A/N – Hello! Thanks to everyone for the reviews, they were very much appreciated! Though, they did make me rather nervous, I just hope I can keep up the quality.
Just to warn you, it's a long one.
.Disclaimer.
--.....--
.Chapter Two.
--.....--
The first thing Bulma noticed was that her cheek was damp. Her entire body ached and she was lying down in a very uncomfortable position. As if someone just dropped her and she had slept like that. She wearily opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness. She kept her ear against the cold and damp floor and listened.
'There.' She thought accusingly; she could hear the gust of jets and the hum of engines. Even when she was groggy, her mind was always reeling, looking for answers.
Those engines meant she was on a ship. Bulma pulled herself up from the awkward position, staring out into the darkness to help her eyes adjust. She stretched herself out while she waited; sleep still trying to cling to her mind. She leaned her back against the metal wall, her legs outstretched before her.
Suddenly her mind switched on, memories, feelings and events flashed before her mind's eye, filling her being. Bulma immediately felt anger above all else, she let out a scream of frustration.
Breathing heavily, she took in her surroundings. She sat in a dark cell, most likely on a Saiyan ship. She could fee the grime through her white gloves (though she doubted they were still white). The cell smelled musty and foul, like the Saiyans often left their prisoners to rot there. They probably do, Bulma sneered in disgust. It was dank too.
"Why the hell is it dank?!" Bulma shouted angrily, needless to say, she was in a particularly foul mood and would have kicked a puppy if given the chance. "Damn Saiyans, can't even fix a leak on their own ship. Psh, they probably stole it, the mindless baboons. Cursed monkeys, filthy barbarians-" Bulma continued to mutter darkly for the next few minutes.
Finally her eyes got used to the darkness. Simple bars of complete black stood out in the dark, letting her know she was in one of the lower security cells. At her right, a milky white stood out. Melon sized blobs, surrounded by curved sticks: bones. She briefly wondered how many had rotted away in that cell, but the thought was blotted away as death reminded her of something else. She frowned, her anger subsiding, along with her curses. For one thing still lingered in her mind, and would never leave her. Never.
She failed.
She had been captured. She was on a Saiyan ship, to who knows where. She didn't know if her friends and family were okay, if her people had been enslaved, or even if her planet had been destroyed. She had fought, she had run. Her body had been running on pure adrenaline for almost an entire day. Bulma had done everything in her power to fight the damn Saiyans, to do the one thing that was asked of her: to get away from them.
And it wasn't enough.
Tears began to gather in her eyes. How did this happen? How did she ended up in this situation? Were the last hours of her memory even real? Just this morning, she had been discussing wedding plans with Yamcha.
-_-.....-_-
The sky for once was a clear blue, instead of the cloudy grey of snow filled clouds. The air was crisp and clean. A man with wild black hair sat cross-legged with an aqua haired girl perched on his lap. Both were dressed warmly, for they were on Tokoshimo-sei. The planet of eternal winter. Of course, it wasn't really. The planet in fact had four seasons, but it sounded neat, so the natives encouraged it.
And it was a very believable rumor because the land was perpetually covered in a blanket of icy powder, and it snowed almost every other day. However, that did not mean that the land was lifeless; quit the contrary, the land was bursting with it.
Birds of many colors flew through the air, rainbow fish swam through the clear waters, and crimson and indigo flowers thrived, bursting out of the snow like fireworks frozen in time. For it was spring, the only season that the planet was ever colorful; and it was the perfect time for a wedding.
"Orchids or amaryllis?" Bulma asked, holding out the two said flowers before her. She sat in Yamcha's lap, who sat cross-legged. This of course was a pivotal decision, one that could not be taken lightly by a bride. It could make or break the entire day.
"I like amaryllis." Yamcha murmured against her neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. Bulma studied the blood red flower.
"Are you sure? I like the orchids." Bulma said tilting her head to the side, unwittingly giving Yamcha better access. Yamcha pulled her closer to his chest.
"Okay then, the orchids." Yamcha said, though his reply was a bit muffled against her skin.
"Yamcha help me out here, I gotta decide by today." Bulma said, unable to keep a serious tone with his lips on her skin. "They're both rather beautiful..." She looked over her shoulder; Yamcha drew his head back so he could look at her face.
"Not as beautiful as you." Yamcha said, making his voice husky and looking into her eyes. She began to laugh.
"I can't believe I ever fell for that cheesy line." Bulma teased as she threw her head back over his shoulder, Yamcha took the opportunity to kiss her collarbone.
"I can't believe I seriously used that." Yamcha said with a sheepish grin, shaking his head a bit as he remembered their earlier meetings. "I was so nervous."
"I know! It was the cutest thing ever, you stuttered and everything!" Bulma said, smiling fondly, her eyes glowing.
"Women used to terrify me." Yamcha admitted, his face flushing a little. He buried his face in her neck.
"We were both young and naive, I dazzled you with my beauty and intelligence, I was taken by your…" What could describe Yamcha's dorky nervousness and sputtering clumsiness? "Charm." Bulma decided with a huge grin.
She dropped the flowers and reached over her head to rake her fingers through his hair. Yamcha began to once again to continue his assault on her neck.
"Sorry to disrupt you two lovebirds," said a playful voice. Bulma turned and disentangled herself from her aficionado to stand up and greet the newcomer. Leaving Yamcha in the same exact position for a second, with a dry and disappointed look on his face. Sighing, he looked over his shoulder to see who had intruded.
"Marron." Yamcha stated, seeing a tall and ditzy girl. She was his fiancé's look-alike (if any such situation were to need one). Though, you would just have to see Bulma up close to spot that they actually had no real resemblance. The only similarity was their blue hair and eyes, a rarity on their planet.
His eyes lazily rolled over her body head to toe. However, his Bulma's eyes were cunning, intelligent and glowing. Bulma's hair was silk, it was like water and glimmered like fine silver. Marron…simply couldn't compare.
"What's up?" Bulma asked smiling, not noticing Yamcha's roaming eyes.
"Your Pop requests your brilliant mind down in the main Control Room." Marron said crossing her arms.
"Alright. I'll be down in a minute." Bulma said causally. He probably just wanted her to take a look at a new update or something along those lines. One of Tokoshimo's most well kept secrets was that their Princess was a mental force to be reckoned with.
Marron grinned, "Don't take too long." She teased, eyeing the pair warily.
Once she left the room, Yamcha let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.
"I don't get why you don't like her!" Bulma said raising her voice a bit, but smiling all the same.
"She's annoying." Yamcha said plainly. He then promptly fell back eagle-style onto the white-peppered-bear-skin rug and stretched his limbs.
Bulma thought for a moment, that was true. Marron could be so ditzy sometimes that Bulma just wanted to slap her. Then she sometimes said the most careless thing, that Bulma would have down right berated anyone else if they had said it. But Bulma could never get really mad at anything Marron said or did; because, come one, it was Marron. She didn't really know what she was saying.
Not to mention the girl was Bulma's longest companion, a sister really. Being in her position didn't give her the chance to make many friends her age. And because of that:
"She's one of my best friends. We grew up together. Though," Bulma walked over to him and leaned over his head. "I'm glad you at least try to hide your distaste."
"I don't think she would get a clue if I wrote it on her forehead." Yamcha said dryly, reaching over his head to wrap his arms around her legs.
"Be nice! She's actually really smart." Bulma defend against her friend's reputation. That was another extremely well kept secret, that few on the planet even knew about. And it was completely true; what Marron may have lacked in common sense she made up for in book smarts.
"If you say so." Yamcha said with a skeptical tone, Bulma rolled her eyes, but the effect was lost with her smile. She could never stop smiling with him. She could have been talking about an orphanage that burnt down and all the orphans had to live in the snowy woods, and she would have been smiling! She bent down and kissed the Prince on his nose. Oh well, she really didn't have a problem with that.
"I'll see you a little later." Bulma said, hovering just above him. He let go of her legs a bit reluctantly.
"I'll be in the dinning hall." He said, still lying on the ground.
"You're such a guy." Bulma said shaking her head, and smiling. She walked out, stopping at the huge and heavy Cheery wood door, "Make your mind up about the flowers!" Then was already down the hall.
Yamcha pulled himself up to a sitting position and grabbed the two flowers in each hand. Orchids or Amaryllis? It truly didn't matter to him.
"I wish she would just decide."
--.....--
Bulma jogged up to her friend; her suede beige boots clicking dully on the carpet that laid in the center of the hall. Her look alike turned and grinned.
"Took you long enough." Marron said with a knowing grin. Bulma grinned back "So, how goes the wedding plans?"
"Yamcha's no help, I'm always just about to decide on something, and then he distracts me, making me lose focus." Bulma said rolling her eyes but smiling. She couldn't stop! "So he has to choose flowers, I even narrowed it down for him."
"Well, things like that don't matter in the long run, anyway." Marron said with a shrug.
Bulma shrugged, completely disagreeing. The details were everything! Though, this was Marron, and Bulma didn't take half the things she said seriously.
Bulma suddenly broke into a little dance right there in the hall. "I'm getting married!" Bulma squealed for the 78th time that day
Marron laughed.
"You still haven't told me who I'm going down the aisle with." She asked, Marron was the maid of honor after all.
"Yamcha chose Tien, a good friend of ours. You remember him? When Yamcha first came to our planet?" Bulma asked.
"Three eyes?" Marron asked, pointing to her forehead with a grimace.
"That's the one." Bulma said with a big grin, crossing her hands behind her head as she walked.
"Oh, joy." Marron murmured, with fake enthusiasm "Just kidding" she added as they headed down a wide marble staircase, the red carpet continued.
"Why are there no elevators on this floor?" Marron asked, slightly annoyed as her hand grazing the wide polished rail.
"It's the oldest side of the castle. My father couldn't bare to cut into the fine marble here." Bulma informed, looking at the grand hall "My great Grandfather built this side." Bulma said pointing to a large portrait that was just above the descending stairs.
"Of course, times 'great' by 36." Bulma added, then quickly sent Marron a sly smirk. "But if you want to go faster, I know a way." She then promptly skipped onto the wide banister and slide down.
"Race you!" Bulma called out without looking back, she then curled down a bit to make herself more aerodynamic.
"Bulma!" Marron called after her hopelessly, and began to jog down the stairs her black boots padding. She then saw her friend land on her feet at the end of the long banister and jump into a dash down the hall.
Marron rolled her eyes, and began to walk the rest of the way down the stairs.
--.....--
Bulma ran down the stairs and past the elevators. The last time she had used them, she had lost against Yamcha. She turned corners and ran down stairs, dodging workers, guards, and furniture; knowing the castle like she knew the back of Yamcha's hand.
She ran down a glass tunnel that went through an underground river, and passed into a different building. Suddenly her surroundings changed from an imperial traditional and primordial castle to a metallic, advance facility, complete with cameras, buttons, lights, screens, security, computers and soda machines.
This was the innovative, automated, business, push-me-button side of the castle. The side her great grandfather's grandfather had built. And every one in her family had upgraded since. It was like one of the space colonies up in the cosmos. Better of course. Tokoshimo-sei was the most advanced planet in the universe.
Bulma turned into a hall and passed various metal doors, the color scheme though out the facility was metallic white, blue and grey. The floor was covered with metal tiles and the gray metal walls seemed to float between long lines of white light. On the walls were white numbers and arrows, showing directions and locations. By each door was a blue pad, number panels and other such things for security. Round-black-half-spheres poked out of the ceiling strategically put to see everything, from every prospective.
Bulma jogged and finally found the lab she was looking for. She stood before a blue pad, the size of an average computer screen and pressed her palm to it. The computer scanned it and a square panel slid open at eye level and, without delay, it scanned her iris. Bulma passed the scan and the computer sent a map straight into her iris.
With a hiss the door opened to revel a dark room that seemed to go on forever, it had neither ceiling nor floor, just an abyss. Bulma confidently stepped out to place her foot on air and began to jog, following the map in her mind. The moment she set foot on the air, a hexagon of light appeared, supporting her and scanning her body as she ran. Bulma reached a specific side of the hexagon and stepped once again onto air and another appeared. This process proceeded till the final hexagon produced a door.
It opened for her and Bulma stepped into a platform looking over largely dark silver room; large panels of the metal lining the walls and floor. It was enormous. It was the largest lab in the compound. There was an enormous flat screen that took up the whole wall in front of her, at least 20 feet high. It was filled with over a dozen other screens that were organized on all sides surrounding a great square in the center.
Beside Bulma was a set of buttons and she punched in a quick code. A circular metal tile rose up from a storing place and met level with her feet. Bulma hoped on and it proceeded to take her to her destination.
Bulma hovered over the grand number of people in the room. Everyone wore metal bracers on their forearms, metal caps on their fingers and ear pieces with a connected telecomunicators that hovered before their mouth. There were rows of computers, floating metal frames that contained a screen of light, various panels of buttons, numbers and controls.
Bulma hovered over to a raised hexagon platform that stood in the middle of the room. Her Father stood there, surrounded by the Captains and Generals. Each Captain stood before their respective screens, shifting through information reported to their Generals and their King.
Bulma could see her Father's blue gray brows knitted in concentration. She gingerly stepped off the metal disk and onto the white platform. The moment she stepped onto it, she almost stepped back. The tension was thick, making the air around her grave. They all saluted her.
"What's wrong?" Bulma asked immediately, looking at the people before her. Marron hadn't mentioned anything.
"The force fields are fazing in and out of power." A man with a spike of red hair said, straight to the point. He wore a black headset to give out commands and receive information. Sixteen, the General of Defense. He turned to one of the screens before him and using the metal caps on his fingers pulled up another screen of information.
"How long?" Bulma asked, her voice serious and businesslike. She pulled some gloves like his on, "Where?"
"About 15 minutes, and on all sides of the planet." He answered. "The fuel supply has been checked three times and the program is being review by every member of my team. Mechanics at every AD-Station have reported that nothing is physically wrong with any of the machines." He finished, referring to large-villages-sized-colonies that revolved around the planet.
Each AD-Station carried an internal electrical outputter, a machine that produced a force field, the AD Field. With the numerous AD-Stations surrounding the planet they made the AD Field into a giant spherical barrier that encompassed the entire planet. Each Station was responsible for their own section of the AD Field.
Bulma nodded, immediately running through possible reasons why the AD Field wasn't working.
"The weapons are in working order and every soldier has been ordered to be on guard, though only down to the majors have been informed of the full situation." A girl with short blonde hair said. Around her waist, legs, and shoulders were various holsters that held numerous artillery. Eighteen, the General of Offense. "All weapons are charged and ready for fire."
Before Bulma could open her mouth, a young women yelled.
"I've found something!" She pushed some buttons on the floating metal bars before her and her discovery blew up to the enormous screen, slap dab in the middle.
There was a stunned silence at what was seen. It showed the programming to the AD Field visibly and slowly deteriorating.
Bulma exchanged a look with her Father and the two Androids. She stepped up to the screen pulling the information to the smaller screen before her. Her Father and Sixteen did the same to their own screen. They began hurriedly shifting through solutions to cure the problem.
"What Station is this?" Bulma asked quickly, her voice full of calculating authority.
"Station B-9." Sixteen informed. "It's too late to isolate it, it has already spread to the other Stations." While his voice was calm and monotone, his worry was in his eyes.
"Its already spread to the other fields? That doesn't make sense, the program doesn't work that way." Bulma said her eyes looking over the information in concern.
Eighteen frowned. They may have to resort to the back up force field, which would drain the power from their weapons and weaken their offence.
Before anyone could fine a solution, a wave of power was felt through the room, like a gust of wind. It shocked the Androids into stillness and sizzled through the machines. The white lights went out and all screens turned red, shortly before disappearing, the main one revealed a grand pillar of light behind it. The pillar was a neon blue glow, information swirling in it like water, but it dimmed to a dull grey. There was a shocked horrific silence in the dim room. No one moved and no one breathed.
Within in a few seconds the system switched onto its back up mode, the screens flashed on and the pillar returned back to its natural neon blue, but was hidden again behind the enormous screen. But now all screens were flashing red, and the lights over head were weaker. Workers confirmed that simple commands were not being obeyed, while others could no longer log into the main system.
Bulma and her Father reached over to the two frozen Androids. Bulma pulled down Eighteen's scarf to open a panel on her neck and switched on a few buttons. Her Father did the same to Sixteen. Both Androids flashed their blue eyes and shook themselves as if to get the oil flowing.
Bulma's Father turned to the machines in front of him, his hands running over screens of light, pulling desperately at information and sorting through code and graphs. The screen blurred and fizzled, the back up power supply not performing properly.
"A Virus…" Bulma heard her Father whisper under his breath. That word alone stuck fear into all that heard it. "Alarm the troops that the force fields are down!" A soon as her Father finished the sentence the planet shook with a grand force.
Sixteen grabbed Bulma's waist to keep her from falling off the platform. "Visual! Report!" He yelled out.
"All space cameras are fried!" someone yelled back
"Eastern cameras are offline!"
"There are no signals from the Stations!"
"Nothing from the check points!"
"Damn it! Is anything online?!" Eighteen yelled out frustrated, already having alerted her troops.
"General!!" A man yelled, he clicked a few buttons and blurry static images appeared to replace the main flashing red screen.
A fleet of Saiyan Ships
---.....--
The door slide open with a loud swoosh and the sudden light blinded Bulma. She quickly raised her forearm to shield her eyes, shaking her memories away. Bulma pushed herself to her feet, her muscles more cooperative after stretching. She looked up to see the silhouette of a Saiyan, and she glared at him with scorching hatred, her memories fresh and raw.
He opened the cell door "Come on." He ordered gruffly. Bulma considered sitting down just to spite him, but knew she didn't want to be in the dank cell any longer; beside he might carry her.
Eww.
Bulma exited the cell with all the dignity she could muster, her chin held up high looking down at the Saiyan with a sneer as she passed him. She walked out the door to see that she was now flanked by two new Saiyans. Bulma didn't bother to hide her distaste at their presence.
Though her muscles were still weary she walked down the dark hall way as if walking to her coronation. She could feel the Saiyan's eyes on her and she briefly wondered how she looked. Sneaking a peak, she saw that the bottom of her boots were stained a rusty scarlet, her pants were ripped at the knees, reveling scraped flesh, her once white blouse was now a horrible tan color, and the palms of her gloves were indeed brown.
Bulma's eye twitched, she hated being dirty. Blinking away her self-absorbed thoughts, Bulma began to go through the possible reasons she was still alive, and where exactly they were taking her. She frowned realizing, that she was probably a negotiation hostage, or maybe they knew…
No, they couldn't know.
Her thoughts drifted to plans of escape, but she had nothing but her engagement necklace hidden under her shirt (she was glad she still had it). She was defenseless and the Saiyans beside her could kill her with literally one finger. Bulma frowned and was suddenly angered at the thought of their power.
They had to be one of the strongest races in the universe, and they were also the most asinine. There was nothing she hated more than brainless power. They were absolute barbarians with no sense of culture. And their bloodlust! They had enjoyed the war-
Bulma paused her thought process; she could go on forever ranting about the Saiyans. She needed a plan. Well, the Saiyans were incredibly dim, perhaps she could talk her way out….
"So, what's your name?" Bulma started suddenly turning to the man on her left, speaking civilly to a Saiyan for the first time in seven years. The Saiyan seemed to be taken by complete surprise and turned and gave her a stupid look as if processing what she said.
"You know, you get one when your born," Bulma began mockingly before she could stop herself, she went on "people tend to refer to you as such, and sometimes, someone else can have the same one as you-" Bulma stopped herself, she would ruin her own plan if she got him mad "But I digress, I'm Bulma." She said hurriedly and politely.
The Saiyan glared at her and turned away, looking forward.
Aww, I confused him, She thought with a cooing tone. Dumbass, her mind hissed. She promptly ignored him and turned to the one on her right.
"How 'bout you?" Bulma asked, he said nothing.
"Manners anyone." Bulma muttered annoyed that her plan wasn't working "Not enough brain cells to start a conversation." She added under her breath
Both Saiyans stopped walking. Bulma turned to her right, then her left to see their muscles clenched, restrained. Guess they heard me. Bulma was unaffected, and continued to walk. She was a Princess, and they were low-class soldiers, they couldn't touch her.
Okay onto Plan B. Plan A was obviously not working. She felt the two Saiyans walk in stride with her again. Bulma was about to fall down and demand to be taken to the infirmary when the Saiyans stopped. Bulma looked to see that she was in front of a huge door; one Saiyan pressed a touch pad and the door opened.
Bulma stood still in front of the door as the two Saiyans walked in. She stood, debating whether to go in. Then the third Saiyan, which she had forgotten about, pushed her in. Bulma hopped into the room with a surprise yelp.
She stood in the control room and before her were two very important Saiyans. Bulma glared angrily, avoiding the smirk of the younger one. She knew if she caught it, well, let's just say she couldn't be held accountable for her actions. She took deep breaths and held herself proudly. The room was filled with many more Saiyans, one stood out with his goofy smile. She glared at him too. Just because he was born.
But her heart leapt when she spotted an intelligent white lizard. Bulma felt like crying for joy and doing a little dance when she caught his cool eyes. She was not the only brain among a barrel of monkeys. She was not the only one that could remember what she ate this morning.
For there stood Frieza.
The one that had been trying diligently to pursued the cursed Saiyans from starting the war in the first place. The go between the two planets before the war started. He was the one that kept the damn Saiyans in check those two tense years before the war. He had warned her Father about the Saiyans intensions. If it wasn't for him, her planet would have been destroyed in the first battle, but they had been prepared.
Bulma's body flooded with confidence and assurance at the sight of him; he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He would make sure that the Saiyans did not kill her people, that her family would be safe. After all Tokoshimo was one of his best alleys, providing the most advanced technology for his empire.
He nodded to her and smiled sadly.
Bulma knew he had tried to prevent the Saiyans from invading, and if he had known of their plans, he would have stopped them, or warned her Father.
"Princess Bulma," The king of Vegeta-sei drawled, "How you've grown, you look like your mother."
Bulma's eyes widened in sudden shock at the mention of her mother and her throat clenched in anger. For a brief period of time Vegeta-sei and Tokoshimo had been close allies, but the Saiyans had been the cause of her Mother's death. How dare that bastard even mention her?!
"It pains me to see your family lineage fall, I was once good friends with you Father."
Bulma was going to spontaneously combust with rage.
He went on and Bulma could no longer concentrate on what he was saying, too busy straining to control her temper and breathe properly. How dare he try to act so familiar with her?! After all he and his blasted race had done, after betraying their trust. Was he just mocking her? But before she knew what was going on, she was ushered out by female Saiyans. Bulma threw one last look at Frieza.
--.....--
To Bulma's immense confusion, she was taken to a massive landing bay. Saiyans were crawling all over the place like vermin, receiving and sending out information. Some were entering smaller transport ships and those ships were soon diploid out. She realized that she was simply on a space station, not a battle ship.
That didn't make any sense… How long was she out in that dank cell?
When were the negotiations to take place? The standard procedure was a battle ship and a transportation ship from both parties. Both battle ships would be honed in on each other, ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Both would send a transport ship to meet in the middle. The location was usually between the two planets. So what the hell was she doing on a Saiyan space station?
The only possible reason was if you were going to Vegeta-sei.
Bulma's entire chest constricted. A huge weight of panic pressed on her lungs, taking the very breath from her. Her mind reeled for possible reasons to go to the forsaken planet, any logical explanation for her situation, anything. She came up with nothing, cursing herself for not listening to that ape King.
The bulky Saiyan women surrounded her, boxing her in and guiding her to a transport ship. Bulma tried to think up some way to stop what was happening, to keep her from boarding the ship. Without any weapons, Bulma could only try to think of how she could give them the slip. She was sure she could try something to outsmart them, but it seemed like every Saiyan was watching her.
And it wasn't the admiring gaze she was used to from her own people, not even close. Some gave her the curiosity and disgust one gets when they look at a bug the have deliberately stepped on. Others sent her loathsome glares. Though, Bulma didn't pick up on the masked look of awe that a few of the younger Saiyan held, each to various degrees.
Rather, she was distracted at the technology in the ship. She momentarily forgot her plans of escape. It wasn't as old and dated as she expected. Actually, she recognized a few of the communications and transmitters as models she herself had updated less then six-months ago. Her eyes narrowed in suspicious confusion, mixed with barely suppressed horror. What gives?!
Her guides ushered her by a control unit and Bulma saw that the technician was using an advanced radar. The radar not only picked up on incoming ships, but the unique electromagnetic signal that it gave out. Which not only allowed instant recognition of the planet and species to which it belonged to, but its status and whether it was a battle ship or a commercial ship.
It was definitely not something the Saiyans had been given before the war. Bulma was once again filled with frustrated anger. Where had they gotten that technology?! There was not even the slightest chance that they themselves had invented it. No, that was down right laughable, the thought almost extinguishing Bulma's ire.
Before Bulma could even think of an explanation, she was at her destination. It was the type of ship she would use on a repair trip up to the AD-Stations: small, quick and strictly business. The Saiyan women entered before her, a clear and deliberate sign of disrespect to Bulma's station. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, not that it particularly mattered, but it was the principle.
She stepped in and the door closed right behind her, the ship humming to life before Bulma could even find a seat. She saw the last one in the back. The trip was surprisingly much shorter then she expected.
Her body felt the pressure of entering the atmosphere and Bulma leaned into her seat. There was no window next to her and she couldn't see past the spiky mane of the Saiyan seated in front of her. So she was denied the view of the coming planet. Not that she particularly wanted to see the little mud ball.
They soon landed and the Saiyans exited first, once again disregarding her social status. Whatever. She had much more important things to worry about. However, what held her attention right now was the open door. The air outside waved against the controlled atmosphere inside the ship. She was startled at how odd her limbs felt, suddenly pins and needles all over her body. Bulma stepped out of the ship.
Two things happened at once: it was as if her bones had turned into metal and her muscles to sandbags. Her shoulders instantly dragged down, as if someone had dropped a huge, heavy wet cloak on her. Her back began to slump down and the air was thick and suffocating. Damn it, she had completely forgot that the cursed planet had 10x the gravity of her own.
The second thing was that, Bulma felt like she had walked in front of the fiery jet of a ship. She was startled at the instant wave of sweat that began to pour down her face and back. Never in her life had she sweated so suddenly and that heavily. Bulma scowled, so incredibly uncomfortable that she could have socked a starving orphan. She hated sweating. And this, this was just plain disgusting. On the rare occasion she did glow, it was when she was nervous. In her entire life she had never sweated to relieve the heat of the climate. Not on Tokoshimo.
It did not help that she was still wearing her sued boots, pilot pants and fur-trimmed clock. Bulma never thought there would be day were she could honestly say, I am going to strip right here and now and I don't care who sees me, damn it!
Her eye's burned at the brightness of the sun and the dryness in the atmosphere. She coughed against the dusty, spiced air. She heard snickering around her; she sent a hot glare at the two Saiyan men now at her flanks. Bastards, she accused. With nothing but sheer will and pride (It's not like she had any real muscle), Bulma straightened her spine and squared her shoulders and walked on.
Bulma scanned her surroundings with a bit of difficulty, taking great effort to turn her head and keep her neck straight at the same time. She gave up and decided the ugly planet wasn't really worth the effort anyway. What she could see was an expansive crimson sky, white clouds fading into the horizon in melted pinks. There were no trees in her tunnel vision and the ground was a dried and cracked terrain. Past the landing bay, Bulma could see tall black spires. The Palace.
She supposed they entered the royal landing bay, as it was obviously connected to the Palace. Around Bulma were various ships landing and taking off. More like an air base than the more technological docking bays of her own planet. She went off toward the massive arched-doorway nearby.
She had been walking barley a minute when her body ached and begged for rest. She blinked and wiped at the sweat dripping into her eyes, her sweaty fingers only effectively rubbed it in. She let out a low curse, great, now she was blind. What a horrible miserable planet this was! She begged whatever deity controlled the universe would wipe it from existence.
Bulma took a deep breath to calm herself. She was so suddenly uncomfortable and disgusted and hot and frustrated, that it was overwhelming. She heard more laughter from the men escorting her. She shook her head, trying to focus and memorize her surroundings. She needed to remember the way to the landing bay, just incase. Finally, they were about to enter the main building, her body begging for the air conditioning.
To Bulma's intense disappointment, the building was just as hot as it was outside. Bulma was so close to screaming, throwing a tantrum right there in front of everybody. Her pride and dignity the only thing stopping her. She began to openly breath through her mouth, panting. Never had she been so unbearably hot in her life! When her mouth became dry and her tongue turned to cotton, Bulma snapped her mouth closed and smacked her lips in an effort to remoisten it.
How dose anyone live here!? No wonder the Saiyans were the way they were! If she lived here, she would happily go kill people, just because they didn't have to live on a disgusting-little-sad-excuse-of-a-habitable-planet. Bulma angrily glared at the two Saiyans, as if her little conclusion of the Saiyans's nature was actually fact. Those bastards. It wasn't everybody else's fault they got stuck with a crappy planet.
She looked around the halls of the un-air-conditioned palace. The walls were made of a dull brown stone, the large floor tiles that of a darker russet. As they walked, the palace became more elegant, and classic. The dull brown became a dark royal purple, the walls a dark black reflective marble. Smooth white columns began to line the walls, tapestries, weapons or paintings decorating the space between. After another turn, Bulma's feet hit a fine red carpet that lay in the center of the hall. After many turns and twist (Bulma memorizing every single one), a very long elevator ride and finally a set of stairs (Bulma almost cried when she saw them) they came to a door.
Bulma was panting as if she had just run a marathon. Her muscles strained against the intense gravity, as if she had hiked up a vast mountain, not a ten minute walk. Bulma was drenched and exhausted, and hot and uncomfortable and disgusted and thirsty! They pushed her into the room and shut the door behind her, without a single word.
Though the moment the door closed, a roar of laughter was heard from the two men. Bulma took the opportunity to let out all her frustration in a deep throaty roar. Panting and still angry, she tore off her cloak like it was a fat leach on her shoulders. She undressed like a mad women.
It was around the time her pants hit the floor that Bulma noticed two other Saiyan women looking between themselves confused, not really knowing what to do. Normally, Bulma might have had the decency to be embarrassed. But she was so far beyond that. So far.
She sent them an angry accusing glare and coldly asked, the way only a spoiled princess could, "Can I help you?"
Both women looked at each other again, sharing equal looks of annoyance. The shorter of the two spoke up. "We are your aids form this point on. Is there anything you require of us?"
Bulma absently looked around the room, ignoring their presence for a moment. It was grand room, where all the needs of a princess were met. Bulma was still too frustrated and uncomfortable to think of anymore escape plans, or really even take in and note the beautiful room around her.
One shuffled her feet impatiently, Bulma was about to rudely kick her out when she spoke up. "Would you like a bath?"
Bulma was never one to say no to a bath. Especially now. She shuddered, her clothes sticking to her skin.
So with that, her tunnel vision left no room to notice a white dress.
--.....0.0.--
.To Be Continued.
--.....0.0.--
A/N – There's chapter two for you. I'm not sure if it is on par with chapter one, but there can't be action all the time right? Besides, this will eventually focus more on Vegeta and Bulma's relationship and then some.
By now I hope you've notice that I do not intend for Yamcha to be the backstabbing, cheating, jackass that he is usually portrayed as in fanfiction (you're going to have to blame Path to Power, which I watched right before I concocted this whole idea, so he got his role here. Mostly because he was too damn hot in that). Not saying he won't be occasionally insensitive and clueless (in other words a guy), but he will eventually be a bigger bit in the story, along with some other characters.
Tell me what you think, (I'm especially curious about the Yamcha issue, since so many B/V fans are quite anti-Yamcha (which is understandable), I love it when people are specific in why they liked, or hated, the chapter.
- Mellow Penelo