Disclaimer: the idea and characters of Dragon Ball are owned by Akira Toriyama. This is a simple non-profit fan parody.

Chapter 26 - The strange case of Dr. Gero and Ms. Briefs

When Bulma woke up, her first thought was to run to her computer and check the outcome of the calculations she'd set it up to do the day before. She saw, with relief, that they had finished a few hours before, and when she ran a couple simulations to test the results, it looked like they were consistent with her expectations. She plugged a small box-like device she had readied on her desk to the computer, clicked another button to begin uploading the program on it, and went to have breakfast.

At breakfast the mood was slightly sour. Her mother greeted her with a lot of attentions and almost twice the usual amount of pancakes. Her father was already sitting at the table, reading up a technical report, with a frown on his face.

"Morning," mumbled Bulma, still in her pajamas and with an untamed bedhead.

"Good morning, my dear," he replied, folding quickly the report and trying to display a cheerful attitude. "Ready for the trip?"

"Mm-mmh, almost."

The girl sat at the table, poured herself a cup of coffee, and started stabbing pancakes with a fork.

Breakfast felt unusually lonely, because for the first time in almost one year now, Goku was not joining them for it. Well, he'd skipped it sometimes really, mostly to go train at 6 AM or something like that, but this was the first time it was because he just was not in the house at all. The day before, he had left for Kame Island, the residence of Muten Roshi, to begin training with him. Today, it would be Bulma's turn to leave.

"Is you luggage ready?," asked Panchy, worried. "Do you need anything?"

"...'ss all fine," replied Bulma. "Did you see Yamcha and the others?"

"They are already in gear." Dr. Briefs nodded, approvingly. "You know, those boys can be really sharp when they have to. I feel safer knowing that they'll be with you."

The girl shrugged. "It's not like there is any risk anyway. The Red Ribbon are our allies."

"Of course, of course. Our allies." Her father frowned. "Bulma, do I need to remind you that-"

"No." she snapped. "You don't need to remind me."

He backed down.

"I'm sorry." mumbled the girl. "Let's just have breakfast together, is what I'm saying."

"Of course. Want some syrup?"

The meal was finished, and Bulma jumped up and ran upstairs to shower and dress herself. The plan was to all leave in an hour, and there would be time for proper farewells once she was ready.

After her shower, wrapped in a towel and with a smaller one around her wet hair, Bulma went back to check her computer. The upload operation had succeeded. She unplugged the small device from the machine, then finished doing her hair with a hairdryer and a brush. Once she was ready and wearing her underwear, and before putting on anything else, she picked it up again and considered it.

The device was an electrostimulator, of the same sort that months before had attracted Goku's attention and gave her the idea for her ki scanner, with some minor modifications. It could be used to apply low tension electric signals to one's body - just enough to induce a twitch and little more, in normal conditions. But this one, she had programmed with the data extrapolated from thousands of participants to the Tenkaichi Tournament, data she had obtained exactly for that purpose. The analysis, which she had already designed before obtaining the actual data, had indeed confirmed her original suspicion. Once correlated to the various observations, it had become clear that the amount of spiritual energy summoned by nervous stimulation was not proportional to the intensity of said stimulations, but rather a function of their shape. Bulma's broken arm had not been a random accident. Basing herself mostly off data acquired from Goku and Yamcha had meant she just didn't know how to call out an amount of ki truly proportional to her body's ability to withstand it. And so what she'd done before was tantamount to telling someone "please bludgeon me with a baseball bat" by whispering rather than shouting, and expecting the result to be less painful.

Now, she was pretty sure she would not make the same mistake. Pretty sure. Not sure enough by rigorous scientific standards, and certainly not sure enough to satisfy her father to the point he'd approve her experimenting on herself.

But she was about to walk straight into a shady mercenary organization's main centre of power, and for all that she was bringing bodyguards with her, Bulma would feel safer if she could also have, as a last resort, option the means to protect herself. All in all, she trusted her ability enough that she thought the risk of experimentation here was the lesser one.

She opened a drawer, took out a bundle of wires, fastened the stimulator to her back with an elastic belt, and started methodically sticking the electrodes to her body, taking care to make it so that the device could be easily concealed under the clothes she would wear for the day.

"Morning, students! Time for a bright new training day!"

Goku opened his eyes and was startled for the fraction of a second that took him to remember that indeed he was not sleeping any more in the small apartment that Bulma had arranged for him right next to Capsule Corporation's gym. Instead, he was inside a small rustic room, on a thin mat on the floor, and another kid's foot had stranded and found its way right on top of his chest. He pushed it away with one arm.

"Lemme go," mumbled Krillin, turning around after his foot was moved.

"Wake up, you lazy bums!," shouted the same voice from before, this time slightly less patient, "Every minute you spend sleeping now is one minute less you have to eat your breakfast!"

This got both Goku and Krillin suddenly alert and on their feet. A few seconds later, they had their gis on. Krillin was running to reach the kitchen first, while Goku wasn't sure why that ought to be a competition in the first place.

"It's still dark," he noticed, sitting at the table.

"Well, duh!" Krillin rolled his eyes. "Training begins before dawn and ends late at night. That's how it's done in a serious school!"

Goku was about to start discussing the benefits of rest on the human body and how excessive stress and sleeplessness could in fact make a training regime less effective, but he decided against it. He wasn't always the most sensitive person, but even he had picked up on how much his new schoolmate hated hearing criticism against the master.

"Where's that lady who was helping yesterday?" asked Goku, looking around.

"Shewwy?," Krillin munched a large chunk of leftover cold meat he'd grabbed from the fridge. "Stiww sleeping. We don't need hew fow bweakfast anyway. Want a dwumstick?"

Goku nodded and grabbed the chicken leg, biting into it without much enthusiasm. He wondered if months spent living with the Briefs and eating at their table had somehow mollified his eating habits.

Master Roshi walked in a minute later.

"Well, I see you're all nice and ready," he said, cheerfully. "Today it's going to be a fun little day of training. Since Goku has joined us yesterday, I was thinking this was a good day to put you both to the test, so I can both measure Krillin's progress and decide where to start with our new friend."

Krillin's eyes sparkled. Tests meant more chances to shine in front of his master. He glanced at Goku.

"Don't worry if you won't pass," he whispered, with a patronising smile. "It's your first time."

"He didn't mention anything about passing at all," pointed out Goku.

"Come out as soon as you've finished eating!," said Muten. "We'll find a nice empty spot to run and lift and such. I'll go prepare myself, and when I come back, we can go."

"Master?," asked Goku, perplexed, "If you have to prepare yourself, why are you walking into Sherry's bedroom instead?"

Krillin threw a side glance at him and said nothing.

"Oh, oh, you're right." mumbled the old man. "How thoughtless of me. Well, well, here I go, this one's mine for sure-"

Red Ribbon Headquarters wasn't just a military base. Bulma had expected something big, but none of her expectations could possibly match reality. As their jet flew above the complex, looking for the landing platform it was scheduled to arrive at, Bulma, Yamcha, Bandages and Spike all looked out of the windows to see much more than a bunch of barracks, hangars, and military equipment.

Red Ribbon Headquarters was a proper city in all but name.

The military wasn't even the main part of it. The garrison of course was in itself an impressive force, more than 25,000 men between infantry, armour and artillery divisions, and aviation. But that many soldiers required almost twice as many civilian support personnel, such as mechanics, cooks, cleaners, and so on and so forth. The Red Ribbon officer that was piloting the plane, a lean, serious looking man in his forties that introduced himself as Sergeant Ashwood, explained that most of that support personnel wasn't officially enlisted in the Ribbon, but rather, were external contractors. However, they still lived on the premises. As did the families both of soldiers, especially high ranking officers, and contractors, and further personnel required to service them with shops, schools and medical services, bringing the total population of the base to something around 200,000 people.

The area where the jet landed was near the core of the entire complex. Right next to the platform was the massive building of Central Command, from which the Commander sent his orders to the army. Out of one of the side exits came Commander Black to greet them.

"Welcome to our Headquarters," he said, extending his hand. "I hope your trip has been pleasant?"

"As pleasant as a five hour flight can be." replied Bulma, grabbing and shaking his hand. "You have quite the impressive complex here."

"Our greatest pride. No other base comes even close to this size and complexity." explained Black, satisfied. "You will appreciate that even more, I am sure, once you get to see our R&D division."

"I'm eager to." Bulma gestured to the others, and casually, Yamcha walked up to her. "So, our plans for today...?"

"I was hoping to introduce you as soon as possible to our lead researcher," said the Commander. "As for your bodyguards, since they intend to help us in the upcoming conflict, we had some activities planned. Our tactical officers want to assess exactly their capabilities so they can plan for the best way to incorporate their help in our established manoeuvres, and I'm sure they will enjoy joining the troops for a few training exercises..."

"Doesn't sound very enjoyable to me." blurted out Bandages, brusquely. "We can probably fight better than a thousand of 'em already."

"But team efforts always mean more chances of victory," suggested Spike, trying to sound more conciliating, "and in these dire circumstances, we don't really want evil to gain any edge on us, do we?"

The other nodded curtly, but he still crossed his arms and frowned. Commander Black didn't let any displeasure show.

"Of course, your help is merely on a volunteer basis," he said, "so I can't force you. We're already grateful for it as is. And someone ought to stay with miss Bulma anyway, or the whole point of you being her bodyguards would be a bit moot, so if you want to be the one-"

"Listening to egghead talk's gotta be just as boring." replied the mummy. "But at least I won't have to take orders from you guys. I'll do that."

"Very well. Then those who decided to join the training, please follow Sergeant Ashwood. Miss Bulma and bodyguard, come with me. The main research complex is this way."

Krillin and Goku had to wait a few minutes, sitting idly in the middle of a field, while Muten searched for rocks. They'd already moved to a bigger island for their training, by swimming, and now their master had brought a massive boulder in front of them. Then he left to look for another one.

"Will we have to move here every day?," asked Goku, while squeezing the water out of his belt.

Krillin shook his head. "Well, we didn't now 'cos Sherry was still sleeping and she's really sensitive about not being woken up before 8 AM... like, really sensitive... but we'll probably just move house and all later today, or tomorrow. That's what he did with me." He grinned and took on a boastful air. "And guess what, I carried the house all by myself!"

"House and all...?" Goku frowned in puzzlement. "Oh. It's a capsule?"

The other kid clicked his tongue, disappointed. "Eh, of course I couldn't fool you, you've lived with the capsule lady for so long. By the way, I kinda envy you for that, you know? She's very, well..."

He took a conspiratorial air and started making some vague, exaggerated circular gestures around his chest. Goku was about to point out that no, she wasn't fat at all, when a mighty wham made them turn their heads. Muten was back, and the second rock was in place. In a hand he also brought two thick steel rods.

"Stop blabbering nonsense and come around," he said, jovially, and the pupils obeyed. "Now, let's start today's first test. I want to check something. Krillin, would you mind grabbing that rock and tossing it as far as you can?"

Krillin nodded enthusiastically and ran off to the rock. After a bit of huffing he managed to lift it - he had to basically hug it, so massive it was compared to his body size - and then with a whirl he launched it away. The boulder flew for fifty metres or so before stopping.

The master beckoned to the other kid. "Now, Goku, if you would do the same with the other...?"

Goku ran to his own rock, and did something similar to what Krillin had. His gestures and motions were roughly similar, but when he spun to toss the rock, he seemed to blur out, and the rock ended up falling some good twenty metres further than Krillin's.

The bald kid was not happy. He eyed his companion alarmed.

Muten, on the other hand, looked unperturbed. "Hmm, yes, that's about what I expected." he said. "Krillin, Goku, please go fetch those rocks and bring them here. Gently, this time, no tossing. Let's repeat the experiment."

Mumbling, Krillin went to do as he'd been told, followed by Goku. One minute and some panting later, the rocks were back in their initial positions.

"Now give me a minute. This time our test will be a little different."

Muten left the two pupils to look at him confused while he went and searched two more rocks, significantly smaller. When he found them he jammed one of each in front of the big ones, then took the iron rods and stuck them under the big rocks, forming levers which had the small ones as fulcra, like two rudimentary catapults.

"Very well, now come here." he called his students. "Now with all the strength you can, try to toss the rock. Do it with a single push, when I give you the signal. Right, in position... three, two, one... NOW!"

Goku and Krillin simultaneously pushed hard on their respective steel rods. Krillin's went down, and its other extremity correspondingly tossed the rock in the air. It was a rather disappointing throw - nothing as spectacular as the first time, and most of the starting velocity was directed upwards, so it ended up in a parabola which hit the ground again only one or two metres away from the starting point.

Meanwhile, Goku was staring dumbfounded at a broken steel rod, and his rock hadn't moved one inch.

"Oh, I guess this was a bit too hard for-" had started Krillin, with a smug expression, before Muten cut him off with a hand gesture.

"Can you guess why that happened, Goku?" asked the old master.

The boy thought about it for a second. "I used too much strength," he decided. "I knew from the beginning I had to limit myself, but I still couldn't gauge the exact amount. My nyoibo can take more than this. And I only had one sudden push, so I couldn't slowly increase the strength until I felt the bar was beginning to bend, in order to get a sense for its resistance."

"That's all correct, but you're missing the root cause." said Muten. "See, Krillin was pretty much in the same conditions as you, but he managed to toss the rock - though I'm sure he could do better with a bit of exercise. But that was not the point of this test. Neither of you could get it perfectly right the first time. And if you look at Krillin's rod, why, it is a little bent. So why is it that yours broke completely?"

"My grandpa mentioned that my physical strength is lacking." Goku frowned. "Does it have to do with that?"

"Precisely, Goku. Yes, Gohan was right on point." Muten grabbed the broken, pointy steel rod and used it to scratch numbers in the dirt. "See, suppose you need to achieve a strength of fifty to toss the boulder. It's a strength way beyond the possibilities of the regular human body - a superhuman strength. So you need to use spiritual energy, ki, to bolster your muscles and achieve that much. We all do."

"But Krillin, here, has a base strength of, let's say ten. Ki acts as a multiplying factor to your strength, so he needs five. But what if he makes a mistake in judging how much strength to put originally into the push, without considering ki? Suppose he makes a mistake of one, then he ends up using eleven - which times five, makes fifty-five. An error of five."

"Now suppose your base strength was five - don't take these numbers seriously, it's just to give you an idea. Then you'd need ten units of ki to reach your final amount, fifty. But if you make the same exact error in judgement as Krillin, just one, you end up with a total strength of sixty, and an error of ten. And your lever breaks instead of just bending."

Goku nodded, following along the explanation. "But then, can't I just adjust how much ki I use?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. But our bodies, no matter how good a martial artist you are, learn first to use and judge our basic strength, and rely on that more, especially for precision movements. You don't use ki to pick up a glass of water or write with a pen, do you?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well, this is more or less it. You're more used to feel with your physical strength, and that's what usually you do the fine tuning on when trying to decide how much is appropriate for a situation. With fighting, it's not very important, because your body already knows the exact amount of strength you want to exert in any given situation. You wouldn't be much of a combatant if you couldn't gauge your own strength precisely. I had to put you into an unfamiliar situation for it to show. And I'm sure with two or three more tries you'd end up getting it right anyway."

"So what you're saying is, I need to train my body and muscles more over my ki control." concluded Goku. "How can I do that?"

Muten's eyes twinkled, and he slung around the large turtle shell he kept on his back with two ridiculously thick straps. When the shell hit the ground, it made a menacing thrumming sound and sent vibrations all around.

"I'm glad you asked," said the old man, smiling.

Bulma walked carefully through the path to the centre of the lab - not that, on her own, she was sure she could have spotted it. The thing that distinguished it from the rest of the room was that one could vaguely identify a path wide enough for a human to pass through amidst the mountains of electronic equipment and various instrumentation that had been incoherently accumulated on either side. Commander Black was right before her, and behind followed Bandages. Having walked through the canyon, they finally found themselves in a broader opening, roughly circular, with most of the racks and computer displays arranged on desks all around the perimeter, and a few benches in the centre, as well as what looked like mannequins. One of the benches was hosting a mechanical arm, not unlike the one Mai had been using, bolted to supports for some kind of test or repair. The mannequins were fitted with other technological implements - some of them supported mechanical legs or arms, others had cybernetic armbands; one in particular was transparent, and woven through with a circulatory system of thin, shiny metallic wires, with a bigger device in place of where a human's heart would be.

Two young people in labcoats - one blonde and one with black hair, roughly the same height and haircut - were working at a desk. The black haired one had his eye put to the ocular of a microscope, while the blonde one was taking notes on a clipboard. On the other side of the opening, a middle aged man with a ridiculously long and unkempt mane of graying hair was tinkering with a circuit board. Or perhaps, tinkering wasn't the right word. The fury and forcefulness with which he stuck in components and applied the solderer suggested more an inquisitor trying to torture the circuitry into returning the result he expected from it, or else.

"Doctor Gero," said Black, "I have brought you a guest."

The man lifted his eyes from the work he was doing, furious with having been interrupted. Then his fury morphed entirely into more fury. Bulma had seen him for all of ten seconds and she was already wondering if this person had any more emotional range than 'pissed off'.

"You brought the girl to my lab!," shrieked the scientist. "I told you I don't want anyone spying on my-"

"I brought the girl to your lab, like I said I would." replied Black, firmly. "Your opinion was never a factor. You're still a member of the Red Ribbon, doctor, and I gave you a direct order. You are to collaborate with her. You are to work together within the extent of what she can reveal of her work. And you are to come up with solutions that can help us during the upcoming-"

"I know, I know. I've been briefed." Dr. Gero snapped, curtly. He still was obviously very annoyed, but while he never displayed outright deference, he also clearly didn't dare push back too much. His vivacious eyes kept darting from Bulma to Bandages, and back. "Not that I think the girl will be of much use. She's basically a toddler."

"Excuse me!?"

"I think this is where I leave you," said the commander. "Have fun. And remember, you will have to work together for the next three months, so, do keep that in mind."

As he said that, his gaze fell both on Gero and Bulma. Bulma found that baffling - was he suggesting that she could do any worse than this prideful, misanthropic old ass she'd been dumped on?

And then he walked out. Bandages crossed his arms and positioned himself at the edge of the lab, said, "well, imma stay here and keep an eye on you guys," and went on to do just that and basically nothing else. Which left Bulma alone in a laboratory with three perfect strangers, one of which, she was pretty sure, already hated her with murderous rage. Which made it a relief when one of the other two approached her.

"I apologise for our boss. He can be a bit grumpy," said cheerfully the young man, extending his hand. He was really cute, she noticed, with almost feminine traits - a clean face and slightly angled eyes that gave him a mischievous air. His hair was perfectly black and straight, cut exactly to neck height.

Bulma nodded warily and shook the hand back. When she got a glance of the other person, she saw basically the same face, except female. And of course with blonde hair.

"Uhm, are you two..." she started asking, looking from one to the other and back.

"Wearing matching lab coats? You got us!" said the man with a chuckle. Then, laughing at her bafflement, "Oh, and twins," he added.

Well, at least this guy seemed nicer than Gero. Much nicer. "Pleased to meet you," she said. "Bulma Briefs."

"As if you needed to tell us that!," the other chuckled again. "But the pleasure is ours. I'm Lapis, and she," and he pointed at his sister, right behind him, "is Lazuli."

The woman made a greeting gesture. She didn't seem nearly as hostile as Gero, but compared to her brother, her expression was so deadpan Bulma couldn't help feel she was not exactly registering as anything more important to her than, say, wallpaper with a slightly interesting pattern.

"Lapis and Lazuli, that's easy to remember," she commented, attempting a smile as well, though the awkwardness hadn't exactly gone away. "I guess your parents liked gemstones?"

"No, they liked metamorphic rocks," said Lapis, dead serious, "and we didn't even get the worst of it. Just never bring the topic up with our younger sister, Amphibolite."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Bulma blinked, unable to form any words.

"By the way, that's not true and we have no sisters," sighed the blonde woman, speaking for the first time in a very tired voice. "He just likes messing with people."

"Right." Bulma nodded, slowly. She was beginning to dread the thought of the next three months. "So what do you do here?"

Lazuli stepped in before her brother could even start answering. Perhaps to keep the conversation as efficient and painless as possible, something that Bulma was becoming more appreciative of.

"We're lab assistants for the doctor," she explained. "My brother is a biologist, while I'm a data scientist. We've been helping with his research during the last year."

"Oh! But you look very young." commented Bulma, interested. "I didn't know you could get this kind of job at this age. How old are you?"

Lapis looked quickly at his watch. "I'm seventeen, and she's eighteen," he said.

Bulma blinked a bit in puzzlement. "Oh, uh," she stammered in the end, when the implication finally clicked, "happy birthday, I guess-"

"Will you stop that!" Lazuli's slap hit her brother's head on the back, while he ducked to dodge it and laughed. "We're both twenty-four, Bulma. Seriously... that stupid joke wasn't that funny even the first time, and at least that time it was our birthday."

"But it's true that I'm the younger twin," chimed in Lapis, "by all of forty-five seconds."

"So how did you get this job?" asked Bulma. "I guess you already graduated?"

"We both have a Master's Degree, yes." replied the other. "Our dad works as a contractor for the Red Ribbon, so when we were looking for a company to have an internship with..."

"...because you were too lazy to bother looking further than your own nose..." added Lazuli.

"...yes, well, because of reasons, we ended up doing it here. But once we got into all this top secret stuff and got the gist of it, the good doctor here thought it would probably be better to just keep us close rather than find replacements, and so, lo and behold!, we got a job."

Bulma whistled appreciatively. "And you, Lazuli? You don't sound as happy of the situation as him."

The woman sighed. "I am not," she said, in a slightly hushed voice, then pointed at her brother. "But you've just met him. Do you think I should let him go around, working unsupervised in secret weapon labs?"

They exchanged understanding stares. Lapis acted very scandalised at the suggestion that he wasn't a responsible adult, then shrugged it off.

"Amazing, you youngsters really hit it off, huh?" said an extremely displeased, raucous voice. "Well, I'm sure the samples will be so happy they will just start analysing themselves, then."

Lazuli sighed and shook her head, then tugged at her brother's sleeve. Dr. Gero looked at them until they took back their original positions at the desks, then turned back to his own work.

Bulma was beginning to feel really irked. She had suspected she might incur into some degree of resistance, as many scientists she knew of were jealous of their work and almost none were especially sociable types, but this was beyond ridiculous. At this rate, she could just as well up and leave; the outcome would be pretty much the same. She decided that was not going to be it. After all, hadn't the doctor been ordered to collaborate? That meant it was almost as if she was his boss at this time. He would have to stop with the hostile act, whether he liked it or not.

The girl walked up to the table where Gero was now viciously stabbing the circuit board with an intricate pattern of multihued plugs. There were sockets for the plugs, of course, but the way he was jamming it in you would have thought otherwise.

"Uhm, interesting work you got there," said Bulma, tentatively. "So, what is it?"

The other didn't even look at her. "An improved neural-network assisted biomechanic nerve impulse transducer for prosthetics." he grumbled.

"Oh, cool." continued the girl, trying to be conversational. "So, uhm, it's basically circuitry to connect artificial limbs so that they can be controlled by thought?"

He raised his eyes and squinted. "If your understanding of these things is that of a five year old kid, sure."

Bulma squinted. Her patience for being conversational was quickly running out.

"Ok, let's talk frankly." she said, grabbing Gero's rotating chair and turning it so that he was forced to look at her. "I got it, you don't like me. I'm not crazy about you either, if first impressions are worth a damn. But we're supposed to work together. What the fuck is your problem?"

The two assistants stared in a mix of awe and terror. Bandages whistled appreciatively and grinned.

Dr. Gero's face contorted in the scariest grimace yet.

"The problem," he hissed, "is that you are a newbie. A greenhorn. A child who's been given a bunch of adult tools and now thinks she can play grown up! What do you know of science?"

He rose up from his chair, red in the face. Bulma stepped back. Bandages tensed, ready to intervene.

"Nothing! You know nothing! You're just an arrogant little brat who thinks she can do it all! I already have to put up with these suited, marching buffoons who consider themselves better than everyone else just because they can fire a gun slightly better than a trained monkey, because they pay for my lab! But now I have to also play babysitter?"

"Well, doctor, didn't you say just one month ago that Bulma Briefs' research was a threat to your-" commenced Lapis, before a well-thrown solderer forced him to dodge and stop there.

"I know what I said!" shrieked the man, now completely beyond all self-control. "Oh, sure, she can play with forces she doesn't understand, and perhaps she can even mess around long enough that she'll manage to blow something up! But the subtle dance of the laws of Nature - the delicate handicraft of weaving together the artificial and the biological - the sublime architecture of molecular machines threading through the needle of a DNA loop - what do you understand of all that, girl? You come here without even the intention to contribute anything useful, so just stay out of my way!"

He culminated the speech with a last, high pitched scream of exasperation, then, his face purple with effort and emotion, he turned around and slammed back into his chair. Everything was silent for a moment.

Bulma looked at the doctor, obviously brimming with things she really wanted to tell him to his fucking stupid-ass face. Or, well, that was how she would have put it. Her eyes were burning with indignation, her mouth pursed and ready to unleash Hell on Earth; and then she crossed her arms, grabbed a free seat, sat down.

"Fine," she said, "I'll do just that."

Gero raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'll do that," continued Bulma, "and hey, if Commander Black thinks this is not what he expected of you, it's not going to be my problem what punishment he sees fit to give you. I'll just do my thing. If all goes well, we'll still win the war, and the way things are going, the Red Ribbon will be dissolved shortly afterwards, and you'll lose your lab and funding. But what do I care? It's not like I understand anything."

The doctor frowned, Lapis was barely hiding his amusement, and Lazuli sent Bulma a gaze of sincere admiration.

"That is, of course, if we win the war. In the most unfortunate case that we lose - and trust me, they'll have to walk over my dead body before I allow that - then I wonder what King Piccolo and his goons would do to the members of the organisation that fought him off so fiercely. But hey, what do I know. Maybe the unhinged fanatics who worship power and the law of the strongest will suddenly discover a deep respect for science and intellect and just enslave you to work developing weapons for them. Which will only give you more time to wonder, oh, if only I had worked together with that brilliant young scientist as I'd been told to, maybe together we would have come up with something that could have stopped all this from happening!"

"Great dramatic interpretation," snarled Gero, "but I still don't see any evidence you'll be useful for doing science. I'll call you if I ever need a playwriter, though."

"You know, perhaps to get to that point you should try and give me something to work with," replied Bulma. "Give me a tour of your lab. Introduce me to your work. You seem to be an expert in prosthetics, is that your main interest?"

"Prosthetics, you say!" Indignant, the doctor jumped up and walked to the mechanical arm that was on the bench and patted it. "Why, yes, you could call them that if you have the limited mind of a peasant! These are art! These are masterpieces of neuromechanical knowledge, superior interfaces between electronic and neural systems, these are enhancements! People should be grateful for having their fleshy, weak natural appendages replaced with these perfected forms!"

The girl took an alarmed look. "Wait, have you been chopping off people's limbs to-"

"The Commander wouldn't allow it." growled back Gero. "Apparently, turning them into invincible war machines would affect the troops' morale! Cowards and fools, the lot of them. I've only been allowed to use these for amputees. You can order them to fight to the death, but suddenly cutting one or two useless lumps of organic tissue is a step too far-"

"If you think they're so great," interrupted Bulma, "why don't you just use them on yourself?"

"And yet again, you show why you understand nothing!," snapped the scientist. "Do you think just anyone can install these? They're not hand hooks and peg legs! It's a delicate operation, and I would not trust anyone with lesser knowledge of their sophisticated interfaces than myself to mount them on my own body! The Red Ribbon field surgeons make a botched horrible job of it, and screw up about half the nerve connections. Oh, sure, it's good enough for their goons who only have to shoot and punch stuff anyway, but I would lose the most delicate functionality for my fingers if I let them take care of it, and I need that for my work. They're butchers, not doctors!"

Bulma thought she was getting the gist of how to talk to the doctor, now. The key to it seemed to just keep his anger focused on something other than her, and then sort of naturally make the conversation move from one topic to the other. As long as he had a chance to vent about something he was pissed off at (and there seemed to be a vast reserve of that), Gero could actually be quite talkative.

"So I suppose they couldn't install any of these either?," she said, casually, putting her hand on a glass case that hosted what looked like steel fingers with holes at the tip.

"Those! Those! Don't get me started on those!," shouted the man, as he got started on those. "Guns embedded in one's fingers are the perfect emergency weapon! And just because it looks like their use will occasionally break a few bones in some weaklings whose wrists can't even handle a little recoil-"

Commander Black didn't like to linger too much on his potential mistakes. Years and years of action in the field had taught him that the best thing to do when you realised you'd made an error was to own it and try to turn its consequences to your advantage. Regret never won a battle.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy about having allowed Bulma Briefs to meet doctor Gero, and wondered if that had not been, indeed, a mistake. After all, the doctor had quite the difficult personality. It may have been hoping too much to think that they could get along long enough to actually produce something useful. In the worst case scenario, they would hamper each other's productivity and end up doing less over these three months than they would have done otherwise.

And so, because he felt uneasy, his walking from one task to the other inside the base ended up leading him back to the R&D department, like an asteroid drawn in by the gravitation of a massive planet, and eventually he was standing right outside the door of the lab.

"And this!," screamed a voice inside, seething with rage, "this is a framework for biomechanical reanimated androids! You see, since they said mass producing entirely mechanical androids was too expensive, I thought what's cheap and readily available in war? Corpses! You can usefully and productively recycle corpses, brain included, with the addition of only 30% of mechanical material, as android soldiers, who have nearly one fourth of their original cognitive faculties and last for almost three months before it becomes impossible to further postpone critical rotting, after which the mechanical components can be recovered and reutilised. It's perfect! But no, then it was all, our soldiers' families want their bodies back, Gero, and, no one wants to fight next to an army of stinking decomposing cyborg zombies with the faces of their dead friends, Gero... I could only make seven prototypes until now, with limited combat capabilities, no thanks to central command for its support! I was about to start working on the eighth right before this whole nonsense started-"

Black listened to the rant for almost a minute. Then his hand, that had been on the door's handle, withdrew; he turned his heels and walked away.

It seemed like he'd been worrying over nothing. The meeting obviously was going as well as it could.

After the tour was almost complete, Bulma had managed to build herself a more consistent opinion of Dr. Gero and his work. She had reached the conclusion that the scientist was, undoubtedly, one of the most brilliant minds to ever walk the Earth. It was unbelievable how much he had achieved; almost as unbelievable as the fact that, outside Red Ribbon laboratories, none of these inventions had been widely commercialised or even known, even though many were revolutionary advancements over existing technologies. She would need to bring that up with Commander Black; it was entirely possible that Red (who everyone seemed to agree was a total moron) had not been far-sighted enough to realise what he had in his hands. He had probably considered Gero's output as an eccentric hodgepodge of occasionally useful biomedical technology that could give their mutilated soldiers an edge and bring them back into battle. He had failed to see that the same products, if taken out of secrecy and mass-produced, could easily make more money than all of the Red Ribbon's mercenary activities combined.

The other thing Bulma had realised about Dr. Gero was that he was completely, utterly insane. His achievements were probably superior to her own father's, but that wasn't entirely surprising because there didn't seem to be anything in his life outside of his work in this laboratory. In fact she wasn't sure he had a life outside of his laboratory. She had noticed a sleeping cot tucked in a corner among all the instrumentation, and there were dirty plates and empty packaging from old ready made meals all over the place. He also lacked any sort of ethical restraint. He did not seem to have yet done anything that would make him cross the line from mad scientist into complete monster, but Bulma had the impression that was more thanks to having been subject to the oversight of people with more sense than him than for lack of trying on his part. That it was the Red Ribbon who had acted as his ethical committee said something very worrying about how unhinged he could probably get.

The thing was, he would also be an indispensable ally, both in this war, and whatever came later. But Bulma could also see how dangerous it would be to let too much knowledge fall into the hands of someone like him.

Having finished the tour of the lab, they were now standing in front of the mannequin that most had drawn Bulma's attention from the get go, the transparent one that was wired through and had an artificial heart. Gero started his explanation of this too.

"-and so, because of all those complaints, I started development on this!," he shouted, gesturing at the whole mannequin. "A complete, minimally invasive support energy network meant to power up and enhance the entire human body. Most of it can be installed with microsurgery and be ready to use in days. It can then support additional devices which are still currently under development."

"Where does it take the energy?," asked Bulma.

"The big reactor in the chest, obviously." Gero sneered. "Installing that is the only complicated part of the operation."

"And where does the heart go, then?" she insisted, fearing she already knew the answer.

"In the garbage can, for all I care!" shrieked the doctor. "All we need is to replace it with a micropump, which is twice as efficient as-"

"Let me guess," intervened the girl, "the higher ups and the potential subjects didn't understand this either."

Gero scoffed. "And you do?"

"Hmm-mm."

She put her hand on the mannequin and followed the lines with her finger. Right at the tip of the index of the mannequin, the wire came close to the surface, almost touching it. During all the tour she'd been considering ways in which her and Gero's technology could complement each other, and now there was an intriguing idea in her mind. Here was a system that was meant to control an energy flow through the human body, but required a large, unwieldy power source, whereas she had the technology to tap into a potentially massive source of energy, but not the means to tame it easily. If the two could be made compatible...

"Suppose," she said, "that I could provide you with a source of energy powerful enough to fuel this without removing anyone's heart."

"I don't get what the reason for you people's fixation with hearts is." grumbled Gero.

"Sentimental value, I guess," replied Bulma, with a shrug. "But there would be a practical upside to my idea too. Faster surgery, and if I'm right, you wouldn't even need the additional devices in the end."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "And this miraculous source of energy would be-?"

"Spiritual energy. Ki." she replied. "I know it sounds crazy, but..."

"It does, and it confirms that you're just a clueless brat. Spiritual energy is unreliable, wild, unreproducible! In another word, unscientific! Martial artists hardly know themselves what is it that they're tapping into or how. There has been no rigour when-"

"Ok, wait." Bulma raised her hands. "You knew about... no, sorry, doctor, of course you did, I'm just a green brat, wrong question. Then what would you say if I told you I believe I have tamed it?"

Gero's frown deepened. "That I would need you to tell me how, or I wouldn't believe you."

"I can't disclose that yet." replied Bulma.

"Hah! So you are all talk and no-"

"But I can show you." she continued.

Under everyone's perplexed eyes, she walked to the bench where a mechanical arm was set on, grabbed a stool and sat in front of it. Lapis and Lazuli left their work and turned to watch what was going on. Their boss didn't scold them, and just came closer as well.

Bulma put her elbow on the table and grabbed the mechanical hand with her right one, in the position of an arm wrestling match.

"Can you activate this for me, Doctor?," she asked. "Just have it push as hard as possible."

Lapis gasped, and Lazuli was impassive. Gero didn't say anything - he just went and grabbed a remote from a drawer.

"I'll happily have it break your arm," he said, putting his finger on the device, "if it means you'll stop spouting your delusions and listen to your better."

"Then if I break your arm," she replied, defiantly, "you'll listen to me and work with me for these three months?"

"Breaking it?" now the doctor's snarl was close to laughter. "Why, you little-"

"And, you won't ask any more about how I can do what I'm about to do? It will be only need-to-know basis for you. I'm sorry, but these are my conditions. Capsule Corporation needs to keep its secrets, and I'm not convinced that an army of Red Ribbon super soldiers would be any better than Piccolo."

The spectators looked intently on the little confrontation. Even Bandages was listening with a small grin on his face.

"Sure, sure!" Gero tossed his hands in the air. "Now stop talking, for goodness' sake, girl. You've wasted enough of my time already. Let's see what you can do."

Bulma nodded, put herself in position, and slid the free hand in her pocket, where the control for her stimulator was. She turned the knob to the lowest level. An electric tingle coursed through her body, from her back to her arm. Her vision sharpened slightly, her arm felt more firm. There was no shock, no violent contraction or damage. It all felt natural, relaxed, and not particularly magical. She merely felt like she was on her best shape, all tiredness washed away.

Dr. Gero pressed the button.

The mechanical arm's pressure was brutal, and Bulma had to instantly turn the knob by another notch to even keep up. Her arm felt the jolt, and now she could perceive the significant effort she was making. But she held out. Barely - the push was unforgiving and superior to the strength of any human, woman or man. And she was just a young girl after all, not especially athletic either. Her arm started bending towards the table. She felt pain course through her muscles up to her shoulder. The newfound strength given by the spiritual energy running through them was not sufficient to counter that.

Still, Gero was surprised, though he tried to hide it. And the assistants didn't even try. Lapis in fact was outright whistling and cheering for her.

"It's not at maximum setting, of course," snarled Gero.

Bulma huffed, but she didn't want to show all her pain and fatigue yet. She forced a defiant grin.

"Bring it on." she said.

Gero tapped another button, and the pressure doubled. Bulma correspondingly turned up the knob. Now the power was brutal too, taking over her arm, moving it almost outside of her control. The pain didn't come any more from being pushed down - it came from the current within her muscles, empowering them to levels they couldn't take, ripping them up at a cellular level.

But still, she was being pushed down.

A quick estimate told her she'd probably need to be twice as strong as she was now to win this. The stimulator had enough settings for that, it could go up to Goku's level of ki output. But she could only withstand something like that for a brief moment, and she wasn't even sure she could survive it. Double the current setting was already way too far into the danger zone. Still, on this could hinge the future, of the war and of her own quest for knowledge. If she won, she could submit this proud, crazy doctor Gero to her will, for a while at least. Fascination with her discoveries might push him to be more malleable and collaborate, in the hopes of finding out more, and with time, who knows, maybe she could completely pull him to her side. Have her mastery of ki be the honey to draw him into the trap. There would be a lot to gain. Life, death, and the fate of the world could hang from this single moment. It was worth taking a risk.

On the other hand, if she had to explain to her dad why she'd broken her arm again, he'd kill her.

She emerged from all this pondering after what she found out had just been a couple of seconds. The spiritual energy was enhancing her own perception - speeding up her cognition. She could see, hear, and think faster if she needed to. The mechanical hand had only pushed down hers by a few degrees in the meantime. But she was about to lose.

The arm, however, was less in pain. Was it getting used to the power flowing through it? She considered this for a moment. After all, if spiritual power strengthened the body, why shouldn't it also strengthen its ability to withstand more spiritual power? This kind of process couldn't go on forever, of course, or she or Goku would literally be able to achieve infinite strength, but perhaps she could build a greater tolerance to gradual increases than to sudden bursts of power. She hazarded pushing the setting up a bit again.

The pain flared up with renewed viciousness, and she gritted her teeth as her whole arm felt like each fibre rebelled to what it was being subjected to. She must now be exerting a force above twenty times her natural maximum output, and well beyond a regular human's limits. She couldn't keep this up for long at all, and now she needed to focus additional ki in her legs and body just to stay in the chair under the backreaction to her own strength. But the pain subsided, again, as the arm grew used; not as much as before, not quite as much, but there still was room to go...

"Watch," she panted, gasping with pain, "watch this-"

Gero didn't say anything. He just stared, fascinated, to the point he seemed to have forgotten to keep up his scowl. Rather, his eyes sparkled with curiosity and were fixated on her, on every detail of what she was doing, inquisitive, hungry. His helpers gazed similarly in silence. The black haired boy who'd been so lively just a few minutes before now was looking intently, biting his lip.

I got him, thought Bulma, let's give him the best show of his life. She gritted her teeth, preparing herself for what was coming. She thought she could take it, now. Her body had grown used enough to it. Still, it'd better only last an instant, and it was not like it would not be painful.

In fact, it would probably hurt like Hell. Or almost like it.

She turned the knob almost to the end of the scale. Lightning exploded through her body, her veins pulsed inside her temples, she felt her own skin and muscles ripple and bulge unnaturally, and her hair slightly lifting itself, as if charged with static electricity. She screamed in pain, closed her eyes, and pushed. She knew it would only be one instant. She was already turning the knob down right as she hit the top, but it still felt like it was lasting forever. But in that forever, slowly, the metal under her hand gave way. It groaned, it creaked, but it couldn't keep up. One or two hydraulic pistons burst. And with one last, fierce crash, the entire thing was finally slammed into the table, and the table itself was dented and cracked by the impact, and at the end there was only an immobile wreckage, broken and bent in multiple spots, left of what had been a perfectly functional mechanical arm. Sprawled on the desk, Bulma couldn't even lift her hand from the spot where it had achieved its victory. It all hurt. All of it. Around her, three very baffled scientists couldn't muster a single meaningful thing to say. In his corner, Bandages burst out in a coarse laugh and started clapping slowly.

"Did you see," panted Bulma, with a happy grin, and her chest hurt with every word, "that, doctor-"

Then she got dizzy, her vision darkened, and she didn't feel neither happiness nor pain nor anything else any more.

Well, here comes a much waited encounter! I'm sorry for the long time I took, but this has been a very busy time at work, which means I've had almost no time or energies to write for weeks on end. I had to write a lot to manage to publish this one chapter today, but I didn't really want to drag it for any longer. Thanks again for your constant support, and to the next time!