Dragon Ball: Space Adventures

Counterstrike
It was time for it to commence again. The roar of the engines softly grew like a storm approaching; the thin whistling of the air being smashed at high speed soon become the only thing that could be heard, smoke was shot off from the escape tunnels in masse surpassing buildings in height, then, liftoff, first bit by bit, raising itself from the ground only a few feet apart shyly separating like a child and a mother, then quickly, hundreds, thousands, then it was in the stratosphere, then it was gone, just a small dot that soon banished into the depths of the unknown.

Vegeta turned around and walked away from the spot near the pod, where he used to watch the ships go alongside her daughter. He walked through the hallways and passages around the circular building, making his way towards the control center localized a few buildings away. The entire structure of the company had been rebuilt years ago to accommodate and be able to withstand the pressure from the liftoffs and landings. He couldn't say he was a fan of it, but one way or the other his home planet had to learn how to travel into space, even if it came at the cost of his mental sanity.

The control center was as lively as those times he had let himself fall near to see what his family was up to. The massive radars around the world kept track of the signals being received and transmitted them back right into the computers gathering all the data, making a perfect image of the ship's situation. Fuel, water, direction, everything was perfectly tracked and relayed, and watching one of the computers was Bulma briefs, the most intelligent woman on the planet, and his wife. So far, there had been no cause for alarm, and so for now the entire room remained idly calm, or as calm as a couple of parents can be to the situation of her sons and daughters having been blasted into space. It had been slow at first, to recognize that idea, to play with it and accept it—furthermore, none besides him had any sort of reason to believe such a thing was even possible. After all, the girls could just be away. And that could have been possible, He explained to them less than a few minutes after the launch as they all frantically tried to contact the ship where Uub was, realizing in horror how any attempt—Even Kakarot's—was meet with a resounding failure, but it couldn't be for Bulla, for the girl would have rather died than miss one of her cherished project be sent into the interstellar space. That, and until his safety was assured, that he knew by a fact that the whole thing was definitely his fault. So for the time being, The Prince of all Saiyans cautiously watched as his wife, Son Gohan, his wife Videl and Kakarot, all worked in their own ways to do their best and try to bring their daughters home. Fruitlessly, he thought, for his daughter wouldn't have been stupid enough to let herself be tracked. On one hand, His heart raged in a wave of pride so immense that when he realized what had occurred a large smile drew on his face. His little girl had not only taken what he said to heart, but taken upon herself to lead the way and save the world, all on her own—but in the other hand, he wanted to shoot himself for having drawn those thoughts into his daughter's head and put her in the uttermost immense risk that existed.

He still remembered her face when he first spoke; that confused stare, the words jammed inside like a broken gun, imitating a machine whose nails disappeared so long ago that rust had begun to grow in the place where once something was held tight inside, procuring a perfect function system, but now, that system crashed against a wall—with the data reaching the main system but failing to make something out of it, only creating waves of 0s and 1s that'll never be something. Only silent data without a capability to be. She must have thought those weirds words her dear father said "She's right" didn't feel like they came from his mouth, that mouth whose upper portion was protected by a strong dark mustache who's stared down towards the ship bay where the octopus-like ship quietly became readier to launch—where a certain black haired girl had less than a few moments ago had what could only be described as a temper tantrum, now, with her gone, her father had thrown a few words of support, a parachute to no one but her. Why had he reproached her? Hadn't he expended an entire life telling her to be proud? To mind her manners in the way a Saiyan Princess should? Why was he disagreeing with her? The only thing she did was scoff at the girls' display, where she argued with her parents about the prospect of going on a dangerous mission to a place no one ever went before, her, who would never dare to doubt or argue her wise father's words—Whom intelligence knew no bounds after a long life of struggles and fights.
To say she was stunned, would be to say that the sun was blue. That Marshmallows had turned yellow. —Why? —She said like a whisper, less than a question, less than a doubt and more like a question to reaffirm something that had held up her entire life in place.

—Because she's not a little girl anymore, she's a young Saiyan, trained since birth to fight, these are the sorts of things she should be doing, and she has every right to demand them. It's true that it could be dangerous, but life is dangerous in itself, you're never going to learn until you're out there in the fields, that's experience you cannot earn anywhere else. You should learn from her.
Bulla didn't get those words at first, and for Vegeta, those words meant little other than a small lesson, something she should keep in mind for later, he had, nor could he have ever planned, the idea of what her daughter would have done. Because what Bulla did understand from those words wasn't an advice, it was an order, one that said; "Go and do it" and by the time she reached her room and sat on the working table and prepared to continue with her projects, her mind had already made up the necessary arrangements. She was going to do it, the remaining questions were mere details she would get around in a matter of minutes.

So as time passed, and Videl Son Satan turned around for a moment, she came upon the eyes of Vegeta, who guiltily stared at the control center, and became instantaneously aware of what had occurred. Relaying with her eyes a stare that said "Well talk about this later."

—This is C.C.-1. Does boxer command read me?

—Loud and clear C.C.-1, this is Boxer command, what's the status over there?

—I can't feel my legs!

—Is that Goten?

—Ignore him. (Oh god it's eating my brain!) The tracking system has begun, and it's slowly decoding their ship. It won't be long until we find them.

—I'm glad to hear that. Now, do you remember what we talked about?

—Sure I do! Once we find them we'll beat the living crap out of them!

Gohan approached the microphone.

—How about you just put them through to us instead?

—That's fair, after we beat the crap out of them we'll put them through to you!

—Are you still mad about the date?

—Just a tiny little bit angry. No more than the median.

Gohan limited to surrender and shook his head, and he looked at Videl who evilly thought of Pan receiving the worst beating of her life and smirked as she approached the microphone.

—If she complains, tell her you're doing it in my name!

—¡Roger dodger!

The son of Goku sometimes wondered why he even tried.

—Just bring them home, ok?

—Don't worry about it, we'll wrap them up and send them home brand new.

Trunks said with an evil smile.

Was there a single serious person involved in the whole mission? Vegeta thought not. It wasn't that he distrusted them, to the contrary, he 100% believed in the ability of his children to keep themselves alive in the depths of space, he had, after all, trained them since birth in order to make them the best warriors that they could be. Whatever it was out there, both were ready for it, or at least that was what he told himself. The thought of Bulla alone in space caused him an abject horror that was only similar to his battle with Frieza—but he was trying to steer away from that, from that fear he felt just thinking of any possible death his little girl could suffer. He just hoped she wasn't going around the galaxy telling every soul about how she was the Princess of all Saiyans or anything like that. He had made her swear to not throw that around like a business card, the only thing left now was to hope all his lessons had accounted for something or that any vengeful race of people which the Saiyans or him had killed managed to miraculously cross their path with them.

Suddenly, he turned around and walked away. He felt like he was going insane. He began to walk through the command center and left for the main building, making his way through the circular maze of the C.C. house until he reached a certain purple building. In the door, there was a wooden cartel that said "Girl working" Something his little girl had done years ago, a split second idea for when she was busy doing something. Usually projects that required her utter most focus. Sometimes she'd be hours, a few times it was days, and she'd only leave when it was done—not a moment before.

He cracked the door open with ease, and left it like a broom against the wall. and admired the room, seeing something he already knew. It was all in order. The large wooden table fit for a family of ten that boasted of cuts and slashes and looked like it had been in use since the dawn of time was awfully clean today. There were no papers laying around in an orderly disorder, every tool that once seemed to be glued to it every time he entered the room was a gone, and near the bed where a night desk used to keep a couple of photos was basically empty, even the lamp of green crystals she kept near to read books or write in her diary was gone. Too was gone the family photo of them on the west city beach, with the ocean in the background and Trunks and Goten making little horns on Bulla's head, also her primary school graduation photo, standing proud with her red academia regalia and the diploma on her hands at the mere age of nine years of age. This year she had complained to him how she was more than ready to finish high already and move on to college and university, and there she was, probably the smartest girl in the city if not the continent standing at a proud 139cm (4'5'') of height. Vegeta understood completely that she was more than ready, but he didn't want that just yet. He wanted her to spend a little bit more time with people her age. She was a small little bean. He turned his eyes towards the other photo that used to be in the middle; Eschalot had taken a photo of both of them in that cabin photo right after buying clothes. She was hugging him, with her arms around his neck and kissing him on his cheek. That photo was the one nearest to the bed, the first in the line and he was sure it was the first to be stored for the trip.

Vegeta sighed at the edge of the bed, praying to whatever god she was ok.