Bulma scrubbed her hair, her face, and the dirt beneath her fingernails. And as she stood in front of the foggy mirror after her shower, she couldn't help but lament the fact that she couldn't scrub her memory too. Any moment, she expected the lieutenant to appear behind her in the mirror's reflection, come to convince her to make the "right choice".
But she had made the right choice. And she was convinced that what she was about to do next would be the right choice too. She tapped the communicator pinned to her uniform-her Saiyan-issued one, not her ambassadorial one-and paged Commander Son. "I'm ready."
"I'll see you in the transporter room," the commander acknowledged.
She'd received a surreptitious transmission in the dead of night which could only have come from the Legacy. Then this morning, she'd been contacted by one of their crew using an old encrypted channel who said he could get her in to see the captain.
It could be a trap, sure, but it was the only lead she had right now.
As she stepped up onto the transporter pad, she lifted an eyebrow toward her old friend. "Well, what're you waiting for?"
"I just can't help but think that this is a bad idea," Goku sighed.
"You are under orders to do everything I tell you, right?" Bulma asked pointedly. She adjusted the sash on her ceremonial dress, which contained a perfect balance of blue and gold she thought sure to appease the Saiyans on the Legacy.
"You better not come back and haunt me after you die," Goku returned with equal force. "This is all on you."
"It's fine. I've been in contact with a member of their crew." And before Goku could respond, she commanded him to energize, and she disappeared into a rush of scrambled molecules.
As she rematerialized on board the Legacy, Bulma threw her hands in the air. She was surrounded by large Saiyan men with balls of ki aimed right at her. "I've only come to help," she said. "I'm unarmed. I'm here because of the distress signal."
"I'll take her."
The crowd parted to reveal an enormously tall Saiyan who would have towered over even Goku, and who had so much hair that some of it brushed the floor.
Bulma had to crane her head to take in the entire sight of him. "Are you the one with whom I spoke this morning?"
"Save the conversation, Ambassador." His domineering tone matched well with the intimidating way he loomed over her. "You will not speak unless spoken to, and one word out of place will see you vapourized where you stand. That clear?"
Bulma nodded, noting the slight accent in the way the Saiyan spoke. Though her main passions involved her ambassadorial career and her love of all things mechanical, there was an amateur xenoanthropologist inside of her itching to get out and study the effects of isolation on the inhabitants of this generational colony ship. Her thoughts strayed toward all the gruesome ways they might do away with her as she was led down a long, minimalist corridor until the Saiyan stopped abruptly.
"You will wait in here," he ordered, opening the door and shoving her inside.
"Hey!" she yelped, but the door slid shut in her face. The room seemed to close-in around her; it was eerily quiet, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something felt off. Long moments passed before it re-opened, and she was face to face with the giant once again. She stepped aside to let him in, finally taking in her new surroundings and realizing that this must have been his quarters.
"To answer your earlier question, I am the one who spoke to you this morning. My name is Raditz."
"It is nice to formally meet you, Raditz," Bulma said, pushing aside her frightened notions and offering her palms face-up in the way of the old Saiyan tradition.
Raditz merely stared at her. "What are you doing?"
"I, uh," Bulma stammered when she realized her stupidity - of course those traditions would be outdated for these Saiyans.
"I'm just kidding." Raditz crossed his wrists and placed his palms face down on Bulma's. Then his nose twitched like he was trying to get her scent without being too obvious about it, prompting Bulma to turn her head to the side in question.
"You smell… not like I thought a human would smell. It's almost…" he leaned in a little closer to get a better sniff. "Saiyan."
"Your keen senses serve you well. I grew up on Vegeta-sei."
Raditz stepped back quickly in shock. "Pardon?"
"My father was the human ambassador there. I know everything there is to know about Saiyan culture and history. And I know how difficult it must be for you to have me here, but you seem…" Bulma trailed off as she regarded the peculiar man. "Relaxed. That I wasn't expecting."
"Your power level is minuscule," Raditz said with a shrug. "And I scanned you. You weren't lying about being unarmed." He stared at her a little too long, and Bulma shuddered involuntarily and changed the subject.
"So tell me, Raditz, why am I here?"
Raditz's jovial demeanour quickly grew serious, and his brows knit together. "There's a critical failure in our systems. We knew we would not make it back to Vegeta-sei alive, so we sent a message to the Saiyan High Command. Imagine our surprise when we were greeted by a human vessel." A shred of the hostility he displayed earlier flickered across his features. "The bridge was in an uproar."
"A Starfleet ship, yes," Bulma acknowledged. "But there are many species aboard. Even Saiyans, as you have seen."
Raditz scoffed. "Yes, including one who claims to be our prince. A royal would never lower himself to serve a human captain."
"Even fifty years ago, I would have agreed with you wholeheartedly. But things have changed. There's peace now, and the prince-your prince-
Raditz spat on the floor at that, but said nothing.
"-Thought it a gesture of goodwill to attend the academy after rumours of dissent began to spread on the subspace frequencies. But Vegeta-sei has been a member of the Federation for decades now, and I daresay at least as long as you've been alive."
Raditz sniffed, but his lips tugged upward into a lopsided smile.
"So tell me about this critical failure in your system," Bulma said, abruptly steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"I like you," Raditz stated decisively as he stood. "But I don't think a pretty little ambassador is going to be of any assistance. Your hands have probably not known a day of hard work in their life."
"I've had my fair share of calluses," Bulma replied with crossed arms. "And I've spent a good deal of time in engineering, too. That's where I served as an ensign out of the academy."
"That's great and all, but once I tell you what the issue is, how do I know you aren't going to run back to your ship and let them know all of our weaknesses?"
"Because we were sent by Saiyan High Command to help you, you oaf." Bulma had the sense that she could get away with a certain degree of familiarity with the jovial Saiyan, and she was right-she detected a glimpse of a smile before he spoke again.
"I have yet to hear any words directly from the mouths of this 'Saiyan High Command'," Raditz continued, acting deliberately obtuse in order to frustrate her. "How do I know you're not just making it up?"
"Is it your reactor or your life support systems? Because you were running on impulse when we found you, which leads me to believe that you're either conserving energy for the life support, or you can't go to warp."
Raditz stared at her for a long moment. "Damn, woman, I will admit you're good. But if I say anything I'll be tried for treason. I'm not even supposed to have you here."
"Why risk your life for it, then?"
Raditz looked away. "Because any Saiyan worth their salt would be proud to be seen next to a woman of great skill, and whether I accept him or not, the prince was proud to stand with you when you first made contact with Legacy. I knew you'd be useful to us."
There were a lot of nuances that, even having been raised in the culture, Bulma had never managed to pick up on. It must be ingrained in their genetic memory, she mused, but if it worked in her favour then she wasn't going to complain about being left out. "Lucky for you I happen to be a mechanical genius, then."
"Lucky indeed," Raditz said in a peculiar tone that briefly made Bulma second-guess her decision to come aboard. He stood and strode toward the door, leaving Bulma to rushedly follow despite her misgivings.
"Captain Bardock," Raditz said and bowed respectfully toward the obscured figure seated in the large, austere room.
Bulma had only caught a glimpse, but it looked not unlike the conference room aboard many Starfleet vessels. Only this one was a little worse for wear, showing its age in the scratched and peeling paint as well as the outdated and torn furnishings.
"Commander, if you don't explain to me right this instant what a human is doing aboard this vessel, I will personally escort both of you to the nearest airlock."
Bulma gulped. She was lucky the captain was being as civil as he was. Everything she knew about pre-Federation Saiyans told her that he'd have shot her where she stood, but the captain seemed to trust Raditz.
"She says they were sent by the Saiyan High Command to answer the distress signal."
"The distress signal you sent, against my wishes?"
A hesitation- "Aye, captain."
"And why is she here?"
"She can fix the… system issue," Raditz said, catching himself before revealing the exact source of their distress.
"Enter. Both of you."
Bulma stood up straight. She adjusted her sash again and fixed her hair, waiting for Raditz to enter first. To her surprise, he stepped back and gestured for her to go instead. Remembering his earlier advice, she kept quiet as she entered, intent on simply bowing as Raditz had.
Captain Bardock was facing away from the door as Bulma stepped into the room, but he spun to face them as Raditz took up his place behind Bulma and to her left, effectively blocking the door and any hope for escape.
Bulma's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she took in the man before her. The angles of his face were familiar, and the resemblance in the hair was downright uncanny.
"Afraid, ambassador?" The captain asked with a smirk, mistaking her incredulity for fear.
"N-no, sir," Bulma stammered, though perhaps she should have been.
The Saiyan captain looked just like Goku.
"That should about do it," Bulma said, dusting herself off. "I gotta say, for a century-old vessel, she's been kept in wonderful shape. The sealant was only just starting to break down. If you let me modify all of your replicators, you should be able to synthesize everything you need to keep the ship running for years to come."
"That won't be necessary, I watched you do the first one," Raditz said with a wry grin that Bulma interpreted to mean, "Like hell I'm letting you at more systems than necessary."
She couldn't fault him, but being allowed to do as much as she had was already proving to be a good stepping stone toward being allowed an official audience with a council of the ship's officers. She appealed to their pride, which had put her into the good graces of more than a few crew members. She chuckled to herself as she put together the last of the panels. Simple needs, these Saiyans. Stroke their egos, stroke their…
"Ambassador," the captain said.
Bulma snapped out of her thoughts and faced the captain, who'd entered without her noticing. "Captain," she replied, dipping into a bow along with Raditz and the other crewmen in the room.
He barely acknowledged her as he walked slowly around the room, inspecting every connection and panel. Finally, he turned to her and nodded. "You have done good work for us. Join me at my table tonight."
"Yes, captain. I would be honoured." Maybe she could finally ask him the question about his obvious relation who served aboard the Nimbus,however distant or however unlikely.
"Commander, find the ambassador another dress. It appears hers has taken a beating fixing all the things you... missed."
Raditz sighed, and Bulma felt bad for him. The captain had done nothing but disparage the friendly Saiyan since she arrived. But she sensed there was more to the story than she was hearing in their interactions.
Later that evening, Bulma got changed in Raditz's vacated quarters before opening the door to find him waiting to escort her. The earlier fears she held in his presence had melted away after spending the day with him and learning that his curiosity often got the better of him when, more than once, he forgot himself and got a little too close while she was re-fusing vital wiring. It was an odd juxtaposition from the usual stand-offish nature she'd seen in other Saiyans, especially Vegeta.
He stood in the hallway and offered his arm, which Bulma took gratefully. "Lead the way," she murmured.
The captain presided over his table like a benevolent dictator. He sat at the head with the spread of a king before him, and though he was lean, Bulma had the inkling he ate like this every night. A female Saiyan with short hair sat to his left, and some officers that Bulma met earlier occupied all but one of the other spots at the table.
Bulma felt Raditz deflate against her. He wasn't invited this evening. She wasn't sure whether or not to be concerned at the way his free hand clenched into a fist at his side.
"Ambassador Bulma Briefs of the Nimbus, sir," Raditz announced.
"Thank you, commander," the captain said and waved him off dismissively.
Bulma took her seat at the table to the captain's right, the traditional place for the guest of honour. The table remained quiet, devoid of chatter as she settled in. She glanced around, wondering what the Nimbus's resident empath would think of the thick tension in the room as the officers were torn between a friendly greeting and appeasing their captain. For a race of warriors, they sure seemed to warm up to newcomers easily-especially having been isolated for so long from the rest of the quadrant without the knowledge that hostilities between Saiyans and humans had long been over.
Bardock broke the silence by grabbing a giant leg of meat from the offering before him and tearing in, which was the signal for everyone else to begin their feast as well.
Bulma knew she had to be quick if she wanted to get anything into her belly, but she'd had enough practice on Vegeta-sei for a lifetime with the brutish Saiyan race.
Once the first course was finished, Bardock wiped his maw with a sensible cloth napkin and turned his attention back toward Bulma. "Ambassador, we have reached a decision. My officers and I have decided we will-"
"Hey!" a crewman shouted in the hall, interrupting the announcement.
All eyes were trained on the doorway as it whooshed open, revealing a very angry Saiyan prince with two downed Saiyans at his feet and glowing balls of ki in his palms.
"I don't care if it's your royal right, your highness, you almost got us both killed in there!" Bulma yelled as they rematerialized on the Nimbus.
"If you hadn't joined in a phaser fight when you were unarmed, you wouldn't have been shot at," Vegeta retorted. "I knew you were careless but I did not think you to be a fool. Going there alone, what were you thinking?"
"I spent all fucking day there and gained a measure of their trust. Which you just destroyed, by the way. Now they think it was just a ploy to get you on board without them noticing. Well, guess what? They noticed!" Bulma screeched.
"Do you really think they would have allowed you to befriend them? They used you. Like a tool. And- fuck's sake, Bulma, you've been hit."
Bulma followed Vegeta's gaze to her side, where she was surprised to find a growing red stain. "Shit."
Vegeta slapped the communicator on his uniform. "Medical emergency, transporter room three."
"Don't think this will let you off the hook," Bulma said angrily as a small team beamed in and loaded her onto a stretcher. One of them gave her a sedative, and she glared at Vegeta until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
Later that evening, as she recovered in sick bay, Bulma awoke to find Chichi standing next to her bed and Vegeta leaning against a wall off to the side. They were engaged in whispered conversation and didn't notice at first that she was awake.
"Chichi?" Bulma murmured.
Vegeta glanced at Bulma with an unreadable expression and left without a word.
"Bad dreams, hon?" Chichi asked sympathetically once Vegeta had taken his leave.
"Was I talking in my sleep again?" Bulma asked.
"No, but I felt you could use someone here when you woke up. Looks like the lieutenant had the same idea."
"He seemed in a hurry to leave," Bulma scoffed and rolled her eyes. She sat up on the edge of the bed and checked the site of the wound: healed, with no scarring to be found. Dr. Korin had done an excellent patch job.
Chichi leaned in close like she was about to divulge a secret. "He doesn't know how to handle his emotions. I notice a flare-up of passion whenever you're around."
"Lust or rage?" Bulma asked with a cheeky grin.
Chichi grinned back. "Maybe both. But he has softer feelings for you too."
The smile fell from Bulma's face, and she looked down at her hands. "I'm not sure I'm ready for those."
Chichi shrugged. "I know how you feel. Saiyan hearts are hard to tame."
"Impossible, actually," Bulma corrected. "I've known enough of them in my lifetime to know you can't tie them down and bend them to your wishes."
"I'd say we humans are much the same way, wouldn't you agree?"
"You're only half-human," Bulma said wryly. "I saw your personnel file."
Chichi shrugged. "My human side is still very strong. But Bulma," she said, tone suddenly sober. "You were distressed while you slept. I felt you all the way from the bridge. What has you so upset?"
Bulma shook her head and shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what dream I was having. I don't remember. I do have this sense that something is… wrong, but I can't quite put my finger on it."
"Well, you can always come to my office if there's something you need to talk about. My door's always open."
Bulma sat near the window in the mess hall absentmindedly stirring her tea. She stared out into the vast expanse of space and stars and thought back to when she used to stand on her balcony in West City, gazing at the night sky. The constellations were different from this vantage, but her sense of awe had only deepened the further away from Earth they travelled.
She saw Vegeta's reflection before she heard him clear his throat roughly to announce his presence.
"May I join you?" Vegeta asked as Bulma turned. He held a mug of tea, prepared the same way she had hers. It was one of those little comforts they'd always shared in their academy days to remind them of home.
Bulma turned back toward the window wordlessly. The asshole had effectively ruined her mission, and she didn't want to speak to him right now. Or ever.
Vegeta took her cold shoulder as his cue to sit down.
"Don't let me interrupt your deep thoughts, Ambassador."
"I'm mad at you," Bulma replied, lip jutting out in an angry pout as she continued staring out the window. "You were an idiot and endangered not only my mission, but my life. And yours as well. I'm going to request that the captain assign Goku as my liason instead." She hadn't yet brought it to Vegeta's-or anyone's-attention that the Legacy's captain closely resembled her friend.
"So be it," Vegeta sniffed. "I'm sure they'll take much more kindly to a low-class Saiyan."
"You harbour animosity toward the commander?" Bulma asked, lifting an eyebrow as she deigned to look at him from the corner of her eye, lip curled. "Tell me, what has the unshakeable prince's feathers so ruffled?"
Vegeta crossed his arms and remained silent.
"Are you upset you were passed over for a promotion when both of you were up for it?"
"Tch, that is none of your concern." Vegeta looked away, and Bulma knew she'd hit it right on the nose.
She sneered and turned back toward the window, watching the Legacy off in the distance-about two hundred kilometers off the port bow. "Why haven't they left yet?" she murmured to herself.
Vegeta followed her gaze and shrugged. "What does it matter? They're probably still getting their sorry asses organized."
Bulma furrowed her brow and concentrated harder on the distant vessel, trying to put together the bits of information that floated around untethered in her brain. Something wasn't quite right-but what?
Then she recalled the eerie quiet she felt in Raditz's quarters. Oh. Oh. "Their engines," she breathed, so quiet that Vegeta had to ask her to repeat herself. She turned toward him, wide-eyed. "It wasn't just the life support systems that were malfunctioning. I guessed it was either that or their engines-but it's both. I couldn't feel any engine vibrations while I was on board. They haven't left because they can't go anywhere."
Vegeta narrowed his eyes in confusion. "One would think a vessel as old as the Legacy and with such a varied crew would have the expertise necessary to repair both its engines and its life support system. Apparently the quality of their pedigree has degraded over the past few generations."
Bulma tapped her chin. She did find it odd, in fact, that the Saiyans' chief engineer hadn't been able to fix the issue with the parts at hand like she had. There had to be something more to it, something she didn't have a chance to hear because her visit was unceremoniously cut short. "I have to contact Raditz somehow, get back over there. There's something else going on."
"Foolish woman," Vegeta snapped. "Don't you realize you have lost their trust now and forever?"
"No, Vegeta, you lost their trust," Bulma replied bitterly, turning toward him with such ferocity in her eyes that Vegeta momentarily deflated at her sharp words.
"I almost got you killed," he stated matter-of-factly. "I did not trust them not to kill you where you stood, but I will admit should have trusted you. You knew what you were doing, and now that you and I are-"
"Lieutenant Vegeta, report to the bridge."
To Bulma's relief, the page came before he said what she feared he'd say. He apparently hadn't dropped this notion that they were somehow bound to each other now.
The echo of unsaid words hung in the air between them, drawing the tension tight as wire.
"On my way," Vegeta replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye with something akin to longing. He hesitated to return to duty, unsure if she would follow.
But she did, hot on his heels as he finally turned and strode toward the turbolift.
Once they arrived at the bridge, Bulma noted that the captain and the other senior officers were crowded around the crewman at the comm station.
"Lieutenant, do you recognize this?" Captain Roshi asked, turning toward the new arrivals as they joined the small crowd.
The crewman played a message in a language Bulma had never heard before. It sounded faint and garbled, like it had been sent on a different frequency and bled over to this one. The high-pitched intonations sounded condescending even to her inexperienced ear.
Vegeta listened intently and shook his head. "I've never encountered anything like it. Cross-check it to Vegeta-sei's database."
"We have," the crewman said. "No dice."
"It almost sounds automated," Goku said, scratching the back of his neck in his tell-tale gesture of complete and utter confusion. "But it only came through once."
"Do you think the Legacy heard it, too?" Bulma mused. "Maybe they know what it is."
"I don't know, Ambassador, would you like to beam over there and ask them?" Vegeta asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Lieutenant," the captain warned before turning back toward Bulma. "Do you think it wise to attempt to hail them?"
"Worst they can do is ignore us," Bulma said with a shrug.
That evening in her quarters, Bulma huddled over her monitor, a steaming mug of hot chocolate rapidly cooling next to her. Frustrated by the Saiyans' lack of response, she had been trying frequency after frequency in an attempt to get a hold of Raditz again. Maybe he'd listen. Maybe he knew the source of the transmission.
There was nothing but radio silence for several long hours, but when she'd finally given up and climbed into bed, her comm station pinged with an incoming transmission. She pulled her robe around herself and padded back over to the console to bring up the viewscreen.
The figure on the other end was shrouded in darkness. Their shadow moved almost imperceptibly across the screen, and when they spoke, their voice was heavily modulated. "Ambassador. You are trying to contact the commander regarding the transmission you received earlier, are you not?"
"I'm afraid I'm not in a position to divulge information about the communications sent to the Nimbus," she said, though her intention was exactly that. Her hand flew across the control pad as she traced the transmission. To her surprise, it didn't originate from the general location of Raditz's quarters, but from a forward compartment of the Saiyan vessel.
"There is more at stake here than you realize, Ambassador."
"If I hail your captain, will he speak to me?" Bulma asked. "He seemed intent on ignoring us earlier."
"He's not in the mood for a chat, and I can't speak for much longer either."
Bulma rolled her eyes. It was almost definitely Raditz on the other end, but she wasn't going to call him out when anybody could be listening in. "I fixed your life support systems. I can fix your engines too. Just give me another chance."
"It's not mine to give," the shadowy figure replied. "Hail this frequency if you receive another transmission. Your vessel could be in grave danger."
Before Bulma could reply, the screen went dark, and she was left staring at her own reflection, head swirling with questions that had no answer.