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Resolution on a Lonely Planet	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 5386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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“How is he?”

Bulma had barely stepped out of the small hospital room before she was greeted by all the Z warriors…except for Yamcha. The fleet of doctors stood nearby anxiously, their large eyes gazing over Piccolo’s impressive, green form.

Bulma looked over her shoulder at one of the men in a lab coat. He was one of Capsule Corp.’s space-ship designers and most-trusted. Then again…so was Skip.

“Hans,” she said softly, cringing as her voice broke. “I need you to go through all of Skip Sato-Jenkins’s belongings: Files, documents, and projects. Please find anything that has to do with a microchip that involves controlling or subduing the energy that resides in the bodies and minds of these kinds of warriors,” she requested, gesturing to her friends surrounding her. “The rest of you are free to go. My father is stabilizing the patient now. Thank you for your work.”

The Z-warriors glanced at each other, none of them able to ignore the defeat and sadness in Bulma’s voice. Turning back to her closest friends, Bulma captured Goku’s innocent and imploring eyes. Unable to hold back, Bulma let out a choked sob and covered her face with her hands, instantly embarrassed that she would shed tears in front of the strongest fighters in the universe.

But she felt arms surround her as Goku pulled her close. Krillin rubbed her back and she heard the others comforting her…except Piccolo, who distanced himself from the show of emotion. Gasping and sniffling into Goku’s orange fighting shirt, the blue-haired woman could only see Vegeta’s gaping mouth and white eyes as he struggled to live. Why was she focusing so much on the haughty saiyajin prince when her boyfriend was upstairs wracked with guilt and terror? Why was her heart breaking for an alien who had originally come to Earth to destroy it and was responsible for Yamcha’s death in the first place?

Pulling away from Goku’s strong chest she squeezed out the last of her tears and wiped her nose. Trembling, the usually loud and headstrong woman took a few calming breaths before quickly regaining her composure.

“Vegeta is stable. We only used a little bit of the senzu to get him breathing,” she explained. “My dad is still working on waking him up so he can ingest a senzu bean orally.”

“Will his power be back to normal?”

“Will he remember what happened?”

“Will he be a danger to us?”

The last question echoed down the hall from Piccolo’s booming voice. The fighters of Earth quickly looked at the giant Namek in surprise. Bulma could see Tien tense at the thought, his face immediately tightening as he, too, realized what Piccolo meant. She felt her heartbeat quicken as the conversation between her and Dr. Briefs resurfaced.

“There’s nothing to worry about, guys,” Goku said, even though his childish voice revealed some doubt. “Vegeta will just need someone to talk to and he’ll back to his original, cranky self.”

Krillin rolled his eyes. “You saw directly what happened, Goku. You know better than anyone that someone like Vegeta is not just going to forget this. You also know what Vegeta is capable of,” the small man said darkly.

Feeling the walls closing in around her, Bulma staggered away from her friends. They noted her shaky actions as she departed the possible, soon-to-be fight.

“I have to grab something from the lab. I think it would be best if you guys went to help Yamcha upstairs.”

Quickly turning away, Bulma rushed down the silent hallway, her eyes staring forward as she passed the beeping room that held Vegeta. Goku called out to her, but she ignored his worried voice. She could not handle hearing yet another argument about keeping Vegeta captive…as she and her father already had that covered. She and Hans were going to find information on the microchip within Vegeta’s stomach and Bulma was going to be the one who redesigned yet another tool to control the prince’s body.

Sitting with Yamcha was awkward. The broken fighter simply stared at the blank wall in front of him, his dark eyes haunted and full of despair. The warriors of Earth surrounded him, but after several minutes of trying to get the traumatized human to speak, they gave up and occasionally chatted amongst themselves. Mrs. Briefs would appear from time-to-time with tea and small sandwiches…which disappeared into Goku’s mouth in seconds. The earth warriors kept every topic away from what had happened to Yamcha and Vegeta. They already gathered as much information as they needed and understood the severity of what had occurred.

“Wanna watch some TV, buddy?” Krillin asked with false excitement in his voice. Clicking on the huge, flat screen TV on the wall, the short bald fighter flipped through some channels before landing on a hockey game. Krillin whistled, going far too overboard with his happy demeanor. “Looks like the Hawks are going to kill it this season.”

“Krillin, turn it off,” Piccolo snapped.

Fumbling with the remote, the funny, little warrior snapped the television off and pouted. The large Namekian could barely tolerate the humans on this planet most of the time, and having to be stuck in a room with all of them made his head spin. The space buzzed with nervous tension before Tien finally gazed up at Yamcha, breaking the unwritten rule that they were not going to speak of the past events that transpired.

“No one blames you, Yamcha,” the three-eyed man said softly.

The room became tense and the warriors spared a few glances at their silent friend. At first Yamcha continued to stare forward, the same black, haunted eyes unwavering, but then he sighed and looked at the floor.

“You should. I did a terrible thing. I should have been able to save him, but instead I…”

“You tried your best, Yamcha, you really did,” Goku cut in, unsure of how to approach the horrible thing that happened. “I saw it and you had no choice. You couldn’t have—“

“Saw it?” Yamcha whispered. The scar-faced man’s head shot up and he glared directly into Goku’s large, childish eyes. “What do you mean?”

With an embarrassed laugh, the dopey saiyajin placed a hand behind his head. “Sorry, Yamcha. I know this is humiliating and all. I saw Vegeta’s thoughts and his emotions. It’s a little jumbled and I’m not quite sure the order of events yet, but I know you were captured, too. I know you didn’t have a choice and were only looking out for Vegeta’s safety.”

“Vegeta’s thoughts? You read Vegeta’s thoughts?” Yamcha was fully alert now as his eyes darted from one anxious face to the next. “But how? He’s…”

“He doesn’t know, Goku,” Krillin said softly.

“Know what?”

“Vegeta’s alive,” Gohan piped-up.

Yamcha felt as if he was kicked in the stomach. His eyes widened and he felt he couldn’t breathe.

“Vegeta’s alive?” He stood, excitement radiating from his trembling body. It appeared that his energy was coming back. “Vegeta’s alive! Vegeta’s alive!”

The warriors of Earth were perturbed by the sudden attitude-change and even more caught off guard by the crooked smile which was now plastered across Yamcha’s face. With a relieved laugh, the scarred man fell back onto the couch cushions, one hand pressed against his forehead. “He’s alive.”

“He’s alive!” Yamcha shouted, suddenly shooting upright, a look of dread crossing his features. “He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill everyone.”

“WHAT?!” Piccolo strode forward, his green claw grabbing Yamcha by the collar of his white shirt. “What do you mean by that?”

The human began to sweat nervously as he felt the nails of the giant namek begin ripping his clothing. His eyes fell to the floor and the green giant holding him tossed him onto his feet.

“He told me he would, but at the end there…I knew he didn’t mean it,” Yamcha whispered. His large eyes shot around the room, imploring his friends to listen to him. “I mean, look at it from his view. Vegeta decides to help us fight the androids in three years, Bulma gives him a place to live, and everything seems to be peaceful. He can tolerate the humans and Earth. Now suddenly he’s abducted, tortured, and—and…” Yamcha’s eyes fell on Gohan’s innocent, young face, unable to continue anymore.

“It’s just what we thought,” Tien growled, his pity for the saiyajin prince instantly disappearing. “Saiyajins can’t be trusted. Vegeta will be looking for an excuse to destroy us and Earth, just like he originally wanted to do!”

“Shut up.”

The room buzzed from the sharp words and all eyes fell on the orange-clad warrior who was suddenly standing in the middle of the living room. The fighters could sense Goku’s anger building and they drew away from the seething saiyajin. Tien pressed his lips together, immediately silencing his tirade and realizing he had gone too far. Goku looked around the room, a feeling of betrayal coursing through his veins.

“Human-beings did this to Vegeta. Humans stole his power and held him against his will, so don’t think that his saiyajin blood caused this whole thing to happen.” Goku’s anger still rose and his friends were shocked to hear such…alien words coming from his usually smiling mouth. “I saw his thoughts, his emotions, and what happened to him. I’ve never…I’ve never seen such a terrible thing. Those four humans were monsters. Vegeta is going to need allies when he wakes up, not people guarding him and encaging him again.”

Yamcha felt his throat close up and he turned away from the powerful warrior, shame and grief swallowing him whole at Goku’s anger.

*” I just won’t ever believe that a human could be colder or crueler than a saiyajin. The people on earth look out for each other. We care for each other and we go out of the way to make sure that our friends and loved ones don’t get hurt.”*

He had said that. Yamcha recalled the harsh words he had spoken directly to Vegeta only two days earlier. How wrong he had been.

*“And someday…you will see the true evil of your precious planet and people.”*

“You were right,” Yamcha whispered out the window as he remembered Vegeta’s cold retort. “Don’t you wish you weren’t?”

“Yamcha?”

The depressed man turned toward his friends, a fire suddenly burning within him. His dark eyes looked directly into Goku’s and he gave one curt nod.

“When Vegeta wakes up, we treat him as a friend. He’s been damaged and hurt in a way none of you could fathom. We are the ones to show him the goodness in humans,” Yamcha added as he eyed Tien coldly. “I couldn’t help him…but we can.”

Bulma paced the science lab of Capsule Corp., her hand gripping a small, leather-bound black book. The sketch-pad fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, the insides of the old portfolio full of sketches and quick drawings. Within Skip’s book contained the blue-prints and makings of an electrode-control device. It was a microchip which drew in a warrior’s energy and held it captive before allowing the ki to be released only by a remote control. Detailed images were drawn to perfection within the small sketch-pad, the microchip and remote control sketched in full creation by the deranged scientist.

Bulma was shocked as she read through the leather booklet that had been tucked away within Skip’s desk. His work-space was nothing out of the ordinary. For the crimes he had committed, Bulma was expecting to find severed heads and dead animals within his desk, but nothing appeared out of place. She and Hans and a small group of Capsule Corp. employees searched his computer, Internet databases, and personal belongings for anything that remotely resembled a microchip or control that was not of their design. As she dug through his large metal desk, she pushed aside notes and paperwork before observing the small black book nestled under a huge stack of papers.

Thinking it was an everyday scheduler, she placed it on top of the desk and kept hunting. Growing aggravated and desperate, she brushed a strand of blue hair from her face and leaned against the desk. Shaking her head, Bulma absently flipped open the pocket-book, her eyes widening at the immaculate sketches within the small pad. There were several designs on the small, white pages, drawn in detail with directions and individual parts and pieces. Skimming through Skip’s pages of genius, her finger stilled on one drawing, and she read the words entitled, “Whore Torture.”

Sickness gripped her and she trailed the intricate, tiny sketches, which gave detailed directions on how the microchip worked with the energy-suppressing poison she and Skip had created. Harsh words were written out, referring to Vegeta as IT and other disgusting names.

“Once IT is subdued, the subjugate-chip will be inserted into the whore anally. Even though the creature will have no access to its ki, the microchip will track the energy deep within the whore and move further into the body. Subjugate-chip can only be removed through surgery. The chip will collect the alien’s energy into one point. With the remote-control, settings will be placed 1-5, to release the creature’s energy into its own body.

Burn Fuck-toy, burn.”

Bulma’s heart leapt into her throat. The young woman had seen so much in her life and she wasn’t even past her 30s. Her adventures with Goku and lavish life at Capsule Corporation seemed to prepare her for anything. She’d been on adventures that involved being turned into a carrot, being groped by perverted pigs and old men, seeing her closest friends killed by cruel enemies, and surviving the crumbling planet Namek. Yet just reading the small paragraph written by one of her top scientists made something break within the strong woman. Skip and the three others who tortured and raped Vegeta were an evil she never could have imagined.

And now she and her father were going to manipulate the device within the saiyajin prince to further his torment. Swallowing back the angry tears, Bulma turned and grabbed the red phone from the wall in her lab. Dialing, she waited for the other end to pick up and felt coldness as her father answered.

“We found it. He has the blue-prints written in detail,” Bulma explained.

The other side was quiet except for a steady beep that told Bulma Vegeta had been hooked up to a medical ventilator.

“Please do what you can to modify the controller to keep Vegeta’s energy under control.” When Bulma said nothing, Dr. Briefs sighed. “It’s only for now, my dear. I hate it as much as you do, but we have to make sure he is not dangerous.”

Bulma nodded even though her dad saw nothing. Feeling like the scum of Earth, Bulma acknowledged him.

“And Bulma…please work quickly.”

A few hours later, an exhausted Bulma trudged from her science lab, a small gray controller in her hand. It was a replica of Skip’s control device, only with a few modifications. The horrid creation no longer held a dial that could control the rate and amount of power exerted throughout the saiyajin’s body. Instead, the module was calculated to hold back Vegeta’s power, just as the serum had. Since the potion within him was due to wear off at any moment, his ki was free to fully come back. The controller now drew in Vegeta’s energy and held it, but Bulma made sure to get rid of the torturing aspect of the awful thing. There were several buttons on the controller, ranging on how much control it had over Vegeta’s energy. With one click, Bulma could easily release control over the saiyajin and allow him to fully power up and resume his normal strength.

Entering the medical hallways, Bulma’s stomach twisted as she approached the beeping room, feeling great fear grip her as she now had to face Vegeta…even though he was still unconscious. Peering into the small room, she saw her father writing down some notes as he stood over Vegeta’s bed.

“Here it is,” she snapped as she entered the room.

Dr. Briefs looked up and saw the gray controller in his daughter’s hand. Moving forward, he took it from her gently and inspected it.

“Please tell me exactly how it works.”

“It’s pretty simple, Dad. The small gray button locks Vegeta’s power in place. That small knob next to it can adjust how much hold the microchip has inside of him. Essentially, we can control how much Vegeta can power up or how much power we want to take away,” Bulma explained, her voice cold and robotic. Dr. Briefs paled at the harsh words. “Right now the microchip inside of him has completely blocked his energy. He’s as weak as an average human,” she said, making sure to be blunt and direct. There was some satisfaction at seeing her father falter, knowing that he felt just as evil as she did for doing this to Vegeta. “However, if we were to press the large green button in the middle, it would completely release Vegeta’s energy and he would be free.”

“It’s a leash.”

“Yes.”

With a long sigh, the dreary doctor inspected the remote a little longer before opening a desk drawer and placing it inside. Pulling another senzu bean from the small brown sack sitting on a nearby table, Dr. Briefs approached the saiyajin.

“Wait,” Bulma whispered. “Let’s at least get Goku down here. In case…well…just in case.”

*” Looks like the Hawks are going to kill it this season.” Gee can you tell what city I’m from? Anyway, let me know what you think or if you’re still reading. Thank you for hanging in there!*
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Resolution on a Lonely Planet