Chapter 9 – Take Away Everything I Am

The sensors on the ship were phenomenal, leaving Bulma to all but salivate as she examined them, using her software to translate the alien language for her.

In layman's terms, they could sense potential attacks or dangerous ships for up to two hundred and fifty miles on all sides of them. How that was even possible was a mystery to her, but Bulma was sure as hell up for the challenge of figuring it out.

Alien technology was fascinating to her. Even the apparently simple stuff that made Vegeta scoff whenever she expressed her enthusiasm towards it.

"Like his opinion even matters," she mumbled while holding a torch between her teeth.

Lying flat on her back and staring up at the nifty design of wires and chips above her, Bulma inwardly squealed with joy at the fact it was all placed in such a tidy manner. There was nothing worse than delving into any kind of machinery only to find a shitstorm of wires that took forever to detangle.

They'd been aboard their new ship for roughly three days now and Bulma still hadn't finished investigating each of the rooms. She took what she assumed to be the biggest (a complete opposite to Vegeta's box room, she'd noticed while passing him yesterday morning), acquainted herself with the communal areas and must-knows, before diving headfirst into the technology that sung to her like a siren.

While it was huge, the interior was designed in a space-saving way, much to her dismay. Some rooms were bigger than others, but none were luxurious. That would have to change at some point, she'd repeatedly told herself while tutting and shaking her head, because expecting her to sleep comfortably on a single bed, when she hadn't done so since she was four years old, was bordering on barbaric (she made a mental note to once more search through her capsules to find more home comforts, also).

Should it matter when travelling space to find a ruthless tyrant who'd potentially enslaved her friend? Nope, but it mattered to her, so that was that.

Inhaling sharply when large hands grasped at her ankles and yanked with unnecessary force, Bulma was powerless to stop herself from being manhandled. All she could do was stare up at the agitated expression of the saiyan prince as he glared down at her, caging her in imposingly.

He did it on purpose – the lack of distance between them, she meant. It was his way of asserting his dominance, of attempting to intimidate her into submitting and allowing him to walk all over her. Did it work? Sadly, kind of. Although it was established that he wouldn't kill her, Vegeta was still a horrendously heartless villain who couldn't be trusted. But as of late she'd been pushing back against him, matching his domination with a stubbornness that often times left him speechless or amused.

So, she returned his glare with her own unimpressed glower when the hands that'd once been roughly yanking on her ankles soon pressed to the ground on each side of her head. The compromising position didn't affect her in the slightest, and to drive that point home and make a blow to his male pride, Bulma glanced down between their bodies and raised an eyebrow, lips quirking upwards like she was ready to laugh.

Dark eyes narrowed.

"Very cute," she remarked teasingly. "Now, if you're done acting like a Neanderthal, I have a control–"

"I have another task for you."

What the hell did he think she was? Some kind of slave? Okay, so she conceded the fact that, in the beginning, she was wary of stepping on his toes or pissing him off and more often than not genuinely feared for her life–

Wait, where was she supposed to be going with that?

"Hell no," she snapped in return, emboldened by the watch sitting comfortably on her wrist. That and he'd said he wouldn't kill her. "Do it yourself."

The superciliousness and animosity dripped from him revoltingly and Bulma envisioned it splattering on her skin, threatening to taint her when Vegeta lowered himself, smirking nastily. At least he smelled better now, she thought to herself with a grimace, and he was now wearing proper armour, rather than the soiled, tattered reminder of his torture.

"What else will you do besides waste time and energy staring up at wires all damn day?"

She pursed her lips to hold back her profanities and tired old excuses of analysing alien technology. They were all no doubt bored of hearing about her research by now.

"Face it: you don't know what the hell you're doing."

Her brows furrowed, gaze averting from Vegeta's and focusing on the shiny red toolbox she'd left just out of reach.

"So instead of being completely useless and pretending to be busy in here, how about you get off your ass and actually do something productive?"

Oh, that was a low blow. Incredibly low. And Bulma was thoroughly ashamed to admit that her pride took a great deal of the impact of his words. But what else was she supposed to do? If she studied the alien technology, then that meant she could help out in some way or another, rather than turning up with her substandard inventions that never truly offered any assistance in battles with overpowered aliens.

Blue eyes reluctantly met Vegeta's when he roughly tipped her chin up and forced them to meet. There was no use in fighting it. Not only was he so much stronger than she was, but he was equally as stubborn and whiny. If she refused him, Vegeta would drone on and on and she simply couldn't deal with it.

"Like what?" she demanded, hoping the venom in her words wasn't missed or ruined by the emotions weighing her down. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Hack into Frieza's ship."

Bulma deadpanned.

He was insane. Absolutely batshit crazy.

And he was about to see her toeing her way into the crazy side too. Not full blown crazy but revealing the potential, because what he was suggesting was stupidly dangerous and put all their lives at risk.

"First of all, jackass, how am I supposed to hack into a ship I have no knowledge of? I've never even seen it!" Yanking her chin free required more strength than she'd realised it would need, and Bulma inwardly cringed at the immediate crick in her neck but refused to let the discomfort show. "Second of all, if I can't even understand this stuff, how am I supposed to hack into a tyrant's ship? When he undoubtedly has people working for him to prevent that?" Gods, she wanted to hit him or at the very least shove him away, but she knew it was a futile battle, so settled on glaring up at him instead. "Third of all, do you know how massively that would open us up to him? If – and it's a huge ass if – we manage to do this, Frieza could have someone track us without us knowing until it's too late!"

Huffing and rolling his eyes, Vegeta pushed away from her and sat back on his haunches. "Just do it, human."

"No!"

"What else are you good for?" he sneered, his draining patience visible in the vein protruding on his forehead. "Even Kakarot's mate does more around here than you."

She faltered in sitting up, unable to hide the other vicious bruising her pride had just received.

Chi-Chi was doing a great amount around the ship, ranging from feeding them all, cleaning and training her son in both his studies and martial arts. Was it up to Goku standards or enough to tire Gohan out? No, but it was all new techniques and Gohan lunged at the opportunity to exercise, grateful that his mother was finally opening up to the notion of him becoming a warrior.

Vegeta was right. Compared to Chi-Chi, she was useless and hardly did anything around the ship. But in her defence, engineering was her specialty, so much so that Bulma could reluctantly admit to never paying much attention in other areas. Her cooking was subpar, cleaning skills lazy and lacking. And she knew nothing of martial arts. Sure, she could tutor Gohan, but it would probably have to be in her area of expertise, and she wasn't sure if that interested him.

What else was she supposed to do with herself other than trying to better her knowledge? If she copied Chi-Chi's example, then Bulma knew she would be wasting her time with mundane housewife tasks and that simply wasn't her. She never wanted it to be her.

Was it worth risking being discovered by Frieza's engineers? Being as evil as he was, Frieza would have a stunning number of enemies lurking in the dark, biding their time for the best moment to strike. Surely someone like him would consider the possibility of (if it hadn't happened already) someone hacking into his ship and trying to take him out that way, so that they wouldn't have to be near him? It was what she would've done when she was younger and more naïve.

"It's not worth being detected or tracked," she argued once more, calmly. "They'll be on the lookout for a stolen ship, too. We need to keep our heads down."

"You want us to sit around and wait for death," he accused with venom. Standing as tall as he could, he glowered down at her, but she copied his stance, unleashing every ounce of self-confidence and defiance she possessed. "That is all we're doing right now – waiting."

The idea of being sitting ducks had passed through her mind several times, but that was why she was running off three to five hours of sleep every night – to try and find ways to better protect themselves. All tracking chips were destroyed and thrown out of the waste compartment, left to drift through space on the off chance someone still managed to detect them. She set the safety mechanisms so goddamn high on the system that it was a miracle she could even access it herself. And just recently, she'd drawn out a plan to further upgrade her watch, so that she could communicate with the ship through it. Yes, she had the scouter for that, but backups were a godsend.

"We're strategizing and waiting for his counter," Bulma shot back boldly. Throwing a hand behind herself in the general direction of the control panel, she snapped, "We need to know how this is being taken by Frieza or his men and be sure we're not being followed."

"We're not," Vegeta said with unsettling certainty.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I killed everyone at that station who posed a threat."

Any retort she could have thought out blanked straight out of her mind. The callous way he brought up murdering people who were once his comrades – no, scratch that, murdering people in general – was with sickening ease. Like it didn't even register in Vegeta's mind as being wrong or evil.

It had Bulma once more finding herself staring the irate prince down with a numbed sense of dread trickling across her scalp and down her spine. Part of her whispered terrifyingly that she was staring at the embodiment of evil, but another part had a more ominous whisper, wondering what that made Frieza.

"It's not possible," she tried weakly, damning herself for the lack of conviction or strength in her voice. "I don't know anything about his ship or where it's located. Chances are, it'll run off a more secure version of the system we have because of who Frieza is, and he'll have technicians keeping an eye on hackers."

"You–"

"We need to be smart about this," Bulma said and she was glad that she was firmer that time, her words making Vegeta pause. "I get that you're feeling antsy – it sucks just waiting around for their next move. But with having no specific destination in mind, that gives us the time and opportunity to visit other planets and listen to the gossip."

"Gossip?" he demanded, fury returning. "You want me to waste my time-"

"They'll have news on Frieza and potentially his whereabouts," she argued calmly despite the pounding of her heart. The tense atmosphere was getting too much for her, and she wanted the conversation over and done with. "And if not Frieza, then his men." When he merely glared at her in disgusted anger, she questioned more harshly, "Tell me, Stupid Saiyan, would someone like Goku stand out amongst Frieza's men and make people talk?"

The throbbing vein in his forehead returned, and she found it difficult keeping herself from staring in morbid fascination, wondering if Vegeta would give himself an aneurysm.

"No matter what torture he goes through, Goku will always be too gentle and kind-hearted to take another's life," Bulma said resolutely, putting her unshakeable beliefs and love for Goku into her words, demanding Vegeta believed them too. "You saw that when he let you go, instead of killing you. Goku knew you could return to finish him off – and that we'd have no warning that time – but he still let you, the enemy who had a part to play in the deaths of his friends, go."

"Is that how you view it?" he asked, the return of his cruel smirk unsettling her further. "Am I the enemy who killed your friends?"

Her jaw clenched.

"Do you hate me, Little Human?"

She couldn't answer.

"Are you a saint just like your precious Kakarot?" he sneered and closed the distance between them. The narrowing of his hateful eyes sent an uncontrollable shudder down her spine, fists clenching to fight against the sudden unignorable weight of her watch. "Or are you more like me?"

Like…

"I can see your hate beneath the fear," Vegeta said with a dark chuckle. Sickening her, he lowered his head to her neck and inhaled deeply. "I can smell your bad intentions on you."

She shut her eyes, willing herself to be strong, to keep everything hidden. Vegeta couldn't find out the truth about her watch, or her backup plans in case he turned on them. What would he do to her if he found out about them?

"Is that why you whine so much about how righteous that third class trash is?"

It made her uneasily lightheaded when she felt Vegeta's breath on her face, and she kept her eyes shut, willing her palpitating heart to calm the hell down. He wasn't touching her, she reminded herself repeatedly. And if he tried anything, she had the watch that was currently scorching her skin, survival instincts already demanding she used it and ran like hell while the effects kept him down.

She chose to ignore them.

"You act as though you're better than me," he murmured and even with her eyes closed, they stung with unshed tears. "But the truth is, you have darkness inside of you too. That's why you hold onto Kakarot not losing himself. You believe if he can do it, so can you."

She wanted to deny it, wanted to deny it with every ounce of strength and passion she possessed.

"Tell me, Little Human," he said almost seductively, and she shivered once more at the ghost of a touch on her neck, damning herself to the deepest depths of hell for giving him any kind of reaction. "How hard do I have to push you, for you to give into the darkness and fight back?"

Cursing herself for doing so, she opened her eyes, warily meeting his dark gaze.

Vegeta was a master of mind games, she belatedly told herself and being the stubborn woman that she was, she'd fallen headfirst into one of his traps, effortlessly allowing him to take control of their spat. And, horrifyingly, she wasn't sure how to take said control back. She didn't know what to do.

"We will do things my way," he muttered sinfully, and much to her horror, her stupid, weak-willed and entirely human body gave in to the sensation of his touch as the backs of his fingers ran up her side, soon settling over her heart. "Even if I have to break you."