The holographic interface lit up.
"Accessing Contingency Protocol. Authorization: Starch-Zero-One."
The blue died.
The terminal lighting shifted to an alert red, bathing the small room in the color of a photography darkroom.
The restricted menu opened.
If I only have a week to track down six more dragon balls without knowing what I'll face, then testing all my gadgets seems like common sense.
Her fingers attacked the light keyboard.
FINAL WEIGHT: 4,980g.
The screen requested confirmation.
ENTER
Send it.
The house lights dipped.
The power generator diverted output to the matter receiver.
The sound started low, rising in pitch until it became an electric screech;
CRACK.
The center of the room popped.
Where the floor had been empty, a white case now sat, emblazoned with the Capsule Corp "C".
The system rebooted into standby mode.
Bulma walked over to the cargo.
The metal of the case was covered in cold condensation.
She undid the side latches.
Inside, one hundred and twenty-four Hoi-Poi capsules gleamed on black foam.
Everything compressed into tiny cylinders.
She looked at the window.
The rain hadn't let up.
Tomorrow, the hunt began.
/////////////////////////////////////
The light didn't illuminate, it sterilized.
A white cone fell from the invisible ceiling, isolating Bulma in the center of nothingness.
The heat of the lamp burned the skin on her neck.
She tried to take a step.
Her feet seemed fused to the floor.
The ground held her as if she were part of the furniture.
Beyond the edge of the circle, the darkness had texture.
It was crowded.
Silhouettes.
Faceless suits.
Headless white coats.
The sound started low.
Not the laughter.
It was the noise of whispers.
The sound of reputations being shredded.
Bulma opened her mouth to speak.
Nothing came out.
A shadow detached itself from the mass.
"Her projection chart is adorable."
"Amateur optimism, she thinks she inherited the genius." answered another, to her left.
She inherited only the surname and the bank balance.
The chorus of murmurs rose in volume.
"Energy anomaly. How impressively vague. Scientifically speaking, that means absolutely nothing."
"Just like her father. When imagination fails, he labels it data."
A second spotlight snapped on, cutting the darkness to the right.
Brief Starch, her father was there.
Not the father she knew.
This man was small.
He clutched sheaves of paper, his hands shaking so badly the sheets fell like dirty snow around him.
"G-Give me a chance to prove it, I just need to figure out a way to track the signals—"
"FRAUD!"
"CHARLATAN!"
"Risk investment! Mandatory retirement! Disgrace to academia!"
Bulma forced her body forward.
She needed to reach him.
She needed to pick up the papers from the floor.
Her father looked up. His eyeglass lenses were cracked. He looked at her.
There was no recognition.
Only pity.
"I made a mistake..."
No...
A shadow leaned over Bulma's shoulder.
"You think you'll clear his name? And who exactly is supposed to take Capsule Girl seriously?"
Stop!
Laughter exploded.
"The world doesn't need another crazy Starch."
Shut up!
The floor beneath Bulma's feet dissolved.
And she fell into infinity.
GASP.
Bulma sat up in bed, sucking in air like someone surfacing from drowning.
Her heart hammered against her ribs in a rhythm of violent tachycardia.
One.
Two.
Three seconds.
The door panel's emergency light blinked soft blue.
The hum of the air conditioner was constant.
Capsule House.
Wontonka.
Paozu Forest.
She ran a hand over her face.
Her forehead was cold with sweat.
"Damn it..." The word came out trembling.
She swung her legs out of the narrow bed.
Bulma walked out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. T
he living room was quiet.
Goku was sprawled out on the inflatable mattress she had set up the night before.
He was sleeping with his limbs splayed in every direction, mouth slightly open.
The contrast between his deep, untroubled slumber and her own adrenaline-soaked nightmare was irritating.
She turned away and headed for the bathroom.
She leaned over the sink, gripping the porcelain edges.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She was tired, but the panic was receding.
She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing away the phantom sensation of falling.
Focus.
She glanced at the holographic clock on the mirror.
08:06 AM.
Eight?!
She straightened up, snapping the towel off the rack.
We're burning daylight.
She marched back into the living room.
"Goku."
The boy didn't twitch.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Nothing. Just a slight change in the pitch of his snoring.
Bulma placed her hands on her hips, staring down at him.
"For someone who's lived in the wild his whole life, you're surprisingly lazy. I thought nature types woke up with the roosters."
She walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed a glass.
She filled it to the brim with cold water.
She walked back to the mattress and dumped the entire glass on his face.
SPLASH.
"GAAH!"
Goku shot up like a spring, sputtering and coughing, wiping the water from his eyes.
He looked around wildly, fists raised.
"Is it raining inside?! Is the roof leaking?!"
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Bulma said, placing the empty glass on the table.
"You weren't waking up any other way."
"Sorry, hehe."
Goku scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face as water dripped from his nose.
"I haven't laid on something that soft... maybe ever. I think the mattress just swallowed me."
"Soft?" Bulma scoffed, grabbing a towel and tossing it at his face.
You haven't even scratched the surface of what comfortable is yet.
She leaned against the table.
"But enough chitchat. I'm going to level with you."
She held up seven fingers, then dropped one.
"We have a deadline. We have exactly one week to find the remaining six Dragon Balls. That means no sightseeing, no naps, and no chasing butterflies."
Goku blinked, drying his face with the towel.
"Why a week?"
"Because that's the schedule, and this brings me to the most important point. Listen closely."
She pointed a manicured thumb at her own chest.
"I am the Leader of this group."
"Leader?"
"Yes. The boss. The captain. The head honcho. That means you obey everything I say. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to fight, you fight. If I tell you to sit, you sit."
Goku looked like he wanted to say something, but Bulma raised a finger to silence him.
"Don't look at it as me bossing you around, think of it as... instruction. Guidance from a wise elder. I'm older than you, which means I know more about the world. So, consider these orders as necessary life lessons."
"What about the enemies? The bad guys who want the balls? You said they were strong."
Bulma smirked, checking her nails.
"Oh, don't worry. We'll find them. Or rather, they'll find us. Eventually."
She saw the itch in his muscles, the way he shifted his weight.
"And when that happens, you can relax. That is the one area where I won't hold you back. When the fighting starts, you don't have to wait for my permission. You can test your strength against them as much as you want."
Goku let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. A look of pure relief washed over his face.
"Okay. Good. I was worried you'd make me just talk to them."
" Yeah yeah, but remember, for everything else, navigation, food, when we sleep, where we go, you obey me. Is that a deal?"
"Deal!"
Good...
"Alright. Grab something to eat from the fridge, but make it quick," Bulma said, moving toward the equipment pile to pack up her gear.
"We're hitting the road in ten minutes."
Goku didn't need to be told twice.
He bolted for the kitchen, and seconds later, the sound of tearing packaging and aggressive chewing filled the small house.
"I calibrated the Dragon Radar last night, the signal is cleaner now. The next sphere is exactly three hundred and twenty-one kilometers east of here. It looks like it's right on the edge of a settlement called Oinktown."
"Oinktown?" Goku asked, his mouth full of bread and ham.
"Do pigs live there?"
"With a name like that, I wouldn't be surprised..."
We have a long drive ahead.