Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Second Chances for Love ❯ Arrival ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4 Arrival

Far across a galaxy, the curved sphere hurtled, towards its destination. Slowly New Namek's star pinged onto Trunks navicomputer, and he could peer at it hopefully through the round portholes on the craft's side. Every few minutes he felt compelled to rush and see, or at least confirm that it was still there. Hours later, the star blew up to the size of a ten-zenni piece, then to a quarter-zenni coin. Its yellowish light soon transfigured when a reddish small companion star slid out from behind and joined its twin in Trunks vision.

“Two suns. I'm not surprised they picked this system… or the Dragon did,” Trunks muttered to himself, grunting as he caught sight of the new development in his latest sit-up. Shoulder length now, tendrils of hair obscured his vision and he swept them aside to tuck behind his ears with one hand. Something about the G sequence star joined by its small companion struck another chord in him. Both were necessary for light, but one would outlive the other. Fortunately, if one did expire, the other could absorb its stellar mass and continue to cast its light on the planets.

Narrowing angular sapphire eyes, he focused his thoughts on the system. On the deck below the computer pinged with digital displays indicating four planets in the system. Third out from the center was New Namek, and he felt the shifting of the craft indicating the computer was taking the coordinates and dropping the ship out of its main drive. Humming engines decreased their steady vibration of the deck, and Trunks pulled himself to stand. He easily walked in fifty earth G's towards the flight deck. While he could have cranked the intensity to a full 100, he figured if his wish were granted, then there would be time on the journey home for such matters.

Rather then sit in the pilot's chair, Trunks carefully remained standing and lightly brushed a button with one finger. Too great a pressure would crush the console under the weight of one hand. Hunched over the console slightly, his how broader shoulders struggled to not brace his other hand on the console. Rather he placed it on the wall next to it, feeling the wall give slightly with the force of his weight. Carefully he backed up, alerted to the fragile nature of his gravity-impressed world. He had tried such a trick before, and reached out his fingers inches from the buttons instead. Invisible sweeps of ki brushed out, nudging the right buttons enough so they were in no danger of destruction at the hands of their pilot.

Eyes tracked back and forth along the columns of ciphers bearing all the technical details. Not only had he improved his body, but also Trunks had continued to soak in vast amounts of knowledge through the computer databanks. Bulma's insistence on continuing his education reminded him remotely of how Gohan's mother had leaned heavily on Gohan for the same. Knowledge was power, especially when setting foot on an alien world.

Again, he nudged the comlink switch with his ki alone, opening his lips to utter words to anyone who would hear, “Calling Planet Namek… to anyone who will hear me… I need your permission to land… please acknowledge…”

Only static answered him. Trunks frowned, knitting lavender brows in confusion as to why he should even bother. Yet they might see him as an enemy, for contact had been lost for more then fifteen years. His fifteenth birthday had passed alone in space, and Bulma's taped transmission had been quite a nice surprise. Especially with the presence of a mysterious wrapped present that he came across in the cargo hold.

His white gloved hand extended as Trunks again opened the link. Along his blue-sleeved arm, he noticed how well the one-sized fits all armor worked. Gohan had carefully preserved the armor given to him by Vegeta on Namek years ago. From it, his mother had gained the precious formula for making a suit his father wore, but had not taken the time to make many more. Sliding his hand up the garment, he checked the segmented straps that held the breastplate in place. It was far less cumbersome then those that Gohan and Krillin had worn.

It only seemed fitting that he should now wear it. While his mother had fashioned armor for Vegeta, the scarcity of materials on the android torn world had made it nearly impossible to waste supplies making many others. All raw plastics and polymers had to go towards fixing buildings and proofing shelters. The only intact suit that was ready in time was this one. Static met his ears, and Trunks gritted his teeth to try again.

“Planet Namek, this is Trunks Briefs… please respond! I'm a friend! “

His heart pounded when words formed out of the white noise, “Unidentified spacecraft, we've tracked you for the better part of a day. What is your business on Namek?”

“Thank the gods,” Trunks breathed. “Please, I'm from Chikyuu! I request permission to land. My mission is urgent!”

“That is highly impossible. We lost touch with Chikyuu long ago…”

“There was a disaster on my world,” Trunks tensely explained. “Please, I'm Trunks Briefs, son of Bulma Briefs from Capsule Corporation! I do need to use the dragon balls but I've got a good reason for them…”

“Many seek to use the dragon balls, but few are worthy. What proof do you have of your origin?” asked the unnamed voice on the other end.

“Please… I must speak to Muuri,” Trunks continued. “My name is Trunks Briefs! My mother Bulma sent me! I need help… for Gohan… and my world! Please don't close the link…”

Silence met his next pleas. Bulma had not wanted to risk sending a message from earth, lest the Androids hear them. Heart pounding he wondered why the stranger on the end of the link had let it go dead. Perhaps he should just land anyway and take what he wanted. However, his gut feeling told him otherwise. Be patient.

“Did you say Gohan?” asked the voice hesitatingly.

“Please, I'm one of Gohan's closest friends! He has been killed on Earth… my whole world is on the verge of destruction! I need your help desperately! Please don't turn me away! I need to speak to Muuri or Dende!” Trunks implored, his eyes gleaming brightly at the green disk of the planet slowly increasing in size.

“You are permitted to land. But be warned, if you are to deceive us, the price could be high,” answered the Namekian. “I'm sending coordinates now.”

“Thank you,” Trunks whispered, wiping sweat from his face. As the unfamiliar namekian spoke the landing, coordinates Trunks entered them into the navigational unit. Within minutes, the retrorockets fired, shifting the ship so it veered towards a stable approach vector.

All around him the ship rattled. Trunks made his way to the control seat and carefully lowered himself in. He did not want to crush it with his increased weight, because the gravitron was steadily decreasing its pull. However, it could not suddenly cut out and risk damage to the integrity of the hull. An abrupt release of its influence would also be unnecessary stress on his body, and he wanted all his wits about him as he landed.