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Barracks	By : chayron Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 16996 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Barracks
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 66-Part 66
- 67-Part 67
- 68-Part 68
- 69-Part 69
- 70-Part 70
- 71-Part 71
- 72-Part 72
- 73-Part 73
- 74-Part 74
- 75-Part 75
- 76-Part 76
- 77-Part 77
- 78-Part 78
- 79-Part 79
- 80-Part 80
- 67
- 68
- 69
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
Barracks
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), betaread by werewolfflutist
Part 68
While various politicians and generals discussed, argued, and compromised, Goten spent his days peacefully on Issoyassin’s planet. He took his time training with Kakarott, learned a few more moves and techniques from him, heard more stories about his grandfather. It felt good to just relax after such a stressful period of time. The idyll lasted until Kakarott decided that it was time he left and checked whether any orders or requests had come his way. Goten could see that new places and challenges were calling out to him. His father had never been able to sit still in one place longer than for a week or two.
“You should return as well,” Kakarott told Goten when they were saying their goodbyes.
“Where to?” Goten grumbled unhappily while his father was patting his shoulder. “There’s nowhere I can return. My officer school has been destroyed, and I can’t really go to Starcut, can I?”
Kakarott’s eyes turned somewhat shifty. “Erm…” he muttered reluctantly. “I didn’t want to tell you but… One of them said that he would find you, while the other said that, if you wanted, you would find him.”
“What are you…?” Then Goten closed his mouth. Trunks Vegeta and Reyn.
“You probably know which said which.”
A little embarrassed, Goten nodded.
Kakarott scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Trunks Vegeta… I don’t really understand how you two have become so close, but…” he trailed off, thinking. “Hmm…”
Goten blushed lightly. “Is it bad? It’s not, is it? I mean, we aren’t enemies with the Vegetas. And…well, being a Legendary and all…”
Kakarott watched him with an unreadable expression on his face. “We aren’t enemies,” he solemnly agreed a moment later. “Not yet at least. In fact, having a good relationship with the youngster works in our favor. Yet, the relationship you want is… Do you even realize what you’re about to get into? We’ve lost Gohan already. There are only a handful of people who know who you really are. Others will do their damned best to weed you out of the Crown Prince’s path.”
Goten ruffled through his hair absently. “You know... If he finds me, then he finds me. I’m not going to run.”
Discontent, Kakarott shook his head. “How about Dueri? He’s a much better option for you. From what I’ve seen, he’s more sensible than you and Trunks Vegeta put together.”
Goten’s face reddened in embarrassment. That might be true, but it didn’t mean that he could change how he felt about the whole thing. He sighed regretfully. “I’ve been unfair to him. I’ll have to find him. At least so he could kick my ass to his heart’s content.”
“Fair enough.” Kakarott patted his son’s back again. “You have to return to your school.”
“I told you it’s been destroyed.”
“They will either rebuild it or send you to finish your education somewhere else. I’ve been informed that they are issuing drafting orders for your peers to return to it.”
ooOoOoOoo
The last memory of Hataro Officer School in Goten’s mind was marked with fire, chaos, and debris. Yet, he was still astonished to see to what extent the base had been damaged. Slowly, he moved through the gate. Even the gate was unserviceable – here and there, chunks of the fence with barbwire surrounding the School were missing and one could easily trespass. Both guard towers closest to the gate had been turned into molten piles of junk metal.
Goten could see several people moving about farther away from him, cleaning the mess and talking amongst themselves, but no one had noticed him yet or was paying him any attention. There was also a loud humming noise wafting from somewhere that covered most of the sounds, and Goten guessed that someone was using a sandblower.
It had been almost three weeks since the Ice-jins surrendered. Goten hadn’t been certain what he was supposed to do but it seemed that his father’s advice to take a look at what happened to the school had been the right one – the school hadn’t been abandoned. They were going to rebuild. The poking savars’ heads over the rubble while they worked made Goten decide at once – he was going to stay.
The broken asphalt and scattered debris under the third-class’s feet crunched while he looked around. Half of the canteen was missing, its insides filled with concrete rubble. He rounded what was left of the wall to see that the kitchen itself had survived. The area behind the canteen was one big hole, though: the warehouse, spaceship hangar, and first armory didn’t exist anymore; half of the aerospace center was missing as well. Everything had been burnt to cinders: even the sand around the first armory had melted.
All the barracks on his left side had miraculously been left intact, albeit with blackened walls and most windows shattered. Treading carefully, weaving about with his suitcase to keep his balance, Goten moved towards the third barracks. He wondered how his room was faring. It was Room 54, he remembered it well.
“Hey you!”
Goten turned around to see the lecturer in ki attacks walking towards him. Goten moved his fingers away from the door handle and saluted the elite.
“Sir!”
“Ah, it’s you,” the lecturer said, and Goten wondered whether the man had remembered him from the lectures or from national television. The elite’s eyes slid over the third-class’s face with interest. “I did have a feeling you’d return,” he muttered so softly that Goten had nearly missed it.
“Sir!” Trying to remember the man’s name, Goten kept dutifully saluting. Ardema, the man’s name was Ardema. They had barely interacted in the past, but he could remember the man not liking him much.
“At ease.”
Goten saw the elite checking out his clothes. “Err, sir… I lost my uniform,” the third-class explained.
“Oh, yes, the legends about you and your uniforms have reached me as well.”
Goten refused to be embarrassed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ardema said, motioning at their chaotic surroundings in general. “For now, no one will care what you’re wearing. What do you want in there?” he asked, pointing at the barracks’ door.
“I want to see my room, sir.”
The elite’s thumb pointed somewhere behind them. “Report to the headquarters first, so that they can add you to their list of residents. The officers’ barracks have been damaged, others are also missing windows, so it’s not clear which barracks or room you’ll get.”
Goten saluted again and set off to the headquarters. Appearing on national television did wonders. None of the elites on the base had ever bothered with him so much before.
The other side of the base had been luckier: the only buildings that had been damaged were Matilda and the officers’ barracks. When Goten walked past Matilda, his steps faltered. The back of the officers’ club wasn’t visible past the mountains of concrete and molten plastic rubbish, but it still made Goten remember Ario’s hunched back with Toharu on his lap, half of his head missing.
The third-class shook himself out of his morbid memories and walked to the headquarters. Most of the windows in this building were missing as well, and it was a miracle that it hadn’t caught fire from the adjacent officers’ barracks.
No one was inside, and Goten wandered the corridors, checking the rooms. The majority of them were unlocked, shards of glass and other debris covering the floor, desks, and chairs. The taisa’s and shyu’s offices were full of huge boxes that smelled of food. Out of curiosity, Goten went to the second floor but the door to the shaii’s office was locked. The third-class returned to the first floor and, in hopes of being noticed, continued to mill about in the main corridor.
About ten minutes later, the entrance door opened, and a man whom Goten knew to be the first-in-command in squad four barged through it. Over the top of the boxes that he was carrying, he saw Goten and immediately held them out for the third-class.
“What are you standing here for? Take them to the shyu’s office.”
Goten looked around for a passable place to store his suitcase that he was still lugging around. The first-in-command, though, was already cornering him with the boxes, and he ended up dropping the suitcase onto the floor.
“Who are you?” the officer asked as soon he pushed the boxes into Goten’s arms.
“Goten Bardock, squad seven, sir,” Goten informed him while picking his way towards the shyu’s office.
The first-in-command pulled out a notebook from his pocket and scribbled something down. Goten figured that this was as far as the records were going to get for now.
“You’re right on time,” the first-in-command said, grinning, and Goten had no doubt about that.
Once inside the shyu’s office, he lowered the boxes to the ground. A bundle of documents was pushed into Goten’s hands.
“Check what rooms in barracks can still be used. Windows, blinds, everything – we expect a sandstorm tomorrow, and if the magnetic shield is not up by that time, it’s going to get nasty. There’s also the matter of full moon in two weeks, and the windows won’t be replaced till much later.”
“Yes, sir,” Goten said, saluting. He lowered his eyes to the bunch of papers and ruffled through them. Six barracks, about two hundred rooms for lowly savars alone and then about two hundred more for officers, females, and elites. Oh joy. He was going to be checking the rooms till tomorrow morning. At least most of the officers’ barracks didn’t exist anymore.
“Get someone to help you.”
“Yes, sir,” Goten said without any enthusiasm. The tone of voice in which the first-in-command had advised him made it obvious that there was no chance in hell that he would manage to find help in his task.
ooOoOoOoo
Someone cheered loudly and, temporarily abandoning his duty of room inspection, Goten walked to the broken window to check what the commotion was about. Two uniformed men were doing some kind of a nonsensical dance around the ruins of the canteen. The third-class checked but it didn’t seem like there were any stripes on their shoulders.
“What’s the occasion?” Goten shouted to them, carefully leaning over the window.
The savars raised their heads to stare at the fourth barracks. Finally, in one of the shattered windows they noticed Goten and waved.
“We fixed the damn generator! The freezer is back on!”
Goten lowered the documents onto the nearby desk and gave the savars a thumbs up. At least now they were able to store food. He had a feeling that his next assignment was going to be to carry all those boxes of food from the shyu’s and taisa’s offices to the kitchen.
ooOoOoOoo
“How is it going with the shield?” Ardema asked while biting into a lump of dried meat.
“Sir, we have the needed amount of intact guard towers, but there are only four working generators and not enough batteries to upkeep the shield for a day.”
“Have you checked all the batteries?”
A savar, barely older than Goten, nodded. “There’s a chance that one more working generator is in the officers’ barracks, sir. But it’s been blocked by a falling ceiling and we can’t get to it.”
“Most likely, sir, it’s been squashed,” the savar sitting at his friend’s side concluded. He reached out for more bread and broke off a sizeable piece.
Goten, who was watching them from a corner a bit further away, was of the same opinion. Most of the equipment was useless now. The majority of it had been damaged during the Ice-jin attack, while the rest of it had succumbed to the desert sands and unyielding heat. The third-class wondered if it was sensible to restore the base. They could build a new one, a better one with high-end technology instead of wasting recourses for resurrecting the floundering base. Some of the damaged barracks would definitely have to be demolished, since they were unsafe to reside in, and the savars would have to clean debris anew. There was, however, the matter of pride and stance as well.
Goten found out that it was only yesterday that people had started to return to the base. He was the seventh to come back here, then two more savars arrived in the evening. Naturally, in their small group of nine, the elite was the one in charge. They had started with blasting the sand away from the most important equipment and vital locations. They got the freezer going, but the most important thing was the magnetic shield. They also needed to replace the ruined water tower, but it wasn’t clear how long they would need to wait for the new one to be delivered or when it would be filled with water.
There was no problem with food supplies, though. Goten was told that Ardema had been the first to be sent to the base, and the boxes with food and bottled water had arrived with him. The orders were to restore the base by using the means accessible to them. So far, the only means they had in their possession were five shovels, a few pliers, three screwdrivers, a sandblower, and their hands.
The eight faces were familiar to Goten, and the guys had obviously seen him as well. Most of the returned ones were first-years; Ardema and two second-years were an exception. All of them barely knew each other; there was, however, a very strong sense of camaraderie – all of them were survivors. They tried to help each other out and were polite. Goten knew that Ardema being quite an easy-going person for an elite added to that particular feeling as well.
Goten realized that now his days were going to be filled with labor and hopeful waiting. Savars who had survived the war were going to be sent back to finish their studies. Not everyone was going to return. Goten didn’t even allow himself to think about the possibility that he would need to bid permanent farewells to some of his friends. Ario was the one he worried about most.
“You any good at fixing things?” Ardema asked, turning to Goten, who was stuffing his face with a chunk of salami.
This was the second time Ardema had asked him this, and the third-class shook his head again. “No, sir. I’m only good at breaking them.”
“Same as me,” the elite said with a note of discontentment in his voice.
Goten finished his salami and raised his ki higher to illuminate the box with food on the floor; he was still hungry. They were sitting in darkness, saving the batteries and using only their ki to light the kitchen. For now, the rule of not summoning it was being overlooked. The third-class shifted closer to the box to inspect the goods in it. Mostly it was dried, smoked, and canned food that didn’t spoil easily. A few cabbages were inside too, but, after a long and tiring day, none of the savars had the energy to prepare anything.
There was a lot of sand in the kitchen, even though most of it had already been removed with the sandblower. The kitchens had survived but were adjacent to the mostly destroyed canteen, and the wind could easily pass through the holes in the destroyed walls. Goten wondered if the kitchens were going to be torn down as well and then rebuilt together with the canteen.
They had opened all the boxes and, after lowering the temperature considerably, stored the food inside the freezer. The vegetables mostly included potatoes and cabbages. There were five fridges in the kitchen but, in order to save the batteries, they used only the freezer. The freezer still stank, and Goten could only imagine how much effort it had taken for the guys to remove the spoiled meat and clean it with whatever means accessible. There were hundreds of things to do around the base, and, as soon as a task was finished, they set to work on something else.
After eating, they drifted off to their rooms to sleep. Goten returned to his former room in Barracks 3. The window had miraculously survived but the air inside felt old and dusty and he opened the window to let some fresh air inside. It wasn’t windy outside, and there was no danger of sand getting in.
Lighting his surroundings with his ki, Goten lifted the covers off his bed and shook the dust out. Then he lowered his suitcase onto the dusty floor and opened it. He had a bunch of varicolored uniforms that were unacceptable on the base, but it was better than running around naked. With the warehouse destroyed, gods only knew when the replacements would come in. Goten pushed the clothes aside and tapped his fingers on the cookbook guiltily. This matter still hadn’t been resolved yet, but he had a feeling that Kyon might already know it all.
Washing the floor or clothing was out of the question. They couldn’t even wash themselves since the running water hadn’t been restored yet. They couldn’t even wash the potatoes that they had. The bathrooms didn’t function, and Goten had been introduced to a new and smelly structure right outside the base.
ooOoOoOoo
As soon as he had woken up, Goten rushed to the headquarters to check the lists of newly transferred savars. He didn’t really believe that anyone had arrived during the night, but just had to make sure. The door to the headquarters was still locked, so he visited the makeshift toilet instead. When he returned to the door again, he found it unlocked and snuck inside. Sheets of paper hung on the wall in the corridor and he inspected them carefully. The lists had been made according to the alphabet and Goten’s eyes set on “K” at first. Krameran, Ario still wasn’t there. Goten took a look at other lists and, as he had expected, no one new had arrived yet.
The third-class went to the kitchens to have his breakfast. Others were already there and, from the look Ardema gave him, Goten realized that the elite deemed him to be late. Goten grabbed one of the bottles with water, washed his hands as best as he could while trying not to use a lot of water, and got down to eating.
“Today’s objective is to get one more battery for the shield,” Ardema informed them of the same again. “The ones we have would hold for a few hours but it’s not even worth using them in this case, since we’ll be drowning in sand anyway.”
“What if we use the generator from the kitchen, sir?” Goten suggested. “The freezer can probably stay for several hours as it is.”
“Well, we could,” Ardema agreed, “but if we run out of petrol before the delivery, our food will rot.”
As soon as they finished their breakfast, they went to the officers’ barracks to take a look at the situation. The problem was getting the battery from under all the rubble without causing the rest of the walls near the battery to collapse. Ardema took up the command, arranging the savars at his disposal at the hotspots.
“As soon as I start lifting, you hold that end as if your life depended on it,” he told the first-in-command.
“It actually will if I let go of my corner, sir,” Goten notified them helpfully.
“Then don’t you fucking let go of it,” Ardema told the third-class drily.
The rubble did start falling on them as soon as Ardema lifted the huge block. Other blocks holding the walls together shifted sideways, and the savars lifted their heads up, ready to jump away. The elite summoned more of his ki, intending to shield them, but Goten’s shield was already up, protecting them effectively, the blocks of cement with armature thumping flatly against it. They slid down to the ground without causing any damage.
Ardema cursed at life in general. He heaved and pushed the block sideways and out of Goten’s shield. “You just keep it up while we dig it out,” he told Goten.
It appeared that underneath them, the floor had held. Getting into the basement was another feat that was accomplished by Ardema melting a part of the floor with his ki. The stench that rose from the basement, once the opening appeared, made Goten gag. He turned away while the elite slid inside and, lighting his surroundings with ki, started searching for the battery. He found it about three minutes later and, widening the hole, hauled it to the surface. After the battery was further away from the rubble and safe on the ground, everyone moved aside and Goten dispersed the shield. Walls folded under the pressure and fell down, raising dust and sand into the air. Goten raised his ki again to protect himself.
The battery appeared to be unscathed, and the two second-classes that were seemingly good at fixing electronics and mechanisms victoriously carried it away to one of the still intact guard towers. Goten turned back to the debris. To clear this out by hand was going to take ages.
“Can’t we just take an excavator from the garage, sir?” Goten suggested. “I’m sure we’ve got one.”
“That we do, but it’s locked and so far, there was no luck in finding the key.”
The elite felt that he was about to start grinning at the look on the youth’s face. It was clearly asking why they hadn’t just made a hole in the wall and ridden out of there on the excavator. Any damage done to the buildings could be easily blamed on Ice-jins.
“We’ll do that as soon as we find anyone who knows how to steer and use the damn thing,” Ardema said, not managing to hold his laughter in.
Goten deflated. “Oh.” Yet, hope didn’t leave his face. “Then maybe there’s a tractor with a trailer, sir?”
“There was, but it flew into the air together with the half-full cistern of petrol during the attack. And now, if the interrogation is finally over, I’ll go and see what else is to be done.”
“Yes, sir,” Goten said, saluting smartly. He watched the elite go, then concentrated back on the debris. He powered up and started with the biggest chunks, lifting them and tossing them high above and over the fence, out of the base’s territory. When he got to the smaller debris, he had an idea of creating a shield again and just crushing the blocks with his ki to turn them into dust that could be easily disposed off. He never got around to that since it suddenly came to him that this way, he would also pulverize bodies of unfortunate savars that might have gotten trapped under the falling walls.
It was midday when Goten stopped working and powered down. Wiping sweat off his forehead, he walked into the shade of the building and sat down. He inspected his work and was content – he had removed the entire layer of the biggest chunks of cement around the barracks. Now he needed a shovel to dig out the rest.
Sighing, he leaned against the wall and relaxed. He was already hungry and hoped for lunch. From his resting place he wasn’t able to see the rest of the base, but voices and the sounds of digging reached his ears. There were several unfamiliar voices that he could hear, but right now, he didn’t feel like going and checking who it was.
The third-class kicked at something brown close to his feet. It looked like mummified feces. Upon a closer inspection, though, it appeared to be a carrot. Goten looked around, spotting more of them lying scattered on the cracked asphalt. These were the same carrots, now dried into barely recognizable shapes in the desert winds. Specks of Toharu’s brain were probably scattered somewhere around here as well. Grimacing, Goten closed his eyes. And life still went on. They were going to rebuild and move on. That was how it had to be.
From further afar, Ardema watched the youth quietly. He had come to check the progress and, if it was satisfactory, let Goten go to have his lunch. Goten was staring in front of him, at something only he was able to see. Ardema could presume what it was though, since the youth’s eyes were glistening wetly.
“Stop mucking around and go eat,” Ardema muttered finally, turning to go. Before that, he caught sight of the savar rubbing at his eyes and coughing, pretending that dust got him. The elite rolled his eyes.
Too lazy to circle the building and enter from the other side, Goten clambered over the rubble and debris to get into the kitchen. Someone whistled.
“Look who’s here! He survived!”
“Hey, man!”
Goten turned to look at two newly returned second-years, who were joyously waving at him. They were familiar; by this time everyone on the base looked familiar.
“Hataro’s virgin treasure!”
Some things never changed. Months passed and it was still the same. Goten raised both hands to show them two fingers. “Go screw each other.”
The savars laughed good-naturedly, then turned back to their food. One of them patted the free spot next to himself and waved at Goten again. Overtaken by the sudden feeling of nostalgia, the third-class nearly waved back. He wished nothing would have changed. He, however, chose to sit next to the first-in-command.
Lunch consisted of fish preserves, bread, and five onions, which had been helpfully peeled. Goten ate three huge cans while also biting into bread and onion. He had a feeling all of them were going to fart each other to death; it was a good thing they worked in fresh air and on different tasks.
“Maybe we can catch something fresh in the desert?” Goten suggested tentatively.
“A couple of lizards and a snake at best,” the first-in-command said.
“Sounds pretty good actually,” Goten told him jovially. “We could add some salt and fry them.”
“You need a license to hunt here,” Ardema informed them.
“The hell’s with that?” Goten grunted, frowning. “I mean, why, sir?” he corrected himself immediately.
“Something about endangered species,” the elite explained.
“Lizards aren’t endangered species, sir,” the first-in-command said, warming up to Goten’s idea. “Why d…?”
“Some of them are actually.”
“Huh? Really?” Goten drawled uncertainly. The same confused expression could be seen on the first-in-command’s face. “One lizard is as good as another.”
“Apparently not,” Ardema said sternly, putting a stop to any further discussion.
Bit by bit, the kitchens started emptying, the savars returning to their tasks. Goten rose as well and stretched himself with a loud yawn. Someone catcalled again. Before Goten could react, there was a loud thump and a yowl.
“If you’ve got time to fucking flirt, go and dig another shithole!” Ardema spat, lowering his fist off the unfortunate savar’s head. “Move it, move it, you asshole! Next to the first one!” he added, just in case the savar wasn’t too bright.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“That wasn’t necessary, sir,” Goten muttered when the second-class jogged off. “I can take care of myself.”
The elite glared at him. “Hah? You? Take care of yourself? Are you deaf or stupid? They’re constantly making fun of you! Now, stop clowning around and go back to digging!”
Goten, who hadn’t been certain whether he should feel embarrassed or upset with the protective elite, brightened at the harsh tone - that was more like it. He saluted and rushed off back to the officers’ barracks. Once there, he cursed himself for forgetting to ask for a shovel and set off to search for it. There were only five shovels and all of them were in use, but Goten quickly got a hold of one, the former owner only too happy to part with it. When he returned to the officers’ barracks, however, he found Ardema and two readied shovels waiting for him. Without saying a word, Goten turned around and went to return his.
ooOoOoOoo
It was five in the evening, and Goten with Ardema were nearly done cleaning up the rubble, only a small square space left when a drill sergeant appeared in front of them. The third-class had never spoken to him since he used to run the first, second, and third squads. Goten saluted him while the sergeant inspected their work.
“Hurry up, we gotta clean the launch pod, too.”
A little surprised, the third-class stared at him then realized that the man couldn’t see Ardema well since the elite was partly covered by a splintered wall. Ardema was shoveling sand and rubble into the wheelbarrow that Goten had to fight for with two other savars to win it.
“You,” the sergeant motioned at Ardema, “go to the group cleaning the launch pod. One of you is enough here.”
The elite, who previously hadn’t been paying attention to the sergeant, straightened. “Yeah, there’s one too many here, sergeant. And that would be you.” He turned to Goten. “Give him your shovel.”
For a few seconds, the third-class hesitated but held it out. Just as uncertainly, the drill sergeant took it. Ardema motioned for him to go away, and the man walked off. Wondering what he was supposed to do now, Goten scratched his head.
“Empty the wheelbarrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wheeling the cart to the nearest hole in the fence, which happened to be next to the second armory, Goten saw two new faces. The savars were standing in front of the garage door, discussing something, waving their hands about. By the time Goten had emptied the wheelbarrow and started pushing it back, the two guys were still arguing. Interested, the third-class headed towards them; he had a guess as to what they were trying to do.
“Hello, what do you want with the garage?”
The two second-classes turned to look at Goten. “Oh, look who’s here,” one of them said. “Go…ran?”
“It’s ‘Goten’,” the third-class corrected him.
“Right. We need to get inside and get the excavator.”
“You know how to use it?”
The savars looked at each other. “Well… More or less,” the other second-class said. “I have worked with a few, so shouldn’t take me long to figure this one out.”
“I think you should enter through the side,” Goten advised them. “They usually reinforce the door.”
“Told you so!”
“Well, alright, but how do we get in? We can’t just blast a hole – the excavator might be right behind the wall. We can also accidentally damage some other precious equipment. Do you want them to bill those out from our paychecks?”
“Well, what else do you suggest?”
“Why don’t we ask an elite to rip the door off?”
Goten looked at the sturdy doors. That would work. Not only the door but half of the wall and roof as well, Ardema would just tear half of the garage down.
“Why don’t you go and ask Ardema now?” Goten suggested. “He’s near the officers’ barracks, close to the fence.”
The savars marched off. Goten looked at the size of the doors, trying to imagine how big the excavator was, then powered up and cut one door down with a beam of his ki. He tugged at the handles and moved aside, the door falling onto the sand and asphalt with a horrendous metallic clang. The third-class powered down. He turned around to see the two savars staring in his direction.
“Hey, the door just fell down!” he shouted waving joyously. “Lucky!”
Goten’s smile faltered, though, when he saw Ardema appear from behind the headquarters. The elite motioned for him to come then pointed at the lonely wheelbarrow, which Goten had abandoned near the fence. He watched Goten jog over to it and start pushing earnestly. Ardema could not help cuffing the third-class over his head.
“I understand now,” he muttered, “why you used to spend so much time in his office.”
“You do, sir?” Goten wondered innocently. “In whose office?”
Ardema cuffed the third-class over his head again.
When Goten and Ardema finished with the officers’ barracks, they went to help out at the launch pod. The sergeant and three other savars were clearing debris off the pod. The wheelbarrow was filled in a blink, then Goten wheeled it away. He returned and it was filled again.
While wheeling the cart away for about the tenth time, he heard the excavator start. Was it actually wise to use their last supplies of fuel on the machine? Of course not, but Goten was certain that no one would ever listen to him – everyone was sick of digging, and he was also sick of pushing the cart around.
Soon the excavator appeared from behind the corner. The savar was driving it carefully, leaving plenty of space for the machine when turning. Slowly, he advanced to the rubble. However, he lowered the bucket so fast that everyone’s teeth jarred when it hit the debris. His eyes widened with alarm, and the savar made sure to lift it carefully from then on.
“Is it really a good idea, sir?” Goten wondered.
“Absolutely not,” the elite spat. “But it will be good practice for everyone. These shitheads need to take responsibility at some point! Look at me digging the fucking ground like some third-class ingrate!”
“Totally useless, aren’t they, sir?” Goten grunted through clenched teeth.
“Who?”
“Third-classes, sir.”
Ardema glared at him. “Huh? Who the hell do you think built this damn base or grew the food you stuff your face with?”
“Errmm… The base was built by Nectarines, sir.”
“Huh, really?”
“Yes, sir,” Goten confirmed. “Most schools have been built by them.”
Everyone watched the excavator scoop up some debris. A little lost, the savar looked around, then drove to the fence, lifted the bucket, and poured everything behind it. Goten wondered if anyone here realized that, at some point, they would have to clean up the mess behind the fence as well.
“Shit. Stop!”
Goten turned to the savar who had shouted for the excavator to stop. After a few more bucketfuls, the rubble had considerably lessened, and now the savar was looking at something under the debris. Everyone came closer to inspect. It appeared to be a dried-up hand protruding from under the debris. After some digging around, they discovered the rest of the mummified body.
“Anyone recognize him?”
Goten peered at the scrunched and parched face. Maybe he did, but it was difficult to tell who it was now. A few more shrugs later, they moved the shriveled body to the med-bay and returned to work.
Late in the evening, just as promised by the weathercast, winds picked up and soon a sandstorm started. In the safety of the shield, the savars slept peacefully.
ooOoOoOoo
A flock of starlings was feeding on the lawn in the garden. Trunks Vegeta watched them hopping about on their tiny feet. Little ones were following bigger ones, pecking at something in the freshly mown grass. The prince watched them for a few more minutes then decided to go for a swim in the pool.
It was his first time in Europe. The villa was located on the outskirts of Aix, in the south of France. Bulma had decided that he needed a break. Trunks had resisted the idea at first, then had to agree that she was right – he felt burnt out. The events in court had exhausted him, not to mention his family being torn apart. He had talked to both his father and grandfather concerning Goten and Kakarott. Now he needed time to digest everything.
This villa was, apparently, where his parents had spent their honeymoon. That was a long time ago, but he would still sometimes feel awkward when his relentless imagination would supply him with ideas of where and on which furniture his parents might have had that honey.
The two-storey villa wasn’t big, but it had a gravity room in the cellar and a heated pool. The yard was enormous, stretching in every direction. Fruit trees and arbors dotted the land. Everything was looked after – there was a housemaid and a gardener. Both of them spoke fluent English, and Trunks liked having meals with them.
When he would go down to town, walk sidewalks and parks, visit shops and restaurants, he would often think about how it would have been if his father hadn’t found his mother attractive and hadn’t convinced everyone that the Terrans were better as allies than slaves. Trunks imagined he would be walking amongst ruins now. Actually, he wouldn’t even exist. It was strange how accidentally it had all happened.
The water in the pool was warm and pleasant. Trunks swam ten laps, then turned on his back. Floating, he stared at the overcast sky. His thoughts carried him to a different pool, the one in the Royal Palace, on Vegeta-sei. A couple more seconds and they would have been kissing. He closed his eyes, and Goten’s image appeared in front of him. His uncertain but flirty gaze, his moving lips forming some insensible joke, his skin reflecting the rippling water, covered in droplets.
Reyn had impeccable timing.
Trunks exhaled, his body submerging deeper. Better not allow that trail of thought to continue, or he would risk flashing the housemaid with his hard-on; lunch was in ten minutes.
Goten was terrible at swimming. It was no wonder, but, for some reason, Trunks found it endearing. Those eyes filled with mistrust and apprehension, stupidly open mouth just before he had attempted to swim made Trunks smile painfully at the memory.
Someone was calling for him. Trunks opened his eyes.
“There’s a call for you, Sir.”
“Oh, thank you,” the prince said to the housemaid. He started swimming towards the edge of the pool. He raised himself out of the water, took the towel that the housemaid had helpfully held out, and went into the house.
It was an intergalactic call, from Vegeta-sei. His father’s head appeared on the screen as soon as he accepted the call.
“How is your vacation going?” his father asked somewhat uneasily.
Trunks shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess. How is grandfather?”
His father’s face on the screen sank a little. “Bad. It’s to be expected.”
Trunks exhaled slowly. “I suppose.”
“Trunks, you’re not a monstrosity; he’s a senile fool.”
Trunks’ lips twitched. “He’s right to some extent, though.”
“I will tell your mother you said that.”
“Ugh,” Trunks said, frowning. “Spare me.”
“Then don’t talk nonsense. I’m calling concerning the coronation.”
“Yes, I’m leaving for it tomorrow.”
“Make sure you have time to memorize the speech.”
“I’ve already learned it.”
“Oh? You know, he might be there, at the coronation.”
“Who?” Trunks asked even though there was only one person his father meant.
“Your awkward, shifty-eyed third-class.”
Trunks opened his mouth, then closed it. First, the line was secure. Second, there was no point in lying to his father.
“He’s not a third-class, though, is he?” Trunks asked.
“Not anymore. Last time I checked he was a second-class. It is curious how paperwork gets messed up. You never know, next time you meet, he might already be an elite.”
Trunks suddenly felt tired again. Even more tired than he had felt right after when the Ice-jins’ Empire had surrendered. “I think he would have some serious objections concerning that. But thanks for the thought.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, pretty sure.”
“Alright. Oh, I nearly forgot. Ealdira kept pestering me to send you a couple of videos.”
Nodding, Trunks accepted the transfer. “What are these?”
His father chuckled. “I think Ealdira is playing…what’s it called? Cupidon? The mythical, Terran creature that shoots arrows at people to make them desire each other?”
“I think you mean ‘Cupid’. Now you’ve made me curious.”
The elder Vegeta chuckled again. “I bet.”
Trunks hung up a minute later. Yet, he couldn’t help grinning at the now blank screen. It was incredible how much closer the recent events had brought him and his father.
TBC
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- 69
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