the ship, I want one of you to destroy the main controls both in the docking station and in docked ships. Make them useless to them."

"Giving us a better chance of escape," Chi-Chi surmised.

Precisely. They had to go into it with quality skills, seeing as their opponents boasted quantity. Vegeta had already told her no one there posed a threat to him, but on the off chance that their combined strength bested them, they had to be prepared with a backup plan of escaping. He'd hate it, of course, but he would live.

"Does anyone have any questions or anything they want to add?"

Other than Gohan's shaking head, silence was her only response, so Bulma ended the discussion with a, "Dig in!"


Even for a station Frieza never bothered with, it was remarkable.

Observing it calmly from her place at the control panel as she waited for the others to buckle up, she narrowed her hard blue eyes.

Despite setting up commands for their ship to land as close to the docking station as possible, she allowed room for error and counteracted the potential issue by spending the past couple of weeks' worth of travelling creating another size changing watch for Chi-Chi. That way, if they landed too far away, they merely had to shrink to a size that wouldn't burden the saiyans as they carried them to the docking station.

The fact that the planet was chosen as a station told Bulma that it was breathable for all species, but she ran a check just to confirm it anyway. Thankfully, it was. Having to use spacesuits put them at a huge disadvantage, for it would be way too easy to kill them.

She held her breath as they started their descent, breaking through the atmosphere harshly and Bulma knew, from the warning beeping of her control panel, that they'd been detected already, though she wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, she would have been disappointed had they failed to notice them.

"Are you guys ready?" she asked through gritted teeth, hands threatening to tremble as she gripped a tight hold of the steering wheel.

The winds were powerful on the planet, it appeared and Bulma could feel it in the tilting ship that threatened to be blown back from the force. It worried her – even though the planet's air was breathable, there was the potential of the winds being too strong for her and Chi-Chi to handle.

Whereas Chi-Chi and Gohan sounded their agreement, she noticed Vegeta's head dipping lower, his dark and narrowed gaze fixated on the planet that was steadily growing closer. Bulma could tell from that look, in addition to the disgusting intent in the air around them, that he was itching to be set loose on the people who'd once been his comrades and it threatened to send a shudder down her spine.

But she didn't have time to worry about that.

Cursing when the old ship surrendered to the formidable winds, she resisted the urge to nurse her throbbing wrist. The steering wheel being wrenched sideways in response to the change of course and her stubborn hold on it had caused a sprain – she could tell it was nothing more simply because she could still move it.

Large hands took over by covering hers, much to her astonishment, but Bulma had no time to stare up at Vegeta in surprise or wonder when he got up or whether it was even safe for him to do so. Instead, with great effort and while ignoring the ache is caused, she shifted her grasp, guiding him into easing the ship down as easily as possible. The difference his unwavering strength made was laughable, since she'd struggled each time in steadying the old ship during each landing. She'd assumed it was entirely down to the ship, but alas, that was not the case. It was her lack of strength.

She didn't utter a thanks, just as Vegeta didn't wait to hear one. They had to act fast.

The moment they landed, they were on the move. Both she and Chi-Chi shrunk themselves and stepped onto the hands waiting for them. While Gohan tucked his mother with care into his white collar, Bulma hid her disgust with great effort when Vegeta settled her in the tattered remains of his armour. They had bigger concerns than his stench and besides, since his joining them, he'd washed it multiple times. The smell wasn't even as bad anymore… or so she told herself.

"They're coming for us," Gohan stated with clenching fists, eyes drawn to the window.

"Don't stop," ordered Vegeta as he took charge. Bulma didn't argue. She knew he was much better suited to battle strategies than she was. "Aim for single blows to dispatch of them, but do not expend more energy than necessary and do not, under any circumstance, waver or slow down. Understand?"

The young boy gulped, and she slowed in rubbing her swelling wrist, frowning over at him uneasily. She could sense his indecision and fear and knew the conflict running through his mind – a mind so like his father's, always hoping for the best, always wanting to see the best. Killing or harming someone who hadn't wronged him was an act that would never sit well with either of them.

But then he nodded, eyes remaining fearful but expression determined. "I'm ready."

As predicted, the winds made breathing difficult and the intense high speed flying the two saiyans suddenly began didn't help in the slightest. Squeezing her eyes shut to block out the sight of the dark purple sky blurring sickeningly, Bulma couldn't resist the urge turn in Vegeta's shirt, head tilting downwards to try and fight the winds and resume ordinary breathing.

She hoped Chi-Chi was holding up, though in after a split second, could no longer think of her when Vegeta's muscles rippled in warning, the lashing out of his arms alerting to his attacking someone.

Her eyes shut tighter, even though it made them ache.

Liquid that was only hot for a few brief moments until the wind froze it had Bulma recoiling in revulsion, for there was no denying what was soaking into her clothing and staining her skin. Was he doing it on purpose? Did he get off on knowing he was pissing her off or making her feel nauseous?

Fortunately, they weren't too far out from the docking station, although they encountered several platoons on their journey there. Each enemy was dispatched of without hesitation on Vegeta's side. He didn't falter, didn't stagger, didn't lose even a fraction of the speed he was travelling at and she wondered if Gohan was any different, or if he was struggling.

It was when they landed and deemed it safe enough to leave the safety of the saiyans' clothing that Bulma got her answers.

Whereas blood coated a great deal of herself and Vegeta, there wasn't a single drop of the stuff on Gohan or Chi-Chi, informing her that he'd taken care of them all single-handedly. However, she wasn't foolish enough to believe it was done out of the kindness of his heart. No, Vegeta would have killed them all to ensure there were no loose ends or risks created from Gohan's gentle heart.

Still, a part of her was grateful for that.

Glancing around curiously, Bulma found herself at a loss for words as she carefully assessed the docking station. The impressive space that held way too many ships to count was lit up brilliantly – not a single corner was shrouded in darkness, allowing them to feel a small amount of safety, since it meant nobody was trying to hide from them.

"Do you know any of these?" she asked the saiyan prince once returned to her ordinary size.

"They are all more or less the same model," he responded blandly. "Any will do."

There were so many to choose from, all looming over them and bringing forth a surge of excitement within Bulma as she imagined herself piloting them. However, there was no time for hanging around and so she chose the newest looking ship for entirely superficial reasons, slipping her scouter over her eye while jogging over to it.

"Chi-Chi, destroy the main controls," she ordered. Pressing the button that granted her access to the ship, she fought against her childish delight when the door fell to the ground, presenting them with stairs to enter. "Gohan and Vegeta, destroy the other ships but make sure you're both keeping an eye out for enemies, too."

Waiting for their affirmatives was a waste of time, so Bulma took the stairs two at a time in her hurry to get going.

The ship wasn't luxurious in the slightest, but it was certainly better than what they'd had up until that point (plus, she had capsules filled with home comforts, making the basic ship more bearable when she reminded herself of that fact). Upon entering, she was greeted with a controls room, much wider than the one she'd grown used to. It boasted a long panel of buttons and knobs, all in a foreign language that her scouter easily interpreted for her, much to Bulma's relief. For a second, she'd worried that it was a language she hadn't discovered before.

Loud crashes and booms echoed throughout the station, alerting her that she had to speed up.

After figuring out how to hook her scouter up to the system, her fingers flew through the buttons she'd quickly familiarised herself with, doing her utmost not to grow distracted by the fighting outside. First, she focused entirely on switching the system into her own and once she heard the voice that they'd acquainted themselves with, Bulma then focused on locating all hidden files, also ordering her software to thoroughly search through the system.

Yelling from outside told her she was taking too long and she narrowed her eyes, quietly cheering herself on when she discovered the tracking chip. Even when the voice of her software informed Bulma it was deactivated, she searched beneath the control panel, carefully searching through the odd array of mechanisms and wires until she spotted a green light blinking.

"Scan it," she ordered once the scouter was back on. It no longer needed to be plugged in now that she'd managed to override their operating system. The ship was hers as of that moment and she resisted the urge to grin victoriously. "Is it a tracking chip?"

"Backup tracking chip."

Paranoia paid off, she praised herself.

It was simple destroying the chip and for good measure, she chucked it out into the station, calling the other members of her odd team to retreat. Somewhere, somehow, Vegeta had acquired new armour that was completely different to the one he'd worn on earth, though she didn't question it. She couldn't. There was no time.

The docking station was in utter chaos. Black smoke made it almost impossible to see the others, filling the station without hesitation and she knew from the smell alone that engines were on fire – another indicator that they had to leave immediately, lest they wished to get caught in the multiple explosions. When a single button was pressed, her scouter aided in bettering her sensing them, though unfortunately also allowing Bulma to see that there were bodies strewn all over the place.

She waited for Chi-Chi to board the ship before starting it up, a part of herself relaxing when she found that the newer, updated system had a piloting assistant – something she undoubtedly needed, considering she'd struggled with the older, much smaller ship.

The younger woman was anxiously waiting by the door, gripping the metal frame tightly in her already bruised knuckles. It was a shock to see her right eye swelling before her, telling her that Chi-Chi had been fighting alongside the two men. Not that Bulma should have really doubted her – if she'd sensed Gohan struggling or needing assistance, then nothing would stop the younger woman from being by his side. Not even being laughably weaker.

Bulma envied that courage.

"Ships?" she demanded.

"Destroyed," Chi-Chi responded distractedly.

"Main controls?"

"Gone."

"Those two?"

"Here," a bruised Gohan panted, wincing when he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground by Vegeta.

"Hurry up," Vegeta ordered, the door shutting behind him with an air of finality. "There's more coming."

Scouter flaring to life as it picked up on multiple energies flying straight for them, Bulma pressed a final button and the sudden movement of the ship as it lurched upwards had her gasping in shock, the pain of her wrist flaring horrifically when she held fast onto the panel to keep herself steady. Unlike the old ship, there were no seats directly before it – she had to remain standing somehow.

Chi-Chi was the first to fall to her knees when they shot through the planet's atmosphere, eyes shutting in relief as she reached out, hand settling on Gohan's shoulder like she was reassuring herself that they'd made it out somehow. The boy grinned victoriously in response to his mother, breathing still uneven.

It had her wondering what they each went through during their battles, or what they'd seen.

Bulma wiped the sweat off her brow until she winced and cradled her swelling wrist. It looked awful, but as much as she wanted to complain, she knew she had no right. Not when the others were littered in bruises and cuts and so much blood.

So instead, she retrieved her pocket-sized case filled with capsules, waving them proudly and hoping nobody could see through the fake smile.

"Mission completed!"