Chapter 36

She sighed against the panel, resting her forehead on the cool metal, watching as her breath fogged the surface. It had been a week since she had let Vegeta back into the lab and she had only seen Radditz intermittently. The larger Saiyan seemed to care only about training now, and when he did see her he only looked at her, his eyes warm but the lines of his mouth hard. It appeared to her that he seemed to be preparing for the end of the world with the intensity of his training, but what did she know? All that she was sure of was that she and Vegeta nearly had the pod situation licked. She could have started the manufacturing in earnest quite a while ago, but for now it was just in the prototype stages as they made sure their parts worked before mass producing them. It was all so close to completion- the scouters were already online and the assembly would begin within the week. Vegeta would get what he wanted and they would all go away... “Let’s take a break,” she said to him.

He popped his head up, blinking at her. “What? We just took one two hours ago.”

She sighed again. He was so incredibly frustrating. “So? I don’t have your insane ability to go without sleep and I’m all tired out from this whole thing,” she replied testily.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be as disciplined as a Saiyan,” he said coldly.

“Humor me, please, Vegeta,” she implored, standing and wiping grease off on her overalls.

He cast a hard look upon her and stood after a moment, coming over to her and standing in front of her. “You look like a barbarian, standing there with grease all over you,” he growled, reaching up and wiping some oil off her cheek.
She raised her hand to her own cheek, shocked that he had touched her and stared at him with wide eyes. He noticed her look and blushed, his scowl increasing as he glanced away. “Uh, how about a snack?” she offered awkwardly. “I could go for some chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’ve never had chocolate?” she squealed, clapping her hands together. “Then let’s go!” she cried, grabbing his hand.

He resisted for just a moment. “So impatient,” he grumbled to himself, but let her tow him down the hallway nonetheless.

She burst into the kitchen and rifled through drawers until she found what she wanted. “Mom got this imported,” Bulma explained. “It’s the best you can get in the whole world.”

“And you eat this?” Vegeta asked dubiously, eying the chocolate warily.

“Sure. It’s really good,” she replied, holding out a piece for him to take, but raised it up instead of lowering it to his hands. He leaned forward and took it from her fingers daintily with his teeth, his lips soft and warm against the skin of her fingers. Before she knew it the chocolate was gone from her grasp and she was holding her empty fingers out in front of her, her cheeks stained pink. He snorted and shook her from her thoughts, but instead of meeting his eyes her gaze went immediately to his sculpted mouth, the lips soft despite their hard, cruel lines. “Uh, do you like it?” she asked, rubbing her fingers together.

“It’s all right,” he admitted, his eyes moving to their upper left corners as he contemplated, his jaw working.

“If you want more you can have some,” she offered. He grunted but didn’t say anything. She trembled a little, surprised at her own gall, as she took another piece between her fingers and held it up for him to take. “Go on,” she prodded softly. He fixed an unreadable look upon her and leaned forward, his dry lips again barely brushing her skin as his sharp white teeth closed around the morsel and delicately removed it from her grasp, his burning eyes never leaving hers. “Ahhh,” she said faintly. “Have all you like.” Her cheeks were flaming boldly now, the blood pounding in her face.

“Too much sugar,” he growled, breaking their locked gaze and instead fingering the candy. “Zarbon would probably like it better.”

“Zarbon’s probably found it already. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the reason Mom ordered it,” Bulma replied with a chuckle.

“Most likely,” Vegeta said, voice low and still toying with the pieces of chocolate. “Here,” he ordered, suddenly snatching one up and offering for her to take. She stared at him, puzzled, for a split second, then leaned forward and took it from his fingers with her mouth, much like he had done moments before. Her full lips were moist at the edges and he felt himself go all...funny...in the pit of his stomach.

“Mmm,” she said, working the chocolate around in her mouth. “This is the best stuff.”

Vegeta reddened and turned away, involuntarily flexing the muscles in his shoulders. “Whatever,” he grumbled.

Bulma cocked her head and put her finger alongside her nose. “You know,” she said, “You look good in that shirt.”

Vegeta looked down at the close-fitting black cotton tank top he wore. “Uh...” he mumbled in reply, not really knowing how to take the compliment. “Shouldn’t we be getting back to work?”

Bulma’s face fell. He was a jerk, she just had to keep telling herself that. “Okay, okay. Just let me get some water and we can go.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lab,” he said abruptly and left the room.

---

“You are the most intolerable creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing,” he snarled, baring his teeth at her.

“Well this would be a hell of a lot easier if you knew what you were talking about!” she shouted in return, scribbling dark, damaging streaks madly across the paper. It had been like this ever since they had finished deconstructing the pod. The scouter prototypes had gone well until she had shown one to Vegeta. He had merely fastened it on, clicked once, and took it off his face, crushing it with one hand and scattering the remains on the floor before walking away without a single word, leaving her standing there, bewildered. Yamcha and Zarbon had wandered in at that moment, Yamcha quickly putting a consoling arm around her while Zarbon shifted through the debris.

“He’s just a stupid bastard, Bulma,” Yamcha had said. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by subjecting yourself to him. Forget all about him and come out with me.”

She had pushed him away angrily then, for no matter how blissful it had felt to be back in his arms for just a moment she was immediately reminded of how she hated to be coddled when he spoke. “It’s really none of your business, Yamcha,” she had snarled.

He grabbed her again gently, pulling her slowly in. “It’s okay,” he had murmured into her hair, and she felt herself becoming all rubbery and boneless in his warm, strong embrace.

“I know,” she had whispered in reply, startled when Zarbon suddenly spoke.

“Why was he angry?” Zarbon asked.

“I don’t know,” Bulma groaned.

Zarbon scowled at the dust he was rubbing between his thumb and forefinger. “Could I see it? Do you have another scouter prototype available?”

She peeled herself away from Yamcha reluctantly and went to call for another scouter. Moments later, when it had arrived, she handed it over to Zarbon, who immediately fastened it to his head. He gazed coldly at Yamcha and pressed the button, listening intently to the clicks as numbers flashed across the eyepiece. “Now I get it,” he murmured to himself, clicking the device off and taking it from his head.

“What? What is it?” Bulma had asked frantically.

Zarbon handed her the scouter solemnly. “This thing is practically useless to us. While you seem to speak a form of Standard you certainly don’t write in it. Our people won’t be able to read these things.”

Bulma’s shoulders slumped and she felt Yamcha’s warm presence behind her, his dry, long-fingered hands wrapping around her waist and squeezing reassuringly. “So what do I do?” she asked faintly.

Zarbon looked at her levelly, his perfect face not unsympathetic. “Well, you do your best to learn how to write in Intergalactic Standard,” he said as gently as he could.

Bulma had groaned mightily at that, leaning heavily against Yamcha. “Oh, great,” she grated. “That’ll speed things up. I suppose I’ll have to program the pods to show the same damn language.”

“Probably,” Zarbon had said, nodding. “If you’d like I could help you. I’m used to translating.”

She had felt a chill race down her spine at the thought of having to spend time alone with him. He was gorgeous, but too gorgeous. She didn’t like the way there were no flaws in his appearance, and the cold glitter in his golden eyes intimidated her. “Uh, well, okay,” she said with uncertainty.

They had met the next day, Zarbon hauling in sheets of paper and sitting her down at the table. “Okay, we’re going to begin with verbs,” he had said, and they settled down to work. Yet not an entire hour later Vegeta was there, rifling through the fridge, and when he heard what was going on he had been furious. A little tiff had ensued, with Vegeta winning rights to tutor Bulma and leaving Zarbon completely baffled. To combat his confusion Zarbon promptly left for the beach, leaving her and Vegeta alone.

Which brought her back to the present, sitting by the pool and dangling her legs in the water as Vegeta sat curled behind her, his swim trunks rustling as he moved impatiently. She clenched her teeth and wrote more frantically, trying to get the alien words to look right. “Shut up, you’re making too much noise,” she snapped. “This isn’t easy you know.”

“Maybe not for you,” he growled from behind her. “For those of us with super-standard intellect it isn’t a problem.”

“As if you had anything but substandard intellect!” she cried, looking over her shoulder at him with the sole purpose of scowling. “I’d like to see you translate my language into yours!”

He reached over and grabbed the pencil from her angrily. “Fine, you just watch,” he snarled, scribbling on the paper. His handwriting wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, his letters tall, sharp, and dark as opposed to her more rounded script. Within moments he was making frustrated little growling noises and she knew he had been forced to give up. “This is stupid,” he finally growled, balling up the paper and throwing it into the pool.

“You, stupid...”she snapped. “Now the paper’s going to get stuck in the trap!”

He shrugged, looking at her from underneath his heavy brows. “If you’re so great go and get it,” he grumbled, still leaning on his side, his arm locked in supporting him up.

“It’s not my job to pick up after you!” she shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. “Oh my god, you are so impossible.”

He scowled, sitting up straight. “Just shut up and get the damn paper so I don’t have to listen to your bitching, will you?” he said.

She stood up completely, bending over him and shaking her finger madly. “Listen, as long as you’re a guest in my house you’d better show the proper respect!” she yelled. “I’m not going to put up with your crap much longer, buddy. You and your little blue friend can just go packing off into outer space without your damn technology!”

Vegeta missed the first part of what she was saying, inexplicably distracted by her bathing suit. It was an orange and yellow striped string bikini and although she was also wearing jean cutoff shorts they were so brief as to not make a difference. Besides, the top couple buttons of the fly were undone, so he could still see her bikini bottoms. He glanced up as he realized she was still yelling at him only to encounter her breasts dangling like soft fruit in front of his face as he bent over. Forcing himself to focus on her snapping blue eyes he stretched his muscular arms in the air and locked them behind his head before leaning back on the tile beside the pool so he could see all of her at once.

“Nice move, Vegeta,” he heard Zarbon say softly from a nearby lawn chair, lowering his sunglasses and looking Bulma up and down. He gave Vegeta a knowing look and raised his sunglasses, tossed his unbound hair over his shoulder, and continued reading a magazine.

“What about Radditz?” Vegeta shot from his reclining position. “Are you going to keep him for a pet?”

Bulma reddened, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips. “You leave him out of this,” she said angrily. “He’s a decent person.”

“But he’s oh-so-easy to manipulate, isn’t he, woman?” Vegeta said slyly. “Seems just your type.”

“Now Vegeta,” Zarbon called from his lawn chair. “Don’t fight with your kanojo.”

Bulma watched as Vegeta went beet red and stood, striding over to Zarbon and screaming at him rapidly in a guttural language she didn’t understand. Zarbon took off his glasses and folded them up, holding them loosely as he relaxed his hands in his lap, a look of calm condescension on his face as Vegeta raged. Vegeta ranted until he was nearly blue in the face, then stood there, chest heaving and eyes boiling as he glared at Zarbon. “Are you quite done?” Zarbon asked politely.

She could hear Vegeta’s teeth grinding from where she stood. “You’re impossible!” he screamed at Zarbon before taking off into the sky.

Bulma stared at Zarbon’s smirking face, watching him calmly put his stylish sunglasses back on. Curious, she walked over to him and nervously glanced away from his bare, rippling chest. There were entirely too many gorgeous men at her house, she decided silently before she opened her mouth. “What did you call me?” she asked meekly.

Zarbon’s perfect mouth curled into an evil smile. “I called you his girlfriend,” he said with a streak of humor.

Bulma went absolutely red in the face. “How dare you!” she gasped breathlessly. “How dare you associate me with that animal?”

Zarbon looked back at his magazine and chuckled. “That’s just about what he said,” he replied dryly.

Bulma made a noise of angry frustration and planted her hands on her hips again, knuckles white. Turning on her heel she stalked off towards a vacant lounger and sat down on it, defiantly stretching out to catch the rays of the sun. She would enjoy herself regardless of what that Zarbon said, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes.

---

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew Vegeta was back and screaming at Zarbon once again. Blinking, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, noting that the sun was not too far from setting. She must have been asleep for a long time! The noise of the fight drew her attention again and she looked towards the house at where they were standing.

Both of them were screaming this time, Zarbon’s fists clenched angrily at his side as Vegeta turned his head to and fro, his brawny arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing?” Zarbon shouted, the attitude of his body tight and furious.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Vegeta countered. “Freeza ordered me around my entire life and I’m not going to take this!”

“But think about what you’re doing!” Zarbon yelled. “There’s no excuse for this sort of laziness!”

“I slaved away on those damn machines, Zarbon,” Vegeta snapped. “You have no quarter to call that ‘laziness’. After all, what have you done but romp with the natives and find ways to make yourself pretty!”

“That’s all I can do with you panting around that Earthling!” Zarbon screeched. “Act like a goddamn ruler for once, Vegeta. You have a duty to do and we’ve got to get back to Arlia!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about duty!” Vegeta shouted, raising a fist.

“Woah, fellas, what’s goin’ on?” Yamcha asked uneasily, coming out of the building with a tray of drinks and right into the middle of the argument.

“Yamcha, you’d be better off going back inside,” Zarbon cautioned, but it was too late.

Vegeta turned on the Earthling with full force. “Who in the hell do you think you are, weakling, interfering with imperial business?” Vegeta hissed.

Yamcha scowled and Bulma felt her stomach sink. He picked the worst possible time to have a spine. “Hey, who you callin’ weak, short stuff?” Yamcha said with a snarl.

Zarbon immediately stepped in between the other two, taking the punch that, had it hit Yamcha, would most likely have pulverized his face. “Now why are you hitting me?” Zarbon bellowed, golden eyes flashing.

“Because you got in the way, stupid!” Vegeta roared.

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten so wrapped up in your damn technology!” Zarbon howled. “You’ve been neglecting your training. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if Yamcha could beat the crap out of you right now!”

“You take that back,” Vegeta snarled, curling his fists.

Bulma ran over to intervene. “Now, don’t you think you’re being a little hasty,” she said nervously.

“Bulma, don’t put yourself in danger,” Yamcha warned from the other side of the bristling pair.

“Shut up, you. I’m not your freaking baby,” she shot back.

Zarbon turned on her. “You shut up. This isn’t your business.”

“Don’t tell her to shut up,” Yamcha and Vegeta said simultaneously, Vegeta’s tail unwrapping from his waist and lashing back and forth. The two men looked at each other in surprise, Yamcha’s eyes trailing down to the tail, then looking at Bulma with shock.

“Shut up!” Zarbon howled, beginning to power up. “I’m sick of you shirking your duty!”

“Don’t be so hard on him!” Bulma protested, scowling. “He’s been working hard and you’re not giving him credit.”

“I said silence,” Zarbon hissed. “It’s all the fault of you and your damn company anyway. The Emperor of the New Saiyan Empire should be doing more with his time than tinkering on a bunch of worthless machines!”

“They’re not worthless!” Bulma shrieked, finally enraged.

“If we really needed them than Vegeta should just become strong enough to beat Freeza and TAKE them!” Zarbon shouted back. “But unfortunately Freeza is still going to pound the living shit out of him and poof- we’re back to square one. How stupid do you have to be?” he cried, gesturing at Vegeta.

Vegeta made a sound of rage and began to run, his steps taking him away from the group. “Now you’ve done it,” Bulma snarled spitefully and ran after Vegeta. He was just starting to lift off and she jumped for him frantically, catching him around the shoulders.

He looked down at her in surprise. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

She glared back at him, her blue eyes sparkling with anger and brooking no opposition. “Just go,” she commanded, and he took off in a blinding blue flash of light.

Zarbon’s shoulders slumped. “Oh great,” he mumbled, pressing his fingertips to his forehead.

Yamcha looked up at the sky in the direction they had gone, still balancing the tray of drinks in his hands. “Yeah, you mucked that one up,” he replied.

Zarbon looked at him unappreciatively. “Shut up. You weren’t so hot yourself,” he growled.

“You just questioned his authority, Zarbon,” Yamcha said, shaking his head. “You should know better than anyone just how bad he takes that.”

“Well YOU almost got yourself pounded into dust,” Zarbon retorted.

Yamcha laughed nervously. “Oh, yeah. Thanks for taking that hit. Are you okay?”

Zarbon gingerly touched his cheekbone. “I guess. Tank time tomorrow instead of the beach,” he said with a sigh. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

Yamcha chuckled for real and motioned towards the chairs by the pool. “Aw, come on, let’s take a load off.”

Zarbon nodded and followed Yamcha over to the chairs numbly, putting his feet up and leaning heavily into the back of the seat. “It’s just so damn difficult,” he grumbled. “Vegeta’s young and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Yamcha’s face hardened. “Oh, yeah?” he replied absently, seating himself and pushing one of the iced teas over to Zarbon, squeezing a little lemon into it and loading it with sugar.

“Thanks,” Zarbon murmured, taking the drink. “He’s just wasting all this time. We don’t know how soon Freeza will attack, and trust me, Freeza will attack.”

“Mmm,” Yamcha said, leaning back in his own chair and staring at the sky.

“I mean, what if it’s too late? What if Freeza’s on his way right now? If Vegeta can’t beat him...” Zarbon said trailing off, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Yamcha scowled and turned to him. “What?”

“That’s what’s wrong with him,” Zarbon said breathlessly. “He thinks he’s going to die fighting Freeza. I think he’s planning on dying when he fights Freeza. In fact, I think he’s planning on summoning all his power and blowing the both of them up,” he said quietly. “And it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried something like that. It makes me wonder if all those close calls on Arlia might not have been practice. But why would he want to die?”

“I don’t know,” Yamcha said, scowling into his drink.

“Doesn’t he have a reason to live? Isn’t life itself a good enough reason?” Zarbon wondered aloud, taken with his revelation.

“If you don’t have anyone, no,” Yamcha said solemnly. “But you might not have to worry about it.”

Zarbon looked at him in curiosity, raising an eyebrow. “Eh? Why’s that?”

Yamcha cleared his throat, his rugged features hard. “Remember before, when we were talking about Radditz’s tail and how he moves it when he’s around Bulma?” he asked quietly.

Zarbon leaned forward in his chair, planting his sandaled feet on the ground on either side of him. “Yes, what of it?” he replied.

“Remember what we said it meant?”

“Yes,” Zarbon said again.

Yamcha took a deep breath. “Well, then strap yourself in,” he said gravely.

“What, what is it?” Zarbon urged.

Yamcha looked at him from under dark bangs, his features stark with pain. “Vegeta’s tail does the exact same thing.”

---

“Closer,” the voice hissed from the slot in the door.

Dodoria looked up and down the hallway, suspicious that he had been followed. “What is it, Lord?” he whispered, blinking as sweat poured from his wrinkled brow into his eyes.

The breathing on the other side of the door was ragged. “I can’t believe he did this to me. I can’t believe he locked me in my room. He’s jailing me, Dodoria, he’s jailing me!”

Dodoria scanned the hall again, nervous. “Yes, Lord Freeza,” he murmured.

A chuckle sounded through the slot. “He’s got another thing coming. I’ll get revenge on him, but it will take time. Are you with me?”

“What sort of revenge?” Dodoria asked. He liked the darkness of the hallway almost as little as he liked breaking the King’s orders not to approach Freeza. Yet earlier that day he had received an anonymous message in his quarters, requesting his presence at where his lord was imprisoned. If the King found out about it he was a dead man, but he figured if he didn’t go once Freeza got out he was not only a dead man but one promised to a slow, tortured, lingering death. When confronted with quick versus slow, Dodoria found that he was all in favor of quick, if he had to die at all. Hopefully his leader was cunning enough to keep them both from getting killed. For the umpteenth time he wished Zarbon was there; although he had never really liked the prissy blue man Zarbon had always known exactly what to do and how to keep their skins safe.

“The best kind,” Freeza snickered from behind the door.

“And what kind is that, sir?” Dodoria asked, starting to feel sick.

“I have a plan. We’re going to conquer the universe,” Freeza replied.

“Sir, you already own half the universe,” Dodoria reminded him.

There was a smacking noise and the door between them quivered with force, a little bulge in the metal appearing. Dodoria was suddenly very glad for the presence of the door. “We’re going to take it all, from my father,” Freeza answered.

“How? We’re in the heart of your father’s empire,” Dodoria gasped, sweating even more so that the moisture was pouring from in between his pink folds. He shifted nervously in his armor, flexing his two-fingered, black-clawed hand and scratching it against his opposite spiked forearm.

“There are still people here who would rather see me in power than Cold,” Freeza hissed. “I am going to form a rebellion and the second he lets me out of here it’s over for him.”

“But, sir, you’re still scheduled to be in there for another several months,” Dodoria reminded him gently.

“It doesn’t matter. All the more time for me to plan,” Freeza replied. “You would think the old fool learned from Cooler’s death not to get in my way, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Dodoria agreed, his nerves jangling as he looked up and down the hallway again. The risk of being caught was starting to drive him mad.

“At any rate, start getting the men together. I’ll need their help for the initial push, but after that you’ll need to be ready to take off immediately.”

“Of course, sir, but may I ask why?”

He could almost hear Freeza smiling through the door. “Did you think I had forgotten about Vegeta?” he chuckled.

Dodoria paled. He had hoped that whole nasty issue had gone away. “Of course not sir,” he said nervously.

“Good,” Freeza purred. “Because as soon as you get the signal I want you to head to Rihon 8 with half of our troops. Once you get there you’ll defeat the natives and bring Vegeta back to me, if he’s alive.”

“And Zarbon? What if Zarbon’s alive?” Dodoria blurted.

“Kill him,” Freeza said distastefully. “My mind has not changed.”

Dodoria sighed, glancing up and down the hallway again. “Yes, sir. I will await your orders.”

Freeza chuckled. “Excellent, Mister Dodoria. Not long now,” he said devilishly. “Oh, no, not long now.”

---

35/ Bulma’s Hideout / 37