Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Silver Terror ❯ Preparation ( Chapter 2 )

Interlude: Fragments of Images

Nothing he had ever experienced could have prepared Trunks for what happened to him during his trip to the past. It was like his life was shattering like a mirror before his eyes, and the splinters were tearing his mind apart. Flashes of images, fragments of memories: they were dazzling around him and taking him on an emotional rollercoaster.

How had Future Trunks ever been able to go through this three times? The sheer pain and confusion he was feeling right now was enough to drive him insane, he seemed to be holding onto his sanity by only his fingernails, shuddering and crying in a puddle of blood, snot and tears.

No mind, human or Saiya-jin, was designed for time travel, especially not after a traumatic experience as Trunks had been through. He was struggling against it, trying to break free and to hide behind his mental barriers again, but the flashes and the memories kept coming, ravaging and leaving open wounds.

~The crater that had been Capsule Corp~

~Marron, gently wiping blood from his face, her other hand feeding him a sensu bean. Her soft blond hair is shining like a halo in the sunlight. She looks like an angel. "There are no dragonballs anymore." There is naked pain in her eyes, an ill expression on her face. She is so desperately trying to be strong. "And… it's just you and me now. Goten is dead. We… we're the only ones left."~

He whimpered.

~Bulma, scolding him for the muddy mess that used to be his clothes before his most recent sparring session with Goten. He turns away from her, hiding his laughter, because this is a weekly ritual, and he knows she's not that serious anyway~

~His father's voice coming from afar, smirking at him to get up and show his worth of his Saiya-jin heritage, while he is dizzily glazing at the floor tiles of the Gravity Room~

~His first kiss. She has long blond hair and has the sweetest smile. She is in his class, and Trunks feels warm with the feelings of the crush he has on her. She tastes even sweeter than she looks~

~He opens his window and takes off, his ki level low, so his parents will not notice he is not studying. He has exams tomorrow, but it's a beautiful night. Maybe Goten feels like sparring or hanging out? It's not as if Goten would be studying on a night like this~

"…Let me go. Let me sleep. I don't want to see this!"

~Marron's last kiss goodbye~

~That horrifying, gut wrenching feeling when they break out of their fusion and Trunks feels his oneness with Goten slip away - forever~

~The explosion at the horizon that killed his father and Goku~

~They are too late~

~"No... this can't be happening? Mom? Bra? Father?!!"

~"Goten is dead."~

~"Don't worry Marron… I'll make everything right again…"

~"We… we're the only ones left."~

~"I love you…"

"Kami, no," he cried. "Let me alone, I can't take this anymore!"

~Failure~

~Pain~

~Death~

~Loss~

~Just… let go. Let it all go… Mercy… Peace? Yes… let go…~

Trunks barely even noticed he was laughing insanely as he gave into his feelings and felt his mind blessedly blank out.

Arrival

It was a beautiful day in early spring: one of those first days of true sunshine, when it's really a little too cold to spend outside in just a t-shirt, but everyone's too grateful for sunshine to really care. Bulma was one of those people who couldn't care less. It was Sunday and she craved the feel of sunlight on her skin. She had set up her chairs in the garden, in a place out of the wind and in the sunlight, placing a blanket with Bra's toys at her feet. Her daughter was lying on her belly, happily humming a tune as she produced one drawing after another. Her fingers and clothes were steadily staining with the colors of the crayons and pens she was using, but Bra was quietly enjoying herself and Bulma was too happy to see her daughter play for once to complain about that. She loved her daughter to death, but sometimes she was just too hyper for her own, and her mother's, good. Bra was an intelligent child that, unfortunately, had a rather short attention span. She really had to be kept busy; otherwise she'd annoy the hell out of you.

Bulma looked up from her magazine and smiled at her daughter. That's what you get from sleeping with Vegeta. You knew that she'd get a temper. It's only logical that she'd be fiery, with a parentage like hers. "What are you drawing, sweetie?"

"Oh, it's a story," Bra told her, getting up and gathering her drawings to show her mother.

"What is it about?"

"It's about the dragonballs!" Bra announced proudly, waving with a particular drawing that featured seven orange balls. "Look, I even drew the stars on them!"

Bulma inspected the drawing and laughed in approval. "Good work. So what else is your story about?"

As Bra was telling her story of the drawings, Bulma wondered where her son was hanging out. Probably in the city, whistling at pretty girls with Goten. He was really `at that age' when girls suddenly became interesting, and he was surely acting on it. They both were, actually. Last week he had come to her proudly and told her he had kissed a girl in his class. Yes, her children were really growing up. It made her feel old sometimes. She ran a hand through her aqua hair and listened almost subconsciously for the constant buzz of the gravity room. It was a sort of instinct, something she did when Vegeta got up early and went to train. The Gravity Room was situated right next to their balcony, so she often just lay listening to its humming on early mornings while waking up. It was one of those little habits that made life comfortable, she supposed.

Bra was just in the middle of explaining her rather intricate story about evil ugly dragons and her father defeating them, when a lot of things happened at the same time.

A nauseating feeling bubbled up in her stomach…

A flash of light blinded her eyes…

Vegeta came bursting out of his Gravity Room…

And before her, a time machine just stood on the neatly kept grass as if it belonged there. It had simply winked into existence before her eyes. Bulma blinked for a moment, picking up her daughter on her arm as Bra began to wail in shock. "This is weird," she said wonderingly.

"We've seen this before," Vegeta said, crossing his arms. "The ki inside the time machine is very low, but it has extreme potential."

Bulma began to inspect the Time Machine, absently consoling her sobbing daughter. "It's alright, honey. Nothing bad happened." She looked at Vegeta and said slowly: "It looks like the time machine that Future Trunks used, yet a little more sophisticated. The design is a little different… I think we can trust it." Also, she added silently, because this very design is on my desk in my lab right now. I dug up those old notes I made of Future Trunks' instructions mere weeks ago. And here the completed time machine stands. How is this possible? Her mind was racing through all possible solutions, every one of them wilder and more exotic than the last.

"Hey! Come out and show yourself!" Vegeta called in a demanding tone of voice. "We haven't got all day! I have better things to do with my time!"

"Don't be an ass, Vegeta." Bulma circled the Time Machine, suddenly noticing something she had not seen before. Stains. Red stains. "I think… he cannot get out. He's bleeding. I think that whoever is in there, is dying."

It took only one look of understanding before they opened the Machine. Bulma took care of the opening mechanism while Vegeta was on guard for whatever would come out. It turned out that his guard was necessary enough, but not for the offensive.

The person in that time machine, covered in blood and bruises and obviously badly hurt, was Trunks. "No!" Bulma choked, as Vegeta pulled him out of the Time Machine.

Even Vegeta looked stricken. "I don't know what hit him, but it messed him up pretty bad," she heard him mutter under his breath.

For one moment, Bulma couldn't do anything but stare at her son. His lavender hair was matted with blood, his face covered in bruises and blistered. And from what she could see under his clothes, it wasn't much better there either. His clothes were ragged, charred and full of holes, as if he'd been subject to multiple ki attacks. He'd probably be burned all over, as well.

It wasn't until Vegeta snarled: "What are you waiting for, woman, get him some sensu beans!" that Bulma finally noticed her wailing daughter and the world again. She put Bra on the ground and raced into the house. Thank Kami they had two sensu beans left in her lab. She had asked a few from Korin since Vegeta had so badly injured himself a few months ago during training.

When she returned only minutes later, Vegeta was kneeling over his son and trying to get a response out of him. "He's out cold," he reported. "He might have some internal bleeding, and at least four of his ribs on the right side are broken. I'm sure about two more on his left side."

"How did you suddenly get to be a medical expert?" asked Bulma, while kneeling in the grass.

Vegeta gave her a dark glare. "I was a soldier, remember. Of course I can assess physical damage."

"Trunks?" Bra asked with a tiny voice, touching his face. "Trunks are you alright?" She looked up at her mother, who kneeled and gave her brother a badly needed sensu bean. "This isn't our Trunks, is he?" she asked. "He is older." The blue-haired girl watched her brother carefully as the bean thankfully did its work. "Trunks?" she asked again.

Trunks' body shuddered with light spasms and rolled over to the side. He began to cough, clots of blood appeared in the grass. Bra yelped and hopped backwards to give him space. She shot a panicked look at her mother, new tears welling into her eyes. "Trunks? Are you OK? Truuu-nks!"

"Trunks, sweetie, you can open your eyes," Bulma added to her daughter's plea. "You're okay, we healed you."

Trunks eyes opened so suddenly that she jerked back a little. Later she wouldn't be able to recall if it had been the unexpectedness of his action, or the pure pain in his blue eyes. "Mom?" he croaked, his face displaying so much emotion that her heart was breaking. His lips trembled. He whispered, his voice full of disbelief: "You're alive?"

"Of course I am, sweetie," Bulma said tenderly, stroking the hair of the blood-covered young boy in tattered clothes that she could only call her son. She was not really prepared for his arms locking around her shoulders as he fell against her, weeping heartbrokenly for all he was worth, but she tried to console him as much as possible, sharing a shocked look with Vegeta. What happened to him? She mouthed.

Vegeta shook his head and did not tear his gaze from his son, obviously very uncomfortable. He kept his silence respectfully, watching Bulma hug her crying son as tightly as possible.

Bulma kissed Trunks' lavender-colored hair, tasting the dried blood in it. She did not care. He must have seen the most awful things. So she kept him, soothed him, and loved him. She did not really want to think about what would happen from now on. This obviously meant bad news, but for now… right now she would give Trunks all the love and solace he needed, although she felt as if it would never be enough.

Her words sounded empty and meaningless even to her own ears. "Trunks, I'm here for you, sweetie, don't cry, its OK, it's alright, we're all here… You're safe here…"

"No," his voice came, muffled against her shoulder. "We'll never be safe again…"

Explanation

"She likes you, I saw her looking at you!" Goten teased lightly, looping widely around his friend. He liked looping, especially when it annoyed Trunks, who was flying straight ahead with a look of irritation and embarrassment on his face. "Are you blushing?" he laughed, which only caused his friend to turn a deeper shade of crimson.

"No I'm not," Trunks grunted.

"Yes you are!"

"I'm not! And we're home anyway."

Goten glanced down and descended to Capsule Corp. Today had been a good day! They had been in the park all day, hanging around and looking at pretty girls. The weather had been very pretty, so the park was very crowded. And more people… meant more girls! They had eaten ice cream till their bellies had practically burst, the sun had been warm, and some girls were very sneakily trying to glance at them, cautiously flirting. Yup, this day had been great so far! Best part was that he got to stay at Capsule Corp tonight to eat, and Bulma had promised to order spare ribs for them. Goten simply adored spare ribs. He'd have to be home at bedtime, since they had to go to school tomorrow, but bedtime was still hours away, and they'd have plenty of time to enjoy themselves.

"Goten?"

Goten landed on the front yard and looked at his friend. "What's up?"

"Don't you feel that?" Trunks gestured to his house.

"What?" He was already replying when he felt it, too. "It feels like there are two of you. As if there's another Trunks in the house. That's weird."

Trunks frowned. "That's impossible!"

"Let's go in and check it out!" He tried to feel around for a bit, and noticed not only the whole Briefs family in the building, but his father as well. "My father's here too, it'll be ok."

"I guess…"

They entered the building reluctantly, to find everyone in the living room. Including Trunks' mirror image, only a little older. The sight was indeed a strange one to behold, and Goten was confused for a bit. What was going on here?

"Who are you?" Trunks accused the other lavender-haired young man in the room. He was sitting on the counch, Bra on his lap, flanked by Bulma and Goku. Vegeta was standing nearby, his arms crossed in his usual way, frowning.

Two pairs of blue eyes locked, but the Trunks on the couch quickly tore his gaze away and studied the carpet. "I'm… you. From three years in the future."

For what must have been the first time in his life, Goten saw his friend totally abashed and searching for words. "What? You're … me? You're Future Trunks?"

The older Trunks looked up for a bit and smiled weakly. "Well, not the one from the Androids timeline." Goten noticed how terrible he looked. The boy from the future was sickly pale and looked as if he had just survived a holocaust. His eyes, shadowed by dark rings, were glittering as if he had a high fever, too-bright with unshed tears, hollow as if he had experienced things Goten couldn't even imagine. And Goten had seen a lot during the fight with Majin Buu. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"Sit down," Bulma gestured at them. "I think this is a story for us all to hear." She observed the boy from the future with an odd soft look on her face. "Do you feel up to it to tell us your story?"

"I suppose so." Future Trunks absently stroked Bra's hair and kept studying the carpet. He was very pointedly avoiding anyone's eyes. Goten wondered why he looked so pained, but then figured he probably wouldn't be here for fun. Something bad must have happened where he came from. Just like the other Future Trunks they had told him about. It wasn't the same one, though, he said as much. So he came from their future? Their own timeline, a few years ahead of them? Goten shook his head, he hated paradoxes. No one should mess with time traveling, he decided. It would save a lot of headaches. He tried to listen intently to Trunks, as the boy opened his mouth to speak.

"I… I come from the future. Not just to warn you, but… I fled."

Goten saw Vegeta's eyes flash, but the Saiya-jin prince kept his silence after a hard stare from Goku.

"I fled because… there was nothing left for me. You see, in the future… everyone's dead."

"Everyone?" Bulma and young Trunks echoed at the same time.

Future Trunks did not look up. Goten saw his eyes fill with tears. Wow, he had never seen Trunks cry. He always said crying was for fools and weaklings, and he always acted tough even when things got really bad. Since this Trunks came from their future… and they were basically the same, Goten began to understand the scale of the disaster Trunks must have seen. "Me too?"

"You were one of the last to die, Goten. The Fusion broke apart because you died and I was close to dying. Marron saved me with a sensu… but she…" His voice sounded really strained now. A lonely tear slid over his cheek. "She died too," he whispered. "I could not save her. She should have been the one to go back, not me…"

Bulma hugged him and shared a look of understanding with Goku, who nodded solemnly. "I think that's about enough for today, young man," she said. "I'll get you some sleeping drugs and you are going to sleep. You're spent with exhaustion and grief. We'll hear your story later."

"No," he protested weakly, trying to pry himself out of her embrace. "I have to finish this, otherwise I'll never be able to tell you."

"When did this happen?" Vegeta asked.

"It's been five days."

No wonder he's crying, Goten thought. It's so recent… He tried to imagine seeing his parents and brother and Trunks dying with no dragonballs to revive them, but his imagination was sorely lacking. Somehow the dragonballs had always been an option, a way of survival. Without the dragonballs… it would all be over. He tried to imagine his family and friends dying horrible deaths and no way to ever see them again and found his throat painfully tightening. He could imagine vividly why Future Trunks was so upset. He wondered what his friend would think of all this; Trunks looked as if he saw hell freezing over. His face was a mixture of awe, shock and some other emotions Goten couldn't name.

Future Trunks was talking again. "…they came out of nowhere. Before I knew it, Capsule Corp was nothing but charred ground, Gohan was dead, Piccolo gone, and Goten and I fused to try and put up a fight. It was useless. We didn't even come near laying a scratch on them."

"Could you tell me a little more about those silver guys?" Goku asked carefully. He looked up at Vegeta. "You never heard from them before either."

Vegeta shook his head and scowled. "Wouldn't I have said so if I had? I'm as surprised as you all are. I've never heard from guys dressed in silver. They sound like pansies but since they kicked all of our asses, I suppose they're not. Is it some kind of armor or are they naturally born that way?"

Trunks looked up briefly. "I'm rather sure it's armor. It's a shield against anything: kiblasts, hits, punches, everything. Nothing can touch them… It's as if it makes them immortal. Unable to wound. It even shields them mentally. I wasn't able to sense anything from them: exhaustion, frustration, nothing…" He met his father's gaze, blue eyes briefly gleaming with challenge. "You try fighting something like that."

Vegeta met his son's eyes calmly. "I believe you."

"Do you think they're cyborgs, or do you think their armor is artificial?" Bulma squeezed her son's shoulder reassuringly. She kept her voice low and soothing, Goten noticed. She was trying to put Future Trunks at ease.

"I am not sure, but I think it's artificial. They wore it like armor. It was something in their stance, their way of moving. And they all looked exactly the same. I do not think a race can create all of its beings as alike as they were. They were with five of them, and all mirror images of each other. They all… they were all alike." He spoke no more, obviously at loss for words. Bra touched his cheek and snuggled against him, showing her affection in her own way. Future Trunks looked oddly grateful, but the silence stretched.

Vegeta's voice startled everyone. "How strong are you?"

"What does it matter?" Trunks' eyes could have bored a hole in anything they looked at. "It wasn't enough. It's never enough. It was only enough to make me turn tail and flee."

"Tell me, brat."

"Super Saiya-jin 3. I achieved it after... after Marron died."

Goten heard his friend's gasp and saw him look at his future counterpart in awe. They exchanged a look of surprise, but stayed quiet. These matters were for adults; they were not supposed to have an opinion in such affairs. Oh certainly, if there would be a fight, they'd be included, but Bulma had often told them to leave the thinking to the adults until they came of age. Goten thought it was unfair; Trunks was already fifteen, and he was fourteen, they could think just as well as any adult! Yet he respected Bulma too much to voice his opinion anyway. Besides, Vegeta would probably beat him up over it.

"Congratulations, brat," Vegeta told him. "Since strength didn't help you; how come you survived?"

"They left me for death twice," Trunks said. The corner of his mouth twitched, a bitter look forming on his face. "I guess I was just lucky, or unlucky. The battles seemed to last forever, though. The last battle especially. I was so enraged that I could have gone on for ages. I wanted to avenge… you all. It was fatigue that wore me down at the end. And resolve, I suppose. I… it all seemed so useless in the end."

"I'm sure you fought bravely," Goku said, laying his hand compassionately on the demi-Saiya-jin's shoulder. "You did well, Trunks."

"I cannot imagine you came so far on their mercy. Tell me, brat, was there anything else? Tell me the whole story!"

And so Trunks told them everything from the beginning. How he and Marron arrived too late and they had seen the destruction of Trunks' family, Goku and Capsule Corp. How the other Z-fighters had been killed one after another. How they had sent Marron for Dragonballs and sensu, Gohan, Goten and Trunks the last ones alive. Gohan had died to cover Marron's escape, bravely giving his life for her mission.

Sounds like something my brother would have done, Goten thought, his stomach clenching with emotions he could hardly name. He felt depressed beyond belief as he kept listening. He felt tension radiate from everyone else in the room. Tension, compassion, and downright pain. They all shared Trunks' grief. Little Bra was sobbing softly. She had always understood too much for her age. Poor Bra. If only she were younger or less smart. Ignorance is bliss… Yet there was no way to protect her from this story. It would be upon them soon enough, Goten supposed. He felt nauseated.

Trunks voice was rapidly losing all emotion as he told the story, his eyes going blank as if he was shutting his mind off, telling about someone else's experiences.

He told them about Goten and Trunks forming a last-ditch effort in fusing into Gotenks, and how their collective ass had been kicked. "When the Terror saw the fusion unravel, he left us. He must have thought we were both dead. Actually, as the fusion tore out of each other and we fell, I thought the same. Goten was dead and I knew myself to be dying. I blacked out, only to awaken by sensu, and Marron telling me we were the last ones left."

It was strange to hear about your own demise, Goten thought. Strange and oddly painful. It gave him a sense of dread and foreboding doom. Future Trunks had fled into the past, but wouldn't the silver guys come here, too? In three years? And if they were so strong, wouldn't they die all over again? The nausea only deepened.

Future Trunks continue to describe how they survived the following days by keeping a low profile, and how they had discovered the Time Machine… and in turn had been discovered by a Silver Terror. He told how he had tried to convince Marron to use the Time Machine, "But she would not listen. I was fighting desperately, trying to get the Terror away from me, but then I… sensed it being distracted and curious. I was too shocked by the fact that I felt him to react. And he… it was only one blast. She died instantly. Probably hardly knew what hit her. I…"

"Tell me more about that!" Vegeta's demand came so suddenly that everyone jerked up from their instinctive cringing state of being. They had all been so moved by Trunks' story that Vegeta's voice came like a cold shower. The Saiya-jin Prince seemed to be unimpressed, listening with only cool, professional detachment.

Future Trunks was at a loss for words for a moment, obviously jerked back to reality. "What do you mean?" he asked at last.

"You sensed its distraction. How come? Did you feel it before? Why only now? Tell me more about that."

Goten saw his father also shift his position to listen more attentively. Why was this so important? Why would his father and Vegeta made such a point about feeling their opponent? He never … wait, that was not true. He always worked with the emotions and awarenesses he felt from his opponent during a fight. This explained why neither he nor Trunks usually managed to land a punch or a kick while they were sparring. Goten thought it was because they knew each other so well. They had been friends forever, sparring was as natural as jesting or talking. It was something they had done countless times before. Yet, if one of them came up with a new technique or a new way to attack, the other always anticipated. Was this that mental thing Vegeta and Future Trunks were talking about? And didn't they speak about a mental shield? Funny, he never regarded fighting that way before, it had always been instinctive. That's what you get when you leave the thinking to the adults, he thought ironically, yet tried to listen attentively to the conversation as well.

Future Trunks looked off in the distance for a moment, trying to recall and gather his courage to tell. "Even though I was reaching into a dead end all the time during my fighting, I suppose unconsciously I kept trying to touch the mind of my opponent. It's something I've always done, part of the way I fight." He looked up at the past version of his father, who nodded slightly, and continued. "I don't know where it came from. My surprise was what destroyed everything, basically. Suddenly, I *felt* what the Silver Terror was thinking, its emotions and reactions. I am still not sure if it let me, or rather if I had a breakthrough at some point. I had fought with rage and desperation, maybe I managed… that would be…so ironic…" He quickly wiped a hand over his eyes and obviously tried to steel his voice and composure. He failed. "If the break in the mental shield meant Marron's death, I'll kill myself!"

"I'm sure it was not like that, Trunks," Bulma said soothingly. "Vegeta just wants to look at all the possibilities." She looked up sharply at her mate. "Don't you, Vegeta?"

The Saiya-jin Prince snorted. "Of course. I don't really look forward to the prospect of meeting my end at the hands of some silver-clad idiots."

"I think none of us does, Vegeta," Goku said. "Let Trunks continue his story."

And so he did. He told about Marron's death, and was in tears by the time he described how he had escaped his reality and went into the past. "And that's how I got here. I don't know why the Terror let me live. Maybe to mock me or it left me to die. I suppose I would have, if not for the Time Machine and the sensu. I came here to warn you… but I do not want to go back," he whispered and looked up to the past version of his mother. "There's nothing left there for me. Can I stay here?"

"Of course you can," Bulma said warmly. "I'll get you some tea, and then we'll put you in bed to sleep as much as you need."

"Who will inform the others?" Goku asked. "I do not really think Trunks feels like telling the story again."

"We will!" Goten piped up, glad to do something useful. "We can call a meeting on Master Roshi's island tomorrow, or something, after school. Then we can tell the rest, and decide what we're going to do. Isn't that a good idea?" He looked at his friend, who was sitting next to him, bleakly studying the carpet. He had a nagging suspicion that Trunks felt horrible about facing his future counterpart like this. He didn't blame him. Maybe he needed some time away from Future Trunks to regain his senses.

When the adults agreed and Bulma went into the kitchen, he went after her to ask. Bulma shot him an odd look. "How perceptive of you, Goten. You might be just right. I'll call your mother to ask her permission, but it's fine with me." She looked up when her son walked into the kitchen. "Hello dear, how do you feel about all this?"

"Awful," Trunks rasped.

"You can stay at my place tonight if you want to," Goten said. He tried to imagine the inner turmoil his friend must feel, but had actually no idea. He'd have to talk about it with him tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. It would be alright, he thought, as Trunks agreed with his plan. It had to be.

~That night…~

Trunks stared at the familiar ceiling of his own room, trying to find some peace in his mind. Some part of his mind was trying to pretend that everything was all right, that this was his own room and that Capsule Corp was still standing. If he used a bit of imagination, he could pretend everything was still all right, that he was in his own bed in his own timeline, that his family was still alive. He tried to, but it did not work. He also tried to sleep, but that failed, too.

Of course he couldn't sleep, what had they expected?

Seeing his family alive and well had been bittersweet and terribly unreal. He found himself at odds with what had happened; his mind had trouble accepting the past few days while he could clearly see his father, mother, Bra, Goten and Goku sitting with serious faces in his own living room. With serious faces, but living, breathing, alive to the core of their being. It was almost enough to ignore the fact that Bra was too young, and that his mother still had her aqua hair reaching her shoulder blades, tied in a loose braid as not to tickle her while she was working.

Yet the worst was facing the younger versions of his best friend and himself, somehow. He did not know why the image of a seventeen year old Goten was so much clearer in his mind than that of an eleven year old Bra, but it simply was there. Facing himself was weird beyond belief. It was as if he was watching some old home video's of himself, remembering faintly how he thought at that age, how he reacted, yet at the same time completely different and alien to him. Looking in his own eyes was… unnerving, to say the least. He was glad that the other Trunks stayed with Goten for a bit, just to let him get used to the idea. And everyone else as well, naturally.

What would it be like for them to be faced with certain doom, again? The situation he had presented to them was even bleaker than the one Future Trunks had told them about, almost two decades ago. The similarities with the first (the other?) future timeline were still nagging at him, but he figured it was not important right now. He was here now, and he had done all he could do for today. For now it would be wise to catch some shuteye. Sighing, he rolled over on his side, and doubled his efforts to get some sleep.

***

Bulma was half asleep when two icy cold hands suddenly slipped under her blankets and grabbed her waist, surprising her with the chill. "Thanks, Vegeta," she murmured sleepily. "Come in bed, so you can warm up a little."

A throaty chuckle and a cold body pressing against hers announced that it was indeed her husband sneaking into her bed. "You're nice and warm," he commented contently.

"You're not," Bulma pointed out, but snuggled against him anyway. "Have you been sitting outside all that time?" That idiot. Even though the spring air was warming up, the nights were far too cold to sit outside in a tank top and shorts.

"I have been training, and I had to cool off," he shrugged. He was warming up quickly, Bulma noted. Which was a good thing, because she hated to be cold in her own bed.

"It's been a weird day." It was almost a reply on what he meant; he had gone training not because his workout of the day had been interrupted, but to order his thoughts and to work off the negative emotions that had been plaguing him since Future Trunks had entered their timeline. Bulma could feel it faintly; it was eating at him as it was eating at her. The image their future son had sketched was so horrible that it left her disturbed and faintly nauseated all day. She had not felt like this since Buu's arrival, and she hated every second of it. "I don't like this one bit."

"Me neither," Vegeta admitted gruffly. "I like the idea of a challenge, but what the future brat told us no one will survive the encounter. Especially that mind block of them keeps bothering me."

Faintly surprised he was thinking aloud, Bulma laid her head on his chest and asked: "I saw you hammering on that fact, yet isn't it more important to check where they come from and what they want out here?" She paused for a moment. The fact that those monsters had not even told them what was happening, no announcement at all, and slaughtered all those millions of people seemed somehow… unethical to her. It was unfair, so useless to die and not even know what for.

"They obviously want our death. I don't care why," Vegeta blazed.

"I think it's really important though. If we know their reasons, we might know something about them that will be crucial for their defeat," she countered, her fingers trailing lightly over his stomach.

He sighed and glared at the ceiling. "I know that. Their weakness will be their minds, I guess. It will take the edge off them. Trunks seems a capable mental communicator. I cannot believe I never noticed that before… We should train."

"Physically or mentally?"

"Both. Especially the latter."

"If you do not mind, I'd like to do research on them. The Silver Terror, I mean."

"Why are you asking my permission?"

"I was toying with the idea of going into space, ask around for some details."

He jerked up in bed, causing her to bounce off him. "What a preposterous idea, woman! You have no idea what's going on up there!"

"That's what I'd need you for. You know your way around in Frieza's former empire."

"Out of the question," he said coldly. His whole body seemed to freeze up in anger.

"Relax, Vegeta, we'll talk about this later."

"Like hell we will."

She smiled in the dark and snuggled against him, acting on a sudden urge to be close to him. "I know better things to do right now."

Vegeta chuckled and kissed her. "Now you're talking."

***

Pale moonlight seeping through the curtains illuminated Goten's room softly.

Goten was sitting up in his blankets with his back against the wall, frowning on the sleeping form of his best friend. Trunks was sweating and making whimpering sounds, constantly trashing around on his stretcher. He had never been a quiet sleeper, Goten knew, but it was obvious that his friend was having a hard time tonight. He was having nightmares; stress and tension seemed to radiate around him.
Goten wondered whether he should wake Trunks up, but he figured that in that case Trunks wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anymore. It was a small miracle he had fallen asleep in the first place actually; Goten felt less disturbed than Trunks must be, and he was unable to sleep at all. A quick glance at the digital clock next to his bed told him it was after 3 am: far past bedtime, his mother would say. As if he cared; sleeping might be worse than waking... he wasn't exactly looking forward to nightmares.

He sighed, trying to process what had happened today for what must be the millionth time. His mind returned to the point of the telepathy Vegeta had talked about: the intuitive reaching for other minds, the exchange of feelings. Could he do that, too?

Tentatively, he tried to reach out to Trunks, whose face was damp with sweat. At least, Goten hoped so; the dampness might also have been caused by tears. Kami, he hoped not. He tried to touch Trunks, his thoughts and compassion reaching out to his friend. If only he could console him and make him sleep more peaceful…

It lasted only a heartbeat.

Flashes of blood and failure and pain crashed over him, as if he was dunked into a pool of ice cold water. Flinching, Goten knew this was Trunks' nightmare. Kami, he knew Trunks had a vivid imagination, and that the story that his future counterpart had told him was horrid, but this… He tried to be steady and warm, and ultimately `there' for Trunks.

I'm here for you Trunks, you won't fail, you're the best. We won't die. Don't worry, I am here. It will be alright.

The images snapped out of his reach, and Goten sighed half in relief, half in frustration. That had certainly not been a pleasant experience, yet he had been able to touch Trunks' mind, like Vegeta had deemed possible. He was so happy with his accomplishment that it took a while before he noticed that Trunks' breathing had evened, and his body had relaxed.

His friend was sleeping fitfully now, and more at peace than Goten had seen him in a while. It made him so happy he wanted to pounce upon Trunks and make him share in his happiness, but that probably wouldn't be smart.
Instead, he lay down in bed and tried to relax. Maybe he would be able to sleep a little before they had to go to school. He felt a lot better now.

***

Goku held the warm, sleeping body of his wife in his arms and refused to let go of her. ChiChi was lying with her head on his chest, her arm draped over his stomach. She was sleeping quietly and warm against him. He held her tightly, and tried to concentrate on only that, to block out any somber thoughts.

She had noticed his solemn behavior of course, and he had told her something about what happened today. She had been really sweet to him; hugging him every chance she got. Their lovemaking had been tender and full of love, and now she had fallen asleep in his arms. Kami, he loved her. If it really came down to it, she was always there for him. The idea of her death unnerved him more than he could ever say; she seemed so immortal, so real and steady in a world where everything changed.

He rose a little and kissed her dark hair. She smelt of rosemary and sweetness, and he breathed in deeply the scent of love and life.

He would take care of the problem, he promised her silently. They would save the day. They always did…didn't they?

***

Bra was sleeping the deep sleep of children, lying on her side, covers half on the ground. She had probably kicked them away in her sleep; her room was always too warm for her taste when she wanted to sleep. Aqua-colored hair covered her face and most of her oversized unicorn t-shirt. She looked very peaceful and extremely sweet, every parent's dream.

Only upon closer inspection an observer would see the puffiness of her cheeks and the reddish lines around her eyes that indicated weeping.

Even little Bra had not remained unaffected by her future brother's story. She had snuggled against him to calm him down, but his inner pain had touched her deeply. She had cried softly because her future brother was staring at the ceiling in the next room, brooding, tossing, turning. She did not understand everything that was going on, but she understood enough that there was trouble, accepting promptly that there were two versions of her brother now and that both of them were in pain. And she hated to see that.

Eventually she had fallen asleep, sleeping that deep sleep that only children that are really tired can obtain.

***

Tomorrow they would make plans and try and save the future… but tonight was saved for reflection and mourning. At dawn, they would grind their teeth and give it their best... they would begin their work and do what they did best: saving the world.

Until that time, they would be silently processing the new information and allowing themselves to be scared… very possibly for the last time in a long period of time.

Decisions and leavetakings

She was like an angel on a spring afternoon. Sunlight set her golden hair aflame, her bright blue eyes were deeper than the sky, and her smile… sweeter than anything he had ever seen before. So innocent and beautiful. She was still so young… at age eleven, she still had a little of that childish chubbiness in her face, yet her body was already showing the promises of the beautiful young woman she'd grow into. Marron did not know he was looking at her; she was smiling at his younger counterpart. And even though it was tearing his soul into pieces, he liked to keep it that way.

His heart was yearning for her. It was all he could do to keep from hugging her, and kissing her. It should have been enough to see her alive and breathing, but it wasn't. Of course it wasn't.

This young girl was not his love, though. He needed to remember that. She was destined to share a kiss with his younger counterpart and die a horrible death. Seeing her here in the sunlight made that seem very unreal.

Although flashes of the past (~rain and blood and pain, so much pain, please make it stop marron why did you not listen to me why aren't you still alive I love you so much…~) kept pestering him on a frequent basis, he fought back by trying to focus on the upcoming fight. Focus. Clear your mind. We won't let history repeat itself. He would do this… duty and love had kept him alive and sane so far, they would hold out a little longer.

"Are you ready to go, Trunks?" Bulma's voice intruded his thoughts.

He looked at her standing next to him and smiled. She was trying so hard to make him feel comfortable and at ease, he could not help feeling absurdly grateful. Smiling for her was the least he could do. For the past weeks, she had basically ensured his sanity: she was always there for him with a smile and a listening ear, a hug and some advice.

He was very glad she would join them on their trip. He had heard her argue about it with Vegeta; the Saiya-jin Prince had not wanted her to come along but she had argued that the ship needed a technician, and she had survived Namek as well, thank you very much! They had not spoken to each other for a few days, the atmosphere in Capsule Corp turning colder than the North Pole, but Bulma had waved it away with a smile. "He will give in, do not worry."

Vegeta had given in eventually indeed, although his mood was extremely dark the past few days. He did not like Bulma's idea at all, but the practical sides of the idea had made him admit she was right. They would roam Frieza's old empire for clues to the Silver Terror, while in the meantime making good use of the Gravity Room and training extensively, both in mind in spirit. The fact that they were in space would keep them focused, since the distractions on Earth would not be bothering them.

Vegeta had grunted he never let anything distract him, but Bulma had countered the others did, and that they needed him for the trip. `Know thy enemy' she had thrown at his feet, and in the end that had been his defeat. Vegeta always prided himself in knowing the weaknesses of his enemies (and taunting them with it), and he needed this information.

Trunks was grateful that he wouldn't have to face Marron while in space. She would not join them on this journey, because it was unnecessary for her to come. While she was training to be a martial artist like her parents and doing extremely well, she was nowhere near the level of the Saiya-jins.

"Truuuuuuunks!" a young voice screeched. With an instinct that was as old as he remembered, he extended his arms and caught his young sister in a hug. It had been years since he had hugged his sister at all, yet the feeling of his arms around him felt oddly familiar. As if no time had passed at all… as if he were home. "What is it, Bra?" He said warmly, burying his face in his sister's hair. She smelled nice.

"Trunks, you tell them not to leave me alone! I want to come into space!"

"I don't think that's smart, little one," he answered, putting her down on the grass again. "If Father and Mother say it's too dangerous, then you should listen to them and stay with Grandma and Granddad."

"But Daddy says I am a princess. I have a right to come!"

"I know I'd be happy to have you here," he said thruthfully, "but I'm not one to make decisions here."

"To be honest, I'd rather take us with her, too," Bulma piped up next to him. "I'd hate to leave her alone without her family for an extended period of time." She frowned and looked intently at her daughter for a while. "I'll go talk to Vegeta."

Bra gave Trunks a jubilant look and hugged him once again. "I think I can come." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. It once again reminded him how he missed his own sister, and how easy it was to project all his affection for his sister at this younger girl. After all, they were the same, weren't they? Trunks remained silent for a bit, and sat down on the stairs leading to the spaceship. Bra sat down at his feet, her head resting contently on his knees. They observed the farewell party quietly, until Bra suddenly said: "Marron is pretty, isn't she."

"Yes, she is," he admitted, before realizing what he had said.

"You must miss your Marron," Bra mused. "Were you in love?"

He nodded mutely, and thankfully accepted the hug from his sister. Sometimes, he thought, Bra understood too much of the world around her. She had always been premature and extremely intelligent, but sometimes her insights were unsettling, to say the least. "Thank you, Bra," he sighed.

His sister responded with a tighter hug.

He really hoped Vegeta would let her come along.

***

Marron was having the greatest time with Goten and Trunks. She had pleaded with her father and mother if she could come, even if, as they had said, it was actually an adult party. Marron had protested that this would be the last time she'd see Trunks and Goten before they'd leave for space, and that she really wanted to have the chance to say her goodbyes. Eventually her father had taken her along. She was really happy her father had changed her mother's opinion and they had given their permission, otherwise she wouldn't be here in the sun, laughing at Goten!

Goten was secretly spiking the punch with something that looked like very strong alcohol, you see, and Marron and Trunks were supposed to cover for him. They were doing a lousy job of it, though, because they were too busy collapsing into an untidy heap of laughter.

"What's going on here?" an accusing voice asked behind them. Goten's mother!

Marron and Trunks spun around as one and immediately tried to put up their most innocent faces, while Goten was mostly busy trying to get rid of the empty bottle.

"Nothing!" Marron chirped innocently, smiling her sweetest smile.

"Yeah, nothing at all," Trunks and Goten added in unison. They were also coloring similar shades of crimson.

Boys! Marron laughed inwardly, and took care of business, telling Chi-Chi how Trunks had just told them a funny joke. Goten's mother seemed to be satisfied with that, thankfully. She turned away to talk to Gohan, which was a good thing, Marron decided, because her friends looked like they were more than ready to explode with laughter and shame.

"Thanks Marron!" laughed Trunks, touching her shoulder. "You really saved our ass there."

"No problem," she blushed, melting inwardly. Trunks was so wonderful! He had the most gorgeous blue eyes, and he was so smart and strong! She was really honored he wanted to hang out with her.

Goten laughed, too, and he gave her a playful poke. "Yeah Marron, as a reward you can take the first sip of the punch!"

"Yeah right! What if I fall over? I've never had alcohol before!" As she half-turned to return that poke to Goten, she suddenly locked eyes with another pair of blue eyes. It caused her immediately to fall silent. It was the other Trunks, the older one from the future. Bra was holding him in a sisterly embrace (she had told Marron that her future brother had seen a lot of terrible things, and that he needed lots of hugs and understanding), and looked at her too.

For one moment, Marron almost understood what was going on… but then the moment ended, and Goten had changed the subject, daring Trunks to drink the punch. And so the eye contact broke, and the painful moment shattered… but this was not something she'd forget easily. There was something with that future Trunks no one had told her about.

She supposed she should ask him that one day. Maybe after they returned from the space trip? Somehow, she was afraid of the answer.

***

The day was hesitantly giving in to the night. As the sun was setting, Bulma found herself lighting candles on some of the picnic tables. The cheery mood of the party had dampened a bit; her friends were sitting in small groups, talking softly among themselves, creating some memories to remember for when the space travelers would be gone. And they would be gone for a long time. It all depended on how things went out there, but they'd probably be gone for a year or something.

She'd miss everyone when they would be in space, Bulma mused, looking at her friends all scattered throughout the garden. Of course, all the Saiya-jins were coming. Videl had wanted to come, too, but Gohan had quickly taken her aside and Bulma had seen his worried looks. He had talked long and intensely, and in the end Videl had resigned. She had told Bulma that she had to stay home for Pan, but she had not been happy about it at all. She hated to be home alone with a child. Bulma had advised her to move in with Chi-Chi for that time, and the young woman had taken a liking to that idea. This way, neither of them would be lonely.

Bulma was glad she would be taking her own children with her on the trip. It had been so long that she had gone out on an adventure; she was all excited about it. She looked at her daughter, who was sitting under one of the picnic tables with Pan, playing with some shimmery and brightly colored marbles. Vegeta hadn't wanted to take her along at first, but Bulma had insisted. Besides the fact that she didn't want to leave her little girl all home alone with her grandparents (sweet as they might be) because she might miss her, Bra also seemed to do wonders for Future Trunks' state of being. It was as if Bra was soothing his pain with merely her presence. Strangely enough, Vegeta seemed to have noticed the same thing. He grumbled that if Future Trunks was going to do mental training, he was going to need all the soothing he could get. He also added a remark about weaklings soon after, but somehow it sounded halfheartedly. Bulma had been wise enough not to comment on it, and kept her ideas to herself.

Mental training… yes, things were going to be interesting in the spaceship. Not only were the Saiya-jin warriors going to spar and train, but Piccolo, who would join the travellers, was going to introduce them into some deeper aspects of meditation and mental training. This would probably the first time that the Saiya-jin warriors were going to train as a group, learning from each other, sparring with each other. All old grieves and battles aside, Bulma noticed that some true respect was growing the past few years between the warriors. Seems like we're all growing older and wiser. Maybe we've really grown up, she thought with a smile.

Although, one look at her son, Goten and Marron, who were drunk on their own spiked punch and desperately trying to hide it from their parents, seemed to contradict that idea. Bulma knew what they were doing, of course. The bottle of rum had come out of her own collection; she had noticed it being stolen earlier this morning. She'd let Trunks have his fun now, and would get him later. Maybe she'd play really loud music in the morning… or maybe do something with really bright light? He'd learn… he'd notice her ignoring of the matter, and she would not offer him any relief on his headache. Oh well, it was a good day to get tipsy for the first time. Maybe he was a little young, but he was at home where she could keep an eye on him.

She smiled. Starting off a journey into space with a hangover would probably be just what Trunks needed to keep away from alcohol until he was of legal age.

***

"We're going into space, we're going into space!" Bra sing-songed, bouncing around the controlroom. It was 10 am and one by one the travelers arrived, bringing their luggage, and sitting down on the chairs that Bulma had reserved for them. It would be quite the group that would depart, so Bra had already been bouncing for quite a while, annoying the crap out of everyone who was taking care of business before they could leave.

She jumped upon Piccolo's lap and chirped to him: "Aren't you happy?"

The Namek just glared at her and grumbled: "Sit down, squirt, otherwise you'll be so tired that you sleep through the take-off."

"Why are you sitting so quietly all the time?" she inquired.

"I'm meditating."

"What's that?"

Piccolo was just about to explain when the Sons announced themselves cheerily.

Bulma greeted them with a sense of relief in her voice. "Hello boys. Now that you're here, we're ready to leave."

At last.

Destruction

"Again?!" The shriek bounced off the plated walls of the bridge. Bulma didn't even notice, she was too busy adding curses to her outburst. Frantically, she ran a hand through her aqua bangs and read the reports on her screen once more. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," she muttered. "No mistake, it's true..." She rummaged through a stack of papers and found Vegeta's list of inhabited planets. He had added that he had no idea which planets had survived the chaos that had ensued in the galaxy after the fall of the Cold Empire, but her current data did not stroke at all with any scenario they had thought of. Maybe it was really true? Maybe her suspicions were not so dumbfounded after all? "No… not again," she whispered, her voice breathy. She was right. It was one of the planets on Vegeta's list. And all that was left of it was a cold, silent planet, with no life readings of creatures bigger than the palm of her hand. Again. This was the fifth planet she had discovered in this particular state of being.

She had wanted to ignore it before, telling herself it could be coincidence, but it was not. The only thing she was glad of was the fact that they were far from the space quadrant where Earth was situated. This part of the former Cold Empire was dead. Completely and utterly destroyed. This could not have been caused by any war - this had been total annihilation.

She had to check with Future Trunks.

Landing a well-placed kick against the wall, she left the bridge and entered the hallway to Trunks' room he shared with Bra. She could not stop thinking about a solemn song she heard once about the ending of the world: ~Silence fills the air/ Echoes fade away / Of sadness and despair / On that cruel and fateful day…~ Bulma shivered, and tried to push the feeling of foreboding doom far away. Sometimes she wished she did not have such a vivid imagination, and this was one of these moments. Images Trunks had described of the ending of the world, images of the desolate planet they had just passed, images and flashes of a possible future were irking her to no end. The pressure of knowing the world is going to end unless you do something about it was making it hard to breathe. What if she failed? What if they failed?

No! Don't even go there! We changed the future once, and we will do it again! We're already changing it! she scolded herself as she opened the door.

Trunks was present, fortunately. He was sitting on his bunk, his back against the wall, his eyes closed. His presence in the room was so overwhelming that it took her a few moments before she noticed that Bra was there too. She was sitting on the floor, totally caught up in a book she was reading. She looked up when Bulma made a sound, and jumped up happily, hurrying over to her mother. Bra whispered urgently: "Trunks is doing some mind tricks Piccolo teached him, mum, can you feel it?"

"It's taught, sweetie. Not teached," she corrected absently. "And yes, I can feel it. Can I disturb him?"

Before Bra could answer, Trunks opened his eyes. "Yes, it's alright. What's up?"

Those haunted blue eyes... It again struck her how he kept looking worse the longer they were on the spaceship. It had been almost four months now, and her future son looked like he died a year ago. Oh, his body was in top shape, no question about it. He trained extensively these days, his physical training as intense as his mental one. Sometimes she almost felt the heavy telepathic communication in the spaceship. It gave her goosebumps, but she'd rather die than admit she felt left out (~ also because her young daughter was turning out to be as able a telepath as her brothers). His body was as fine as it had ever been, every young woman's dream, but the way his lavender hair hung in his eyes, lifeless, the lines around his mouth, the feverish sparkle in his blue eyes, it was just wrong. The sparkles of energy that surrounded her younger son were simply gone. It looked to her that part of him had simply died inside. Her heart bled every time she thought of him.

"Could you come over to the bridge, Trunks? I want you to acknowledge something for me."

"Sure," he nodded, raising from the bed. "What can I do for you?"

***

…-It was there, inside of him.

It was jittery, filling him to the brink with wild emotions, using axes and spears, trying to fight itself out of the cage he created for it. It kept sawing and hacking its way out, until the point that Trunks was afraid to breathe wrongly. Anything could set him off, he felt like a walking stick of dynamite, wary of sparks around him.

At night, the cage weakened and melted, letting the feelings flow out to torment him.

He barely slept because of it, waking himself with the echoes of his screams or the wetness of his pillow. Eventually he barely slept at all, afraid for the monster in the cage. He did not dare to let it out.

They knew, probably, but Vegeta kept expecting the best out of him, and Piccolo grew impatient with his mental instability. They still wanted him to perform.

He was impatient, too. Nervous, mostly, as if he were walking on hot coals. Shards of glass, maybe. Sometimes he wanted to scream, power up and fill himself with ki until he would explode. He craved release, but inside the spaceship he was not allowed to give into those feelings. Which put him even more on edge-...

***

"So it's true," he heard himself say, his voice amazingly devoid of any emotion. He felt Bulma looking at him with blue eyes that might have been frightened. She was probably checking if he would break down.

"What is it, mom?" His younger counterpart was trying to peek over his shoulder. Where did the boy come from? He had not felt him coming. And why did he feel so strangely detached? Where was the rest? And why did this happen?

His past mother wouldn't see him crack. He hid everything deep down inside. He had to. If she'd know how he felt, she'd probably freak. He was probably in denial right now; he felt as if he were dreaming, wrapped in cotton, floating two feet above the floor. Unreal.

He had to… keep it inside.

And he had to focus. He had not noticed his younger counterpart entering. Neither had he seen or felt Goten. This was not good. He had to focus.

Planet! Silver Terror! Stay awake!

"It's happening."

***

…-Sometimes it was so bad he didn't know where to crawl.

Sometimes it was so bad he curled up inside a corner and sobbed desperately.

Sometimes it was so bad he let Vegeta beat him up so badly he lost consciousness for a period of time, just to find peace for a momen-….

***

"Those silver guys have been here?" Goten asked incredulously. Sometimes Bulma was surprised how remarkably fast the mind of the youngest Son could be in crisis situations, while he usually appeared rather dense. She supposed he took after his father. "They killed all those people?"

Bulma gave a slight nod as answer, not taking her eyes of Future Trunks. Maybe she should have checked with Vegeta first and broke the news more carefully to him. Or maybe she shouldn't have told him at all. Although there would probably not be any way to inform the young man of such news in an easily. He'd take it personally anyway. He'd hurt over it. In his current state, everything hurt him. And he would have found out eventually. Kami, how she wished she could spare him. Poor, poor boy.

Future Trunks produced a choking sound in his throat before he spoke up. It was short, and hardly understandable, but she knew what he meant. "How many planets?"

She did not want to say it. "This is the fifth planet I have found."

***

-…And all the time, it was there. Deep down inside.

Jitter, jitter.

Kami, he wanted rest. He wanted out.

But most of all, he wanted ~release~.

He knew it would not come.

It would never come.

All that would come was blood, pain, and insanity.

And all that was there were bodies of his loved ones, piling up, their blood spilling over his feet as he would cry for them The images. The agony.

All that would come was battle.

Jitter, jitter-...

***

In the end it was Bra's weeping that kept him from destroying the whole bridge in his white-hot rage. He had hardly noticed he was doing it.

Kami, they would pay.

Life On Board

Life had settled in a quiet sort of routine during the past months. The days were filled with research for Bulma, and with training for everyone else on the ship. The training was going extremely well. Piccolo had done amazing work with the mental training lately; the fruits of the training creeped Bulma out to no end. Half of the conversations during meals were silent now, and she really had to work and guess to understand what everyone was saying. Or thinking. Whatever. Besides the fact that she felt left out, it was extremely frustrating; the air seemed alive with unspoken communication. Sometimes she was sure she picked up their silent voices, but she never knew if it just was her intuition and her long years of being around these people that made her predict what they were going to say. She had been able to hear more and more.

Vegeta found her irritation rather amusing, and teased her frequently with it. He could be such an ass! Bulma found herself getting ticked off by the whole situation. Being in the cramped spaceship for such a long time was really getting on her nerves: after all these years she couldn't live without Vegeta, and she loved her children and friends… but please definitely not for 24/7 without an outside world to flee into!

She began to crave shopping sprees and sitting outside in the sunlight. She missed her lab. She missed her tools. She missed her wardrobe. She even missed her parents.

And Kami, she HATED being a test subject for manipulation mind games, she thought vehemently, toweling herself dry after an early morning shower. Piccolo had ordered the young halflings to try and manipulate their mother's will for practice. Bulma's protests had been largely ignored, save for some comments that this was important and that she had the strongest will they knew without any mind shields. So she was the only person they could test their abilities on.

And don't worry, her young son had assured her, azure eyes sparkling with mischief, we won't do anything harmful. You know I never would!

Very funny, Trunks. Bulma thought, glancing at the clock in the bathroom. It cheerfully announced that it was 4 am at Earth right now. Nothing harmful, eh? I'm rather sure that showering at such an ungodly hour was not MY idea!

Pissed off to no end, she stomped through the hallway, slamming the bathroom door behind her. No way was she going to sleep anymore tonight. Oh well, she had been having a bad night anyway. Goku and Vegeta were off-ship, exploring some planet they were hovering over. Bulma had discovered that this planet still had some ki-readings that seemed to indicate intelligent life. Vegeta had confirmed this; this planet had been one of the richer trading nations during Freeza's rule. Well, there was not much left of that now. There was still life down there, but it was scarce. The inhabitants of this planet must have hid themselves well during the assault, Bulma supposed. Good for them… or not?

They had explored multiple planets now, and every time the two Saiya-jin left the ship Bulma nearly drove herself mad with anticipation and boredom during the long wait for their return. What stories would they return with, this time?

Still irritated, Bulma made herself a cup of tea and waited for the sign of the two Saiya-jin that they would want to board again. It was going to be a long night.

***

Sparring filled all of their lives right now. Honestly enough, there was not much they could do between planets, and Trunks happily immersed himself in it. He had been training vigorously lately.

Kick, punch, spin, smack. Kick, block, block, block.

"We'll sing the deathsong, kids…" Trunks muttered, dodging a particular blow that would have knocked him unconscious if it would have connected, "'cause we got no… future…" Somersault. He loved the feeling of somersaulting. It had one of the things that had made him want to learn to fly when he was a kid. It was one of his father's favorite moves during battle, he knew; fighting his father always involved speed, dazzling movements, quick turns and loops and spins. Goku was an awesome fighter, too, but he relied more on hand-to-hand, the parrying and blocking, yet Vegeta danced. He preferred sparring with his father, usually. It was a matter of taste, he supposed.

Spin, block. Dodge, kick. Block, punch, block.

"And we hope that Heaven's true…"

"Would you please stop singing," Vegeta inquired, never even altering his speed or wavering his defenses. "You're annoying me."

"Try to break through," Trunks smirked. "If it annoys you, I'm not going to stop…. Kiss them on the face and send them to God… We'll sing the deathsong, kids… Kick my ass for it, Vegeta. Come on, you can do it."

"Don't be so cocky, brat!" His father's words were accompanied by severe blows that made his wrists senseless and tingly, even as he blocked. These were going to leave bruises. Trunks did not care. Maybe if he let himself be pounded, he wouldn't dream tonight. That would be nice for a change.

"Because we got… no… future…"

"What is that song anyway?"

"I don't know. Something we picked up on the radio just before we left earth. I thought it was rather fitting."

Block, parry, hit. No time to rejoice, block, block.

Mental intrusion, mental block.

"Oh, that was very low, Vegeta," Trunks hissed, breaking away from their engagement.

His anger just earned him a smirk. "Then quit thinking that way, brat. If you don't change your attitude, I'll change it for you. You're a prince of the Saiya-jin, we're not going to lose to those silver twerps. Where's your pride?"

Encouragement from Vegeta? Kami, he must have been acting really depressed then.

Time for a subject change. He was not about to let his feelings show to Vegeta. The Saiya-jin prince would show no mercy, and Trunks did not think he would like a repetition of a fight like they had last week. Vegeta had kicked him down repeatedly, demanding that he'd get up and fight back verbally, but he had refused, lacking the strength. He needed stability right now, not fighting. "So what did you find on the planet anyway?"

"Let's take a break," Vegeta announced. He went straight to the place where they had stored their water and drank half of the bottle, the rest he poured over his head. "Didn't the woman tell you? Planet's called Pardun. Used to be a race of traders, low level, actually liked working for Freeza. It made them rich. They were one of the first against the wall when the Cold Empire fell." He smirked. "Snotty bastards, they got what they deserved. Anyway, they said a lot of things. Most of it was bullshit. They believed the silver guys to be magical or something. Or that their armour was magical. Kakarot did most of the talking, since I was having a hard time not to laugh into their faces, or blast them, or both."

Trunks put down his own bottle of water. "Magical?"

"Yes, something like that." The Saiya-jin prince sat down and leaned against the wall comfortably. "The armour is magical. Once you would put it on, you would never be able to take it off again, and it would change you into a merciless killer, or, as they called it, the perfect war machine. You'd be invincible, and you'd get whatever revenge you wanted, in exchange for your soul and your sanity. What bullshit. However, we've heard similar stories from several planets now, and this is the best story we could make of it. I heard the most exotic speculation on the Silver Terror, as you call them. Most of the people down there call them Angels of Death." He looked a little amused and picked up a second bottle. "But for more details, you'll have to ask the woman." He took a few gulps, then looked at Trunks again. "Up for another round, brat?"

"Anytime."

***

"Hello Bulma, what are you working on?"

Bulma turned away from her terminal and smiled at Gohan, who had just entered the bridge. He looked exhausted and bruised, but still wide awake and alert. He also smelled nice, she noticed. He had probably just taken a shower after sparring.

"Oh, some speculation on the stories we've heard about the Silver Terror. It's just something to pass time between planets, really. How are you doing, Gohan?"

"Sick and tired of sparring right now, actually. I hoped I could sit down with you and help you a little for the upcoming days. I need a break from the mental and physical training, or I'll go crazy."

"Of course you can, I could use another mind looking at my crazy theories. I can imagine you want to take it easy for a bit, you boys have been pushing yourself to the limit. However, don't expect me to go easy on this research. It's all crazy speculation, but I'm very serious about it."

He waved that away and sat down next to her, turning the chair to the terminal. "I could use some real thinking and speculating right now actually. So, show me what you're working on."

Bulma rose and walked over to the coffeemaker. "Coffee?" when he nodded, she pushed some buttons and continued: "Well, the whole idea of the armor, from what we've heard, is that it's supposed to block any kind of physical and mental contact to the person inside. That's why they seem so invincible, it's hard to really reach out and touch them, in any way possible. I've been calculating some diagrams on how such a substance should work, that's what you're looking at right now."

Gohan observed the diagrams and calculations and frowned. "It's all very sketchy," he said carefully, obviously not wanting to offend her. "Where did you find this information?"

"I built the ideas from scratch and from what little information we have," she sighed, handing him a cup of coffee. "But as you see here, there's some sense in this. From what we've heard from Trunks, the physical shield is stronger than the mental one. Probably because physical attacks are much more common than mental ones. It is possible to break through, we know that, too…"

Gohan leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant. "It makes me think of the material that broke the Z Sword. What was it called again? Katcheen or something? The Supreme Kai claimed it was the most durable substance in the universe."

"Really? Tell me more about it!" Immediately her fingers found the keyboard, starting search and trace programs. She had her own programs, of course, and Vegeta had given her some links and passwords to intergalactic information networks that could be accessed through nearby planets. Most of the networks had gone down over the past decade, but it had a few dazzling databases and connections that surpassed the Internet on Earth by far. It didn't take long before information began to fill up her screen, even as Gohan was still describing what he knew about the material.

Energetically, she started to read, hoping they had caught onto something.

***

"Come on, you can do it!" he heard his friend cheer over his own tensed screaming. Goten was drawing upon his own power, fighting his way deeper and deeper into himself, hoping to stumble over some yet untested power source. Dammit, Trunks had been able to go Super Saiya-jin level 2 months ago, what was keeping him?

His father had offered that maybe he had to be angry to transform, but Goten doubted it. If that was so, his frustration would have triggered it weeks ago. Besides, he had become Super Saiya-jin during a simple spar with his mother, for crying out loud! A level further shouldn't be that much of a problem. He knew faintly what it was like to be Gotenks, with all that intense power at his fingertips, now only if he could just imagine that hard enough, maybe it would come…

Or should he scare the crap out of himself and tell his mind that it was necessary and force himself? Because it was his mind that was blocking him; he was strong enough and everyone knew it. And he… couldn't…stay… behind! As long as he could remember Trunks and he had always been roughly equal in power. He'd die if Trunks would surpass him that far. And he definitely did not want to be the weakest fighter, the idea simply freaked him out. He almost laughed out loud. When had the friendly competition between them changed into pride? And why was he so proud? He never used to care about it; Gotenks' power had always been enough for him. His own power had been enough for him in the past. But here he was, trying his best to prove he could do it. Not because of the horror that would plague the earth in a few years, but because he needed to prove himself.

And he would not have it!

Screaming in frustration, all Goten felt was the need to explode. He needed to channel his feelings somehow, but it was inside of him and it simply would not come out. Come on! They needed him! They had to need him, otherwise he'd go nuts and he'd have taken off to space all for nothing! He had to let it OUT! He needed to break through, he needed to remember how it was to break into new power, he had it IN him, damn him… damn him… damn everything… he would…

And there it was.

No explosion, just a shrill sound of energy crackling around him. His body tensed up and all it took was a simple opening. He just had to open himself to the power, and it all flooded inside of him. He did not need to let it out, but let it in - he had to surrender to it, that was all it took.

Crackling and beaming with newfound power, Goten turned to his friend with a smirk on his face, and all he could think was: Damn me, indeed.

***

One look at the beaming faces of Bulma and Gohan was enough. Not even everyone was sitting at the dinner table yet, and they were shifting in their seats like little children, all excited with some news they wanted to share when everyone had arrived.

Trunks looked up from the food that would probably taste like ashes in his mouth again, and proposed calmly: "So tell us your wonderful news, before you explode."

He caught an amused glance from Vegeta, but did not answer the look. Instead, he worried about how he was possibly going to eat all this. Bulma had made sure there was a healthy portion on his plate, but he was not hungry at all. Of course, this was a recurring phenomenon. Bulma had yelled several times at him already, he needed to eat well if he were training this extensively, because he was burning up energy like it was nothing. Of course Trunks was aware of that. He was just repulsed of the idea of eating ever since… ever since then. And if it made him feel light-headed and dizzy sometimes, so be it.

Maybe he wouldn't have to eat with all this excitement tonight.

"We," Bulma announced, her blue eyes sparkling with pride and joy, "…are going to the planet Aranza."

"What is so special about that planet, woman? It's just a chunk of stone; the atmosphere burnt out during a biological war decades ago."

"It's the mines," Bulma explained to her husband, with a patience that surprised them all. His gruff remark had done nothing to diminish her jubilant mood, obviously. "You see, Gohan told me something about what he thought was the strongest material in the world, and I did some searches on it, which ultimately led me to another mineral that I'm fairly sure is makes up the basics of the armor of the Silver Terror." A satisfied smile played around her lips. "And that's why we're going to Aranza. Too see if I'm right."

Trunks leaned back in his chair. "Say that you're right," he began carefully, "wouldn't it be very dangerous then? I suppose that the Terror would be there, too."

"Well," Gohan cut in, laying down his spoon, "isn't that what we've been preparing for all along, then? We're still making progress, but I think that we should be able to take some samples and get out of there before all hell breaks loose."

It sounded as if they had put a lot of thought into this already, Trunks noted. Well, good for them. It might be dangerous, it might be not. "Of course, this whole journey's a gamble," he muttered. "Why not stake our lives to prove a theory?"

"Isn't that a bit of a dark view on our mission, Trunks?" his past mother ventured.

He shrugged and looked at his plate. "Whatever."

A green hand on his arm made him look up. "Hey kid, you've all worked miracles over the past months. I don't think that I can teach you much more about mental warfare, and physically a lot of barriers have been broken, too."

"Yup! Even I reached a new level," Goten added brightly.

Piccolo largely ignored him, projecting his attention on Trunks. "We'll be fine."

Oh great, now he was getting reassurances from Piccolo, too! Why did everyone think he was so uncertain? He was just trying to be realistic! He had fought the Terror, not them! He was also the one who had lost everything, so why bother being careful and realistic? He could not afford to be naïve and hopeful! The last battle he had fought had beaten those things rather effectively out of him.

Trunks sighed and continued to stare at his plate.

"I think that if I could find what their awful armor is made of, I could really help you people in defeating those guys," his mother announced cheerfully. "So I think it's worth the gamble. What do you people think?"

Even before the first of the gathered warriors had agreed, Trunks felt the agreement hanging in the air between them. He also felt the unspoken question as they all turned to him for his decision. He felt forced to look up to them and forced his voice to sound as bright as his mother's: "Well, Aranza it is then."

Chapter Nine: Dead Rock

Aranza was as much the dead rock as Vegeta had deemed it to be, Trunks decided. The ground was cracked and dry and no water was to be found anywhere. Here and there ruins and dust littered the planet's surface, but they were scarce and mostly crumbled or vanished. The wisps of violet haze that trailed the night sky were all that was left of Aranza's once so breathable atmosphere. The atmosphere had been ignited and burnt out during a blood feud between powerful nations on the planet; powerful nations uncaring or unknowing about what they were doing to their planet, or so Vegeta claimed. The idea intrigued Trunks immensely. Was honor really so important that they would use weapons on their enemies so powerful and dangerous that it could end up killing both parties? How insane did you have to be before you would decide to take such measures? Why would you do it? Of course, he did not know anything about Aranza's inhabitants and why they had chosen to annihilate themselves in that war (besides the little information that Vegeta had provided) but his mind kept musing and speculating as he breathed deeply into the oxygen device that Bulma had given him.

His past mother was standing next to him, her colorful presence looking very much out of place in the desolate environment. Vegeta was trailing a little behind them, taking everything in. He had refused to let Bulma and Trunks explore the mines of Aranza all by themselves but did not make a secret of his disgust towards the mission.

Using tracking devices, Bulma had managed to locate the supposed location of the mines. They had flown already for a while, Vegeta again insisting on carrying his mate, but Bulma had asked for solid ground under her feet for a bit, saying something about ruins of a city nearby. She was cursing under her breath about the shifty magnetic poles on the planet, focusing on her compass and frowning at the pieces of paper in her hand. "Damn pieces of crap," she muttered and looked up. "Well then. The mines are supposed to be a little south from here if my compass isn't betraying me again," Bulma said, gesturing vaguely in the southern direction. "I estimate that it'll be a half an hour walk, unless one of you boys would be so sweet to carry me again?"

Vegeta grunted. "Anything that gets us out of here quicker."

"Are you still planning on exploring the city?" Trunks asked.

"That's my intent. Depends a little on how everything goes; I need some information beyond the minerals that we can find here. We have oxygen for a little more than," she checked her watch, "five hours."

Vegeta scooped her up and glared at her. "Stubborn bitch," he told her and gestured at Trunks to follow him. They arrived at their destination in less than a minute. The mines were largely underground and consisted of inkblack rock with silvery flecks. "That's our mines alright," Bulma commented with a satisfied grin on her face.

"Then get the hell in, take what you want, and come out again." Vegeta turned their back to them, looking out over the rocky nothingness around them. "I'll keep watch. If there's anything…"

Bulma waved her hand dismissively. "…We'll call for you."

"Good."

Trunks took his flashlight out of his pocket and beckoned for his past mother to follow him. He was as concerned as his Vegeta was, but had chosen to swallow his anxiety and go into the cave with his mother. Maybe it would take his mind off his worries. He turned on the light and felt his jaw drop. This was unexpected! He expected caverns and darkness… not…. "…the hell?"

"Looks like this mine has been quite the lucrative business," Bulma commented dryly, taking in the plated hallway. "It looks as if it's been deserted for quite a while now," she judged, looking at the dust gathered everywhere. The hallway took a few sharp turns, progressively descending deeper and deeper into the caverns. It took them a while, but eventually they reached some sort of control center. Trunks felt more than a little disturbed as he inspected the remains of the room. It was a high, domed room with a ceiling that must be fifty feet high. It also looked as if a battle had been fought here. There was a lot of broken equipment, half-molten steel and holes in the wall that indicated ki-blasts or some hi-tech blasters. One of the pillars had cracked and looked suspiciously as if it would crumble at the slightest touch. Not much seemed to have survived the fray that had taken place, but at a second glance he saw that there were a few computers that might still work.

It seemed only natural that within the minute Bulma was wiring the electricity to get one of the computers to work, and it surprised him even less that within another minute it was functioning properly. The computer sprang to life simultaneously with one of the two unbroken lamps in the ceiling. The control room bathed now in a clean white light. He had lived with his mother all his life, and he knew that he himself was far more intelligent than the average person, but the sheer brilliance that his mother possessed never ceased to amaze him.

She seemed to be downloading information, he judged from an offhand glance at the screen. Nevermind, that was not his business now. He was supposed to guard her. He'd deal with the information later. He closed his eyes for a second and reached out with his ki. Nothing, besides the surpressed ki of his past father. Vegeta seemed impatient. Well, that was certainly nothing new. He was impatient too. He wanted to get out of here as soon as he could.

Aranza seemed very desolate, but he was anxious that the Terror would return for whatever reason, and that they'd all be blasted into hell anyhow. Despite what Piccolo or Vegeta or Goku or who the hell else claimed, they were not ready to take on the Silver Terror. They were in space for a little under a year; there was no way that they'd even stand a chance. Of course they had all progressed, they'd mastered some techniques, boosted their ki levels, and now they thought it was all fine and dandy? Well, no. Not by far.

He could understand that his mother wanted to study the armor of the Silver Terror; it could give them some valuable advantages over the killing machines. Or at least it would give them something to practice on. More importantly, they would get to know the perils that faced them. It would give the other warriors a bit of a reality check. Know thy enemy, right?

He was gnashing his teeth again. Nasty habit, he should really stop doing it; it was something he picked up soon after… everything… had happened. He was not sure what it meant; maybe it was a sign of his anxiety and his frustration. Bulma berated him about it constantly. Like now.

"Trunks, we'll get some food as soon as we're back on the ship. Don't eat your own teeth in the meantime," she said absently. She did not even look at him, her fingers were busily dancing over the keyboard, and her eyes were still glued to the screen.

He sighed and opened one of the numerous doors in the far end of the room. More plated hallways greeted him silently. This place was like a damn maze!

"According to what I've found here," his mother's voice suddenly sounded behind him, "we're supposed to find some half-delved rough material down the hallway you're looking at right now."

Trunks shrugged. "Then let us get us some."

She came to stand next to him but did not move or speak. He did not even need to use one of the mental tricks Piccolo had taught him, he immediately knew something was wrong. He really knew his mother too well. "What is it?"

Bulma looked up at him with large, liquid blue eyes. "I know what killed this planet." Her lower lip trembled suspiciously. This was not good.
"What?"

She looked away. "It was the people. The inhabitants of Aranza."

"We knew that," Trunks shrugged, entering the hallway. He walked away from her, because he already suspected the answer. He did not want to know. He could already guess the horrible truth of this blasted dead rock, he did not need his teary-eyed mother for that. And he did not want… to know. He just wanted to get that damn mineral and hightail out of here.

"Wait, Trunks," his mother protested, running to keep up with his long strides. "It's so sad and so logical at the same time, you know." She sounded nervous. He refused to meet her eyes. The flashlight danced through the narrow hallway. When had it narrowed that much? Or was this one just not a main hallway, and therefore not that wide? And what did he care anyway?

Bulma chose to ignore his sullen silence and continued: "I haven't seen much, but what I've gathered of it is that the Terror was bred as a weapon for some war the Aranzians were fighting. A war between countries, it was. But when the Terror was unleashed, they pretty much destroyed everyone and everything, nothing or no one excluded. Much like Gero's androids would have in our world, really," she mused. "Anyway, the people of Aranza tried to fight them, but they failed miserably. I suppose that explains much of the destruction we've found."

And there it was. He had known all along deep down inside, he had seen the truth and he had refused to believe it. He had fucking known all along. He had not wanted to know, he had tried to trick himself into not suspecting or finding out, but here it finally was. He could not fool himself anymore.

It was another damn parallel. The final parallel, the final truth. His horrible theory was proved.

He thought he had shaken off his destiny by escaping into the past, but it seemed like it was true after all. When the future changed the first time and the Earth was not destroyed by androids because the Trunks from the future had prevented it all from occurring, Destiny and Life had joined their forces and tried to patch up their predestined future, by creating just another patch of indestructible androids set on destruction.

It was almost funny. Trunks wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run in circles and tear his hair out. Instead, he just kept walking with those long strides and tried to cancel out his mother's voice. And naturally, it was to no avail. Maybe it was some morbid part of him that wanted to listen to this doom story, because damn him if he wasn't paying attention!

"The Aranzians knew they had made a fatal mistake," his mother continued, her breath a bit labored because she had to keep up with him, "and so they decided they'd do anything, everything to stop the suffering. They tried and utilized all kinds of horrible weapons and tactics, that they were destroying their planet bit by bit. They knew they were losing the war against the Terror and in the end they tried a weapon so dangerous and so powerful… it was all they could do now, it was the only possibility left. So they knew there was a big chance that they'd kill themselves with it as well, because the weapon was yet untested and unstable, but time was running out. It was all they could do. They knew the Silver Terror would not stop at Aranza, and they knew this was their only chance. So they used their weapon. I guess it was a nuclear one or it was a chemical one, causing a chain reaction… The blast that occurred was horrible, and it burnt up their atmosphere. It rendered Aranza to the dead rock we're walking on now, as far as it wasn't already, and… everyone died. Except the Silver Terror."

"Figures," Trunks spat. He could not bear to say anything more, as he was too busy controlling his anger and frustration.

They walked on in silence.

***

"About time," Vegeta's irritated voice reached them as they exited the cavern. "I began to worry that I'd freeze my ass of here."

It was indeed very cold out here, Trunks thought. Dark, too. The sun had set, now shining merrily on the other side of the dead planet, and because of the lack of atmosphere the air around hem had cooled off dramatically. He was glad he was wearing protective clothing. Of course he could stand the most extreme weather conditions, from scorching heat to piercing cold, but it never hurt to be comfortable, he supposed.

"I'm ready," Bulma said, holding up her case of capsules. "I got myself nice amounts of mineral, enough to study on." She smiled radiantly.

"I'm glad you're so excited about it, woman," the Saiya-jin Prince drawled. "Now can we leave here before I die out of sheer boredom?"

"Whatever you want," she smiled at him, ignoring his jest. Playfully she extended her arms and waited to be picked up again. "Let's go to the ship, I've had enough of the Aranzian planetviews by now."

"And that while you've been in the caves all the time. You did not have to stare at it for three hours," Vegeta protested.

Bulma just laughed as they took off, back to the ship.

Trunks followed suit, silent and brooding. He did not understand how Bulma could remain so calm and lighthearted through all of this. Was it just a façade to mask her insecurity and her inner pain, like he was trying to mask his own inner turmoil, or did she really not see the things he saw? Had she truly not realized the parallels and the hopelessness of it all? Or was he just doing the old doomsday thinking again, and did she foresee a bright and beautiful future he thought was out of reach? Was he possibly missing something?

He really did not want to be that negative. He never used to be a pessimist. Not before what happened in the future, anyway. Before all this, he had never really thought about the future; he took the things one day at a time, and never had anything to worry about. And that changed. It only took one reality check, one moment of disillusion as he stared at what was left of the girl he had kissed only minutes ago, and now he was unstable and pessimistic. Not that strange of course, considering the circumstances, but he did not want to be a liability. He did not want to teeter at the edge of an emotional breakdown. He desperately wanted to have hopes for the future, but things were looking bleak if he took said further future in account.

Say that they would, by some miracle or extreme power-up or a streak of brilliance or luck - say that they would defeat the Silver Terror (that was already so mind-boggling that Trunks had a hard time concentrating on this particular scenario; it made him chuckle a little as he sped through the Aranzian sky after Vegeta and Bulma)… then the Earth wouldn't be destroyed by androids of whatever sort. Hurrah for this particular time. But then… would a different, stronger set of androids arise in a couple of years, and give it a go again because it was simply the Earth's destiny to be demolished, its people diminished? And would again everything be destroyed around him (or an alternate version of himself, like the younger Trunks in the spaceship right now, perhaps) and would he again take a time machine into an alternate past to fight the future? And would he win there, creating another timeline, endlessly looping time around itself and himself, thus trying to outsmart Destiny time after time and failing? Should he even dare to challenge Destiny like that if it would prove to be so utterly hopeless?

The paradox was horrible.

Trunks gnashed his teeth and tried not to believe in it. He could not afford to; it was too awful to be true. He had to believe in the light in Marron's eyes, in the beautiful twinkling sound of his little sisters delightful laughter, into the unspoken affection between his parents, in the quiet strength of the Son family - that's where he had to draw his strength from. Because all of those things were just as true as this… atrocity he was thinking of right now.

Hope should be his strength, not fear and uncertainty. He needed all of his strength for this.

It was too late for Aranza, but there was still hope for Earth. Maybe he truly was the Earth's only hope. Maybe he would change the future forever so that Marron could grow up into the beautiful woman she deserved to become and smile at him sweetly, captivating all the goodness and the light of the world in that one smile.

He had to believe in that.

Sweet darling you worry too much, my child

See the sadness in your eyes

You are not alone in life

Although you might think that you are

~ Within Temptation, `Our Farewell'

Chapter Ten: Summer Evening

There was a party going at Capsule Corporation. It was even audible out here, on the other side of the immense compound. Trunks did not feel very much like partying, so he had excused himself as quickly as he could and was spending the rest of the summer evening meditating. He was sitting with his back against the smooth wall, his legs in the lotus position, mind completely empty. Tendrils of thought sometimes trailed over the edges of his mind, but they never quite connected. Trunks loved this kind of meditation; the distant feeling of other thoughts of the rest of the world, the soft sensation of the breeze against his skin. Goku had wanted everyone to enjoy life as much as possible in this last year before the Silver Terror would come, but Trunks could not quite bring himself to immerse himself in fake cheeriness. He kept feeling the anticipation and the fear right below that cheery surface; it felt like hypocrisy to act that way.

"Why are you still training so hard?"

Even though he had known she was there, her voice still startled him. He was not sure whether she had just pulled him out of his concentration, or that it was because he recognized her voice. For one moment he remained in his meditation state, his eyes closed and his body relaxed, and then he braced himself. Turning around to face her was probably one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He had deliberately avoided him all those weeks since they had returned from space, and today she had finally found him.

I suppose I should have known that she'd seek me out, he thought with vague feelings of regret. It was about time.

Besides the fake cheeriness, he had not wanted to attend the party because she would be there. So much for that stealth technique; he should have left the vicinity of the building altogether. It had been a stupid move to stay here. Maybe he even partly wanted to see her somewhere deep down inside, he mused. Oh well, speculation did not matter anymore, he was looking at her right now.

"Hi Marron," he responded with a neutral voice that surprised him. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Okay I guess. I missed everyone terribly. How did your training in space go?"

"We made some progress."

"That's nice," she smiled. Some late sunrays caught her hair and made it shine like molten gold. It made his throat tighten. The time that had passed since that fateful day had chafed the rough edges of the painful memories, but Marron had matured in the time he had spent in space. She was only a year younger than the girl he had kissed, and where he had been able to dismiss her as a young child time last time he saw her, it was a lot harder this time.

"Won't you come with me to the party?" she asked.

"I'd rather not," he avoided that dark blue gaze, desperately trying to keep his mind blank. He would not give in to the pain, not this time. If only his memory wasn't so damn visual, if only he could banish those images…

"Why not?"

Of course she would ask that. He grinded his teeth and tried to think of an answer, but she answered the question all by herself. "Is it because of me?"

She caught him totally by surprise.

"I see I'm right…" she said softly, her blue eyes darkening with something that resembled sadness. "I'm sorry that my presence hurts you."

"Don't be," he said quickly. "It's a sweet pain."

She looked up at him in confusion, as he rose from the lush grass and came to stand with her in the sunlight. "Sweet?"

"It's wonderful to see you whole and alive," he whispered, damning himself with every word he spoke. "And I have missed you."

She seemed to be hesitating. Eager, too. She was obviously unsure what to do, but did not avert her eyes. She kept her gaze on him while she searched for words. "Did we…?"

He took her in his arms and embraced her tightly. "Yes, we did. I loved you. I still do."

Krillin had walked up to him and Goten and had asked if they had seen his daughter. "She's probably inside," Goten had answered, unwilling to leave the plate with delicious snacks. He was nibbling on a block of cheese, and did not even look up to the ex-monk, already contemplating what snack to consume next.

"Do you know where she is, Trunks?" Krillin had asked.

"I don't know," he had admitted. "I'll look for her."

"Thanks!"

And so Trunks had scurried off to search for his blond girlfriend. After he had searched through the whole gardens, he was about to give up and search inside, when he found her. She was in the last place he expected her to be… in his older counterpart's arms, whispering that she loved him. *Future* Trunks' arms.

Vision blurred by unexpected tears, he turned tail and fled. It seemed to him as if the crashing down of his whole world was thundering in his ears.

Marron hugged him tightly. He was so full of sadness, she did not know how to deal with it. She loved him, yes, she had always adored him. Or rather, his younger counterpart had been her idol - she had spent her whole life worshipping the ground he walked on. It hurt her to see him on pain, whatever future he was coming from.

It was just hard to decide what she would do with this sudden revelation; the girl that he loved was dead. She was basically the same person; yet different. And could she transfer her total crush on Trunks so easily to his future counterpart? Should she? He needed it so terribly, but she already knew that it would probably never be enough.

"I love you too," she whispered sadly in the silence of their shared embrace. "I'm just really confused what I should do with it, because you and the boy I grew up with are not the same. I don't know what to say… you have my love, as a friend at least. I don't know about the rest. You're a beautiful person, really, but I fell in love with someone else… I need some time to figure this out." She pried herself loose from his arms and looked at his flawless face, and his fathomless deep eyes, crystal-clear like a winter sky. There was so much pain under the surface, she could almost see it. And he looked so sad. She'd like to kiss him to make him happy, but that would make matters only worse, she feared. So instead she pecked him on the cheek, as a friend.

"I wouldn't want to force you to anything," Future Trunks said softly.

"I know," she smiled. "I'm going back to the party. Will you come with me?"

He nodded, and took her arm. Somehow Marron felt as if she had won a battle, although she could not say what the fight had been about. It just felt good.

It wasn't until the end of the party that Marron realized that neither Trunks nor Goten were anywhere to be found among the party people.

"Are you alright?"

Trunks was sitting with his back to him, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Even from behind he looked defeated; his shoulders were slumped and his head was lowered. Goten just had the hardest time retrieving his friend. Because Trunks had repressed his ki, he had to visit all of Trunks' favorite places to find him. The sun had set by now, and the sky was coloring the same tint of lavender as Trunks' hair.

"I guess so," Trunks answered finally.

Goten sat down next to him and took in the marvelous view of the city below. "What's wrong?"

His friend shrugged. "I think she's in love with future Trunks. I saw them together."

For a moment, Goten contemplated a mental touch, but decided against it. It would probably be an intrusion on a moment like this, even when it was meant to be supporting.

There were a lot of other things he could do, but in the end he just settled down for his arm around his friend's shoulders and a companionable, understanding silence.

They sat there for a long time that summer evening.

Interlude: Last Year

~And so, the last year started.

The Z Senshi all prepared for the final battle, each in his or her own way, but in the end all they could do was hope that it would be enough.

Would it? Only time would tell…~

(8 months and counting)

You don't know what you have until it's gone, Trunks mused, sitting in his windowsill and watching the sunset. He had just returned home after a sparring vacation of a month. Now that Goten and he had both graduated high school, they had oceans of time. His mother was extremely lenient where it came to finding a college right now; with the end of the world close at hand, she had taken Goku's advice and let him enjoy himself as much as he wanted.

And he had really needed to get out of the house.

The first weeks after the party at Capsule Corp had been depressing and painful. He had gone out of his way to avoid Future Trunks and Marron both. He did not feel like dealing with them yet. It certainly wasn't the nicest way of finding out that you harbor warm feelings for someone. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, they said, and that was definitely true in his case. He was so filled with jealousy that sometimes he thought he would burst.

Goten had noticed and helped him through that first phase: he had taken Trunks on a sparring session in the mountains, where they hunted and sparred and did some serious talking. They would lie on their back and look at the stars, contemplating life, the universe, and everything… they'd muse on love, on battle and telepathy, and on the threat of the Silver Terror that was coming closer every day.

"It seems that the people on Earth are always living in the face of impending doom," Goten had remarked sardonically on one of those starlit evenings. Trunks had agreed with him, darkly muttering about doom and time and curses that seemed to be upon the Z Senshi.

The evening had ended with the both of them ending up drunk, melancholically, and eventually with the mother of all hangovers. It was definitely one of the best nights Trunks had ever had, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. It would be a memory worth fighting for.

*

(6 months and counting)

One of the things Marron really liked about the small island where she grew up was the climate. The remote location drove her bonkers sometimes, but at least the weather was always pretty. Even early in the morning it was already warm enough for an extended swim. She dove through the waves and swam for a while. When Future Trunks had told them about the threat of the Silver Terror, her mother had wanted to train her to fight (or at least to defend herself), but instead 18 had ended up scolding her teenage daughter for her bad condition. Two and a half years later Marron was in top condition because of the fighting and the exercise, but she had maintained the habit of going for a swim first thing in the morning. It was a wonderful opportunity to be alone and reflect on certain matters.

Trunks, for example. The boy she grew up with was downright ignoring her for the past two months. At first she thought he was just busy with other things and tried not to take it personally, but she was definitely suspecting something now. They had been friends for as long as she could remember… he had been the one that had taught her to fly four years ago. He had told her about his first kiss with flushed cheeks, whispering she shouldn't tell anyone. They had shared so much together throughout their life - Marron had always worshipped the ground he walked on. Now that they were growing older, she had started to hope that maybe he would fall in love with her. He was starting to notice her, she had seen. He did still think that he was too old for her, but she had seen girls of her age together with guys his age before, so she had decided to give it time until he would turn around. After all, in the future timeline she and Trunks had ended up together, too, hadn't they?

On the other hand that was exactly her problem. Ever since the party, when she had hugged with Future Trunks, her friend was avoiding her. She wondered whether he had seen them together and made his own conclusions, but she couldn't remember seeing or hearing him. Of course, she had been rather occupied by Future Trunks.

And she had not really figured out what she felt for him, either. His need and his attention drew her like a moth to a flame. She felt a confused sort of love for him, but she did not know whether her feelings were sisterly or as a lover. It is so strange to deal with the future, scarred version of the boy you have worshipped your whole life. Especially if said young man expresses his love for you, while the boy you grew up with doesn't regard you more than a friend (yet). What are you supposed to feel in such a situation? Marron definitely didn't know.

She turned over on her back and floated aimlessly in the water for a while, looking up at the azure sky without really seeing it. A lone seagull cried out. It sounded desolate and lonely and made her cringe.

She really needed to talk to Trunks soon.

*

(3 months and counting)

Bulma squinted at her computer screen. Kami, she was tired… her eyes kept unfocusing and she was continuously hitting the wrong keys on the keyboard, but her caffeine-enhanced brain had finally reached a breakthrough.

The millions of scans and simulations she had run on the metal had finally paid off - she was rather sure she had finally found a way to reproduce the amour. It made fatigue totally irrelevant. They had three months before the Silver Terror would grace them with their uninvited presence and she needed to have this done by then. It was cold in her lab, totally dark except for her desk light, but she was completely oblivious to it. Or rather, she chose to ignore it. It was all about priorities here. No matter that she was living on coffee and that she hardly saw her family these days. She would have plenty of time to see them after she had saved their lives, right? She just needed to-

"You're up late," Vegeta's breath tickled her neck all of a sudden.

Bulma shrieked and jerked upright. She twirled her chair around, right into her mate's arms. "Damn you Vegeta, don't scare me like that!" she gasped, her heart thumping in her throat.

He laughed that throaty laugh she knew so well and buried his face in her hair. "I am lonely. Come to bed," he invited.

"Sounds wonderful," she sighed, "but I really need to-"

He swept her up in his arms and said contently: "I knew you'd agree!"

"But I didn't."

"Yes you did." He opened the door with a well-placed kick and led her out of the lab.

Bulma put her arms around his neck and sighed. He was right, of course. She really needed to go to bed. In the early years of their relationship he would have just commanded her to get out of the lab and practically verbally kick her to bed, enjoying the rush of the argument, but in the past few years he did it differently. Basically he still did whatever he wanted, but he was a lot more good humored about it. She had decided a long time ago that she liked this better. "I love you," she murmured, resting her head against his chest as he carried her up the stairs.

He just answered with an absent kiss in her hair, which about said it all.

*

(1 month and counting)

"Where are we going, Dad?" Pan inquired, fastening her bandana over her dark hair.

Gohan looked down at his beautiful eleven year old daughter and couldn't help mussing up her hair and bandana alike.

"Hey! Not the hair!" she protested.

He grinned at her, marveling over how much she was becoming a true teenager these days. She would always remain a bit of a tomboy, for that she had definitely too much of her mother in her, but she becoming more and more of a girl instead of a child every day. He loved watching his daughter grow up. "We're going to visit Dende for a bit, Pan," he told her. "I thought you might like to search for the Dragonballs."

"Do I?!" Pans eyes grew wide with excitement. "Oh dad, you are the greatest in the world!"

He opened the door and let the two of them out. Despite the fact that it was winter, the day was gorgeously bright. The sky was crisp and the world seemed full of promise and hope. He squinted against the sunlight for a moment. "There are only three more dragonballs to find," he informed her, "but it should be an adventure all the same, don't you think?"

"Yeah," his daughter bounced. "So, do you have the Dragonradar?"

"Dende has it."

"…That's why we're visiting him. Alright then!"

"Don't forget to be home for dinner," called a warm voice behind them. "We have an appointment with your family."

Gohan smiled at his wife. "Of course not. My mother would kill us if we'd be late."

"Or rather, she'd yell at you for a long time," Videl laughed. She gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and kissed him warmly. "Be careful, and you'd better have a few starry balls to present to me before dinner tonight."

"We will," Pan promised, her young face shining.

Videl nodded. "Good. Well, off you go, then!"

They took off at a slow pace. It was early in the morning, and Gohan did not want to tire Pan out needlessly. Searching for the Dragonballs usually involved all kinds of zany adventures, and she would need all of her energy for it. Of course, she had done it before. Goten, Trunks, Marron, Bra and Pan took it upon them every year to sneak off and wish for something silly with the Dragonballs. They still thought that their parents did not know what they were doing, which amused Gohan to no end. He liked the adventurous spirit of the younger generation, but that did not mean that there wasn't always one of the parents looking out for them on such adventures.

They had never needed it so far. It seemed like the new generation was very inventive and resilient where it came to adventuring. Of course, Goten and Trunks had faced worse opponents than angry baby-dragons and ravines and the weird things they would encounter on their Dragonball journeys, and Marron was responsible enough to look after Bra and Pan. And on their last adventure two years ago, before they went into space, even the youngest had looked after themselves.

This year however, Gohan would take his daughter on a quest for the four remaining Dragonballs. The one, two, four and five-star Dragonballs were currently all at the Son residence, and Gohan intended to complete that collection.

Pan was extremely giddy. She was singing and laughing, jesting with him all the way to Dende's Lookout. Dende and mr Popo were already waiting for them. Gohan shared some smiles and memories with his old friend. Dende had come far since they had met on Namek, and so had he, but they had always cherished the friendship between them. And Dende had needed a lot of friendship, especially in the first years of his Kami-status. Being a God tended to isolate you a lot, Dende had told him once.

They left within the hour, the Dragonball firmly clasped in Pan's hand. Pan had demanded to be in charge of the mission, and Gohan let her. "So, chief of the mission, where are we going?"

Pan pointed towards the North. "I think the first one is on the North Pole. We better go there first, so we have the worst part done."

"Oh great," Gohan commented. "We should have dressed warmer."

They ended up following a huge fish all over the North Pole, while the fish was swimming under the ice. Because both Pan and Gohan did not feel much for swimming so long under pack ice, they had to track him to open water first. By the time they had retrieved the seven-star Dragonball, they were soaking wet and chilled to the bone.

"I wonder why I thought this would be such a good idea," Gohan shivered, flaring his ki to warm himself and his daughter. Pan just laughed. "This is fun!"

"I already thought you'd think that."

The next two were a lot easier. One was buried ten foot under the sand in the desert, and the next they almost tripped over in a forest, hidden under some bushes. By that time, lunchtime had come and gone and they were definitely getting hungry.

"Let's get the next one quickly," Gohan proposed. Pan did not object.

The six-star Dragonball was only a few miles south, on the bottom of a little crook. They had some problems wrenching it out of the rocks it had rolled in between, but this proved to be no big difficulty either. "Yay! We did it!" Pan slapped her open palm against Gohans and did a victory dance.

"And in time for dinner, too," he grinned. "Come on, let's go home and show your mother what we've found."

*

(2 weeks and counting)

"Hey," Trunks greeted Marron as she stepped into his room. He was proud of how normal his voice sounded. It was early in the afternoon, and Trunks was browsing the internet for some colleges. He did it mostly because his mother had asked him to, but his heart was not really into it.

"Hey," said Marron. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not."

She sat down on the chair next to him.

He did not look at her, but just kept browsing. He had no idea what to say. "So what brings you here?" he asked finally.

"I wondered if you are ignoring me," she said with a bluntness that caught him completely off-guard.

He blinked at her. She looked pretty today. She was dressed all in blue, and she wore her hair loose today. It made her look younger. "What do you mean?" he stammered.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please Trunks. I haven't seen you in ages. You used to drop by all the time. Don't you think I know something is wrong?"

He shrugged, and turned back to his browsing. "I didn't want to disturb you and your new boyfriend," he muttered.

"W-What do you mean?" she stammered, much like he had done only a minute ago.

"Well, my beloved futuristic twin and you are an item, right?" His voice was venomous, but it was too late to swallow the words back. This was how he felt, and he could not help it.

"Actually, we aren't. He needs a lot of love, but I can't give that to him. So we're just friends."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

A silence fell. "Well, I'm glad for that," he said after a few minutes, turning away from the computer to smile at her. "Wouldn't want to interfere."

She smiled back at him. "You won't."

Trunks broke into a wide grin. "So, you want to go for a drink, then?"

"I'd love to."

*

(3 days and counting…)

It was too cold to sit on the balcony, but today Bulma did not really care. She was sitting on the edge of the railing, her feet dangling in the open air. It wasn't as if she'd fall far - her bedroom was on the second floor. She was smoking a cigarette. A nasty habit, and one she only gave in to when she was really, really stressed.

Today was such a day.

Bulma stared blearily at the stars and could not stop thinking about the date of the day. May 21st. The first day of spring. In three days horror would descend on them.

"You really shouldn't do that," a voice behind her said. "It's a nasty habit."

"It's not as if it really matters, does it? In three days it'll all be over," she answered the future version of her son crossly. She turned around to face him. He looked painfully beautiful; his eyes were dark and blue, a shade of sadness perpetually on his features. He wore his hair long these days. It waved in the spring breeze. Bulma wondered how such a perfect creature could have come forth out of her joining and Vegeta, and decided that Trunks had received the best of two worlds.

Trunks' brow furrowed. "I thought you weren't into doom thinking. That's my job."

She smiled despite herself. "True, true. I'm just worried, I guess."

"So am I." He sat down next to her and stared into the distance.

Bulma pushed out her cigarette and murmured: "I have something to confess. I need to share it with someone besides Vegeta, otherwise I'll go nuts." She ran her hands through her recently-cut short hair. "I built a doomsday device, you know…"

Trunks looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

She did not meet his gaze. "I managed to reproduce the armor that your Silver Terror wears. In case it all goes to hell, someone can put on the armor and end it for once and for all." She sighed. "The terrible thing is, that the one who puts it on probably goes insane in the process and ends up just as warped as the Terror. I've been running some simulations, you know, and the metal seems to reflect a lot. Ki, thoughts, such things. Imagine being in such a suit. You can't get out of it and it keeps reflecting your thoughts. At the point where you put the armor on, you're probably really angry and sad, and the suit keeps reflecting… I don't know what it will do to a human or a saiya-jin mind. So it's probably useless anyway."

"Damned if you do, and damned if you don't," Trunks mused softly. "It's a doomsday device, indeed. If the last one standing indeed has to put on the suit… he'll become one of them. And then we're back to square one."

Bulma nodded solemnly. She took a lighter and another cigarette out of the pocket of her coat and lit a new cigarette. "Yes. So I guess that most of my research has been useless. If the training hasn't been enough, we're pretty much doomed anyway."

A silence fell. For some time they were contemplating their own thoughts on the matter.

"Bring the armor anyway," Trunks suddenly said after a few minutes, when Bulma's cigarette was almost out.

"Why?"

"Because it's different than last time."

"I don't understand you."

Trunks shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I think I want a cigarette, too."

~end of part 2~