A/N: I am back, and with the fiction that I'd promised so long ago. But, the single fiction has blossomed into three, and this is the first of a series I'm called The Grande Prix. Feel free to review. I don't mind, really. ;)

Disclaimers: I don't own any of this. Please don't sue. Complete AU - B/V, C/G

Also, I have taken a great deal of liberty in describing some aspects of Combined Eventing, mostly with the rules. If you are curious about any of the parts of Eventing, then feel free to check them out here: http://en. and here, at the US Eventing Association: All variations from the reality of the sport are my doing.

Bulma bit back a grimace as the truck swayed into another rut and reminded herself that Chichi was her friend. Next to her, the focus of her grim thoughts was beaming happily at the map in her hands. "We should hit the main road at any time," she chirped, leaning forward so that she could see a bit further.

"We wouldn't be looking for the main road if we had stayed on it," Bulma said before she could stop herself. She did manage to twist the tone to something less irritable and gave Chichi a tight smile to lessen the tone of her voice even more.

"There!" Chichi exclaimed, pointing triumphantly ahead. Bulma peered forward; sure enough, there was the wide black strip of macadam that they were looking for; they could get off this gravel hell-pit. She kept the speed down, despite her eagerness to floor it and get off this dirt strip. She glanced in her rear-view mirror, anxiously eyeing the trailer behind them.

"I'm sure Red's fine," Chichi said as if she had read Bulma's thoughts, glancing back at the trailer herself. "He's next to Priss, and she's always a calming influence."

"Yeah, but I had the road to our barn paved for a reason," Bulma sighed, "and Red is that reason."

"Do you want to stop and check?" Chichi offered generously, though like Bulma, she was eager to get there.

Bulma shook her head and said, "No, if we stop, he'll want out, and then he'll be more upset if we start again. Besides, we're almost there, right?"

"Yeah!" Chichi said, picking up the map from her lap and studying it. "When you hit the blacktop, turn left, and it's only a couple of miles." She peered off to the left and declared, "Probably just beyond that hill there."

Bulma didn't glance; she was too busy worrying about the turn. She looked both ways at the stop, and then began her wide turn. She was now regretting the fact she didn't hire someone to drive them, but Chichi couldn't afford to pay half of a trailering fee, and Chichi probably would have bowed out rather than accept any more money from Bulma.

She finally got the truck and the trailer on the road without getting stuck or ending up in the ditch. With a happy sigh, she drove on.

Chichi was right; St. Georges was just over the crest of the hill. "Look at it!" Chichi squealed, her eyes wide. "I've never seen such a large facility."

"St. Georges is the second-best course, and the St. Georges cup is the second-best award in the field," Bulma muttered, trying to keep her mind on the road and not on the course or the upcoming event.

This was the first year that everything had gone well enough for her to hit the four-star trails. And it was all due to Flawless. She smiled as she thought of the bay stallion in the trailer behind her. He was a true competitor, and she wouldn't be here without his skill and athleticism. Of course, Red would be almost as good someday, but he would probably have his best run next year or the year after, given some more time, training and maturity. This would be a good training event for him – Bulma didn't really think that he'd do well enough for qualifiers, but he could. Then she could have two horses at The Grande Prix.

Another turn, but this was easier, as it was the main competitor's entrance and was wide enough to allow even an eighteen wheeler to turn easily. She eased up to the line of trucks and trailers waiting for stall assignments and let her shoulders relax a touch. A glance in her side-view mirror brought all the tension back.

A black tractor trailer was coming up behind them, and coming fast. As she watched, it suddenly jerked as if the driver had quickly put on the brakes, but it was already awfully close. If they hit my horses, she thought helplessly, watching in horror.

The rig stopped, and Bulma let her breath rush out of her. It was so close behind her that she couldn't see the grill anymore; all that was in her vision was a headlight as big as her head. "Is that as close as I think it is?" Chichi asked, peering into her mirror.

"Closer," Bulma whispered, then realized with a start that the truck in front of her had moved up. She eased her truck into motion with sweat-slick palms and a pounding heart. They had almost hit her. Red was the last horse in the trailer, closest to the rear; he could have been killed or injured. Anger replaced fear and she made a mental note to give the driver a piece of her mind.

It took all of Vegeta's self-control not to scream at his brother. Kakkarot had insisted on driving the last leg, and then had almost rear-ended another competitor. Finally, he settled on stating, "When Father said to kill the competition, he didn't mean with the truck, Kakkarot."

"I know," Kakkarot said quietly – the near-accident had shaken him up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you almost hit," Vegeta said mildly, unable to stay angry at Kakkarot when he was so contrite. But even his mild tone was a gravelly scrape of disapproval, and Kakkarot ducked his head as he eased the rig forward behind the blue truck and matching trailer. From their angle, they couldn't see if there was a stable logo on the side, but Vegeta was willing to bet that there was one, if they were bothering to match colors like that.

They pulled up to the stable assignments booth, and Kakkarot put the truck in neutral as Vegeta hopped down and got the assignments. He gave them a cursory glance, and then did a double take. "Stable A, 12-15 and Stable C, 5-19?" he growled at the officials.

"Sorry sir, we had to split your group up," one of the officials nodded at him. "There are a lot of you, and this was the best way to fill multiple requests."

"Do you realize how difficult you're making things for Saiyan Stables competitors?" he hissed at the man, crossing his arms and leaning forward in an imposing manner.

"I'm sorry sir," the official said again. "If you'd like to switch, you'll have to find someone willing to trade. Otherwise, what you have in your hand is what you have."

With a growl, Vegeta stomped out to the truck, swinging up into the seat. "What's wrong?" Kakkarot asked.

"The fools split us up," Vegeta snarled as he snatched up the walkie-talkie/phone. With a terse voice, he began to call their riders and grooms and tell them their assignments. But he broke off his call when they reached Stable A and he saw that the only spot left was next to the blue truck and trailer. "Looks like you'll get a chance to apologize after all, brother," he growled humorously before he continued his assignments.

Bulma hopped out of the truck almost before she had the parking brake on. She dashed to the back to find that Chichi already had the door open, and the two women lowered the ramp together.

Bulma stepped up quickly to the first horse, a vibrant chestnut gelding who was shaking badly. "Easy, Red," she murmured to him, pulling the slip knot loose so that the reddish-gold horse could ease out of the trailer. He took a half-step back, then opted to take the big step off the side of the ramp rather than go down it. Bulma gave him enough lead to let him get away from the trailer before she pulled him back to her side. "Hey, baby, the hard part is over," she whispered comfortingly as she rubbed the heart-shaped star on his forehead.

Hooves clattered on the ramp behind her, and Bulma lead Red a few more paces away to give Priss and Chichi room to move. Precision Timing stepped out of the trailer with no fuss, and calmly glanced around at the bustle of St. Georges. As if to show how much the bustle didn't bother her, the warmblood mare shook her white-spotted brown coat and yawned.

Red was still shaky, so Bulma told Chichi to put Priss in the barn while she watched the trailer and walked Red around in small circles. Bulma didn't really think that any of the other competitors would steal anything from them, but there were dozens of people milling about, and she had no idea who was a competitor and who wasn't.

A gravelly roar caught her attention, and she spun to stare at the black trailer-truck that pulled in next to her. Anger flared in her as she recognized the truck, and then flared hotter when she saw the stable emblem on the side. With a snarl twisting her face, she stomped toward them. It was only the tug on the rope from Red that could have stopped her, and she turned back to the gelding, his needs greater than her anger.

"Hey, guess what?" Chichi said as she bounded back to Bulma's side. "I'm part of Briefs Stables!"

"What?" Bulma frowned at her friend, still comforting Red.

"They have little removable name tags on the doors," Chichi giggled, "with the stables listed underneath. Priss and Storm are both listed as horses from Briefs Stables."

"What?" Bulma groaned. "The boneheads must have screwed the registrations up when we sent them in. I'm sorry! We can get that cleared after we get the horses put away--"

Chichi waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it – I don't mind people thinking I'm with you! Besides, we have other, more important things to worry about – like putting a certain red-head in his stall."

Bulma laughed and grudgingly conceded the point. She could scream at the officials later; besides, she added to herself grimly as she glanced at the black eighteen-wheeler that was disgorging people and uniform black horses, she could use a warm-up, and Saiyan Stables deserved to be her first focus.

In the stables themselves, Bulma had to admit they were nice. The aisle between the stalls was clean and well-swept, and the barn had the fresh-scrubbed feel that said someone had at least applied soap and water to it. She stopped to look Priss over; the spotted mare was already urinating in her preferred back corner. Bulma glanced up at Red. "See that?" she inquired with false sweetness. "That's how you're supposed to travel – quiet getting in, and then so calm that you don't have any trouble making yourself at home."

"Are you translating for them, or just talking to yourself?"