The planet was a strategic dream. It was barren and dry, and no life existed there – but its location and composition made it worth more than a dozen life-sustaining planets. It was just far enough from the event horizon of a black hole that it was safe - in addition to being kept safe from approach from all angles save one. That limited avenue of approach made it easy for even a small element to defend. Attractive for a group of anti-Freeza activists clinging to meteors and asteroids in the middle of deep space…
And this planet had one other attribute that made capturing it an absolute must and destroying it unthinkable: the atomic make-up of the planet itself. It did two things, each because of the dust that saturated the planet in its entirety.
The first miracle of this dust was, when introduced with a barrage of neutrons, created a chain reaction that expanded exponentially before folding in on itself. The energy created completely made obsolete any known energy source. If that weren't enough, after the collapse of a single neutron-enriched dust particle, it would re-expand. The reaction of every dust particle would continue to 'breathe' in this way for weeks. This meant a single handful of the stuff could power fleets of ships, weapons, armor, entire planets for months upon months.
The second miracle of the dust was a phenomenon that created a particle field - a distortion. This close to the gravitational pull of the black hole, that distortion was more stable than its 'breathing' counterparts. Instead of the dust collapsing and re-expanding on itself, it caused time and space to expand and collapse instead. A worm hole. And through it, access to untapped galaxies full of resources, planets, slaves.
Freeza had only recently found this gem and the infrastructure was in its infancy. Only engineers and scientists were on the planet surface, protected by space suits and inflatable environmental habitats. It could be ignored for now – perhaps it wouldn't need to change at all. The same engineers and scientists would continue their work, only their master would change.
That left the moon, which presented the real threat.
It was a medium-sized, leafy moon with bodies of water and a breathable atmosphere – perfect for an eventual trading post so close to what would become the universe's most valuable commodity. As of now, only a single outpost and space port existed on that moon. Scattered, empty or half used buildings ready for commerce jutted out from between the trees. The compound was bare bones, but massive. A transport was being constructed; a ferry to move the upcoming influx of slaves from the moon to the planet surface to speed the completion of what would be a mining colony. Freeza needed to move quickly to secure and build up the defenses of the planet below. He was moving a mass number of slaves with few to protect them. Freeza didn't believe he needed much of a defense because what little he had would be enough.
It was a perfect, impenetrable defense only protected by five warriors.
At least, that was what she and Vegeta were counting on. After all, Freeza's planets had been targeted and attacked in the recent months and his defenses were spread out. It made sense to send the majority of forces elsewhere and send his strongest warriors to the most valuable location. Five impossibly strong warriors, true. But five of anything is still only five. They can be segregated, manipulated, used against each other. They could not be reinforced nor would any assistance be forthcoming. After all, why would they need such a thing? Who could possibly defeat them?
Vegeta's collar had a magnificent side effect. The constant suppression of his ki had made him stronger. Day by day, with a consistent drain of his life force, his body had reacted violently to reject the threat. Every time his collar was deactivated so he could purge one of Freeza's planets, he felt the colossal change brought on by his body's rage against the thing that constantly tried to kill him.
The first time had been so sudden and unexpected, he had staggered with the desperate rush of ki instinctively pulled in by his quaking muscles. It was like a sweet breath of air after being crushed under the weight of a cage made of mountains and meteors. So fantastic was the change, his knees had buckled and he had collapsed. Too intoxicating and disorienting was this new flood of stupendous ki that he had remained on the ground, on hands and knees, unmoving until Bulma's voice drug him from the abyss. She had been panicked at that point – she claimed he had been there for most of the day. He hadn't noticed. He sluggishly roused himself and, in a daze, razed the planet to ashes with a single blow without effort. In seconds, he stood in an inferno. As the flames lept up around him, he had laughed like a maniac.
Again and again, planet after planet, the same thing until, eventually, even the new influx of strength could barely distract him from the reality that, no matter how strong he became, he was still caged. Each time he went on a mission, he knew that it was only a matter of a day – two at the most – and he would be cut off from his ki again. He was trapped. The stronger he became, the weaker he felt for being unable to free himself.
The only thing that made the reactivation of the collar bearable were the first moments when he was released again. For a few blissful seconds before he remembered, he would forget. His whole existence was about seeing how much stronger he had become. Maybe being strong enough to win freedom was in his fingertips - all he had to do was close his fist and take it! And then he would remember.
He didn't despair. Instead, with the memory of his cage came the knowledge that he had a key. All he needed to do was find her what she needed – knowledge – and she would find a way to free him. It wasn't ideal, but it was truth. He despised needing her. He loathed how he fully accepted needing her – because it was not only for her genius….. it was because in those moments when the collar was reactivated, the only shred of his mind that stubbornly clung to sanity came from a soft voice calling to him from the void.
She didn't know these things. She could if she weren't so naive – but she was too free of corruption to realize she held such power over him. Their minds were too intertwined now and their link was the only thing holding him together every time his ki was ripped from him. He was constantly enraged. To be free of the collar! To be free of her - but needing her to free him from one so he could be free of the other – ! It tortured him. While he roamed Freeza's compounds under her direction, allowing her to guide his steps so she could collect the data she needed, he looked for other ways to remove the collar.
"Vegeta! Pay attention!"
Her voice jolted him to awareness and he realized he was no longer standing in the shadows. Quickly, he darted behind a tree, berating himself for getting so lost in thought, he failed to stay alert. That was another human trait he was learning from her. It completely disgusted him.
He thrust all thought from his mind and took a deep breath. He was here for a reason. No more distractions. Refocused and hidden once more in the shadow, he let his gaze drift over the compound. Vegeta was certain he could defeat two of the five warriors – possibly four if the last two were one-on-one fights – which would be unlikely – unless he could catch them off guard. He hadn't destroyed anything as of yet. Their mission was one of stealth. Allow the woman to sabotage the information hubs, scramble communications, and segregate the moon – yet maintain the appearance of normal operations to anyone outside looking in. Find the warriors and kill them, one by one if possible.
It didn't matter that he couldn't defeat the last one. Only two were on the planet. The other three hadn't yet arrived. It wouldn't be difficult to catch them off guard and pick them off one by one as they landed. Or before they landed…
It wasn't the way he'd choose. He'd prefer battle, even if it meant his own death. But he had reason enough to want to live. He had a score to settle with Freeza. And with those who believed they could collar him and survive it.
He saw movement to his left and his eyes darted in that direction as he moved right. Shifting from place to place like a wraith, completely undetected, he followed Bulma's directions as she honed in on targets. The compound was enormous, but most of the functioning technology was centrally located, and it wasn't long until they had found all the data hubs. Allowing her the use of his hands with a grunt she understood to be permission, she quickly accessed and drained useful information while simultaneously uploading damaging code. In minutes, she had finished. She pulled her mind back and gave him control of his hands once more. What had once nearly killed them both had become a smooth transition so easily accomplished, it could only be compared to shifting weight from one leg to another. He flexed his hands unconsciously. He may allow it, but it was still distasteful to give up control of his body.
He turned from the consul and was outside in a matter of moments. The next phase – seek and destroy. Guldo was near – even if he were unable to sense the little bastard's ki, the stench of that salamander was heavy in the air. Darting around corners, the Saiyan hunted and slowly zeroed in.
"Stop!"
The outburst inside his brain was so sudden and absolute, he instantly reacted as though the thought had been his own. He threw his back against the wall and flattened himself. After a moment of stunned silence from both of them, he realized what he had done. Thinking back, he couldn't be certain whether or not he had put himself there, and briefly wondered if he were still the one in control of his body. A flush of ki reassured him. Embarrassed at the necessity for such reassurance and aggravated that he had needed reassurance at all, he scowled inwardly and hissed.
"Have I become your puppet after all, human? Tell me why I listen to you as though you were myself!"
Chastised, he felt her withdraw until only a spark remained. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.
I didn't force you. Your body is your own.
Breathing hard, he forced himself to calm. Slowly the blood rushing in his ears faded. Clenching his teeth, he acknowledged she spoke the truth – that he had known it to be truth before she had even spoken the words – by stiffly acquiescing.
What is so important I find myself standing here indulging you instead of killing that toad?
He said it as though it were an accusation, but knew she would she know it for the apology it was. She was taking care to maintain a distance, but despite this, he felt her presence quiver. It was erratic; her emotions were explosive and unfathomable. She felt terror, guilt, dread – and buried under everything, a tiny thread of joy? Unnerved, he pressed his back against the wall in a feeble attempt to feel more secure. What the fuck?
Something deep within her burst and threads of her uncontrolled emotion bubbled up and radiated away from her. His own mental wall slammed around her, barricading what he thought would be an inevitable onslaught. When nothing happened, an absolute stillness and silence overcame him. The abrupt and complete absence of her in his mind left him disoriented – like he had braced for a title wave that never appeared. Separated completely, he floated in nothingness. Having nothing, he could be nothing – lose nothing, want nothing. A feeling that had at one time been his only method of peaceful escape now felt like a hollow, empty abyss. The need to fill it would blow him apart.
No longer driven by an instinctual need to protect himself, he was swallowed in a sudden panic. He seized the emotion like it were a life preserver. With it there was something other than being empty. It brought clarity; something to which he could respond. Action and counteraction. His thoughts began to take form, but with them, a new kind of panic. If he were actually able to keep her out so completely with a feeble mental wall, what was wrong with her?
And with that thought, his rage and panic grew. How dare she?
He needed her to be stable. Hers was the only mind standing against his own instability.
Every time his collar was reactivated, she had never left him – never retreated into the safety of her own mind. She hadn't feared his insanity.
Furious that he would cower where she had not, and enraged that something threatened his own mental stability by attacking her, he annihilated the wall he had put between them – and nearly crushed her by the sheer force of his will tearing through what he thought would be an impenetrable fog of madness.
What he found instead shocked him into stillness.
He approached her slowly and warily. She raised her head and through the waterfall of her azure hair, her impossible blue eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. As though she were alone in the universe, she sat hugging her knees to her chest, rocking herself back and forth. Her face was frozen in a perfect, porcelain doll expression – void and lifeless.
He shivered as every hair on his body prickled.
Her lips didn't move, but he heard her voice echo.
Chichi…
He blinked, confused.
I saw Chichi…
Baffled, his eyebrows pinched. What the fuck was a chichi?
Her lower lip trembled as she looked at him for the first time instead of through him. Chichi. She's human – like me. A friend. If only ten people survived on Earth, she would be one of them. If Chichi is here…. That means Earth…. Isn't.
His flesh prickled again. She was spooking him and he didn't like it. He liked it even less when her eyes implored him to do something – as if he could… and then look away. As if she understood that he could do nothing.
Angry – that she would burden him in the first place by hoping he could do something, that he couldn't live up to those hopes, and that he actually cared enough to feel regret about being unable to deserve those hopes - he charged towards her and took hold of her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. Nose to nose, he yelled in her face.
Your planet is not gone!
When she didn't respond, he lowered his voice but it came out just as deadly.
Unlike my own planet, yours presented no threat of insurrection. That made it valuable, he spat.
When she didn't answer, he shook her once.
Do you understand?
He was about to shake her again when she let go of her breath. She nearly crumpled to her knees, but his grip on her arm kept her standing. She sagged against him until he pushed her far enough away to glare at her.
Do you understand! He roared.
She jumped and her eyes snapped to his. Staring back at her was the full weight of his rage, his feeling of failure by having no ability to change or control anything at all; his sorrow, his desperation – his need for her to be the unbreakable, stable one. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
Yes. I understand. She whispered.
Her world was still alive. His was not. She had some measure of control, some ability to manipulate events. He did not. Her mind and body were whole and in tandem with one another, even if she shared the living space… his was not.
They stood together, staring at one another until he abruptly let go of her and stepped away.
He grunted. Good.
With his back toward her, he glanced over his shoulder. When he saw she was watching him, he nodded once and disappeared from view, leaving her to stand alone in a corner of his mind.
He waited, still pressed against the wall. When he felt her stir in the back of his mind, he nodded again and began to move. He felt her mental nudge question what he was doing, but answered her with silence. She would have to be patient. Still shaken and feeling raw, she was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched through his eyes.
Working his way around the compound, he followed the harsh voices speaking galactic standard. He was uncertain which was worse; the stench of the guards or the putrid aroma of unwashed human bodies. Did his blue demon truly come from the same species? He sneered in distaste. When had he begun to consider her other than human? And would his nose always suffer the assault of alien stink? He tried to breathe shallowly as he gained on the herd of humanity as they were being prodded along like cattle towards a slaughter.
And then he was upon them.
Eliminating the rear guards was done without conscious thought or plan. One moment they were there, the next moment, one, then three, then all six were gone, all dragged as they were killed one by one into whatever nook or cranny that was most convenient. Finding the right human was actually more difficult than he had expected. Granted, he hadn't thought it would take any effort at all – but he hadn't realized that all humans would look the same from behind. After weeks and months of travel in the belly of transport ships, receiving few rations and being unable to bathe, the whole of them melded together into one great big mob.
Using Bulma's memory, he was able to discern one from all the others. Then, it was as simple as moving up behind her and plucking her from the group unnoticed. The human didn't even realize she was held captive at first, and only realized she was immobile and unable to cry out as she watched the mass of humanity slowly shuffle away from her.
When she noticed, she exploded in a fireball of struggling limbs, teeth, and nails. Growling, he tightened his grip around her mouth and crushed her into his body as he darted behind a temporary structure. A barracks for civilian slaves, most likely, meant to house them while they waited for transport to the planet surface.
She continued to wiggle, even as he told her to hush. Growling out loud when he realized the silly female would likely only understand her own pathetic language, he pressed his jaw to her temple to speak directly into her ear. He had only ever spoken English aloud once before. The banshee in his head had called his hair soft once. He had repeated the word, unfamiliar with its meaning at the time, curious if the language would taste as thin as it sounded.
It had. At least, it had coming from his own mouth. The Saiyan language was as full of sounds as it was words. Eliminating all but the words sounded reedy. The woman, with her smooth voice – even after the Saiyan enhancements enabled her to make Saiyan sounds - somehow made it sound musical. It was her native language, he supposed. The chichi thing elbowed him in the gut. Baring his teeth, all hesitation left him.
"Sshhtopp fiyghtt!"
The human froze for a moment, shocked.
"Nnodtt ennehmyyy.." he added slowly, wanting to ensure she understood. "Nnodtt hurddt yyaoou..."
Her breathing stopped as she considered. Then, she nodded once.
Very slowly, he loosened his grip. Her body relaxed, showing him that she was not preparing to run. Her heart rate was still elevated and she was breathing quickly, but it was stabilizing as she calmed. Finally, he stepped away and waited for her to turn.
She did so slowly, as if to show him that she wasn't a threat. He cocked his head, unsure if he should be amused or annoyed.
She faced him fully now, but her head was bowed, her gaze to the ground. Her eyes inched up his form, taking him in, calculating who and what. Her inspection stopped half way and her eyes flew open just before flying to his face.
"You have a tail!" she yelled right before grimacing and looking from side to side, searching for anyone who could have overheard. Satisfied that no one had, she looked again at him, wide eyed and panting. "You're a Saiyan!" she whispered loudly, but much more quietly by comparison.
He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. When he didn't answer, words started pouring from her mouth like waves in the ocean. He cocked an eyebrow. Apparently uncontrollable talking was a species trait.
Discerning her words was difficult. She spoke too quickly and her thoughts were jumbled together which made her speaking points completely unrelated. Sure, the voice in his head spoke English, but he was used to mind to mind communication. With direct brain access, understanding the English words was simple because understanding the underlying meaning behind the words was given at the same time. Squinting, he held up his hand. Immediately, the human hushed, uncertain of what his gesture meant at first. With his arm raised and fingers splayed, he slowly lowered his hand in a downward motion. He repeated the motion several times. Bulma did this to him when he was agitated and wanted to kill something. Apparently it was a species gesture for 'calm down' or 'slow down,' because the chichi nodded, took a breath, and started to speak again – slowly and clearly.
"You're that Saiyan who was with Bulma, right?"
When he inclined his head, she took that as the yes he had meant it to be. With his affirmation, the chichi seemed to draw into herself for a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, drew a deep breath and held it. A moment later, she hugged herself and shivered as if she were trying to contain something inside her as it quaked. Then, her eyes snapped open and she exploded. It was such a sudden shift, he wasn't able to respond to it. One moment, the woman was inside herself, and the next she was grabbing ahold of and shaking him.
"Where is she? Where is Bulma? Is she ok? Why isn't she with you!? Did you do something to her? If you did I'll –"
He cut her off by shoving her away and growling. The expression on his face must have been ferocious because, though not crumpled on the ground in a wailing mass, the woman before him cowered.
Maybe I should talk to her? Came a soft voice inside his head. It was enough to prick his pride. He didn't need help talking to a simple-minded human. He just needed to approach this differently.
He tapped his temple. "Buhll'mah.. heeere."
The chichi sprang on him again but stepped away sheepishly when he gave her a dark look. Water fell from her eyes and her voice grew thick. She twisted the material of her tattered dress between her anxious fingers.
"Where? Can you take me to her?"
Vegeta sighed. Humans were word creatures. They didn't understand what you said unless you said it several times in several different ways. They were too flighty and abstract and they could invent a hundred different meanings from something as simple as stating an obvious fact. He twisted his lips in distaste. How could this ridiculous human not understand? He had pointed to his head and indicated that the woman was there. How could the woman be anywhere but there?
He clenched his jaw several times, considering. He would have to think abstractly. Bulma was in his head. If necessary, she took control of his body. He may not like that last part, and he'd keep it to himself if at all possible, but disliking it made it no less true. Now. How to say that?
"Buhll'mah.. Inszidde mhee." He tapped his chest.
The chichi looked at him blankly for a moment before dropping her gaze to stare at where he pointed. Her hand flew to cover her mouth and her eyes filled with water again.
You just told her I'm dead and that my memory lives inside your heart. Interpreted the voice in his head.
Vegeta flicked his tail in agitation and frowned, but continued to tap his chest. Quickly he added, "Shzee aahlivve. Shzaare bohdiiez." So much for keeping Bulma's control over his body a secret.
The chichi's face became red. He understood the fierce blush for what it was, but didn't understand why the human would do so now.
The voice in his head started to laugh hysterically. Now you told her we are sleeping together!
That we have done! He snapped back.
Humans don't actually sleep when they sleep together! She shot at him. And for good measure, she added a visual.
Dumbfounded, he sputtered. He'd never understand how sleeping could mean mating, and trying would only make it worse. Breathing out through his nose, he pushed the ridiculousness of human language aside.
It matters not. The human knows you live. He stated, firmly. He only wanted to conclude this backwards interaction with humanity and be on his way.
Oh, she knows I'm alive. Bulma replied, matter-of-factly. And that I'm in your heart and we 'sleep' together.
That's it.
Vegeta grabbed the woman before him. Startled, Chichi tensed and stared at him, wide eyed. When Vegeta pulled Bulma out of her hiding place in the back his mind and shoved her into the forefront, Chichi's expression graduated from alarmed to confused to jubilant.
"Bulma?"
Chichi cupped the face of the man towering over her and searched his eyes.
"Bulma..?"
Bulma's shock faded as she took control of Vegeta's body. She hadn't expected control to be thrust at her, but it made sense that she take over communication. Vegeta wasn't running away because the idea of them sleeping together – or anyone believing that they were – embarrassed him. Those things were natural to him –
or they would be, if I were capable – was the underlying thought there.
He hadn't tried to hide that thought, but she politely ignored it.
What got his panties in a bunch, the real reason he had cried uncle and let her take over, was because he was annoyed he had been unable to navigate the human language. He may pretend it beneath him… but she had direct access to his brain. Of all the dozens of languages he knew – human language was the first to completely baffle him.
Grinning to herself, her attention was snatched away when Chichi again said her name – rather forcefully this time as if being ignored.
"Bulma! I know it's you – only you have that distracted look…"
She didn't know how Chichi was able to recognize her, but she supposed she wasn't surprised. On Earth, she had seen the puppet master behind the eyes of the alien who had abducted her. She just hadn't realized at the time what it had been. Chichi likely caught on because she was staring at someone whom she knew well.
"Chichi.." she coughed. She had never tried to speak through Vegeta before. And, sensing Vegeta's disgust rippling in the background, she gripped Chichi's wrists and gently pulled her hands away from Vegeta's face. Chichi seemed slightly hurt for a moment, but caught Bulma's warning look through Vegeta's eyes.
"He doesn't like to be touched, Chichi. And he doesn't like it when I'm in control. He's only allowing it to save time." That was the understatement of a lifetime. Vegeta's urgency from lack of patience was phenomenal. She had only been in control for 20 seconds and already he was being a baby about it. So what if human language seemed ludicrous to him? She understood it perfectly. She inwardly projected the emotion of rolling her eyes at him and he responded with projecting the emotional equivalent of "hurry up or I'll kill you."
Bulma coughed again to cover a chuckle when she noticed Chichi's uncertain expression. Time for business. "Chichi, I'm fine. Vegeta and I were abducted together and taken from Earth. I'm off world right now but Vegeta and I are telepathically linked, which, in a very complicated way, is how they control him through me. That's also how I'm able to speak with you. It's a long story and hard to explain… "
Bulma paused to consider what else was important to relay and realized she had little else to say. Half a year ago, she would have verbally vomited her every thought and feeling, but after having a Saiyan take residence in her brain, her scattered thoughts had become more ordered and precise – sort of a less-is-more kind of mentality. She hadn't thought about what was most important, but if she had spent a week trying to decide what to tell Chichi in 2 minutes or less, she wouldn't have changed anything. Well, damn.
Vegeta's emotional equivalent of a self-satisfied smirk annoyed her so she projected the emotion behind flipping him off. Before he could respond – which would only lead to a mental war, she turned her mental back on him and concentrated on Chichi… who seemed to have figured out that Bulma's conversational lapses were because she was doing exactly what she was doing. Arguing with a stubborn, obnoxious Saiyan inside her head. Well – his head. And he was steadily getting more annoyed about that.
Bulma growled in frustration, surprising Chichi. Bulma shrugged a shoulder, slightly embarrassed. No use telling Chichi that she'd have done that without realizing it regardless of whose body she was in; she'd been doing it ever since Vegeta had donated his DNA. That was another long story best saved for another time.
Chichi frowned in thought, "So you two are linked and can talk to each other." She paused and raised an amused eyebrow. "Is he done throwing a tantrum? Can he let the adults talk now?"
Bulma's expression sagged. "You have no idea the tantrums he can throw…"
Chichi grinned impishly and was about to put a hand on Bulma's shoulder in a show of playful girl-power support. She stopped herself and clasped her hands together when she remembered she wasn't supposed to do that.
Bulma took that as a queue to continue before Chichi forgot again, neglected to self-correct, and thus provoke Vegeta. Again. She took a half step back just to be safe. "Since our capture, we've been destroying Freeza's infrastructure and killing Freeza's men. We're on this planet now so our captors can steal this base. Our intent isn't to actually help the people who abducted us, but so far, it's been in our favor to comply. The fewer men Freeza has, the easier it will be to defeat him. Defeating our captors later on - whether or not they have the base - will be simple, once I figure out a way to –"
Bulma cut herself off before she could reveal Vegeta's business just as he was becoming alarmed that she was about to reveal his business. Removing the collar wouldn't be something he would wish known. Mostly because it made him utterly vulnerable when it was activated.
"- a way for us to escape." She finished. Hopefully Chichi didn't notice the slip. For good measure, she decided to distract Chichi by asking what she was dying to know, anyway, "What happened to Earth? Why are you here? Where is everyone..?"
As if Chichi had been a dam on the threshold of bursting, Chichi erupted. "Earth was lost the second your weapons timed out. Goku and the boys put up a good defense – even my little Gohan! – but in the end, most of the people were rounded up and put onto ships. We were the last.." her voice dropped and her eyes lost focus, but she quickly regained composure. "Goku was injured. Badly. After that, the rest of us surrendered. We were taken aboard the last ship leaving Earth. Yamcha, Krillen and I went back for you the day after you were put in that prison cell. They shouldn't have done that, Bulma.. put you in that cell. It wasn't right."
Chichi shook her head and rubbed an eye with the palm of her hand. After a moment, she composed herself and spoke again.
"Krillen was hurt a block away from the prison. I stayed with him and Yamcha went ahead. When he came back - Yamcha said you weren't there… but that knowing you, you'd escape the round up.. wait for things to calm down on Earth and invent a way to come and save all of us. For a while I believed it. I think all of us did – we still believe it in some way. Its hope, you know? But most of me thought.. I… I thought Yamcha was lying. That something horrible had happened to you but he wouldn't tell me what it was. It was already so horrifying! We were starved, frightened, and – and we haven't seen Goku since-" this time her voice cracked.
Chichi trembled violently and Bulma reached a hand to comfort her friend when Vegeta's growl within her mind warned her. She paused, her fingers outstretched, considering. Deciding to ignore Vegeta, Bulma rested her hand on Chichi's shoulder. The contact startled Chichi, who looked up appreciatively. The gesture seemed to give her strength. She drew in a breath and continued.
"That ugly green beast says he can sense Goku here somewhere but we haven't.. no one has been able to get to him. The boys started badly beaten and they're kept weak. We've been bouncing from planet to planet, being sold like pigs at auction -!" This time Chichi trembled in anger. Bulma squeezed the fingers still lightly resting on her friend's shoulder.
Balling her fists, Chichi spat through clenched teeth. "This is the ninth planet we've been on." After a moment, she seemed surprised. "There isn't anything here, though. No barbaric aliens trying to buy us like we're not even people!" Bulma growled again when Chichi's voice started to raise. The hint was taken and Chichi spoke more lowly. "It's odd. There's nothing here."
Bulma nodded to herself and only realized she hadn't provided an explanation when Chichi asked, "Well-?"
Bulma winced. Now even she was becoming impatient. Vegeta grunted assent. "This is a moon orbiting a very valuable planet. Freeza needs slaves to harvest a mineral. He's probably sending those who have no monetary significance here to help with that."
Chichi scowled. "No monetary significance, Bulma? As you saying we're not worth anything? Certainly not as much as you! Miss abducted-turned-psychic! Miss I'm-going-to-save-everyone-just-like-they-hoped-I-would, so I'm better than they are!"
Bulma rolled her eyes and simply did what Vegeta had been daydreaming about. She put her hand over Chichi's mouth to silence her. Chichi's eyes flew open and she clawed uselessly at her gag.
"I'm sorry, Chichi. No. I'm not worth more than you-" and had to suppress shock when Vegeta loudly disagreed from the back of her mind – "but I am in a position where I can do more than you."
Chichi stopped struggling, but the fire hadn't left her eyes. Bulma wisely left her hand smothering the lower half of Chichi's red face. "This is a space port. There are several ships that can be used to get off planet. You won't be using those."
Chichi, who had begun to calm, screeched and thrashed. Though she was muffled – and now restrained in strong Saiyan arms, even Vegeta was impressed with the strength that came from simple human outburst.
Bulma - using her best Vegeta impression, which was fairly simple because she was using his voice – hissed. "You will be using the ship we came in. It is well hidden and no one knows it is here."
Chichi deflated. After a moment, she nodded in acquiescence. Bulma slowly released her friend and waited. Once Chichi had pressed the wrinkles out of her tattered dress and smoothed the fallen strands from her bun, she looked up. "You were saying?" She asked calmly.
Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and deferred to Vegeta; strategy and battle was his thing. Though she had control of his mouth, it was his words she translated. After all, they shared the same head and speaking his words was as fluid as speaking her own words. "We will cause a diversion. It shouldn't be too difficult; that was our intent before we knew you were here. Our schedule has changed, that's all."
Bulma paused and waited for Vegeta to continue. She didn't think about what she said as she said it, and when the Saiyan began to speak inside her head again, she spoke his words aloud. "Your friends should be capable of freeing themselves, weak or no. It isn't their lack of strength that has held them captive. It has been lack of initiative – they did not know the whereabouts of their leader and foolishly did not wish to escape without him."
When Chichi flinched, Bulma realized what she said. She was about to apologize when Chichi stiffly bit out, "I get it isn't you, Bulma," at the same time that Vegeta sneered, We should leave them here to rot! from inside her head. Caught between the two, Bulma decided the best action for all of them would be to end the interaction as quickly as possible. This time she would be sure to translate more carefully.
Vegeta's senses expanded and she felt the familiar, intoxicating rush of his ki. It was just a trickle – he was suppressing it so the scouters belonging to Freeza's men wouldn't detect him. It was enough though. All too soon, Vegeta retracted his ki. The loss was painful despite the paltry amount Vegeta had held and the fraction of time he had held it.
"Goku is in the third structure to the left of the main compound. It's him; there is no other Saiyan it could be." Bulma felt a stab in her heart at those words. Three Saiyans in the universe left. Three of a mighty race…. She buried the thought before Vegeta caught wind of it. If he did, he didn't indicate it because he was speaking again. She had to rush to keep up.
"Go now. The ship is twenty-three degrees southwest of here, 8 kilometers. It is programmed to rendezvous with another, larger ship. Dock with it but do nothing more; they will believe it to be me and will not expect – and would prefer – that I not emerge. It will eventually take you to where Bulma is being held."
Chichi blinked rapidly, taking in all that was said. When her eyebrows bunched and she took in a breath to speak, he didn't bother to wait for the question he knew was coming. He mentally nudged Bulma so she'd point in the correct direction. "That way."
Giving control of Vegeta's body back to Vegeta, he turned his back to Chichi and was about to move away from her when her voice stopped him.
"What will you be doing? After the diversion I assume you're about to create?"
Vegeta grinned over his shoulder. "Szzteeal odtthhher schiipp.." and bound away before anything more could be said.
Chichi watched as he blurred from view and disappear. Moments later, she had turned on her heal and ran in the direction she had last seen people. She would wait for the diversion – whatever it was, she was certain it would be unmistakable – and find Gohan. With him, they'd find their friends, claim Goku, and get the hell off this planet.
Vegeta circled the compound, following Guldo's scent. Catching up didn't take long. In a cosmic coincidence, the little tadpole was by himself, pissing on the trunk of a tree. Vegeta chuckled darkly.
Guldo tensed and spun around. He yelped and danced awkwardly when he sprayed himself with thick, chartreuse urine. Desperately fumbling to tuck himself away, he was a bit too overzealous and the appendage broke off in his hand. Shuddering and flushing purple, the slug looked up into Vegeta's eyes, the larger set of his own eyes swirling in anger.
"Do you know how long that will take to grow back!?"
Vegeta crossed his arms in front of his chest and rested his back against a tree. He raised an eyebrow, amused.
"I'm sure I don't care. But as these are to be your last words, I will indulge you." He paused, grinned wickedly, and cocked his head. "Does this mean you are female for the duration of the wait?"
Guldo snarled and threw the flaccid flesh to the ground. It was turning grey and writhing on the ground as if in pain.
"No I am NOT female, you idiot! It's supposed to break off! It blocks the cervix to ensure no other male can copulate!"
Guldo looked down at the remnants of his penis wistfully. Deflated, he breathed his next words out. "I will have to wait for another breeding cycle for it to grow back.."
Vegeta laughed, startling the squat, green alien, who looked up at the Saiyan. Shaking his head, Vegeta stepped away from the tree.
"There will be no waiting for you, slug! No breeding cycle, no offspring –" Vegeta smirked "-no life."
Lifting his arm, Vegeta pulled so much ki into himself, Bulma felt her own teeth vibrate half a universe away. Condensing the ki into a tight, electric blue ball, Vegeta thrust it out before him and launched himself into the air just seconds before his blast hit. Even facing away, the whole sky blazed. She was certain half of the planet was decimated.
Vegeta kept flying. When he didn't bother to look back to see the amount of destruction he had caused, her own curiosity got the best of her.
You didn't play with him first, she observed. And you didn't gloat.
She felt his mental shrug. We have a larger purpose here.
He landed a distance away and began running towards the main compound in a blur of speed.
So? She asked. That's never stopped you before! What –
He ran around another building, obviously looking for something - or someone – but managed to cut her off distracted as he was.
He is.. was.. the weakest of the Ginyu force. An unworthy opponent, but an effective distraction. Had I stayed to… play…with him, he would have succeeded in freezing time. Time is what we do not have.
Oh.
Bulma wasn't sure what she was feeling – dumb? Impressed? "Oh" pretty much covered it. Strange how a two letter word could mean so much…
When Vegeta suddenly stopped dodging buildings and scaled up the side of a structure and onto the roof, her attention snapped back to what they were doing. The chaos of Freeza's guards as they attempted to bring order back to the hundreds of scattering humans was complete. Half of the forest was on fire, and it was spreading to the compound. Aliens and guards were running in every direction. Vegeta's gaze darted in every direction all at once, his senses humming, his ki crackling. His thoughts were serene, though, and Bulma was again reminded that the Saiyan race thrived in and relished battle. He wasn't burdened by complex, conflicting emotions – he simply was. It was a purity he only felt just before facing what he called a 'worthy opponent.'
And she felt the shift. His fluid muscles tensed and a shadow fell across his tranquility like a cloud passing overhead, blocking the sun. She fixed her focus onto what he was seeing instead of how he was feeling. And her heart went into her throat. There, at a distance, was the one Vegeta had been looking for. He was an enormous humanoid with a shock of bright, red hair.
And he was beating the holy stuffing out of her friends.
Chichi hadn't been exaggerating. Even from this distance, she could see the fighters were in bad shape. Thin and dirty from months of neglect in the belly of a ship – and kept weak from regular beatings - they didn't stand a chance against that beast.
Vegeta -!
He didn't reply. Instead, he launched himself into the air and flew like a thunderbolt towards the red headed monster and her friends. The calm he had felt before was returning, but it was stretched. She knew it was her own anxiety that was bleeding over, and she tried as well as she could to suppress it. So much depended on it…
Vegeta landed gracefully and did a cursory check of the scene; the shape her friends were in, the lay of the land, anything he could use to his advantage. By the time the giant dropped Gohan and turned around to face Vegeta, the Saiyan had completed his survey and his eyes were fixed on his opponent. The red headed mammoth grinned widely when he saw Vegeta, exposing a huge gap between his front teeth.
"Vegeta!" He squealed, pleased.
Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Racoome," he replied lowly.
Racoome looked like three bears stuffed into skin too small to cover all of him. Winding ropes of veins erupted from grotesque muscles that bulged from wherever they could squeeze out between other muscles. "We've been looking for you!" He sang happily.
Obviously his brain was ill proportioned to his brawn.
Vegeta peered suspiciously at the idiot in front of him. "Oh?"
"Yes! Freeza will be so happy you're not missing anymore! I found you!" The bone head actually clapped his hands in glee.
Bulma was dumbfounded. Vegeta. Is this a trick? How can they not know it's been you destroying their facilities this whole time?
Vegeta considered her words while watching Racoome dance around in self-amusement. Had this been any of the other members of the Ginyu force, I'd be inclined to agree. But as you can see – Recoom is not capable of deceit. He's simply too stupid.
Something occurred to Bulma and the idea froze the blood in her veins. Vegeta. She whispered. Vegeta. Go with him.
His response was sluggish, as if he didn't quite hear her correctly. Instead of words, he jabbed her with the sensation of confusion.
Freeza thinks you've been missing this whole time. If you go back with this freak, wearing a deactivated collar, it will look like you returned to him after escaping – As the words tumbled out, her momentum grew until her thoughts were a frenzy. It made sense. It just made perfect sense. Recapture my friends. They will be safer with you to watch over them. You can arrange an escape for them later, when no one would suspect! I mean, they're just a handful of humans. And two aliens. But maybe no one would even notice they were gone -!
Vegeta was silent. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one, so she just kept talking. And you wanted to be free! You'll finally get this collar off for good! You can still defeat Freeza. It may even be to your advantage to stay close to him until you can –
No.
He started to power up.
Confused, Bulma sputtered. She tried to speak again, but was met with a solid wall of cold rage.
Racoome stopped flapping his arms and whistling to himself when he noticed the ground beneath him start to rumble. Baffled, he turned towards Vegeta. The look of surprise was unmistakable.
Vegeta continued to draw power into himself. The distant buildings started to quake, the mortar cracking, plaster and stones breaking away and toppling to the ground below. Trees exploded as the sap within them started to boil. And still, Vegeta pulled in more strength. More and more until a maelstrom of debris flew about him in hurricane winds.
Through the storm and the noise, Racoome stood dumbstruck as if watching a fireworks show. He grinned like he was pleased at the trick a pet had performed.
Bulma was having trouble staying conscious. She tried to stay connected, but raw, animalistic power had taken over Vegeta and her mind was no longer fully compatible. She knew then that the Saiyan's power had gone to the threshold of his control, and she was terrified. If he lost control, even for a moment…..
She saw only glimpses – snapshots – of what was happening, but what truly terrified her wasn't Vegeta getting beaten to a pulp. It was that his power would overtake his ability to control it and she would lose her connection with him. It was one thing to choose separating their minds. It was beyond her ability to fathom the horror of having it ripped away like this.
She didn't know how long it had been. Her own body was exhausted from the mental strain of holding on. Her endurance cad collapsed long ago. Sheer desperation somehow kept her from letting go.
And then… a painful rush. She had been pushing her mind outwards with such ferocity, her soul should have been ripped right out of her body. Like a rubber band snapping, all of her synapses were suddenly pulled, and the slack in her stretched brain muscles caused her to stagger and crash right into Vegeta's consciousness. As though they had been speeding bullets colliding in mid-air, they both reeled from the impact.
BUT HE WAS STILL THERE.
His vision was swimming – either that or their overlapping minds were trying to resynch after being shoved out of whack. Like a computer rebooting…
She started laughing and didn't stop even as she turned to her side and vomited all over the consul of her dentist-chair. At the same time, Vegeta upchucked all over himself – and someone who was trying to help him stand.
He shoved them away and fought to sit on his own. Closing his eyes made it worse. Re-establishing equilibrium from light years away wasn't easy. He allowed himself to fall onto his back and stared at the sky… the clouds floating overhead. The rays of sunshine peeking through, painting brilliant colors. It was dazzling.
A shadow fell over him and blocked the heat. Blinking rapidly to dislodge the sunbursts, Vegeta tried to focus his vision. The shadow was just above him. Growling lazily, he grunted and expected the shadow to go away. Instead, it came closer and became a silhouette in the hazy shape of a man. Something grabbed him and hauled him up. Too tired to complain, he allowed himself to be dragged to his feet, staggered to hug the closest solid object, and sagged against it. It was rough beneath his cheek, and the texture was just one more thing to help drag his consciousness from the fog. He became aware of his heart beat, then his breathing. By the time someone took hold of his shoulder, he was able to stand on his own.
Turning around, he saw the chichi thing and blinked at her. Drunkenly, he reached out with his mind, and groped for – for whatever thing that was always there. That familiar thing that was a cornerstone no matter how confused he was. It was still there, but it was wobbly, too.
Alarmed, his body immediately drew in an enormous amount of power, ready to fight against whatever had attacked him – had attacked his inner most self. Just as quickly as he had pulled the power in, it evaporated and his knees buckled. Sitting down hard, the sharp pain in his tail was something to focus on. He felt the echo of something deep inside his mind grab onto the sensation of his focus. Instead of letting go of the focus to shake off the echo, he firmly held onto that focus and allowed the echo to grab onto him. He didn't know why he did it at first; it should have made him panic to have something clinging to his thoughts, but the sensation of the presence reassured him. It was familiar. It grounded him… protected him.
And then it clicked.
The reassurance that she was there was enough for now. He knew the echo of her presence had a firm grasp and would eventually become a whisper and then a voice. He'd simply have to wait. For now, the fog subsisted. But it would fade.
Realizing he was sitting on the ground under a tree, Vegeta braced himself against the trunk and hauled himself to his feet. There were… beings… staring warily at him. Still slightly off balance, he teetered a few steps but was able to stay standing. Looking from face to face, he grew incensed.
"What?" He spat.
As one, the beings stepped backwards and away from him. He scowled at them. Stupid creatures. "Instead of wasting time waiting for the outcome of the battle, you all should have escaped to the ship – as was the purpose of the battle in the first place!" He roared petulantly.
When no one answered, he glared at them. They were looking from one to another, confused. It dawned on him then that he had been speaking Saiy-go. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Of course. Of course he would be left to babysit a bunch of imbeciles with his only mode of communication a distant fog in the back of his head.
One of them – the woman – stepped forward and spoke to him. It sounded familiar – as if he should know the meaning of the words – but most of it was gibberish. What he did understand made no sense. That revelation was no surprise. Understanding the words meant nothing. Human language was utter nonsense. No matter. He knew what she wanted. He remembered the woman, and vaguely who these other people were. The last time he had seen any of them, he had been in a half-dead stupor on Earth, abandoned by them and left in a cage.
He peered at the woman with an intensity that, when she could no longer bear the weight of his scrutiny, silenced her. When a male standing a few feet behind her spoke up, Vegeta's eyes left the woman's and drilled holes into the one who had spoken. There was an animosity permeating from him; an accusation. Distrust. Guilt…
Vegeta didn't need to understand the words to know this man's heart. His lip curled in disgust. He growled a warning and only when the scar-faced man stepped back and looked away in a display of submission, did he turn his back to the group.
Another man – the Saiyan – spoke. Vegeta didn't try to understand the words. He knew a decision was being made. He stepped away from the group and allowed them to discuss. His name was mentioned, as was Bulma's. The mention of Bulma seemed to make the group erupt and the conversation devolved into another huge argument none of them had time for. He ignored the questions they asked him, refused to participate in any manner. It would be their decision completely. Eventually, when the voices died down and they all turned towards him - as he had expected – he simply started walking. They would follow him.
Or they wouldn't.
They did.
He led them through the trees towards his ship. They walked silently and in single file. No one had suggested they do this. Somehow, it fit the mood. No one wanted to talk. They just wanted to get to where they were going.
Vegeta was thirsty, his body felt like it was inside out, and his brain felt like it had been digested by some unholy creature and spewed back up. He knew he had broken several bones, and he had burns and lacerations covering half his body. Several times it could have been much worse – he had escaped death more than once. A few times were his own doing. Some others were from the unasked for assistance from the rag-tag group following him.
The last time they seen him, these people had tried to kill him. They incarcerated him, abandoned him. This, only the second time in his company, they save his life and trust him to take them safely to a means of escape.
He frowned to himself. He owes these people nothing. He cares nothing for them one way or another… and yet, without thinking twice, he had come to their rescue. It had started simply enough – tell the Chichi human how they could save themselves – so he wouldn't have to listen to the human stuck in his head screech at him to do something. And maybe, perhaps just a little, because he understood how it felt to know the loss of a planet and a people, he wanted Bulma to escape that feeling. As for the rest - he may have tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence that they benefit from his fight with Racoome – but the excuse felt hollow. He came to their rescue knowingly and fully on purpose. Not because he needed strategic allies. Not because he felt a sense of kinship with them because he had come to know them through the memories of his human counterpart. Not for any reason except that he knew she would want it.
Why this mattered to him was like a sore on the inside of his cheek that he couldn't stop biting.
Worse, why hadn't he done as she suggested? Why hadn't he returned to Freeza as the prodigal son? He could have arranged the escape of her friends. He could have patiently waited and planned for the right moment to attack Freeza, just as he had been doing before Earth. Freeza would have welcomed him, fed him as much as he could eat, allowed him to sleep as much as he wanted, and go where he wanted when he wanted… so long as it served his purposes.
Initially, the plan had been to attack Racoome just as he had attacked Guldo. Guldo's head was so oddly shaped, it wasn't an issue because the alien didn't wear one. But why had he attacked before he destroyed the scouter Racoome wore? Why had he attacked at all once he learned it was an option to return to Freeza?
He knew the answer.
The price was the same - as long as he performed his function – which served his own purposes, anyway – he was left alone. But a slave without a collar was still a slave. And if he was to be a slave, at least he could choose under whom he would be shackled. He may be half starved, collared, live in the hollowed shell of a semi-frozen asteroid, and though his body and mind were no longer completely his own, he felt more like his own master. He protected the fragile human female from any physical threat by the alien warriors sharing the meteor cave. In exchange, she protected his mind by appearing to take on the role of controlling him while allowing him control of himself.
In Freeza's army, whoever was strongest forced their bodies and their will upon all those weaker. In the puppet army, with that human female providing cover – and he trusted her to continue to provide it - no one was stronger than he.
But why had he attacked Racoome before destroying his scouter? All he had done was give Freeza a head's up. Had he destroyed the scouter first, no one would know to come looking for him. Why had the suggestion that he go back to Freeza enraged him so much he completely blew his chance at remaining hidden? Or was it the suggestion that he leave the puppet army? Leave her…
He ignored the thought and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
It took a lot longer to get to the ship than it should have.
Bulma had fully reestablished herself. She had left him to his thoughts, for which he was grateful. She hadn't spoken during the trip. He hadn't spoken, either. Neither of them needed to. Both of them were content to be wrapped snugly together. There was no intimacy. It was simply the relief of having survived, the balm from an absence of pain, and the freedom from the mental fog that had blanketed them.
When they arrived to the ship, it was almost a surprise. The sleep-walking like trance of trudging through the endless trees and vines dissipated as he approached the vessel.
Without speaking, he entered through a hatch, activated the consul, and punched in a code to change the flight path. The plan had been to allow it to rendezvous with the larger ship returning to the asteroid belt. Now that wasn't an option. Racoome had used his scouter to broadcast Vegeta's attack. If Freeza hadn't known for certain whether or not Vegeta was a traitor before, he certainly would, now. Freeza would mobilize every resource he had to track the Saiyan down. Keeping these people out of danger had become the entire point of this ridiculous, ill-conceived venture the moment he had attacked Racoome in the manner he had. Eventually, Freeza would discover where Vegeta had been all this time. Taking everyone to Bulma would put them in the direct path of Freeza. She wouldn't tolerate that.
"What coordinates did you enter? Where are we going?" came a feminine voice from behind him.
He grunted. He could fully understand her words again, though he wasn't certain if he cared to. A moment later, he decided it would be simplest to answer her. It also meant keeping the high strung female calm, and his head felt like it was going to burst. He wanted to keep her quiet. He pointed to the view screen and followed the trajectory of the ship's path – straight into the worm hole.
"Brilliant," stated a green man. Without conscious effort from either of them, Bulma's memory supplied the name and identity of the speaker. Vegeta hadn't realized how integrated their minds had been until their connection had been lost. Before, he'd have taken the sudden knowledge of Picallo's name and species for granted.
He thrust the distraction of that chain of thought away when he realized everyone was looking at him for explanation. Still not willing to exert the energy, Vegeta nodded towards the namek to explain.
Picallo took the hint. "Freeza's men are crawling all over this galaxy. According to Chichi – whom I presume received information from him –"
Picallo indicated Vegeta with a head nod before continuing,
"-this planet is the bulls eye and everyone's focus will be here now that there has been an attack. Whoever makes it here first can easily defend it and whoever's left and not fighting over it will be after those who attacked. The namek's gaze touched the eyes of all present before coming to rest on Vegeta's.
"We won't make it far unless we find a way to completely disappear," he finished somberly.
Vegeta inclined his head towards Picallo, who remained silent. It was a passing of the torch; the responsibility of these people no longer fell to him.
"Are you coming with us?" Asked Goku.
Vegeta eyed the other Saiyan. Despite his obvious injuries and half-starved frame, he seemed strangely content. Bulma's memories of him were justified. Kakarot – Goku – was exactly as he appeared; he wasn't stupid as everyone believed. He was just simple. His mind was at one with his heart, which made him a Saiyan to the core; he wasn't burdened with complex, abstract thoughts or emotions. His telepathy wasn't developed – likely due to a lifetime on a planet with non-telepathic beings. But humans had been enough for his telepathic needs, weak as they were. The telepathy he did have told him the nature of other beings - if not what they were thinking. To Goku, Vegeta's actions didn't matter. It was Vegeta's intent that was important.
Goku saw Vegeta as an ally. A friend. Someone who could sacrifice himself for others. Or at least for one other….
Vegeta ignored Goku and started towards the hatch. No. He would not be going with them. He didn't have much time left before this planet would be crawling with Freeza's men and he had a ship to steal.
A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around before he made it to the exit. The twisted snarl and heated gaze of the scared-one – Yamcha – met his own with a fiery challenge.
"You haven't told us what happened to Bulma!"
Vegeta was torn between the desire to tear the offensive arm off its owner or roll his eyes and ignore the stupid insect so he could be on his way all the quicker. The hand that halted his departure actually gripped him more tightly - and the foolish human thrust his face within inches of Vegeta's own to yell again.
"Where is she? Why isn't she with you? Did you leave her somewhere? Huh? Make it easier for yourself to ditch her?"
Vegeta exploded in a flurry of movement using energy he hadn't thought he had left.
The hull squealed with the sudden strain from the force of the hit. Yamcha's throat was pinned to the inside wall of the ship, held in place by the seething Saiyan's iron grip.
Vegeta stabbed into the minds of everyone and forced the images he had seen directly into their visual cortexes. He wanted it to be raw and painful. He wanted it to be a violation. He wanted them to feel his anger. He showed them what he had seen in the Chichi woman's mind earlier when she had relayed to Bulma the defeat of Earth. Neither human had realized that while they spoke to one another, he was poking into Chichi's memories. The woman had spoken the truth about three of their number returning for Bulma. What she could not know was what had happened in the time Yamcha had left her and Krillen.
On the battlefield, the scared man had confirmed it. The look of guilt had been all Vegeta had needed as a reference point to chase the missing pieces from Chichi's memory. Now – now Vegeta would reveal what the coward had kept hidden.
"How is he?"
At the sound of his voice, Chichi looked up at Yamcha.
"He has a hole where it shouldn't be –"
"I'm fine," Krillen interrupted gruffly.
Chichi's gaze dropped back down to Krillen's face. It was ashen and pale, but his eyes were bright and aware. She wiped his sweating brow with a corner of her dress. Lifting the crumpled ball of material from his chest, she snuck a peek at the wound underneath. It was raw and weeping, but it no longer gushed blood. She pressed the material back to the wound and continued to put pressure on it.
"It stopped bleeding, but we shouldn't be out here. We need to get Bulma and leave now."
Yamcha glanced over his shoulder at his two friends briefly before turning his attention back to the empty intersection in front of them. They were hidden behind a couple of dumpsters in an alleyway, but being careful hadn't saved them from attack. There were still pockets of Freeza's warriors here and there, and more ships had started to land. In another day – two at most – Earth would fall. Their only chance was to get Bulma back. She was the only one who could reactivate the weapons systems she had designed. When he had left the underground safehouse – also Bulma's – these two had insisted on coming along. He was glad for the company. Krillen could help if they met resistance on the way. Chichi would talk Bulma down from being pissed about getting ditched in a prison cell.
"Hold still!" Came Chichi's sharp whisper.
Yamcha grinned when Krillen made an exasperated sound.
"I'm fine! Really! I think – I think she let us go.."
Yamcha wheeled around and stared at Krillen. "It wasn't a she because 'she' wasn't alive, Krillen. She didn't have a ki. If it wasn't alive, it couldn't have made the decision to 'let us go.' It was a machine and you were lucky it missed.."
"If it were a machine, how could it miss?" Spat Krillen.
Yamcha's mouth hung open. A moment later, he closed it. "Fine. You tell me what happened."
"She knew we were there, Yamcha." Krillen indicated the three of them. "When she hit me – with ki – she made sure it was survivable. She told me to 'stay down,' Yamcha! Why would she do that if she meant to kill me? She shot me to protect the three of us from the rest of Freeza's men with her."
Krillen sat up with Chichi's help. He cradled his useless arm to his chest with his good hand and tied the bundle of material into a sling. Yamcha watched the whole thing in silence. He shrugged a shoulder and turned back to stare at the intersection.
"If you say so, Krillen. But why she would let us go is beyond me," he said almost to himself. Krillen answered, anyway.
"Maybe Bulma was right. Maybe some of Freeza's men are looking for a way not to be Freeza's men."
Yamcha grit his teeth but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned to face his friends.
"Look. The prison is just across the intersection. I don't see anyone, but I think it will be safer and faster if you two stayed here."
Chichi and Krillen glanced at each other, but neither of them objected.
Yamcha nodded. "I'll grab Bulma and be right back."
With that, the warrior leapt over the dumpster and darted to into a dark corner several dozen feet away. He zig zagged from hiding place to hiding place until he was directly in front of but across the street from the prison entrance. He couldn't sense any ki aside from Krillen, Chichi, Bulma, and… that Saiyan… but whatever it was that attacked Krillen hadn't had a ki. So, he waited. He waited until he was certain no other creature, living or otherwise, was within a 10 mile radius. Then, he waited some more.
Eventually, when his muscles screamed from lack of moving, he inched his way out from under the rubble of a collapsed building and sprinted to the prison. He reached the door and launched himself through it. Flattening himself against the far wall, he watched the door he had just come through to ensure he wasn't followed. He let out the breath he had been holding and allowed his heart to drop from his ears back into his chest where it belonged. It was only then that he looked around, impressed that the prison was untouched. Unlike the rest of the world, Freeza's henchmen had skipped over this place.
Yamcha propped his head against the cool wall behind him for a moment of rest. When the world had been threatened, every prisoner on the planet had been offered an unconditional pardon if they took up arms to protect it. Small wonder the criminals who had broken all the rules and had taken advantage of the weak were the first to stand up to defend Earth. By the time Freeza's warriors had arrived, every prison on the planet had been emptied of the criminals who had – to the last one – taken the pardon. With no one to terrorize and nothing to take, jails had nothing to offer to anyone.
The safest place left on Earth, at least for the next day or so, Yamcha thought to himself wryly, is the last place anyone wanted to be a day or so ago.
He rolled his eyes and slunk down the hallway towards the cellblock where he had convinced Goku to leave Bulma. He wasn't certain how she would take seeing him. She hadn't been happy about being locked up, but she hadn't tried very hard to argue against it, either. That was unusual for her and in of itself was a sign that she hadn't been herself. She needed the protection and there hadn't been anywhere else. He had expected her to fight the decision; would have listened to her had she been reasonable in return. If she had abandoned the idea that.. that Saiyan.. wasn't anything other than a blood thirsty minion working for Freeza and had agreed to leave the Saiyan behind, he could have trusted her to return with them to the underground compound. Instead, she had chosen to protect and stay with.. that Saiyan. But the real Bulma would never do that. She'd never chose some alien freak over her friends. Over Earth. Over him. That was proof that somehow, that Saiyan had some sort of mind control over her. Just like the last Saiyan.
Yamcha had hoped that in the past day the Saiyan would die. Then she'd wake up and see the truth. He knew now the Saiyan still lived, but his ki was weak. It would be easy to snatch Bulma – regardless of her state of mind – and take her away from here. Given enough time, whatever alien influence over her would fade and she'd come back to her senses.
Yamcha paused before turning down the last corridor that led to the cellblock. If his senses weren't playing tricks on him, Bulma's ki was almost right on top of.. that Saiyan's. What had Goku been thinking putting her in the same cell with that monster?
He flew around the corner but stopped dead when the curtain of her blue hair came into view. And then the rest of her.
It was true. They shared a cell…
But it was more than that. She leaned against a wall in the corner; her shoulder on one side and her back to the other. Her legs spread in front of her. She was humming something to herself – unfamiliar, random tunes – as if the act of humming were more comforting than what she hummed. With her head resting against the wall behind her, she stared into space as if half asleep. Then, without pausing her humming, she looked down at the head cradled in her lap. He was sprawled out on the cell's only bench. It was a wonder he could fit at all; his massive, muscular form seemed to dwarf everything around him. And yet he was there, being held – being sang to – by Bulma.
When she looked down at the sleeping Saiyan, she brushed his brow with gentle fingertips and traced his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb.
It wasn't that they were there together on that bench. It wasn't that she had obviously taken care of the injured alien. It was the intimate way she looked at him as he lie unconscious in her lap.
In all the years Yamcha had known her – had loved her, done what was best for her, waited for her to see him how he saw her – she had never looked at him like that.
Yamcha ran faster than his heart could break. In a blur and before he realized it, he found himself back with Krillen and Chichi. They asked him where Bulma was. Where was she? Somewhere he could never reach her.
"She's gone," he whispered.
Misunderstanding him, they concluded that she had somehow broken out of the prison cell. He almost corrected them, but just… couldn't. He let them think it. He'd go back in a day or two when the whole invasion of Earth blew over. They always pulled through. Goku always pulled them through. Then he'd tell Bulma that they did it without that Siayan and there would be no need for any alliance against Freeza.
And if somehow they didn't win, the prison was the safest place on Earth, right? And Bulma was as crafty as everyone believed her to be. She would eventually break out. She'd see that Saiyan as the selfish animal he was and that he didn't mean to help her. Once he abandoned her, she'd come looking for her friends. She'd realize the mistake she made in choosing an alien over those whom she had known her entire life. She'd remember then whom she should trust. Whom she should love.
Vegeta released the telepathic hold he had over all in the room, and everyone staggered. They had all seen Yamcha's betrayal. Bulma had seen Yamcha's betrayal.
Vegeta's voice was low, dangerous, and completely inhuman.
"YHAOUU… leftd hher.. YHAOUU…Ah-bahndenn hher." Shaking with fury, he lowered Yamcha so that they were face to face. "Iiie nnodt," he hissed.
Vegeta released Yamcha and allowed his body to slump to the floor. He sneered at the pathetic human's wheezing and coughing before turning away. He briefly caught Goku's eyes, but it was enough to convey the meaning. He would not go with them.
He would not abandon Bulma.
"Iiie nnodt," he repeated. Goku nodded his understanding.
Vegeta swiftly exited the ship. He was over a mile away by the time the vessel's rockets lifted it high into the atmosphere.
