Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein. If I did, Vegeta would have been taller. *sigh* Oh well, at least he's probably still taller than me. A girl can dream.

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Author's notes: I just wanted to say thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, especially those of you who continue to review as each chapter comes out. Your kindness keeps me going. I'm also glad I didn't scare anyone away with Radditz/Puar lovin'. Well, maybe I did and they were just too damaged to say anything. Please don't sue me for your psychiatric expenses! :D

We're also jumping back in time again for one chapter. This one takes place, chronologically, after chapter 2. Happy reading!

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THREE YEARS AGO

Thank God for foresight, Bulma thought as she popped the top on a tin of pea soup. She'd teased her father mercilessly for insisting that the ship be well stocked for any eventuality, but now she was glad for the ridiculously large food and water supplies he'd encapsulated and stored away. They had a good five months worth of food if they were careful, and Bulma was confident they'd be able to make contact with someone before their situation became dire. She looked around the ship, trying to avoid thinking about what they would trade for supplies when that situation arose. None of them had any money, not that paper Earth currency would be likely to have value in a universe where Earth no longer existed. Bulma's mother had a diamond wedding ring and a pearl necklace, but other than that, none of them had really thought to take along any valuable possessions. Bulma and her father had their brains and their ideas, but the promise of unheard-of machinery from two unknowns wouldn't buy them lunch. The name “Capsule Corporation” had no credence out in space and all the wealth that they had amassed in their lives had been destroyed in a matter of hours. It was a humbling thought.

Everyone groaned as Bulma upended the can of soup, letting it plop into the pot with the rest. They'd been eating pea soup pretty steadily for the past few weeks and everyone was getting a little sick of it. Why had she let her father pack the food stores? Of course he hadn't thought to include any variety. “Eat it or starve!” Krillin crowed, coming to her rescue as she stirred the sludge. “No choice you guys!” Truth was, she really didn't want to eat it herself either. Just about the only one who hadn't complained was her mother, the incurable optimist.

“I'll go get Chichi,” Yamcha said, disappearing down the hallway toward the bunks. Bulma and Krillin shared an uncomfortable look. Chichi had barely eaten in the past three days, and had done nothing but sleep, day and night. At first, she'd been almost fanatic in her desire to take care of everyone, taking on the jobs of cooking and cleaning, always doing something, as if scrubbing a toilet could make her forget her loss, make it go away. As the weeks went on, however, she'd done less and less, retreating more into whatever solitude she could find on the packed ship. It was going on close to a month since Earth had been destroyed, and everyone was beginning to crack a little bit.

Bulma felt the weight of everyone's misery most of all. She blamed herself for their inability to get back to Earth in time, even though the rational part of her mind knew that going back to Earth wouldn't have made a difference. They'd just all be dead with the rest of humanity. The irrational part of her brain thought that might have been much better than where they were now.

“You okay?” Krillin was at her side, placing a pile of bowls on the counter beside the small stove. “You look kind of spaced out.” He grimaced, “Pardon the bad pun. Completely unintentional, I swear.”

“Just lost in thought.”

“Bulma,” Krillin frowned, reading her all too well. “It wasn't your fault. You know that, and no one blames you for it.”She bit back tears, looking at his sweet, earnest face. Krillin was a good friend, probably the best she'd ever had. He might not have been strong like Goku or handsome like Yamcha, but unlike those two, he was always there. “The only way to prevent it would have been to predict the perversions of Roshi and Oolong,” he twisted his lips into a sour face, “and I don't want to meet the person who understands what's going through those brains.”

Bulma smiled, wishing, not for the first time, that she wasn't so shallow. If she were smart, she'd snap Krillin up in a second. That'd sure show Yamcha. The ever-squabbling pair were on their fourth break up since Earth's destruction, and this time she was sure it was for good. Nevermind that her mother assured her it was all just the stress, and that once things settled down they'd put their differences aside. Nevermind that she'd been just as sure the other three times.

“Soup's on, gang!” Krillin had moved on, and was pulling bowls out of the cupboard, while Puar floated over to grab up some spoons. He handed a ladle to Bulma, who began dishing up the greyish sludge.

“Oh my, what's this blinking light over here?” Mrs. Briefs chirped, just as everyone was sitting down to eat. Bulma looked over in surprise, dripping spoon halfway to her mouth. She dropped the utensil without a word, splattering her father with soup as she scrambled from her chair.

“It's a transmission signal.” She said, almost reverently as she darted toward the console. “We're being hailed!”

“Who is it? Who is it?” Yamcha stood up, pushing his chair back. He stopped, frozen, unsure what to do next. Everyone sat staring, dumbfounded and hopeful.

“Like I know!” Bulma's fingers trembled as she flipped the receiver switch that would put the call through all the ship's speakers. Static blared through, making everyone wince. Bulma deflated a little, thinking that the machinery was malfunctioning.

“Hello, Earth survivors.” Said a deep, monotonous voice that made everyone jump.

“Er...Hi.” Bulma said, into the microphone.

“I am sending you the coordinates of our space station,” the voice rattled on, ignoring her greeting, and Bulma felt her cheeks burn, realizing that she had most likely greeted a computer generated recording. “Come at once.”

The voice cut out and the harsh static once again assaulted their ears. The transmission light had gone out, so Bulma hastily shut of the speakers. When she turned around, everyone was staring at her. “Well?” She asked. “What do we do?”

*

*

Goku's head snapped up, so surprised that he dropped his fishing pole off the dock. It landed in the water with a splash, soaking young Gohan, who had been leaning over his own rod, peering into the deep water in the hopes of seeing a fish. The boy spluttered in surprise, completely unaware of the sudden uneasiness that had overtaken his father.

“Da-ad.” Gohan chastised, wiping his face on his coat sleeve before turning, with a frown, to face Goku. Anything he was about to say was cut off, seeing the closed look of concentration on his father's features. He'd never before seen such a look. Not even his mom ever looked that scary.

“C'mon Gohan.” Goku jumped up, reaching down to pull his son to his feet. “We have to go now.” He whistled for Kintoun and the little cloud was there in an instant. He set the child upon it, and in and seconds later they were all high in the air. Goku scanned the sky as they flew, wishing for better vision so that he could see beyond the stars and look at the multitude of powers surrounding Earth. Ordinarily, he would have been excited to feel such strength, but there was a sense of malice in it that made his skin crawl.

“Kami!” he shouted, bursting through the highest layer of clouds, Kintoun and Gohan close behind him. He landed on the lookout with a thunk, his weighted boots hitting the tiles. “Kami, are you here?”

“He is here, Goku.” Mr. Popo appeared at the door of Kami's dwelling, “But he is not alone. Come with me.” He turned, gesturing the young man to follow. Goku did so, with Kintoun chugging alongside him, Gohan still atop the cloud.

“It's okay, son.” Goku smiled, patting Gohan's shoulder, allowing his hand to rest there as they followed Kami's strange servant through ornate hallways. Goku's ears pricked, hearing shouts from deep within the Guardian's sanctuary. “Mr. Popo?” He questioned, uncertainly. The other man did not seem concerned to hear the sounds of bitter fighting.

“Do not worry, Goku. They will do each other no harm.” Popo said, leading the way into Kami's little garden. He cleared his throat to alert the two green men to the presence of more guests.

“Piccolo?!” Goku shouted in surprise, taking up a defensive stance in front of his son. The tall demon glared at him for a few seconds, before turning back to the Guardian of Earth.

“I will not fuse with you, old man.” He snarled, baring sharp teeth at the ancient Kami.

“You must.” Kami insisted, his voice powerful even though he did not raise it in the slightest. “It is the only way that you will stand a chance against this enemy. You and I must fuse, and together we will fight alongside Goku to protect the Earth.”

“You're forgetting something Kami,” Piccolo sneered. “You are the Guardian of Earth, not I. Why should I care what happens?”

“Piccolo, do not be foolish.” Kami snapped, showing temper for the first time Goku had ever seen. “You might not care what happens to the Earth, but if it is destroyed, then I will die. And if I die, then so too will you.”

“And if the Earth is destroyed anyway?” Piccolo challenged.

“If we fuse, I will no longer be guardian of Earth. The planet could be shattered into infinite specs of dust, and if you got away, you would come to no harm.” Kami said. “But of course, you have no way off of this planet, so if it is destroyed then we'll all die anyway.” Piccolo growled at these last words, whipping away from Kami with a whirl of his cape.

“So you're telling me that if we fuse,” he said, turning toward Goku, “and if I work with this joker here, we'll be able to defeat these invaders?”

“We have a better chance than if you and I remain separate.” Kami said, tiredly, as though he had repeated the same thing a hundred times before. Piccolo narrowed his eyes, taking a hard look at Goku, before turning and striding back toward Kami.

“What happens to me when we fuse?”

“You and I will be no more. In our places will stand a hybrid of the two of us. The very best of us. Your strength and courage, my wisdom and knowledge...” Kami trailed off as the first ship streaked past the lookout, like a comet heading toward the ground. Everyone could feel the power emanating from inside the craft, and felt their hearts stop at the knowledge that a hundred more were on their way.

“We keep my name,” Piccolo said, at last, “and you have yourself a deal.”

*

*

Bulma wiped sweaty palms along the sides of her thighs as they waited for the space station's airlock to open. Yamcha squeezed her hand, and she smiled over at him, trying to look brave. They were “on” again, but she wasn't about to let him be a big strong man while she cowered in a corner somewhere. Everyone was feeling antsy, excited to get out of the ship that had been their prison, but also nervous because they had no idea what was awaiting them on the other side of that door. In the week it had taken them to reach the coordinates they had been given, they hadn't received a single other transmission, not a single clue as to what they were getting themselves into.

The scientific faction of Dr. Briefs and his daughter were beside themselves at the idea of docking with a real space station, the stuff of science fiction novels! They'd spent hours discussing the technicalities of life support systems and propulsion mechanics. Yamcha, Puar and Krillin, who had all seen too many movies, were convinced that they were headed into an alien trap to be sold into intergalactic slavery. Roshi and Oolong were okay with that, so long as their new alien overlords were also looking for sexual slaves. Mrs. Briefs was excited about making new friends, and Chichi hadn't really offered an opinion, but she'd gotten out of bed, which was definitely an improvement in the eyes of her friends.

A buzzer went off and the ship's computer informed them that it was safe to open the doors. The atmosphere on the other side was now breathable. They all jumped as the ship's door cracked open with a hiss, followed by a mechanical whir as it folded down to provide a ramp down to the floor.

Bulma was the first out, agreed to beforehand as the leader of the expedition. Krillin, the strongest warrior aboard the ship, was close behind. Yamcha, only slightly bitter about that, came next, and when no battle erupted, Chichi, Dr. Briefs and his wife trotted out with Master Roshi. Puar and Oolong shifted into the beefiest looking forms they could imagine, and held up the rear.

“Hello.” Said the biggest man Bulma had ever seen. Not only did he tower over her by several feet, but his broad chest and shoulders seemed to block out the light from above. His shocking orange mohawk said “dangerous” but his gentle blue eyes were full of kindness. “Welcome to our home. My name is Sixteen.” Bulma recognized his voice immediately, as the one that had contacted them. She'd thought he was a computer at the time.

“Thank you Sixteen,” she said, standing up straight in an attempt not to appear so puny. He looked human, but she'd never seen so massive a man in her life. “My name is Bulma. This is Krillin, Yamcha, Chichi” she pointed at each of her friends in turn, “those are my parents, that's Master Roshi, Puar, and Oolong.” She hoped she'd gotten the last two right. She couldn't remember who'd transformed into what, but the one on the left seemed to be losing control of its transformation, so she assumed it must be that lazy pig.

“Doctor Briefs,” Sixteen said, shaking her father's hand in his big paw. “My father will be very pleased to see that you have arrived.”

“Your father?” Briefs, cocked his head, almost dislodging the kitten that clung to his shoulder. It mewled its anger, and Sixteen smiled, reaching over to scratch it behind the ear with one finger. To everyone's surprise, the temperamental little kitty did not bite him as it did most strangers, but simply sat and purred its contentment.

“Yes, his father.” A new voice said, and all heads turned to see an old man waiting at the doorway, white hair framing a worn and wrinkled face. Two shockingly blue eyes peered out at the group. “Been a while, Briefs.” He said.

“Dr. Gero!” Bulma blurted out, recognizing the old man in an instant. “But you're dead!”

“Am I, dear? Well, that's news to me.” He cocked his head and studied her. “My, my, is this little Bulma?” He asked, coming forward to study them all. “You've certainly changed. Last I saw you, you were about this tall,” he levelled his hand at just below chest height, “and always begging to come along into the labs with your father and I.”

“Don't tell me you've been out here this whole time, Gero!” Dr. Briefs sputtered, looking around the room in amazement. “Why, when you disappeared, we all thought you were dead for sure! Not a single soul knew where you'd gone.”

“I needed a place to work on my experiments in peace.” Dr. Gero said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “After the whole of the scientific community turned its back on me, cast me out, called me mad...” he trailed off, muttering a little to himself, before continuing. “I built a ship.” He said, simply. “I came here and built Red Station.” He patted the wall, proudly, “And I was able to work without judgement, to create my masterpieces.” He caught the crestfallen look on Bulma's face. “Why, you didn't think you were the first, did you?” He laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Your work does your genius credit, my dear, but the men of the universe at large have been travelling through space for centuries now. Come now, stay with us a while, perhaps you will learn something of real genius.” He turned, beckoning everyone to follow.

“Your Masterpieces.” Dr. Briefs said, slowly, refusing to move. “You don't mean...”

“Of course I do, Briefs.” Gero spat, turning back to face his one-time colleague and friend. “I will not answer to your foolish sense of morals. Earth is gone, and with her, her judgements. Out here, I have been free to do as I please, and as a result, I have created something which has never before been seen in all of the known universe. Show them, Sixteen.”

The big man obediently popped open one of the two big green panels of what they had all assumed to be chest armour. He pulled it wide to reveal the circuitry beneath, and both Bulma and her father gasped in surprise. “I am Artificial Human number Sixteen.” Said the big robot. “I was activated four years, three months, two days, nine hours, seven minutes, and fifty nine point five seconds ago, according to my sensors.”

“He's fully automated,” Gero said proudly as Sixteen closed his panel, “and fully autonomous. He thinks for himself and learns like a human, and is even capable of displaying basic emotions. Not perfect, but I am getting closer. Perhaps one day I will show you my plans for Seventeen and Eighteen. Organic androids are the newest challenge.” He frowned at thoughtfully at Sixteen. “These machine parts are never quite right.”

*

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Goku groaned as he was hit with a blast from the enemy, throwing him backward into the side of the mountain. He and Piccolo hadn't had any problems defeating the first wave of soldiers, but then stronger ones came, and in greater numbers, and they seemed to be targeting the two Earth warriors specifically. Breathing had become painful - he suspected a few broken ribs - and his vision didn't seem as steady as it once had been. For the first time in his life, Goku had an inkling of the real meaning of the word “hopeless.”

There were so many enemy soldiers, Goku thought, and even if they managed to subdue the ones here, what about the people in other cities or countries, on other continents? He was beginning to regret his decision to take Gohan fishing today, but at least took a little solace in the knowledge that Chichi was safely away. He'd left Gohan at Kami's lookout with Mister Popo, but knew that even the most unreachable place on Earth wouldn't be safe if he and Piccolo failed in their task.

Goku screamed, calling forth for just a little more power, just a little more strength, and felt ki pooling in his muscles. He leapt back into battle, knocking back opponent after opponent with a savage efficiency that scared even him.

*

“Sir, we've managed to subdue and capture the last two power points.” The soldier said into his scouter as he dumped the big green body into his ship next to the unconscious black haired man. “Nobody told us one of `em was Namekian, though.” He grunted, picking up the surprisingly heavy body of a child and tossing it in, too. “And we've got us a surprise too. Some kid, came outta nowhere, power level screamin' high. Don't know how we missed him in our preliminary scans of the planet, but he took out Burks before I could knock him out.”

“Burks? Shit. That guy owed me a hundred. Snag me something worthwhile off `is corpse. And bring the kid back too, I guess.” Said the voice on the other end. “Maybe we can sell `im or something. Put a little duff in our own pockets.”

“Already on board, sir.” The soldier responded, locking the cage on the three battered bodies, before heading toward the cockpit. “All set.” He told the pilot, who started the ship up as his comrade settled in for the flight.

*

*

“Prince Vegeta, I have bad news.” Nappa's voice crackled over the radio, forcefully tearing Vegeta from his thoughts. He reached out and hit the com button with one gloved finger.

“What is it?”

“Earth has been destroyed. We are too late to retrieve Kakarott.”

“Shit.” Was all that the prince said. Then, a moment later: “Do you know if he's dead?”

“We are currently unaware. Due to his presumed power level, it is likely that he has been taken captive and will be sold as a slave, or pressed into service in Frieza's lower ranks.”

“Does Radditz know yet?”

“Yes, my Lord. I do not think he is taking it with your sense of grace, sir.” Nappa said, tongue in cheek. The things that Radditz had spewed upon finding out that his little brother was likely either dead or destined for slow torture as a slave were such that could shock even the most seasoned foul-mouth.

“What is the nearest habitable planet?” Vegeta asked, frowning at the walls of his space pod. He had been hoping to get to Radditz's estranged brother first. If Frieza found out what he'd come into possession of, there was no question that he'd use it to gain leverage over the remaining Saiyans. It was no secret that Vegeta yearned for the resurrection of his once mighty race.

“Arlia, Sir.” Nappa said, consulting his computer. “Rife with civil war at this moment.”

“We are changing course, Nappa. Send the coordinates to our ships. We're going to Arlia for a little while, before we continue in our search for Kakarott's fate.”

“What are we going to do there, sir?” Nappa's distaste was obvious. “It's a backwater mudball, inhabited by overgrown bugs.”

“Don't be dense, Nappa,” Vegeta chided, his voice chilly. “We're going to release a little pent-up frustration. That's all.”

*

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Gohan whimpered, hugging his knees to his chest in an attempt to warm up. He noticed how filthy his pants were, and poked morosely at a hole in one knee, an action which drew his attention to his dirt-encrusted fingernails. His mother was absolutely going to go ballistic when she saw him. He looked around, hoping for a place to clean up, but the only thing he saw was a toilet. At least, he thought it was a toilet. Either way, he wasn't going near the slimy, germ covered thing. Not for a million bucks! His mother would have a fit if she saw it.

Snuggling tighter into a little ball, Gohan took the opportunity to study the room's other occupants again. They were all other children, though he appeared to be the only Earthling present. He'd tried speaking to some of them, but none of them spoke the same language as he did. Some were able to communicate with each other, but most were left, alone and afraid, with no clue as to what was going on. Gohan bit back a sniffle. He missed his mommy and daddy, and wanted them to come take him away from this place.

Suddenly, the cell door opened with a crash that startled all the children and sent the closest ones scampering from the gate. Two squat, burly creatures stepped in, each brandishing a nasty looking club in one hand. They wore guns strapped to their thighs. Gohan thought they looked like rocks. Piles of rocks, held together by grey moss, to make the shape of a person. A third creature, tall and willowy with shocking green hair, stepped in. This one carried a large needle and a bottle of foamy, purple liquid, labelled in some script that Gohan couldn't read.

One of the burlies grabbed the child nearest him, a frightened little girl, or so Goahn assumed, and held her while the doctor one jabbed her with the needle. The second burly grabbed her and led her out the door while the first selected another child to be injected. It wasn't long before it was Gohan's turn, and he felt the burn of the needle in one arm, while tough, calloused fingers clamped down on his shoulders. He was led out, stumbling as his vision blurred, by the second burly, who he belatedly realized was female. She was gentler with him than the other one had been, her tough hands not squeezing his tender flesh, but supporting him as he teetered his way out the door and into another room, where a new creature waited. This one was largely obscured by its white coat and surgeon's mask, and the purple injection had made Gohan's brain go fuzzy, but he thought for sure that this last creature was very furry and very blue. It made a funny, calming sound in the back of its throat as Gohan's eyelids began to droop.

*

Gohan awoke with a pounding headache, and a vicious itch on the crown of his head. He reached up with his left hand to scratch, yelping as his fingernails caught on something and came away bloody. Panicking, he reached up again, eyes widening as he felt the bald patch of shaved hair, and the lump where they'd stitched his skin together.

“Hey, be careful! You're gonna rip your head open if you don't watch it.” A voice said, and Gohan's head shot up, surprised that he understood the words. He looked, uncomprehending, at the boy who'd spoken, sure that he'd already tried to talk to that very same child, without success. “What, you stupid or something?” The kid jeered, seeing Gohan's open-mouthed stare.

“No,” Gohan shot back, regaining some of his composure. “But I couldn't understand you before. And you couldn't understand me.”

“That's `cause you didn't have your Standard chip yet. It makes you understand.”

“How?”

“I dunno, I look like some kinda science guy?” The boy rolled his eyes, scoffing at this bumpkin's naiveté. “It just does.”

*

*

“It interacts with the speech center of your brain,” Dr. Gero said, as he dotted some antibacterial cream onto Krillin's scalp. “Your brain is like an organic computer, and this little chip is like a disk full of information. Or a software program.” He added, seeing blank looks from many of the room's occupants. “It installs Galactic Standard onto your little brain, so that you can speak and understand the official language of the Empire. Everyone has one.” He patted the back of his own head, hidden beneath the tall black hat he always wore. “Your turn, missy.” He gestured to Bulma, who'd placed a hand protectively over her hair

“Do I really have to?” She whined, really balking at the idea of shaving a patch of her head.

“It's not so bad, Bulma,” Krillin put in. “Look how small my cut is,” he turned so she could see the row of small, surprisingly neat stitches. Sixteen was a delicate hand with the needle and thread.

“You won't even feel it.” Puar said, and Oolong nodded. Gero had pulled out some pretty powerful anaesthetic, surprisingly potent for a localized painkiller.

“Peer pressure.” Yamcha said simply, pointing to his own little bald patch. “We could always shave something cool into your hair. Like a lightning bolt.”

“Err, how about no.” Bulma groaned, but obediently hopped up onto the table, cringing as she heard the electric hair trimmer whir to life. What was a little hole in her skull, compared to the loss of a patch of her lustrous hair?

“Or we could shave your whole head.” Yamcha continued, “It'd be hot.” He grinned, but Bulma only glared. If he kept it up, soon they'd be on breakup number five.

*

*

Vegeta watched from the comfort of his pod as Arlia began to crack and crumble. Though he was too far away to hear them, he could feel their screams and their terror, crawling across his skin like so many maggots. There was a familiar emptiness inside him, a deep black pit that swallowed all the pain he caused, swallowed all the guilt and feeling so he wouldn't have to deal with it.

What foolish creatures they had been, Atla and his Lemlia, to trust in the Saiyans for their salvation. He imagined them embracing each other as their planet collapsed around them, and he wondered if they knew that he had caused it. He wondered if they were just happy to see each other one last time. He thought that they must have been happy to die, so long as they were together. Such was the sentimentality of weak creatures. Of course, he did not understand it. And of course, he did not understand why such knowledge seemed to ease the black hole inside of him.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Vegeta hit the comm button and ordered Nappa to send them all to Frieza's nearest outpost. It was time they resumed their hunt for Kakarott.

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Well folks, that's it for now. Thanks for reading, and please do consider leaving a review! I really would like to know how I'm doing!