Chapter 11 - Bulma

Bulma turned on her mattress for what must have been the twentieth time since the beginning of the curfew. She cursed out loud the lizard, which she held entirely responsible for her misfortune. She was cold, her back hurt, and she didn't have a shower in over two days. And anyone knowing Bulma Brief a bit knew that she didn't tolerate going to bed without her daily selfcare, and that she even less tolerated beds when they weren't comfortable. The mattress beneath her body wasn't thick enough to keep her hips from touching the metal floor she'd been lying on, and the small sheet she'd been given as a blanket didn't do much good against the 15 degrees Celsius which permanently reigned in the dormitory. The huge Saiyan who had forced them to strip had not been joking when he said that Frieza preferred to keep cool temperatures on the ship.

Unable to rest, the young woman turned around again, heaving a long sigh.

"Chi-Chi" she whispered towards the figure to her left.

There was no response. She curled up under her sheet to find a position that would allow her to limit heat loss.

"Chi-Chi" Bulma repeated a little louder. "Are you asleep? I just can't… I'm completely frozen."

The figure beside her began to move in the darkness.

"Impossible." replied Chi-Chi with a growl. "How do you expect me to sleep if you sigh and ask me the same questions every five minutes?"

Bulma smiled at her friend. Although she wished Chi-Chi hadn't been taken on the ship, the reassurance of hearing her disapproving voice felt good. Far from her home, her family and her comfort, having her best friend by her side made the experience of being a hostage a little more tolerable. And she knew the feeling was mutual.

Determined not to let Chi-Chi fall asleep before her, the young woman moved on her mattress to get closer. The dormitory they were placed in was large, and most of the hostages had already left for their new duties. There was little risk that her saying would be heard, but she still wanted to take the necessary precautions.

"Do you think the south entrance is guarded like the one we got in?" Bulma asked her friend.

"Bulma Brief" replied the latter. "You are still making plans to escape, don't you? Stop it." Chi-Chi growled sleepily.

"Why not? I want to return to Earth. I'm so cold! And I need a shower! And my flannel pajamas! I'm not going to stay here and do nothing about it!"

"Damn… You can't be serious… Do you really think it's time to be a princess?"

Bulma tightened her sheet around her body, offended at having to justify herself. In the last days, she had done her best to suppress her complaints and comply with the demands of the soldiers who kept them captive. But time was starting to take its toll, and with all the adaptation she had to face, her personality was coming back at a gallop.

"I'm not precious!" she growled. "I have justifiable demands, and I want my rights to be respected, that's all. I will not accept being treated like this for long. I'm tired of being locked in this dorm without anyone telling us anything. And look who's talking, Chi-Chi! I know you also think about escaping."

Her friend's silence was revealing. Although more rational than the blue-haired woman, she too had this feeling of revolt bubbling inside her since they had been forced onto this ship.

Bulma took the opportunity to share her ideas with her.

"The South door is only guarded during the meals distribution." she added. "We could take advantage of periods of guard change to sneak out. I bet I could easily find a space pod and pilot it."

"And where are you going to find this space pod, huh?" Chi-Chi said quietly. "Bulma, we don't know anything about this ship, and we're talking about Frieza's Imperial ship, here. I am sure that there are plenty of surveillance cameras and that it is equipped with a high-performance security system. And even if there are no soldiers at the south gate, this place is teeming with guys ready to jump on us if we escape. It's a suicide mission."

Bulma pouted, knowing full well that Chi-Chi wouldn't see her doing it in the dark.

"Stop thinking about it." she added. "The only option is to hold on tight until my Goku comes to find us."

A silence settled between the two friends. Bulma had also thought of her oldest friend. The ruthless attack on the nightclub was an already sufficient reason to trigger his thirst for justice, and Chi-Chi's presence on the ship made the option to remain inactive impossible. But she also feared the obstacles that stood before him. Not only would he have to face hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers that inhabited the ship, but he would also have to challenge the Emperor himself, who also resided here. Not to mention the challenge of space travel that this quest represented. And Goku wasn't exactly what you'd call an aerospace genius.

"He will come, you think?" Bulma finally said in a weak, uncertain voice.

A rustling of fabric was heard. Then, a hand slipped under the sheet to find hers.

"He will come. I'm sure of it." Chi-Chi reassured her, applying pressure on her fingers.

Bulma responded to her gesture by squeezing in return. She closed her eyes, comforted by her friend's much more rational and realistic promises. And that's how, with her feet still cold, but her heart warmed, the young woman finally fell asleep.

But the night was short. Barely a few hours later, all Humans sleeping in the dormitory were suddenly awakened by horrible neon lighting hitting their faces. Three armed soldiers appeared and placed food trays on the ground without regard for their newly interrupted sleep. Bulma highly doubted the word "food" was appropriate. The sticky, purplish-colored soup, cold of course, that was served to them could hardly be described as such.

"I really hope that you are sent to the kitchens, Chi." said the blue-haired woman, grimacing.

She sat cross-legged on her mattress and began to swallow her meal without bothering to use the utensils provided to them.

"Honestly, I would be happy if I was sent there." she replied between two sips. "The cooks clearly need a chef!"

Bulma pinched her nose and stuck her spoon in her mouth to swallow her first bite.

"As long as they don't send me to the Quarters..." she added, looking furtively at the empty mattress in front of them.

Both remembered too well the woman with brown eyes and hair who had occupied it and who had been taken away by force the day before. Through the cries of the struggling woman, they had heard the soldiers mention that they would certainly call on her services during their next visit to the Quarters. Bulma and Chi-Chi had hugged each other as they watched the scene unfold, fearing that this would eventually be their fate when their turn came to be assigned to their duties.

Bulma swallowed loudly. She was even more vulnerable to this possibility, given her behavior with Frieza the other day.

"Don't worry." said Chi-Chi as she pushed away her empty tray. "With the qualification tests we had, Frieza would be a complete idiot to send you there. You're a genius, they will realize they got their hands on a treasure of ingenuity by bringing you here. It would be a waste of skill to use you for your tits and your ass instead of your brain."

Completing qualifying tests had been the first thing they were asked to do upon arriving at the dormitory. The first part of the questionnaire aimed to target their interests and qualifications, and the second one was very much like an IQ test. Bulma had been surprised to see that the questions were sometimes quite complex. She had filled out the questionnaires like everyone else, but what she hadn't told Chi-Chi was that she had intentionally falsified some answers. This way, she hoped to be sent to mechanical or technical maintenance, while avoiding drawing too much attention to her extraordinary intellect.

"I shouldn't have said Frieza to go fuck himself." she replied. "He certainly won't show mercy after what I did."

Chi-Chi opened her mouth to respond, but their discussion was interrupted by the main door opening with a gust of wind. The two women, as well as the few remaining Humans, jumped to their feet when they saw the squad of soldiers entering the dormitory.

"Humans!" one of them said loudly. "Today, you will all be assigned to your tasks. Each of you will be called by a soldier who will guide you to your personal room before taking you directly to your workplace. Let's start right away! Number twelve, come with me!"

A large man walked towards the soldier who had just spoken. Once he arrived near him, the latter followed suit and encouraged him to leave the room. The previous two days had been marked by a similar ritual, and each time, five humans had been called to be taken somewhere on the ship, without being told more. Bulma glanced at the bracelet she had been given that had her ID number on it. This time, there were six soldiers. She approached Chi-Chi and hugged her arm. The moment she feared, the moment she would be separated from her friend, was about to come.

"Number seven!" said one of the soldiers.

Hearing her number being called out, Chi-Chi stiffened beside her. She began to squeeze her arm tightly in return and Bulma felt her heart thump against her chest as she leaned over to hug her friend.

"We won't be separated for long. I'll find you, Chi." she promised in her ear.

She briefly buried her face in her neck to try to stifle a sob as she tightened her embrace before Bulma felt her pulling away. Just before turning to the soldier, her friend took one last look at her, and although her eyes were filled with tears, she saw a resolve that gave her hope on her face.

"Number six!" a voice then chanted as the door closed behind Chi-Chi.

Bulma jumped when she heard her own ID number. She walked resolutely towards the soldier who had just called her, a fish-headed alien who looked at her with four pairs of bulging eyes. He smiled when he saw her approach.

"Follow me, Human." he said in his hoarse voice.

The young woman obeyed without much regret. She was happy to finally leave this dormitory and head to another part of the ship. She had been locked here for almost four days and finally, there would be developments in her situation. The scientist within her hated being inactive and asked herself countless questions. She ardently desired to gather information that would help her better understand how this ship worked, in the hopes that she could outwit it and escape. She followed the fish-headed soldier, opening wide eyes to gather as much information as possible during the walk. They first got into an elevator that took them three floors up, then walked several hundred meters through various circular corridors. The place was a real maze. Everywhere, there were doors, all secured by a genetic recognition system, walkways monitored by a multi-directional camera system and corridors guarded by armed soldiers who seemed to be twiddling their thumbs.

Chi-Chi was right. The Imperial ship was highly secured and escaping from here was highly improbable. But there were flaws, and Bulma was sure it wouldn't be long before she debunked them.

After a few minutes, the two came to a corridor that led into a circular dead end with five frosted glass doors. The soldier stood in front of the middle one and plunged his hand into the holographic authentication keypad on the left. As soon as the reader confirmed his identity, probably with his fingerprints, the door slid aside.

"Your uniform is on your bed." said the soldier, turning towards her. "You have five minutes to put it on and join me here."

Bulma nodded and finally entered her personal room.

The first thing she saw was the bed, and the young woman was relieved to see that it had a mattress, a pillow and blankets that looked suitable to her. At the back of the room, also circular, stood a tiny shower, a sink and a toilet. To her right, there was a drawer and a small table with two chairs. And that was it.

The place was cramped, immaculate, cold and impersonal. But it was clean, and still much better than the mattress on the floor of the shared dormitory she had just left. The conditions in her room were not perfect, but not as horrible as she had imagined neither.

So, raising her head high, Bulma resolutely moved towards her bed to take the clothes that had been placed there. She inspected the uniform with interest, and noted with satisfaction that it was a short dress woven with the same material as the suit that had been given to her a few days earlier. Even though the navy blue fabric wasn't the softest around, it was still durable and its stretching capacity made it quite comfortable. In one smooth motion, she took off the jumpsuit and put on the dress and the white underwear that was provided. She was happy that the dress had no neckline and stopped mid-thigh. There was no mirror in her room, but Bulma knew that the garment, which perfectly fitted her body, would highlight her assets. Under other circumstances, she would have been happy to wear such clothing to work. But as a hostage on a ship full of male soldiers, it was a whole different story...

Once dressed, Bulma left her room to find the soldier still waiting for her outside. Seeing her, he immediately began to walk in the opposite direction down the corridor through which they had arrived. This time, the distance they traveled was much shorter, and it was only about a hundred meters further that they finally arrived at their destination.

In front of them stood two huge metal doors guarded by three soldiers. Seeing them approach, one of them pressed a switch, and the double doors gradually opened to reveal the enormous room beyond. Bulma paused before entering, as she had just realized where she had been assigned.

In front of her, dozens of padded tables were placed in rows. Each of these tables were lined with curtains and metal carts overflowing with clean white linens, sterile metal instruments, and woven bandages of all kinds. In the center of the room, there were five dome-shaped devices, the upper part of which was glass and seemed to be connected to hundreds of cables and drainage pipes extending towards the ceiling.

Without a doubt, this place was suited to treat wounded soldiers.

"Ah! Here you are, finally." said a female voice from the other side of the room.

Bulma turned to the woman who had just spoken. She had a very small body and very long legs. It didn't take her more than three strides to find herself in front of the young woman. She was also wearing a blue dress, but the fabric fitted weird on her square shoulders and around her neck was tied a light red scarf.

"So, you are the new recruit?" she said in a high-pitched voice. "I was told that a Human would be joining the medical team."

She gestured casually towards the soldier who had accompanied her.

"You can go, I'll take over from now."

He did so, and the doors closed behind him as the woman began to rummage in one of the pockets of her dress.

"Here." she said, handing her a piece of red fabric. "Put it around your neck. Every caregiver must wear one. And tie up that long hair. This is the norm here. If you don't want to, you will have to shave."

Bulma frowned. She wasn't sure she liked being spoken to in such an authoritative manner. But she was more than happy to find herself on the medical unit rather than in the Quarters, so she tried to suppress her temper and complied, tying the scarf around her neck and her hair into a bun, not without grimacing at the woman who now had turned her back to her.

"Good. It's your first day, but since we're short-staffed, you'll probably have to treat some wounded soldiers today." the woman said, taking three steps toward the back of the room. "Follow me, I'll show you which medical table will be yours."

Bulma ran up behind the woman, trying hard to follow her despite her much shorter legs. They stopped in front of the examination table which was located at the back of the room. There, she looked at her from head to toe with her yellow eyes.

"Do you have medical skills?" she asked promptly.

"Medical… skills… hum… yes, I guess…"

"Perfect. You won't need any training then. If you were sent here, it's because you have the necessary qualifications to make a good caregiver anyway. My name is Idris. I'll answer your questions if you have any. All the equipment you need to carry out minor interventions can be found in the carts. But you will quickly realize that the vast majority of your work will consist of operating the regeneration tanks."

She pointed at the nearest glass-roofed dome with one of her long, sharp-clawed fingers.

"You just need to learn how to use them properly." she continued. "It's pretty quiet today, and the rest of the medical team should arrive within an hour. So, I'm going to start by showing you how..."

It was at this moment that an alarm blasted in the room. Bulma jumped, but Idris only let out a long sigh.

"This alarm indicates the arrival of a patient. I didn't think there would be any this early in the morning. I wasn't aware of a mission or training session going on. The good news is that we will have someone to test the regeneration tanks on."

She took a step towards the front door, where Bulma could hear a commotion as soldiers streamed into the medical unit. The endless-legged woman turned her head towards her to give her final instructions before disappearing.

"I'll let you look into your cart while I go get this soldier. Be prepared, you never know what type of injury you're going to face."

Bulma nodded curtly and stood in front of the medical cart near her examination table. She began to open and close the drawers, taking out random material that appeared to be logically the most useful to her; cleaning solution, gauze, swabs, scissors, forceps and surgical thread. A little anxious, she wondered if her meager medical knowledge, which she had acquired from working with her warrior friends, would be sufficient to provide the necessary care to this soldier. Although she had treated wounds many times in the past, she was not sure she had enough experience and skills to properly carry out these tasks.

But hey, it was much better than being sent to the Quarters…

The young woman was focused on opening her sterile equipment when she heard Idris and the soldiers moving behind her. Hands full of medical equipment, she turned to watch as they placed her patient on the examination table.

And that's when she saw him.

Bulma, in shock, blinked a few times to let her brain process what was in front of her.

The injured soldier sat, his body half-supported by two of his armored colleagues, his own muscles probably no longer able to do it on their own. His armor was broken and hung loosely around his waist. Every bit of his blue suit was torn, revealing the lacerated, burned, pierced skin that it should have protected. With horror, Bulma saw that the fabric was even intertwined with the flesh at some places. The blood, which was exuding profusely from the wound that ran across his entire torso, flowed down his legs and had already formed a puddle on the ground.

But the worst part of it all was that the man who had suffered all these injuries was still fully conscious. He was breathing heavily and had placed his right hand on his left shoulder to support it. His face was contorted with pain and his jaw was clenched to the extreme, probably in an attempt to contain it.

Finally, through his half-closed eyelids, she could see him staring at her with his black eyes, that she recognized immediately.

It was him. The Saiyan.

There! Finally! Vegeta and Bulma meet again :3

I couldn't wait for this moment, because let's be honest, even if I like describing the alternate universe in which they will evolve, this fiction is first and foremost a love story, and that's what I prefer writing about.

So, I promise that from now on, the Vegebul couple will definitely be all over the place!

I hope you enjoy, and above all, thank you so much for the comments!

xx