Heh, it's been a while. A big thank you goes out to my beta, Froglady15! I won't keep you waiting, here is chapter 4. I need to go work on chapter 5, eh, or maybe the next part of Thunderstruck, um, or maybe a drabble post...
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Five read throughs told her diddly-squat about the Marines and the World Government. She knew the official story on who they were and how they came to be, but Bulma was left feeling something was missing, that there was more to be known.
Her mind usually wandered as she cleaned; simple, repetitive tasks allowed her to replay things, books she'd read, interactions with others, or the training sessions with Axle. Bulma gathered up the kitchen garbage, bag rustling as she pulled it from the bin, tied its ends in a knot and stuffed the mass into the incinerator chute. Once opened, a vacuum sucked the garbage down into the crawl space sandwiched between the cargo bay and main deck, there the garbage fed the boiler that supplied the ship's hot water system.
As she loaded breakfast plates and utensils into the washer, she reflected on the Marines. They seemed benign enough; they were Earth's heroes, established by the World Government hundreds of years ago. Bulma recalled how Libroso the bookstore clerk had an obvious enthusiasm for the Marines and compared that to how Axle had showed frightening hatred for them.
A loud slap on the tabletop shattered her musing. She spun around to see Gero looming before her at the end of the galley table, on top of which sat a heap of soft-cover books. The old man looked as sour as ever. All thoughts of Marines and the World Government drained away like water flushing down the commode.
"These are the manuals for the Asimov," Gero said, without preamble. "They're kept in the maintenance cabinet on the bridge."
Bulma's eyes darted to the cover on the top of the stack. To her delight she could read the title, as well all the others along the spines on the books below the top. The clear delight painted upon her face quickly melted into horror as she came to a realization.
She asked hesitantly, "How did you know?"
"Do you expect me not to notice a child tinkering with things on my ship?" Gero asked, though his tone invited no answers. "I am aware of how you spend your time in the library. I know of Axle's juvenile attempts to train you."
Gero stood stock still, with his hands clasped behind his back, his chin elevated, looking down his nose at her. Bulma was already a small child, shorter than Gero, but the way he looked at her made her feel tiny. Although each declaration felt like a harsh jab to her chest, she did not allow herself shrink or wilt under his arctic glare. I'm not going to cry anymore, she reminded herself. Gero went on.
"Despite not having formal schooling, you seem to have an innate drive to learn. I attribute that to your unique background. You have not had any authority directing your study nor a schedule to dictate you aside from my having told you to keep certain rooms tidy. You have taken to your tasks compliantly and complete them in a timely manner. Unlike Gin and Kenworth you show a maturity beyond your outward appearance." As Gero spoke it seemed he was holding a conversation more with himself than with Bulma; he seemed surprised by her, but unsurprised at the same time. Gero broke away eye contact first; he paced around the room, slowly, hands still clasped behind him.
"I never considered adopting a girl child. Pierro scoffed when I brought you back. 'What good is a weak and silly little creature?'" Gero's eyes shifted to Bulma for a second as he continued his slow pace. "The moment I set my eyes on you I could see. You hold a certain shrewdness, a bold spirit and a hunger for knowing. I have seen that proven in last few months," Gero stopped again, hovering over her. "Had you not lived up to my initial perception, child, I would not have hesitated in putting you out the airlock."
Bulma sucked in a quick breath, her eyes widening and her skin prickling with goosebumps.
"Tomorrow we dock once more on Earth. You will help Axle and Mojag resupply as usual. Unlike previous trips you are familiar with, we will be docked for a week; perhaps more. I have research to conduct. After that I will personally walk you through ship maintenance. I expect to have even less time to devote to it than I already do."
Gero turned to leave. As he reached the doorway Bulma scraped up as much courage as she could muster.
"An allowance, sir," she said, in what she hoped was a steady and confident voice.
Gero stopped in his tracks but did not turn around.
"It's only fair," Bulma stated, a little less loud, with far more whine to it than she would have liked.
"So it is," said Gero. He deliberated, in silence, for a long moment, never turning to acknowledge Bulma. "50 credits per week." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. When she said nothing else, he went on, "Do well, and I may consider increasing the amount. The more valuable you prove to be the more I will pay you, after all a crew brings in what it is worth."
Gero explained no further and he continued to walk away.
"Thank you, sir!" Bulma called after him, as he disappeared beyond the threshold, not caring if he cared for her appreciation. "I'll do my best!"
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The roller coaster train ride into West Town was just as dazzling this time as it was the last, even if the conductors seemed blasé. At the station, Gero handed an odd snail each to Axle and Kenworth. He warned that everyone should be ready to hastily disembark at the signal; during this announcement he pinned Kenworth and Gin with his icy glare.
Gin and Kenworth were gone as soon as the old men set off for the Doctor's office-workshop. Bulma was not worried about the boys' destination so long as they stayed far away from her. Even with Axle's training she wasn't sure if she could hold her own against even one of them for very long.
All afternoon she helped Axle and Mojag with supplying. They bought food, first aid supplies, and toiletries and then stored them in what seemed to be an abandoned building on a lonely back street, away from the bustling square. Bulma concluded that this too belonged to the Doctor, as Axle had produced a key for it.
The sun was still high in the air when they were done. Bulma was sure she could find her way back to this lonely alley if the need arose.
"I want to browse the bookstore." She said to Axle, hopefully.
Axle nodded, "I am not surprised, but I cannot accompany you. I'm not so sure you should-"
"It's only the book store," Bulma rebuked, "What could possibly happen there? Nothing ever happens in West Town. This place is as dull as it was when I left it."
"Dull, says the child, who has never experienced true hardship," said Mojag. The tall warrior's unexpected assertion seemed to steal Bulma's speaking ability away, leaving her in stunned silence. She had never heard him speak so many words before.
He sauntered away, and sat upon an empty crate not saying anything more.
"I-he-what?" Bulma sputtered.
"If you wish to go, you may, but I cannot." He pushed crisp Zeni bills at her, disregarding Mojag's odd statement.
Bulma hesitated as she reached to take the money, but reminded herself that she could now pay him back eventually when her allowance from Dr. Gero built up. She bit her lip, looking first at the bills, then up to Axle. After short consideration she nodded, accepting the Zeni and tucking it away into her dress pocket. Conscience tamed, she turned to run but stopped and threw herself into his legs, giving him a quick hug before dashing off.
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The sun beamed in the sky, and it seemed happy in its unrelenting brightness. Just outside of town couples picnicked, on the dock old men fished and hulking vessels loomed, their furled sails billowing in the warm sea breeze. However none of that warmth reached the child within the confines of Southey's Book Emporium.
Every history book she skimmed through seemed to say no more than the book she walked away with the last time. All of them were skimpy on detail and ambiguous in story.
"That is so strange," Bulma muttered as she closed the book in hand and turned to grab the next. She bumped into something hard and unyielding and felt herself being propelled back as if ricocheting off of a solid wall, but before she could hit the ground she felt hands grab her, and hold her steady.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see you down there," said a voice as even as the sea on the most serene day. The woman that stood before her was tall. As the woman crouched her black leather coat creaked as it crinkled around her trim waist. "I see you are interested in history. I am too" she said to Bulma, as if confessing a sin. Her smile was warm, assuring and seemed to hold no deceit.
Up close Bulma could see the woman was an adult but still young. Her face was flawless, her hair as black as midnight. Under the woman's white cowboy hat the dark eyes, were large and shrewd; they seemed the kind to miss no detail. "Do you want to know a secret?" the mystery woman asked, her eyes darting left, then right, looking out to make sure that no one was near enough to hear what she was about to say.
A blanket of apprehension dropped around Bulma, and she clutched the book in her hands a little closer. No adult ever confided in her, especially one that was a complete stranger. "I can show you a book that has far more information in it than that one."
Bulma's eyes darted to the bear-eared shop-keeper. He was busy shelving books in the opposite corner. Confident his fuzzy brown ears were far enough away, Bulma whispered back, the urgency in her tone surprising her, "Yes, please."
The tall woman stood up and held out a hand, eyes flicking toward the heavy history book Bulma held. Bulma handed it over and the woman left it on the counter as they made way for the exit.
"No purchases today, Miss Bulma?" Libroso asked, hint of surprise obvious in his voice.
"No sir, maybe next time. Goodbye, sir."
As they left the store Bulma suddenly thought maybe it wasn't so wise to follow a complete stranger. What if this woman was a pirate- a real bad pirate, and she would kidnap her and sell her into slavery. What if she was a mountain bandit and wanted to use her as ransom bait? What if-
A tattered, dog-eared paper back was placed into her hands. The cover was crude and unabashed in its intention to lure a depraved sort of reader. A handsome and roguish, bearded pirate embraced a lady with bosoms nearly falling out of her dress; their gazes met in heated passion as if they either wanted to eat each other whole or, something else, that something else being something Bulma could not name.
"I know it may look questionable, but do not let the cover deter you. This is the most historically accurate tale surrounding the subject I have yet seen." The tall woman smiled warmly.
People rushed around the two as Bulma held the paperback in hand; its musty smell filled her nose. The cover was soft, well-worn around the edges, and she could see creases that indicated the owner had no qualms about abusing the publication for the sake of saving the last place read.
"Okay," Bulma said hesitantly, now concluding that the tall woman was neither pirate nor bandit but maybe an escaped asylum patient. "I don't think I'm interested in buying this, ma'am."
"It's yours to keep," The woman said as she glanced around. "It's served its purpose for me and I have it memorized. I was no older than you when I acquired it."
A white flash caught both their eyes. There on the street corner across from the bookstore, stood two men in pristine uniforms. On their matching white billowing capes in large, bold black Bulma read the symbols for "Justice." Marines.
"Maybe we'll meet again someday," said the woman and then she quickly disappeared into the crowd.
"I didn't get your name," Bulma muttered. She looked down at the book in hand, at its title in extravagant curling red script, Romance Dawn.
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Bulma flipped through the worn pages of the paperback as she aimlessly made her way up the busy main square. She looked up, periodically, to keep from bumping into anymore strange people. The closer she got to the town center, the more crowded it became. West Town denizens rushed past her in the midst of their daily errands, carrying shopping baskets, selling fruit and bread, pushing carts and yelling out their wares and prices. Harried men in stiff looking suits scuttled purposefully past and at least once a Marine stalked by, paying no attention to her at all, leaving Bulma to wonder if he had even seen her.
Feeling the need to escape the bustle, she took a seat at a wooden table in front of a small café. The smell of sweet baked goods filled the air.
"There's no author's name anywhere," Bulma said, quietly. She sighed, looking up from the book, taking notice of her soundings and suddenly remembering that she was not going back to the ship tonight. She figured as long as she made it back to the storage facility before sundown she'd be fine. At that point she realized she didn't know where she was going to spend the night. Were they going to sleep among the provisions they purchased today? She didn't recall seeing any blankets or cots as they stacked boxes and packages earlier. Would it be cold tonight?
A girlish titter caught her ear and broke her train of thought. At the next table a boy sat close to a girl. They looked a few years older than her, in their teens and seemed not to notice Bulma.
"This is my favorite café, they have the most scrumptious tea cakes here," the girl said, placing her hand on the boy's and leaning in as she spoke. She bit her lip before continuing, and said hesitatingly, "but, they are a tad pricy. I don't get to indulge as much as I'd like." She pouted and pulled her hand away from his, reaching for an errant strand of golden hair by her ear.
Bulma watched, transfixed. The boy quickly seized her run-away hand and he held it in both of his as if holding on the reins of flighty pony. "I'd buy the entire store for you if I could."
The girl's free hand clutched at her chest. Her bold, v-cut blouse framed a golden locket that dangled above generous cleavage. Bulma noticed the boy's eyes glance at her chest momentarily. "Until then," he offered, "will you accept tea and a single cake, my sweet?"
"Oh, that would be lovely," the girl cooed as she fluttered her long lashes.
"Wait here." He darted into the shop. As the girl reached into her purse, she noticed Bulma watching and sent her small, friendly, wave. "They're so easy to manipulate. Just you wait until you're fully equipped." She winked and gave her chest a not-so-subtle squeeze with her upper arms as she checked her make-up in a compact mirror.
Embarrassed at being caught starring, Bulma opened her book and pretended to read.
The girl put her compact away as the boy came out of the shop, and took his seat. Shortly after a server came out with a laden tray and set two mugs in front of the pair, poured tea then set a small plate of something colorful before the girl. "Enjoy." She said, smiling, and then went back inside.
The girl squealed in excitement before cutting into her confection as the boy sipped his tea, sporting a somewhat weary but satisfied grin.
Bulma's stomach gave a hungered lurch. If they weren't going back to the ship, where were they going to eat dinner? Remembering the zeni Axle had given her earlier, she wondered if she was on her own in procuring a meal. Bulma looked into the café window. On an array of sloped shelving were numerous colorful deserts. There were pies, cakes with different kinds of icing, cookies, tarts and candied fruits. This time her stomach gave an audible growl. Not giving it another thought she went into the shop and up to the display counter. Immediately her eyes fell upon a platter of glistening, bright red fruit. They had little tufts of green on their wide end and were covered in a brown icing like layer on the rest of its form down to the rounded point.
"Fancy the chocolate dipped strawberries, dear?"
Bulma looked up. Behind the counter was a plump, middle-aged woman in a yellow and pink checked dress, over which she wore a cream colored apron with squared frills along the edges. Her hair was as pink as bubble gum, and curly and poofy like cotton candy.
"Yes, ma'am." Bulma replied; etiquette lesson from the orphanage having been drilled into her she never forgot to treat adults accordingly.
"You can call me Madam Battenburg, dearie."
Tucking her paperback under her arm, Bulma reached into her dress pocket and produced the folded wad of zeni. She counted ten bills each marked 20 zeni. She gasped. Oh kami! Axle had given her so much!
"Um," Bulma murmured, eyeing the sumptuous red fruit, "how much for all of them"
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Bulma made her way back to the storage facility, book in one hand and a pink and yellow checked paper bag almost half as big as she was in the other hand. The sun hung low in the west, casting the alleyway in shadow, making things look different enough that she began to doubt if she had gone down the right street. There were no boxes in sight, and neither Axle nor Mojag were anywhere to be seen.
Bulma's heart lurched in her chest, she could feel the icy cold claws of panic prickling at her. Clutching the sweets bag, she scurried back the way she came and turned the corner. She must have just taken a wrong turn. The warehouse must be the next street over. Shadows engulfed her as she jogged between the buildings. When she came out onto the next street nothing looked familiar. She looked left, right, backwards and squinted into the darkened ally in front of her. She knew she followed her steps right back to the same street. Where were they? She made her way up to the next street, and then the next. Her hands gripped the sweets bag strings, cold and clammy, her heart thudded in her chest, making her breath come and go in short bursts. It was only because she was running and it was getting cold she tried to tell herself.
Maybe if she made her way back to the main square she could start over from the front of the bookstore. There was still a bit of light left. It was okay. It was okay.
She blinked rapidly, and chewed at her lip. The sounds of her shoes scraping across the gravel seemed too loud in the empty alley. Bulma squeaked as a small shadow dashed across the far wall. At the end of the street she didn't recognize any of the buildings.
She swallowed back at the building lump in her throat, and pleaded quietly, "Oh, Kami, where am I?" Her tiny voice cracked.
A large hand, gripped like a vice on her shoulder and she screamed.
"Whoa, whoa, kiddo." A loud, unfamiliar male voice boomed. Dread settled over her as a large Marine turned her to face him. "You okay, squirt? You look lost."
Bulma's lip trembled as she tried to speak, "I-"
"Bulma!" Axle thundered from across the block. He strode across the graveled streets, his heavy boots crunching loudly.
Bulma felt her self being lifted into the air, the huge Marine's arms cradling her protectively.
"Bulma, I have been looking for you," Axle shouted, relieved. "Give her to me," he demanded, arms out ready to take her as soon as he was close enough.
Bulma felt herself being yanked back. "Hey there, kid, can I help you?"
Axle stopped dead in his tracks. His teeth gritted as he glared at the young Marine, clearly taking offense at being called kid by someone who looked no older than he.
Bulma squirmed in the Marine's grasp. "Axle!" She shouted, "I- where were you?"
The Marine held her fast.
"Let go of me," she demanded, flinching; the pain of his grip on her shoulders forced the ingrained politeness out of her. "Let me go! It's just Axle."
The Marine, pulled Bulma close to him and whispered, "Look kiddo, if this guy is bothering you in any way, just let me know. It's okay. I'm on your side. I'm here to protect you."
Bulma felt confused. The Marine didn't seem to be a bad guy. Axle wasn't either, but something about the whole situation was all wrong and she didn't know the right way to handle it. She didn't know what she was supposed to say. She tried what she thought was obvious. "That's just Axle. He's-" Bulma's speech faltered. What was Axle to her? Her friend? Her shipmate?
The Marine's grip remained firm. Across the alley, Axle, sneered, his normally pale face was flushed red, muscles in his jaw twitched and veins in his fists and forehead stood out. Bulma sent him a pleading look, as if to ask him to stay calm and not lose it.
She turned back to the Marine. Upon closer inspection, the Marine was probably no older than Axle, maybe only 18; that was the minimum age for full duty recruitment after all. The Marine boy was too strong; even with what little training she had there was no way to overpower him. "Let me go!" She pleaded, squirming. "It's just Axle!"
"Kiddo," the Marine whispered, "It's okay."
Bulma felt conflicted. The Marine wasn't outright rude, but Bulma felt he was being unreasonably stupid. "Axle is," Bulma hesitated. What the heck was Axle to her? At the orphanage she only knew the other girls. The only time she ever saw boys was during the infrequent holidays when both the boys' and girls' schools would meet. All of her girl classmates were referred to as her sisters; the teachers were aunt This, or aunt That. And the boys were-
"Axle is my brother!" Bulma pleaded. "Please, let me go."
The Marine's grip seemed to relax, just a bit.
"Look, Red," said the Marine to Axle, "I don't want any trouble. According to the law, I'm supposed to ask for legal documentation for a non-relational minor."
Axle kept quiet. The muscles in his jaw twitched, as if he were holding back all that he wanted to say. Bulma had to think fast. As much as she hated Gin and Kenworth, she would never be able to learn or earn as much at the orphanage. And, at this point, she really was beginning to think of Axle as her brother. She just needed to think of a way to get out of this guy's grasp.
Bulma thought back to the girl from earlier, they're so easy to manipulate. Bulma looked up at the Marine boy. His eyes were clear, bright and a soft and kind brown. His sharp jaw line was smooth as if a grown man's hair had yet to grow there but his figure spoke a different tune. He was very solid, and it made Bulma feel very unsettled in admitting that she didn't mind him holding her. But, she needed to be let go. She thought back, again, to the girl she saw earlier and she pouted up at the young Marine.
"Please, sir, let me go with my older brother Axle," she batted her eyes like she had seen the tea shop girl do. "I'm so sorry I got lost and caused you trouble." Bulma leaned into him and looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes.
The Marine reeled back from Bulma a little, an uncertain look on his clean cut features. He set her down, holding fast to her shoulders; he kneeled and met her eye to eye. "Look kiddo, I'll let you go, but if you ever need help just find your way to Marine base 171 at the docks. You can't miss it; it's the largest structure in West Town." The Marine gave Axle a side eyed glance. "You remind me of my kid sister, and if Red over there is really your brother, you tell him he needs to do a better job of keeping you safe."
He let go of her.
Bulma beamed at him and curtsied. "Thank you, sir." And then she trotted toward Axle. Axle reached down and scooped her up and placed her on his wide shoulders, Bulma hugged him tightly.
"I don't see why you hate them," she said as she turned to wave at the Marine, who still seemed uncertain. "They really aren't bad at all."
Axle grumbled but said nothing as they walked back to the storage building. There they met Mojag and made their way further into the town. As they walked, the buildings became no less dense; sparse light from the main street seeped in, casting everything in a sinister gloom. A cat yowled in the distance and something clattered setting off a series of dog barks the chilled Bulma to the bone. She clutched Axle tighter and asked, whispering, for fear of something monstrous hearing her. "Where are we going?"
Axle answered, not in a whisper, but in a low tone that did nothing assuage her fear, "We are going to father's office. Their ship left hours ago and we will be staying there until they come back."