Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own /did not create DBZ or any of its characters. If I had, there'd have been a lot more sex. Dirty sex. Aww yeah, you know you like that.

Author's note: I just wanted to say thanks for the warm welcome back to the fandom. I really appreciate it everyone!! Hopefully `Vengeance' will live up to expectations.

Also, a note pertinent to the story: You'll notice that I refer to Puar as a “he” even though Puar is commonly thought of as female. Truth be told, I tend to think of the cat as somewhat genderless, so I'm cool with either characterization, but in original Dragonball, Puar is indeed referred to as a male. So there we go, I guess. I'll hear no complaints about it, unless they come accompanied by cookies. Then talk all you like :D

 

THREE YEARS EARLIER

 

“Bulma, I'm so, so sorry.” Chichi bowed low at the waist, prostrating herself before the other woman. “I don't know where Goku and Gohan could be.” Her cheeks burned red with the shame of having such a disobedient family. “Goku promised that they would be here on time. He promised me.”

Bulma laughed, glancing at her watch. Goku and Gohan were already almost an hour late. “Oh, Chi, I don't know why you ever believe a word that man says.” She pulled her friend upright, failing to notice the dejection and disappointment behind the embarrassment and anger. “No need to bow, please,” she waved it off. “You and I both know that Goku is never on time!” As if on cue, Bulma's cell phone rang. “Ten bucks says this is him.” She grinned, before flipping the little contraption open. “Yo, Bulma here!”

“Hello Miss Briefs,” Gohan's tiny, polite voice came through the line, and Bulma rolled her eyes. How many times had she told him to call her Bulma? Five years old and too polite for words. “Is my mother there?”

“Yes, she's right here Gohan.”

“Is she mad?” He asked, and when she said `no' she heard him repeating the answer to his father. Sure, it was a lie, but it was a lie that Goku deserved for bailing out on them like he was surely about to do. Sending in the kid to feel out the waters though, no one could say Son-kun was dumb! “Okay, put her on. My father needs to talk to her.”

“It's Goku.” Bulma smiled, handing Chichi the phone. She then tactfully turned away and started talking to Krillin and Yamcha, who in turn tactfully raised the volume of their conversation to quite ridiculous levels, so as not to overhear Chichi yelling at her wayward husband.

“Fishing.” She muttered, snapping the phone shut with an angry click. Bulma winced, hoping that her friend hadn't crushed the thing. Chichi often forgot how strong she really was. “Goku and Gohan have stopped to go fishing and they're not coming.” Her face was red with anger, eyes sparkling with her rage. “Because they found a pond that's just perfect for fishing.” Her voice piqued and she sounded like the serial killer in a B-movie horror flick, explaining her twisted teen-angst motives for the bloodbath she'd perpetrated.

“Chi,” Krillin started, stepping forward as small pebbles began to rise from the ground around where she stood. She cut him off with her next words.

“FISHING!” She shrieked suddenly, crunching Bulma's poor cellphone, completely unaware of the pieces falling to the ground. “Gohan has a chance to be part of Earth's first-ever space launch and Goku drags him away to go FISHING! How irresponsible! How is Gohan going to learn about space now, hmm? How is he going to learn about rockets and gravity and the solar system now, HMM?” She demanded of her three friends, who shrugged in unison, each as unhelpful as the next. “That Goku, he doesn't care about Gohan's education! It's always fishing or swimming or fighting!” She spat the last, as though it were the filthiest word she had ever heard, and a girl fighting in tournaments was subjected to a lot of filthy words. “Always goofing off! How is Gohan going to get into a good school now?”

“I could always take him up later, Chi,” Bulma offered, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “It's not like this is his last chance to go to outer space, you know.” That took some of the wind from Chichi's sails. “Why, I'll even let him help me build the next ship! Put that on his entrance forms and he's sure to get into a great kindergarten!”

Fully deflated now, Chichi nodded her thanks and smiled at her friend, though Bulma knew that the other woman was already worrying about how they would pay for THAT good a kindergarten. She smiled back, wondering how this paragon of responsibility had ever ended up with Goku. “Maybe you should go get yourself ready for takeoff.” Bulma suggested, urging Chichi on her way, before anything else could upset her volatile temper.

“Well, whaddya know,” Krillin muttered under his breath, “opposites do attract.” Bulma clamped her lips together, trying not to laugh; she'd just been thinking the exact same thing.

“You know she's good for him.” Yamcha grinned, finding the Son family's antics an endless source of amusement. “Imagine! If she hadn't married him, I bet Goku would be living in a tree in the woods right now, wearing a bear-skin loincloth.” The scarred warrior nodded sagely, before adding, “AND he'd probably still be a virgin!”

*

In the end, Chichi had come along anyway, armed with pencil and paper so that she could make notes for Gohan, in his absence. Bulma had simply smiled and neglected to mention the fact that Chichi would hardly be able to write with the force of that many Gs bearing down on her during takeoff, or that she'd likely feel too sick to want to do anything after that. After all, Bulma only planned to keep the ship in orbit for about an hour or so before returning planetside. Capsule 1 needed extensive testing in Earth's orbit before attempting interstellar travel.

Bulma had invited the entire Z-team to accompany her on this first-ever venture into outer space, and she was glad to see that most of them had shown up. With the exception of Goku and Gohan, who had indeed RSVP'd in the positive, only Tien and Chauzu had declined her invitations. Although a truce had been called at the last Boudokai, apparently the two former assassins were still not comfortable in close quarters with her friends. Chauzu had at least made an effort to ease the sting of their refusals, joking that someone had to remain behind to make sure Piccolo didn't start any trouble. That green demon was still at large, somewhere in the world.

So on that fine, sunny day, Bulma had led the way into Capsule 1, a huge, round, hulking structure, with everyone behind her oohing and aahing appropriately at the ship as they took their places. Dr. and Mrs. Briefs had the positions of honour on either side of the captain's chair, and of course Bulma was obligated to fashion a special strap into her father's chair for Kitty, that indolent, vacant little creature her father insisted on taking everywhere he went. Krillin and Yamcha took up seats in the second row on either side of Chichi, in an effort to reduce her embarrassment at Goku's disappearing act. Puar had settled himself in the chair to Yamcha's right, wishing he'd asked Bulma to build him a special chair as well. Sighing, he shifted his body into a parody of the most familiar human form he knew, so as to better fit into the restraining straps. Two Yamchas grinned at Bulma, and she shook her head and smiled at their antics. She'd had a dream rather like this, once…

Yajirobe's seat remained empty; that fat mess of a man had pleaded a stomach ache and chickened out only five minutes before takeoff, no doubt as a result of the treats he'd snuck aboard under his shirt. Master Roshi sat alone at the back with Oolong, both more interested in Roshi's latest issue of “Jigglers” than in the groundbreaking moment of human history that they were privy to. Bulma took a moment to wonder why she'd even bothered to invite them. They'd probably only shown up in the hopes that they might meet some horny aliens and get to see some space titties.

Of course, Bulma's preposterous reasoning was completely wrong, not to mention insulting to men of such fine tastes. They'd shown up to see her boobs in zero-G, of course. Chichi's presence was an added bonus, and one they were both looking forward to. Even Mrs. Briefs had a nice set of cans that could only be improved by the marvels of reduced gravity. “Thank God for tube tops.” Roshi muttered, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Okay, everyone, are you ready?” Bulma's voice rang through the hollow interior of the ship, her excitement palpable to all those present. It was infectious, too, as every other occupant nodded eagerly. Yamcha let out an excited whoop, and Krillin grinned from ear to ear. Even Chichi couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. It had been a long time since she'd had any adventure in her life and she was looking forward to it, even if only for a few hours. Nice, safe, controlled adventure. Yes sir.

“Blast us off, sweetie dear!” Mrs. Briefs chimed in. “Punch it!” She chirped, thrusting one fist into the air.

“Yes,” Dr. Briefs mumbled from somewhere beneath his moustache, “Put the pedal to the metal, or so they say!” Kitty, locked tightly into his harness, let out an accompanying yowl. Dr. Briefs smiled and scratched the animal's head, though Bulma was pretty sure that had just been the cat's way of expressing his dissatisfaction with the travel arrangements.

“Okay, here we go!” Bulma crowed, leaning forward in her seat to reach the ship's console. Her nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, tapping in the launch sequence as the computers finished their final systems checks. Everyone held their breath as the ship around them began to rumble and shake, its engines roaring to life. Puar let out a squeal and grabbed for Yamcha's hand, and Krillin laughed to see the two Yamchas clutching each other so tightly. He elbowed Chichi and directed her attention to the sight with a wicked grin. She smirked back at him as they both shared the same thought; Yamcha had finally found the perfect mate for himself: himself.

Master Roshi and Oolong clasped hands, tears streaming from their eyes as they imagined the greatness they were about to behold. “Zero G ta-tas,” Oolong chanted quietly, like a prayer.

“Chichi's Chi-Chis!” Roshi drooled.

“Mother and Daughter show,” the pig panted.

“Bouncy bouncy!” Roshi felt his heart beating so hard in his chest, he thought he might have a heart attack and die right there. As long as it didn't happen before the soft and squishy fun, he figured he could die a happy man.

Stomachs dropped all around as the ship began its rocket powered ascent to the stars, and nausea did indeed force Chichi to abandon her note-taking quest. The pencil dropped from her fingers, forgotten as her stomach began a series of summersaults within her belly and she concentrated all her energy on not being the first one to barf. Yamcha, the real one, not the Puar one, took that honour from her, his stomach suddenly catching up to him as the rocking of the ship ceased. Luckily, sick-bags had been provided and he'd managed to make use of his in good time.

“Wet naps are in the compartment on the side of your chair!” Bulma called out, far too cheerfully, as she heard her boyfriend retching into his bag. He grumbled at her as though she'd somehow managed to do it on purpose, which she more than likely had. She laughed before focusing her attention back on the computer screen before her, in order to monitor their progress. “Everything's operating at optimal levels, Dad!” She reached over, and squeezed her father's arm. Not wanting her mother to feel left out, she reached out and grabbed a hold of her, too. “And, I must say, the paint job in here is spectacular!”

“Oh, well you know we do our best, dearie.” Mrs. Briefs gushed at the compliment, thinking to herself that if they did meet any hostile aliens, surely such attention to detail and beauty would make them want to be friends immediately. That, and the little lace curtains she'd found for the hull's outer windows were just darling. It was just too bad that Bulma hadn't let her reupholster the seats in silk brocade. It really would have made the room. That daughter of hers was just a big old spoilsport.

Bulma smiled to herself in satisfaction as the central computer let out a loud beep. The sensors told her that they had left Earth's atmosphere and were currently in orbit. Orbit! The word was like a drug to her system, better than any praise she'd ever gotten, better than any award she'd ever won. Better than sex! And chocolate! And chocolate covered sex! She'd built a ship and gone to space, and all before her thirtieth birthday! What a kick!

“Okay everyone, I think we should be safe to unbuckle and leave our seats now.” She said, popping open the closure on her own harness and bouncing out of her seat. “The ship's gravity simulation systems seem to be working, so no worries about floating away!” At her words, the tears of joy in the back row of seats became tears of true anguish.

“No bouncy bouncy?” Roshi asked, sounding like a lost child.

“No Mother and Daughter show.” Oolong confirmed, his poor piggy ears drooping sadly. “No chi-chis and no ta-tas.”

“What have we done to deserve this?” Roshi cried, holding his head in his hands, while Oolong patted his back, trying to comfort the desolate old man. “What do I even have to live for?”

“There there, don't cry,” Oolong said, tutting and shushing his partner in perversion. “Maybe the gravity controls will break.”

“Maybe we could break them.” Roshi suggested, a feisty gleam suddenly replacing the tears in his eyes. Oolong grinned back, his little piggy tail waggling with excitement.

“Maybe we could.”

All around them, everybody was unbuckling their belts, stretching and groaning and trying to regain their senses after their jolting ride through Earth's atmosphere. “Yikes, that was rough.” Krillin said, patting his stomach. “I thought I was gonna lose my lunch for a while there.” He ignored a glare from Yamcha, who'd just finished dumping his puke-sack and spent wet nap in the garbage disposal chute.

“Well maybe it'll be your turn on the way back, and we'll see who's laughing then.” The scarred warrior rubbed his unruly guts with one hand, fanning his face with the other.

“Here, Yamcha,” Bulma turned one of the air vents toward her boyfriend, finally showing him the pity he'd been hoping for. “Some cool air on your face will do you some good.” She gave his back a quick pat of sympathy before moving on to help Chichi undo her restraints. Puar had simply shifted back into his cat form to be free of his own belts, and was now floating, concerned, beside Yamcha's head.

“Ugh,” he said to the little cat, “I am not looking forward to the trip home. I don't think I even have anything left to puke up.”

“Okay everybody!” Bulma announced, having made her way back to the main console. Everyone turned toward her, so no one noticed the two sneaky souls who'd crawled into the small room that housed the ships central processing units. The `DO NOT ENTER' sign didn't even warrant a pause from the two troublemakers. “I'm setting the ship's propulsion systems to zero, so now we're coasting along the way everything else up here gets by!”

“The controls have got to be in here somewhere.” Oolong muttered, trying to keep his voice down as Roshi squeezed in beside him. “Do you know anything about computers?”

“Err, I'm a good hand at the internet.” Roshi intoned, wiggling his eyebrows at the pig. “But this, I have no idea.”

“Hmm,” Oolong bent at the waist, studying the labels on each switch and plug. “Damn. Me either. Maybe if we just start pulling stuff?”

“No! We can't do that! Who knows what this stuff controls. What if we flip the wrong switch and end up turning off the life support?” The old man reached out, swatting Oolong's hand away from a cable.”

“Ow!” Oolong snatched his hand away and glared at his friend. “You know, I'm beginning to doubt your commitment to this.”

“All I'm saying is look at what you're doing before you start pulling wires and kill us all.”

“Okay, fine, look at this one.” He pointed, and Roshi squinted to see the label in the dim light. GRAV. “Grav, that's probably short for `Gravity' right? I'm pulling it.” Both squeezed their eyes shut at Oolong's pudgy little fingers grasped the lever. He heaved, using more effort than he thought necessary just to turn off some gravity. Nothing happened. No alarms, no explosions, and most importantly, no floating breasts. Just an eerie silence, like someone had switched off a distant fan that you hadn't even been aware was running.

“Okay everyone, here it goes, it's time for what you all came for!” Bulma tapped a few buttons and suddenly the computer screens all around the ship's interior blinked off. Two beats later, they flickered back on, this time showing not the ship's OS, but rather a panoramic view of the vast, dark `landscape' around them. “I've positioned the ship so that the main camera is facing Earth. That'll be on the main screen here,” she gestured to the largest screen, the one directly in front of the captain's chair, “but video cameras implanted into the shell of the outer hull are delivering live feeds. A full three-sixty view!” She finished, excitedly.

“Wow,” Krillin exclaimed, looking at one of the side cameras. “Is that a satellite?”

“Oh my, look how dark it is out there! I thought the stars would look much different up close!” Mrs. Briefs leaned into another screen, as though peering closer into it would allow her to see the picture in greater detail. “Now I see that they really are just little dots!”

“Oh my God.” Yamcha's flat voice broke through the excited chattering of the others. He sounded as though he was about to be sick again.

“What's the matter,” Bulma teased, too busy looking at the amazing view of her home planet to pay him much attention. “You going to heave again?”

“What the hell is that?” He asked no one in particular, raising one shaky hand to point at the screen. Krillin turned to see what Yamcha was pointing at and he, too, stopped in his tracks.

“Bulma, Dr. Briefs…I think you guys had better come over here and check this out.” Krillin sounded slightly less sick than Yamcha, but still straddling the city limits of Vomitville.

“Oh, what is it?” Bulma snapped, stomping over. Chichi wandered near too, stopping a few feet away to put a hand to her suddenly pale face.

“Those are spaceships.” She said, numbly, the only one brave enough to voice it. “What are they doing here?”

“It looks like they're headed toward Earth,” Dr. Briefs put in, in his usual calm manner. Kitty, however, was alert and bright eyed, his tail whipping back and forth as he appeared to be studying the screens along with the Doctor.

“Why are there so many?” Krillin asked.

“We have to go back.” Chichi said, and all around her, heads nodded in agreement. “We have to go back now.”

Bulma was already at the main console, frantically typing commands into the computer. “GRAV disabled?” She shrieked, pounding her fist against the metal panelling below the keyboard. “What do you mean, GRAV disabled?” She tried again, typing the long command sequence over from the beginning, only to be met with the same infuriating message. “Augh!” She groaned, striding toward the room that housed the ship's hardware. “You stupid computer! The only way the GRAV could be disabled is if the switch is off, which it's not, because how the hell else did we get up here in the first place!” She ranted, throwing the door open. Two guilty faces stared at her from within. Both seemed slightly disappointed.

“Er, hello Bulma.” Roshi said, straightening his back from its bent position. “We were just admiring all of this circuitry here.”

“So many switches.” Oolong put in, sounding impressed.

“These wires are all such pretty colours. Tell me, did you pick them out yourself?” Roshi turned to Oolong, “Our Bulma did always have a good eye for colours.” The pig nodded enthusiastically, ears flopping comically on either side of his head.

“What did you do?” She growled, low in her throat, like an angry dog. “Tell me you didn't do what I think you did.” She pleaded, pushing past the two of them, her eyes going straight for the GRAV switch. With a wail of frustration, she slammed her hand against the side of the unit, the other hand coming to rest over her eyes as though she were about to cry.

“We just wanted to see what zero gravity was like,” Oolong said, weakly, as Krillin, Yamcha, and Chichi came to see what all the fuss was about.

“You absolute IDIOTS!” Bulma exploded, whirling round and smacking them both soundly on the back of the head with the palms of her hands. They both stumbled forward at the force of the blows. “You morons! GRAV doesn't stand for gravity!” She pushed her way out of the little room, feeling suddenly claustrophobic, and raced back to her keyboard. “Nobody touch ANYTHING.” She yelled. No one said anything for a moment; they simply filed quietly out of the small space and back into the central room of the ship, watching with baited breath as Bulma worked her magic.

“What does it stand for?” Chichi ventured, after it became apparent that Bulma had done whatever she could do for the moment.

The young genius turned, rested her behind casually against the console. Her palms grasped the edge of the counter on either side of the keyboard, the whiteness in her knuckles the only sign of her tension. “GRAV, G R A V. It stands for Genesis Reactor Activation Valve.” She shifted, one arm crossing beneath her breasts while the other came to rest against her cheek.

“In other words,” Dr. Briefs put in, “the thing that lets fuel into our engines.” Everyone gulped. That didn't sound good.

“Well now that the switch is flipped back, doesn't that make everything okay?” Krillin asked, nervously. Everyone nodded eagerly at this idea, except the two scientists. Bulma and her father shared a look, the kind of glance in which two people can share volumes of information in a mere second.

“The Genesis Reactor, the propulsion system of this ship, requires a constant flow of fuel through its systems.” Bulma said.

“It's highly experimental technology.” Dr. Briefs muttered, as though that explained everything, before allowing his daughter to continue.

“Even when the ship's propulsion is set by the computer at zero, effectively shut off, fuel is still circulating. Because of that, fuel is still burnt off at a low rate, requiring a constant need for replenishment from the tanks. When that switch was flipped, it closed the valve that allows fuel from the tank into the engines. The fuel in the system kept circulating, but by now the system won't be full because of the constant burn off. There's air in there, when it' supposed to be airtight. If we open the valve again now, there are going to be air bubbles. We can't run with air bubbles in our fuel lines. The engines could explode.”

“That switch was only off for a few minutes!” Oolong said, “What's a few minutes going to do, really?

“Do you even understand how much fuel we're talking about here?” Bulma snapped, lunging forward at the pig. “Even a few SECONDS is too long!”

“So what does this all mean?” Yamcha asked, glancing at the main screen, where the ships were visible now. It looked like some of them had entered the Earth's atmosphere.

“It means we have to drain the Gen Reactor.” Dr. Briefs put an arm around each of his girls, hugging them to his sides. “And then we have to let it refill so that all the air has been removed.”

“I've already started the process.” Bulma slumped against her father's side, grateful for his support. Her voice was quiet. “It will take two days. Give or take an hour or two.” She couldn't look at any of their faces, all staring at her in horror. “They're big tanks.” She tried to smile, tried to reassure them all, as the first tears started to slip down her cheeks.

“Well,” Chichi said, practically, “I suppose we'd better settle in for the wait.”

The first hour wasn't so bad. They could still pretend that maybe the alien ships were friendly in nature, that the big guns attached to their hulls were for defence only. All attempts at hailing the foreign ships were met with failure; either the messages weren't getting through, or the occupants of those ships simply couldn't be bothered.

When the explosions began to dot the surface of their pretty little planet, the pretending stopped. Everyone watched in horror, not caring that tears were streaming down every last face. Even Yamcha and Krillin, tough guys to the end, couldn't stop the flow. They all gathered around Chichi, holding her and offering hope that they didn't feel, as she worried and wailed over her husband and son.

Ten hours later, ships began to return, either docking into the biggest craft, what they'd begun to refer to as the Mothership, or continuing off into the black void of space.

Twenty seven hours after landfall, every last ship had returned. That's when they watched the Mothership, a monstrous oval of metal, manoeuvre into place. They watched the ship's great cannons begin to glow with the charge of building energy, slowly getting brighter and brighter. It was agonizing, knowing that there was nothing they could do, and yet none turned away from the display screen.

Twenty eight hours after landfall, they watched the mothership surge backward with the recoil of its guns, so many points of light heading toward the Earth. Twenty eight hours, two minutes, and three seconds after landfall, they watched the Earth crumble in a spectacular explosion that rocked their little ship in its orbit, forcing it outward and away toward the outer planets in their solar system. The moon and countless asteroids were their companions, floating away, perhaps to find new planets to worship.

Twenty nine hours after landfall, the mothership had completed its rotation and was well on its way back into the black recesses of space. At thirty hours, Capsule 1 was alone in its corner of the universe.

Forty seven hours after landfall, the computer beeped three times. The refuelling of the engines was complete.

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Malfunctioning ship, eh? Where have we seen this before? *Shifty eyes* I promise it'll be different from last time. Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you thought.