Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with. If I did, Toei would be calling off their dogs. Kill the fandom and you kill the show.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the patience, everyone. We're back in action.

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PRESENT DAY

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Chichi had never been so happy to see Bulma in her life. It had been a little over a week since her encounter with Sixteen in the changing rooms, and she desperately needed a friend to talk to about her conflicting thoughts and emotions. As a result of that excitement, it was very disappointing and very difficult for Chichi to deal with, when Bulma locked herself away almost immediately after arriving to work on the Ki-restricting circlet that she had been ignoring as of late.

Krillin, too, seemed to be avoiding her. The only time she could get him to look at her was when they were sparring, and even then, it seemed his hits were half-assed and his blocks weak. She'd taken her frustration out on him extra hard as a result, and felt a little guilty because of it. Two broken ribs and a concussion had put him in the regeneration tank for a little while.

She tried not to feel too guilty. Krillin was being a jerk, after all, but he'd looked so miserable as the cold jelly filled up the tank around him that she couldn't help feeling a bit bad. She'd quickly retreated from the medical bay after getting him settled though, unwilling to risk an encounter with Sixteen, whom she had been avoiding.

She cursed, for the thousandth time in a week, her stupidity in leading him into the change room with her in the first place. The one time in her life she'd allowed herself to be impulsive had let to nothing but regret and embarrassment. It really wasn't fair! Bulma was impulsive all the time, and Chichi was pretty willing to bet that the other woman had never been in a situation like the one she'd dumped herself into last week. Thinking of Bulma, Chichi again cursed both her own stupid actions, and the other woman's avoidance of anything not related to her little project.

*

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Bulma was miserable too, though Chichi was unaware of the fact. She'd been putting off the dreadful task of searching out the mole, fearing that she would find out something about one of her friends that she really wasn't prepared to know. As a result, she'd made some excellent progress with both the ki-restricting circlet and the ki-imitating gun. She even had a weak mock-up prototype of the circlet built, though she hadn't tried it out yet, for lack of wanting to inflict it on one of her friends. The head-screws, designed to both hold the thing in place and tap into the brain, were nasty-looking pieces of work, reminiscent of an old torture device. She'd spent a good deal of time trying to figure out a way around them that would still leave the circlet secure on the head, but she was having little luck.

In the end, it was frustration with her lack of ideas as much as the guilt of not doing anything to root out the traitor that had spurred her on in the distasteful task of snooping on everyone she loved and cared about.

Reluctantly, she pulled a chair up to her computer and began the uncomfortable process of spying on everyone's online activity. From Chichi's self-help to Roshi's porn-sites, and her mother's drivel in between, she would soon be the unfortunate bearer of the knowledge of everything everyone did online. On another screen, she pulled up the incoming and outgoing message logs for each private account - something she had told them would never be done. Truthfully, it never had been done, and she'd never intended to go snooping through anyone else's inbox, if not for damn Vengeance and his disturbing news.

Bulma really wished she wasn't the one who had to do it, but Krillin didn't have the know-how to get behind any of her firewalls and disguise tactics, and she really didn't want to breed mistrust and suspicion among everyone else by letting them know that one of them was very likely a traitor. She also didn't want to let the traitor know that she was on to him, or her, she amended, though she considered it unlikely that her mother or Chichi could be the culprit. That was the problem, though, with this whole business! Everyone was unlikely to be the culprit; even Dr. Gero, who she really didn't know very well, and who creeped the hell out of her, didn't seem the type.

Cringing, she set her computer to scan through all of the incoming and outgoing messages, directing it first to flag any with unusual destination or origin codes. If that didn't turn up anything, she'd have to set it to search content for suspicious words. And of course, there was always the possibility that the perpetrator was using code words, so she'd resigned herself to the chance that she might have to go through everything in the logs and read it all herself. With a sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes, dreading the moment the computer finished processing.

*

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“We have received a transmission from Ginyu, sire.” Zarbon said, walking into the throne room of Frieza's mothership, a printed page in hand. He bowed respectfully, before offering the paper to his master.

“You tell me what it says.” Frieza waved the proffered paper away with a limp hand, not even deigning to look upon his so-called favourite subject. He stared out, instead, at the stars, frowning upon his empire, always unsatisfied.

“He apologizes, firstly, for not being able to speak to you directly, my lord,” Zarbon scanned the sheet, “but he fears detection by the ones he has infiltrated. Apparently some among them are quite perceptive and he thought it would be best not to arouse suspicion.”

“Clever, clever,” muttered Frieza, absently swirling the wine in his glass. His words were complimentary, but his tone was not. Zarbon flinched at the sound, knowing it was just a hint of the fury that lay beneath his master's calm facade. He tried to control the nervous stiffening in his limbs as he continued to scan the page for relevant details. He'd seen Frieza at his worst and had survived; there was no indication that the Ice-jin would turn on him now. Still though, he'd have been a fool to be complacent when such rage simmered in his master's eyes.

“He is integrating well, but regrets that he could not properly study his host before inhabiting the body; he reports that he is unwilling to pry until he can be certain that doing so will not arouse suspicion.” Zarbon's breath hung in the air between them, though he did not shiver. He was used to the chill that was maintained for Frieza's comfort.

“So in fewer words, he has nothing to report to me.” The petite tyrant ground out, colder than the air that surrounded them. Wisely, Zarbon remained silent. He knew better than to make excuses for his comrades, even only to placate the emperor. “Where is Vegeta?”

“I am not sure of his exact location at this moment, sire. I believe he is still in the vicinity of Chisal with his squad.”

Frieza curled his lip back in displeasure. “He has yet to report to me the results of that blockade, which leads me to believe his efforts in capturing Vengeance were yet again unsuccessful.”

“Shall I contact him?” Zarbon offered, stepping toward the massive communications console built into the wall. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, awaiting a reply. Frieza stared, lost in thought.

“You have such delicate hands, pet.” He crooned, and Zarbon swallowed, fearful of the sudden change of mood. “No, I will contact the monkey slave another day. Come here, will you, and taste my wine.” He held out his glass to the obedient Zarbon, who raised it to his lips and sipped, all the while aware of the lizard's eyes on him.

“Excellent quality, sire.” Zarbon handed the glass back to Frieza, their fingers brushing coyly together by no fault of Zarbon's. The lizard king tipped the cup, allowing the remaining wine to slide between his black lips.

“Yes,” he put the glass down, cocked his head and smiled at Zarbon, thin lips parting to reveal sharp teeth, “excellent.”

*

Zarbon shivered, cold hatred running through his body as he lathered the soap up yet again. He had to get clean. Didn't know if he'd ever be clean again. The smell of that filthy lizard was rank on his skin, burning his nostrils and making his eyes water. He grabbed his brush and began to scrub, viciously grating on his already peeling hide. He had to get the stink off.

Methodically, he bent and began at his toes, scraping and scouring up his legs and around his hips and buttocks. The bristles hurt between his legs, like fire on his penis and scrotum, but he had to get clean. Had to get the smell off. Rubbed up his belly and chest, over and down aching arms, using the long handle to scour his back, hot water scalding skin made sensitive from his rough treatment. Had to shed the skin; it was the only way to get the smell out.

Zarbon shook, his body unwilling to continue in this vein of punishment, but he forced his hands to move, to keep scrubbing. He'd done this before. He'd survive. Maybe this time it would be a little harder, take a little longer to piece himself back together, but he would survive.

Frieza had been cruel to him. He'd not been physically vicious because that was too easy. He'd been taunting and malicious, a child bent on smashing a favourite toy. Zarbon hadn't broken. He didn't think so, at least. Not even when he'd been used to the point of breaking, teased beyond his sanity, not even when he'd been made to beg on hands and knees for release. He'd begged, even as shame pooled in his belly, he'd begged as he'd known he would. He always did.

He didn't think he'd broken. Not this time. He still felt the hatred, curled around his intestines, squeezing the life out of him, and he was comforted by it. The day the dark weight no longer rested in his abdomen, he would know that he had been broken. That would be the day that he'd gladly slit his own throat. Until then, he had to live.

*

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Dende did his best to ignore Nail's stare as he walked into their leader's hut. The older Namek's gaze was making him uncomfortable, though Dende could not say why. Nail seemed angry, though he had not acted especially mean or snappish to anyone. In fact, nothing in his behaviour gave away the slow burn of irritation that Dende could feel emanating from the older man.

“Something troubles you, Dende,” Guru spoke slowly, as the child shut the door, body tensing at his words. Dende turned, prepared to say he was alright, but in the presence of the old sage, he knew better than to lie so blatantly. Of course the old one knew that something was amiss.

“Yes, Guru.” Dende bowed and offered a gourd of water, as was the custom between master and pupil. He waited patiently for his teacher to finish drinking before he continued. “I sense a new anger about Nail. His actions do not speak of it, but I can feel it when he is near.”

“Ahh, so you have picked up on it as well, child? Very good; you are learning quickly, far more so than I did at your age.” Dende smiled, pleased to be praised by the Elder, but still troubled. “I would not worry, young son. Your Brother is under much pressure.”

“Does this have anything to do with the blockade?”

Guru laughed, a hearty sound that turned into a wracking cough. Dende hurried to re-fill his master's cup. “Thank you,” the old man said, once he'd taken a drink to calm his body, “and yes. You do pick up on so much more than I expect you do, Dende.” He paused, looking sadly at the child, before continuing. “Our dear friend Vengeance has informed us that there is a leak in our network. He suspects someone affiliated with Blue.”

“No, not them!” Dende protested, remembering the kind auras of the three visitors who'd helped them so. “They could not be.” He stated, and Guru nodded in agreement.

“No, it cannot be one of those three. Perhaps someone they know on their end, though. Humans do not share the gifts that you and I were born with, indeed nor do most Nameks.” Guru smiled down at the worried little boy, and placed a massive hand atop his head. “Do not trouble yourself with this. You must leave it to Brothers who understand these matters. All will be well.”

Dende nodded, though the uneasy feeling plaguing his mind did not abate. He was not typically involved in Guru's more clandestine activities, though he knew of them and sometimes acted under cover as a greeter to those who came to visit the Elder. He understood what dangerous business they were conducting, going against Frieza, and he knew its importance to the people of the universe who were enslaved by the tyrant.

A niggling spark in the back of his mind told him that Nail had been irritable before the blockade incident occurred, but logic told him that was no surprise. Their group had been under pressure for a long time now, and to be truthful, it was more surprising that Nail had made it this long without cracking. And he hadn't really cracked, of course, Dende told himself. He was just cranky and under pressure. That made sense. There was probably something that Dende didn't know; some bit of terrifying information they weren't telling him. They did that alot, the older Nameks. They purposely left him out, thinking to shield him, when really, they served only to make him more nervous.

Reluctantly, he put the issue out of his mind as Guru began the lesson.

*

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“Look, Bulma,” Chichi burst through the door, startling her blue-haired friend, “I know you're busy and all, but I need to talk to you, and I need to do it NOW.” She threw herself into the chair beside Bulma's, folded her arms under her breasts, and glared unapologetically at her friend.

“Sure, Chi.” Bulma said, quickly closing the window she'd been working in. No need for Chichi to know she was scrolling through the list of flagged numbers at that very moment. “Err,” she started, uncomfortably, “what about?”

“I did a bad thing, Bulma,” Chichi sobbed, theatrically dropping her face into her hands. “An unforgiveable thing!” Bulma blanched, her heart racing. This couldn't be. Not Chichi. Not her dear friend, who'd been through so much at the hands of that monster! What on Earth would possess her to turn on them...unless...

“They have Goku, don't they?” Bulma asked, pulling Chichi's hands gently away from her tear streaked face.

“Wh...what? Who? Goku?” Chichi blubbered through sniffles, and Bulma, even through the icy dread that had squeezed her heart, was still surprised at the woman's capacity for mood swings in the extreme.

“Err...nothing.” Bulma stuttered, seeing the confused look on her friend's face. She prayed she'd gotten it wrong. “I didn't say anything about Goku. I said...um...anyway,” she exercised her awesome skills of subject-changing, “what's the matter?”

Chichi looked around the room, as though to verify that they were truly alone, before she began her shameful tale. “You know...ah...you know what you told me a few weeks ago...about Sixteen?”

“How he's totally got it for you?” Bulma cocked her head and squinted her eyes at the other woman, wondering where this was going. “Chichi,” she said slowly, “Chichi what happened?”

“I...um...kind of...” she stuttered, then took a deep breath and spilled her guts. “Iseducedhimandalmostsleptwithhim.” She looked up at Bulma, who's eyebrows were drawn down, patently trying to figure out what had just been said. Chichi closed her eyes, let out a noisy exhalation through her nostrils and then said, more slowly, “I seduced him and almost slept with him.”

“Wh...what?” Bulma goggled at her friend, eyes wide with shock and mouth slack. Promptly, she shut her lips, but they didn't seem to want to stay that way, and continued to work soundlessly for a moment more, before she regained her wits. “Why?”

“Oh, Kami, Bulma!” Chichi wailed, once again covering her flaming cheeks with cooler palms. “You have no idea what it's like! I've been so lonely, and even when he was alive, Goku never looked at me the way that Sixteen does!”

“But Chichi, do you even have feelings for him?” Bulma was absolutely shocked. She'd never expected something of this magnitude from her straight-laced friend. Even the idea that she'd double-crossed them seemed more plausible than this bombshell!

Slowly, Chichi brought her hands away from her face and looked Bulma calmly in the eyes. “Do you know how long it's been since I've had sex?” She asked plainly, and then, without waiting for an answer, “It's been over three years, Bulma. Since Goku. And we...well, he and I...it wasn't like it was right before the Earth blew up,” she said, embarrassed to be admitting that their sex-life had hit a slow patch. “Not for lack of trying on his part.”

Bulma snorted, a surprised little laugh, and pulled a face. “Ew,” she said, “don't tell me that, okay? Goku's like my brother.” She paused, “A hot brother who I'm not actually related to, but still.”

“I don't know what to do, Bulma,” Chichi sighed. “I've kind of made a mess here.”

“Well wait, hold up. You said `almost', right? That means you didn't actually sleep with him. So what happened?”

“Oh Kami.” Chichi looked skyward, focusing on the pattern of spots in one of the ceiling panels in an effort to compose herself. “Okay, promise me you won't laugh.”

“Promise.”

“And promise me you won't say anything till I'm done. I think I'd die of shame.”

“Deal.”

“Okay, here goes.” She straightened her neck so that she was once again face to face with Bulma. “I caught him watching me again while sparring with Tien one day. He did that `checking for injuries' thing he does, and I...well, I got it in my head that I was going to have sex, and that was that. I pulled him into the change room, pushed him on the bench, pulled off my shirt and climbed on top of him!” She fisted her hands in her lap, wondering if her cheeks would cool down back to normal temperature ever again.

“Whoa!” Bulma gasped, and Chichi glared. “Right, not saying anything.”

“So anyway, I'm kissing him and I go to put my hand down his pants and,” she stopped completely, unsure if she should say anything further.

“Speak.” Bulma demanded. “How am I supposed to help you if you clam up?”

“So I put my hand down his pants,” Chichi said, resignedly, “and there was nothing.”

“What,” Bulma asked, startled, “you mean like he was totally soft down there? Like after all that staring, and you hand yourself to him on a platter, and he can't get it up?”

“No, Bulma,” Chichi ground out, unable to meet her friend's eyes. “There was nothing. He has no penis.” She hissed, her red face turned away from Bulma's bulging eyes and slack mouth.

“Well,” Bulma snorted, trying to stifle her laughter and failing miserably. “He's got enormous hands.” She burst into a fit of giggles, while Chichi stared on, horrified. “And you know, they never do as good a job with their cocks as they can with their mouth and hands.” She wiped away tears as Chichi's fury grew.

“Bulma!”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry,” she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “Oh my God, okay. Okay. What did you do?”

“What could I do?” Chichi moaned, “I bolted! I didn't even say anything! I just high-tailed it out of there, and gave your dad an eye-full as I ran through the kitchen to my room! And I am not proud to admit that I've been avoiding him ever since.”

“Well,” Bulma paused, still stuck on the `no penis' part, “that...that's awkward.” She was curious herself now too. Did he look like a Ken doll down there?

“You're telling me.” Chichi moaned, “I feel absolutely awful. How was I to know that Gero hadn't made him anatomically correct?”

“Well, between you and me, Chi, I can't really imagine that old kook spending his days bent over a slab, designing the perfect mechanical dick.” Bulma giggled again, and immediately apologized, but this time she didn't really have to, because of the snort that escaped Chichi as well.

“That poor man probably has no idea what I was even about, dragging him in there and tossing myself at him.” She laughed, self-consciously. “I didn't even think about that, to be honest. I mean, he's so human in so many ways, I guess I just...”

“Got horny?” Bulma supplied, when her friend trailed off. She got whacked in the arm for her helpful efforts.

“You try going without for three years, and see how you do, Bulma Briefs! I know what you're like!” Chichi accused, playfully, and Bulma's face went red. “Oh my God, Bulma! There's already someone, isn't there?”

“What, no!” Bulma shrieked, defensively raising her hands before her body and shaking her head. “No, absolutely not.” She said, firmly. Just because she'd been dreaming about three-ways with Vengeance and Vegeta didn't mean she was actually considering getting involved with either of those psychos. Vegeta was just candy to look at, and Ven had a voice to crack even the steeliest chastity belt, that was all. For all she knew, he was a seven eyed, pustule covered, snot faced monster...even though he sounded hotter than Hell. Of course she wasn't seriously attracted to either of them. No sir. Not Bulma Briefs, who had the worst bad boy complex there ever was. “Hey, what do you mean already?” She demanded.

“Well, you know.” It was Chichi's turn to go red. “It wasn't that long ago that you and Yamcha...” she trailed off as some of the colour drained from Bulma's face. “Look,” she stumbled, “I'm not trying to insinuate anything here, or say anything about what you had with Yamcha.” She paused again, gathering her thoughts. “I'm sorry Bulma, I didn't mean to be rude.”

“You're right, though,” Bulma said, softly. “It would be quick, wouldn't it? Does that make me heartless, that I could think about having another relationship with someone so soon?” She looked imploringly at her friend, the same woman who'd spent weeks in bed following the loss of her husband, and who had yet to truly move on.

“At first,” Chichi said slowly, picking her words carefully, “I was shocked. You seemed to grieve him so little. I thought that you should be like me, a mess, unstable and unable to face the world without him in it.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked away. “But you're so much stronger than I am, I think. Even though you might be physically weaker, I have this feeling like if the world came crashing down around your ears, you'd still be looking forward, finding hope for yourself and those lucky enough to be around you. You'd be figuring out a way to make sure tragedy didn't strike again.” She reached out to squeeze her friend's hand, and said, “If it was you who cut and run on a dickless android, you'd probably have mended the whole awkward situation by now, and would never have had to spend a week ducking into corners whenever you thought you heard him coming.”

“I could make him one, you know.” Bulma said, laughing, and Chichi shook her head.

“No thanks,” she smiled, “I think maybe I should leave the seductress act to you. Truth is, I feel guilty for more than just embarrassing Sixteen. I still feel as though I've betrayed Goku, to be honest. Things weren't always wonderful between us, but I think it will be a long time yet, before I'm ready to move on.”

“You're not weak, Chichi.” Bulma said, returning the smile. “You're loyal in a way that I could never be.”

“Never say never. You just haven't met the right man yet. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but you and Yamcha were so on and off, I really think you were happier during your breaks than you ever were when you two were dating.” The dark haired woman stood, brushing the wrinkles from her dress and wiping the tear stains from her face. “Now, enough of this dwelling on things. I think I have an apology to make.” She leaned down and hugged the other woman, glad that she had come to know her husband's best friend so well. She'd been jealous, once upon a time, of their friendship, but since she'd come to know the other woman as more than an acquaintance, she'd realized why her husband had spoken of Bulma so fondly.

“Get on with it!” Bulma laughed. “Word to the wise though, he can't get drunk either, so don't try to soften him up with booze.”

“No sex and no booze?” Chichi grinned, “Gero's not creating androids. He's creating living, breathing residents of hell!” Bulma barked with surprised laughter, not expecting such an observation from prim, straight laced Chichi. Before she could reply though, her friend had whooshed from the room, quick on her feet with a new sense of purpose. She shook her head, still smiling, and reluctantly turned back to her computer.

Immediately, her face went white, and she felt ill. Flagged in red were several transmissions heading straight into the heart of Frieza's forces. Several replies from the Saiyan contact had also been highlighted on the other side of the screen.

“Puar,” she whispered in shock, “Oh Puar, how could you?”

*

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Vegeta was definitely pissed off, Gohan thought as he flew face first into the dirt. He hadn't been privy to the conversation, but all three Saiyans had listened through their prince's closed door as Frieza ripped a strip off him, furious that Vegeta had made no headway on the Vengeance issue. Their stoic leader had remained virtually mute while the lizard Emperor screamed and shrieked his fury in the type of tantrum only the Saiyan Prince could inspire.

His responses too quiet for them to hear through the door, all his subjects could do was imagine the stony look on his face, muscles bunched with tension as his tail lashed, desperately wishing to unleash the rage that was building inside his compact body, as the com link displayed Frieza's furious visage and assaulted sensitive Saiyan ears with the emperor's high, nasal screeching.

They'd all jumped back respectfully as the door slid open and Vegeta stalked out, but he'd said nothing and gave no indication that he knew they'd been eavesdropping, though he was certainly aware of it. The three warriors had followed meekly as Vegeta led them to the base docking station, wordlessly climbing into his pod with the knowledge that the others would follow. He'd overridden their directional systems, programming the same set of coordinates into all three pods, and that was how they'd come to find themselves on the barren, rocky planet, having their asses handed to them by a prince gone berserk.

They'd known the drill, of course. It was not the first time Vegeta had taken all three of them on in a fit of fury, desperately lashing out in a fit to control the depth of his rage after having a particularly nasty confrontation with Frieza. They would go at him, and he at them, and everyone would end up bloody and broken, but calmer, safely ensconced in their space pods and on the way to the nearest base to be patched up.

Gohan got the feeling, as Vegeta's foot slammed into his kidney, driving him further into the ground, that today was going to be different.

“Fight me, you fucking pansies!” Vegeta snarled, dodging Radditz, who flew past, fist outstretched, quickly whirling in the air to correct himself. Nappa, using Radditz as a distraction, managed to land a kick to Vegeta's back, momentarily throwing the diminutive prince off balance. He stumbled two steps forward before righting himself and turning to blast Nappa in the chest, sending the largest warrior flying. Gohan, by this point, had hauled himself up out of the crater he'd created upon impact. Quickly, he charged up and released a burst of power, but Vegeta countered with a blast of his own. Radditz joined Gohan, the two of them combining their energies into a powerful beam, exerting all their energies in the effort to beat Vegeta's back.

The prince laughed, widened his stance, and poured another portion of what felt like boundless strength into his blast. Gohan and Radditz grit their teeth, muscles feeling it as they forced more energy into their arms and out of their hands. Nappa, not easily put off by a mere blast, was soon beside his comrades, adding his ki to theirs, and the three crowed in their victory, as their energies finally managed to push Vegeta's back. The prince was tiring, they could tell, by the way he allowed himself to be forced up and away into the sky by their blast.

Vegeta snarled as he felt the wave of energy engulf him, pulling him bodily off his feet and up into the air. Struggling to gain control, he pushed his arms out in front of his body, right against the surface of the massive ball of energy that was threatening to take him up and out to space. He screamed as the skin on his hands started to sizzle, his body hair standing on end with the crackle of energy. He regretted putting so much into that blast as he pushed vainly against the combined efforts of his subjects. He would definitely need the regeneration tanks after this one. May as well get all that he could out of it, he thought, as he concentrated on pooling the energy in his core. It would leave him exhausted and he'd probably break a few bones when he hit the ground, but he'd done worse to himself and come out alive.

From the ground, Nappa, Radditz and Gohan watched the ball of energy and man flicker, saw their scouter readings whir so quickly upward that the numbers could not be read. Gohan shivered, the feeling of apprehension returning to him as he watched the Saiyan prince, glowing with desperate energy, high up in the sky like a star. Nappa and Radditz beside him grinned like madmen when they heard the familiar roar of power, their faces quickly falling when the sky began to darken. The ground beneath their feet shook, and a bolt of lightning crackled through the air.

“It's coming from him.” Gohan whispered in awe as another bolt snaked outward, illuminating their world.

Vegeta, screaming his power up above, felt the jolt of power, felt a sort of terrified awe as clouds began to form, the very sky crackling with his energy. Something was not right. He'd done something different, pulled this power from a different place in himself, felt the tugging, pushing, pulling, desperate clawing of it to rip its way up and out of his very being. He screamed as another bolt of electricity shot out from him, raised his hands to clutch at his pounding head. So much power! Strength like he'd never felt before crawled through his veins, feeding as though starved on his rage, his anger, the black dark place inside his belly. He felt the burn and sizzle in his flesh, revelled in the excruciating pain of it, and pulled more power up from the black hole inside. His muscles ached, his skin crackled, his eyes burned with something he'd only dreamed of. Even his hair hurt as he felt the energy funnel into his body, released from its prison.

And then, as suddenly as the dam had burst, the energy was gone, pulled back inside him with such force he felt as though his insides had been stepped on. The final jolt knocked the wind out of him, sent him spiralling down to the ground, sputtering and choking for air as his body refused to obey his commands. He saw the ground coming, saw three black dots racing toward him, too slow to stop the fall, the crack and crunch of bone as he hit the ground, hard. His mind screamed as his mouth could not, too busy spluttering up blood as it was.

When they reached him, they wasted no time in calling their pods, knowing even without their broken scouters how badly their prince was damaged. They felt the lack of his energy deep in their bones, a terrifying sensation that none of them had ever felt before, though Gohan knew that his father had been able to sense ki in this way.

“Radditz,” Nappa barked, gently picking up the battered prince, as though he were no more than a small child, “Get on the computer in your pod and find us the nearest place with regeneration tanks!” Gohan stared helplessly as the oldest Saiyan settled the prince in his pod, quickly hooking up the emergency breathing mask in the hopes that it would help Vegeta breath through all the blood.

“The nearest base is over two weeks away.” Radditz sounded panicked as he scanned through the list. “There are closer tanks, but...” he trailed off, the implication hanging in the air. Could they trust the locals not to kill the weakened Saiyan prince upon landing?

“Red...” Vegeta rasped, through his mask. With effort, he reached up, managing to claw it away from his face. “Station.”

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