Human Hospitality
by scoutergreen
Chapter 28
Feeling Stuck
Author's Note: many thanks for your reviews. Always appreciative of constructive criticism and your messages.
After his brief stop on Planet 325-K, Vegeta continued on to his first "official" stop. It took eight weeks to reach Station 15-J, an outsize but sparsely staffed station that boasted a huge hospital, food stores, and little else. Vegeta wasted no time in docking, storming the food storage area, and commanding the low-ranking soldiers (all of whom wanted to avoid Vegeta's wrath) to start gathering supplies and line them up at the docking station for inspection.
The Saiyan's one-man raid took all of forty five minutes to successfully execute; he shot down anybody who so much as looked at him strangely and found that most on-board the station were more than willing to co-operate with his demands. As a dozen horrified soldiers lined up food at the entrance to the docking bay, Vegeta ordered a small group of nurses and doctors to collect medical supplies, medicines, and some spare bed linens and towels.
"The rumours are true, then..." one soldier muttered to a comrade to his left as he set a box of rations down, "Vegeta's alive and well..."
Vegeta heard this, approached the soldier, and gave him an almost gentle tap on the shoulder. "If I were you, I wouldn't believe anything Frieza or his men say. Now get back to work, soldier."
The station gave him good rations and proper medical supplies, enough that Vegeta could easily survive six or seven months on the food and treat minor injuries and infections on his own. He inspected everything for any weapons, bombs, living creatures, or otherwise undesirable things he wouldn't want aboard his ship. With the food and linens, he basically threw onto the ship as quickly as possible and didn't care where it landed. With the medical supplies, Vegeta had things put into thin boxes which he carefully stacked and carried up himself, taking two trips to carry it all.
After he'd taken everything the soldiers and medics had delivered to the docking bay, Vegeta promptly killed two thirds of all present and looked over the remaining terrified few through seemingly lifeless, icy eyes. "Consider yourselves lucky."
He boarded the ship and took off just as quickly as he'd arrived. Once he'd organized the ship and his new supplies to his liking, Vegeta checked his on-board power supply and was pleased to find he still had just under three-quarters of his reserves available.
After killing so many, Vegeta had to sit still and let the silence penetrate his thoughts. At one point, he leaned forward in his chair and brought his hands over his face.
Leaning back in her high-backed chair, fingers interlaced at the back of her head, Bulma mulled over how exactly to draw the pattern for her re-design of the Saiyan armour Vegeta had pulled off Raditz' rotting corpse.
She'd spent weeks studying the materials, fascinated by its durability and flexibility. It was lightweight and get wet even when submerged underwater for hours at a time, and its strength was phenomenal. The textile felt almost rubbery to the touch, but it was of withstanding extreme temperatures and seemed capable of wicking away perspiration. After testing twenty nine different formulas, Bulma managed to replicate the textile used to make the armour and produced several yards of silvery fabric to work with.
"This stuff is incredible..." she mused, "if I just figure how much material to use and how to fuse it all into a wearable design, a new kind of bulletproof vest could be developed... protective gear for contact sports... mouth guards... helmets..."
Bulma had taken to working twelve-to-fourteen hour days after she and Yamcha had decided to try living together in one of the guest houses at the Capsule compound. She cared about the man immensely, but the older they got, the less they had to talk about. Nobody could ever accuse Yamcha of treating Bulma cruelly, but it was increasingly difficult for them to carry on an in-depth conversation. Yamcha routinely admitted he couldn't understand and didn't always care to hear about Bulma's scientific research, while Bulma was bored by Yamcha's constant baseball talk.
Still, she wanted to make it work with Yamcha. They'd been together since their teenage years and had experienced so much together, both risking life and limb to find the Dragonballs and making huge sacrifices to help their friends. Both trusted each other with their lives and well-being, but Bulma didn't entirely trust Yamcha when it came to other women. She didn't even like it when he so much as looked at another woman.
Maybe I'm just jealous, but he's also slipped up a few times. But he's never had any side-girlfriend or anything... I've already checked. He's kind of awkward, so who's going to actively pursue him? Ugh, I am over-thinking this! Yamcha's just a goofy flirt and the only reason any girls go after him is because of his baseball career! Then they talk to him and realize he's a dork!
...hmm, I wonder how Vegeta's doing. I could use his assistance with this armour, see what he thinks...
She sat up straight and reached for her cigarettes. After two drags, she leaned back again, shut her eyes, and her train of thought resumed.
Why do I even like him? Wait, do I even like him? He's weird, even by alien standards. And he's an asshole! He's utterly repugnant, wicked, and awful! He is so fucking mean half the time, barking at everybody and giving off that absolutely terrifying vibe, but then he'll say something or do something oddly helpful... and even kind... well, sometimes. But he actually listens to me when I talk about my projects. And comments on what he understands or... can even expand on, given his background.
...and I still can't figure out why my mom likes him. But he did help her carry those big planters across the garden that one time. And he eats everything she puts in front of him.
...ugh, he's SO weird.
He's not good-looking, either. Or is he? I can't tell sometimes. He's fascinating to look at. The hair is pretty strange, and yet he's oddly handsome... his facial expressions are great. So is that body.
But he's SO weird...
Vegeta lay back in his bed, lazily munching on his third re-heated ration post-training and watching one of the films Bulma had put on the hard drive connected to his living-area's television. He had several weeks to go until his next stop, and if he continued to make good time he'd return to Earth within four months.
He'd become isolated again; typically ignoring Bulma's calls and only scanning the scouter feed twice each day. He continued to train diligently and took good care of his body, actually taking time off when he injured himself instead of trying to train through the pain, even if it was just for six or eight hours.
When the film paused itself and the incoming call signal reverberated through the ship, Vegeta reluctantly accepted the call. The screen switched from the paused film to a slightly grainy image of Bulma, who had her hair scraped back into a greasy ponytail and cigarette clamped between her front teeth. She looked exhausted.
"What now?" Vegeta put his ration on the beside table and lazily rolled over on the mattress until he sat upright.
"Hey, Vegeta," Bulma took a long drag off her cigarette before putting it in an ashtray off-screen, "just checking in. It's nice to see you taking it easy for a change. How's the power situation on-board?"
"It's fine. About seventy two percent. I checked a few days ago."
"Oh, good to hear," Bulma ran a palm over her scalp, pushing down any stray hairs coming free from her ponytail, "I've been pulling some marathon hours at work for the last while, and I'm totally bushed from being at the lab all the time. I just wanted to let you know that I've successfully synthesized the material used to make that armour you wear. You wouldn't know how it is pieced together in order to make a set of armour, would you? There's no way that armour is sewn together."
Vegeta rolled his eyes and mimicked Bulma's action, pushing his own hair back and noting that he needed to take a shower. "Pieces are fused together using a small, concentrated heat source. It might be a laser, come to think of it. PTO soldiers often made quick repairs to armour with minor damage using an adjustable flare and a lot of patience. It's on you to figure out how to hold the pieces still long enough to fuse the fabric together, and I don't recommend trying to do it by hand."
"Naturally," she laughed and leaned back in her chair, "other than that, how are you faring out there?"
"Doing fine. I make my next stop in about six weeks. Until then, I haven't much to do except train, sleep, and make my way through these strange Earthling films you gave me."
"What are you watching now?"
"Uhh," Vegeta tried to recall the name of the actor, "somebody named Chaplin. There's no dialogue."
Bulma struggled to suppress her surprised laughter, finding the idea of the vicious Saiyan laying around in bed and watching a silent film absolutely hilarious, and managed to give Vegeta a firm nod. "Well," she nearly cracked up, "enjoy that movie! Would you mind if I called back in a few days to let you know about the armour? Your input really is a tremendous help."
"Sure," Vegeta shrugged, "but I may ignore you if I'm not in any mood to talk."
"Then I should have installed an answering-machine aboard that ship! Argh, you can be such a grouch! Look, I'm going to fall asleep in my chair any minute now if I don't get back to the house. Take care of yourself, Vegeta. And call any time you need. My Mom says "hi" as always."
"Mm," Vegeta moved his hands towards he disconnect button, "hello to her... I guess. Good night."
As usual, he disconnected before Bulma could reply. He flipped his pillows over, grabbed his rations, lay back in the bed and resumed his film. For whatever reason, Vegeta found human entertainment quite engaging, and he'd taken to watching a new film every few days; if nothing else, it kept his mind occupied and helped him to resist sliding into the darkest parts of his mind.
After all, it was already bad enough that Vegeta felt stuck; no matter how hard he tried, he felt as though further progress towards becoming a Super Saiyan was out of his reach, and while it was hard to figure out which step to take next, he was even more frustrated by the fact that he couldn't figure out why he wasn't progressing any longer.
"Six weeks until my next stop..." he mumbled though a mouthful of food before swallowing, "so I'd better get through this plateau now."
The film ended and the credits rolled, and Vegeta progressed to the next title in the hard drive's catalog.
To Be Continued