Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Stargazing ❯ Saiyan Pride and Homecomings ( Chapter 3 )

Stargazing
Chapter 3: Saiyan Pride and Homecomings

Planet Karun...

A beautiful, emerald green planet in the fourth western quadrant about 2.6 trillion leagues away from Earth that reminds me eerily of the comfortable home I left behind three years ago. It's a bustling intergalactic trade center run by the Karunites, a pacifistic and industrial people who look essentially like talking wolves who walk on their two hind legs, and it's also the perfect place for me to get my damaged engine thrusters repaired.

But I have one little problem.

At the height of Frieza's reign, this planet was a part of the many solar systems targeted by Vegita-ou's imperial Saiyan army, and during the Great War, the entire population was nearly wiped out. Dangling on the brink of extinction, the Karunites were able to make an extraordinary comeback by interbreeding with other species, but even though it has been nearly seventy years since then, they still harbor a deep-seeded and violent hatred to any and all things Saiyan.

And this is a problem, why?

Because every single article of clothing I own is unmistakably Saiyan.

'Damn,' I curse as I slip into my spandex suit and strap on my armor. 'Me and my stupid Saiyan pride.' I rummage desperately through my bedroom for a cloak to hide my attire as the autopilot gently sets the damaged spacecraft onto the landing pad. "YES!" I pump my fist in the air triumphantly as I wrap a long, brown, hooded cloak around my armor and look at my reflection in the mirror.

I whistle approvingly.

Three years, and even under this baggy cloak, I looked damn good.

I set my face into a neutral expression before entering the main hangar, which doubles as a gravity room, and I push my hand onto the security pad. The door opens with a whoosh as the exit ramp lowers itself to the ground, the mechanism whirring softly and the thrusters groaning as they automatically shut off. A Karunian guard waves me over.

"Greetings! Welcome to Port Drunos. Will you be staying long?" he asks me in Common Tongue 4, which is the official language of this quadrant.

I keep my face expressionless, but my voice is friendly. "No, only a temporary stop. I need to repair my ship."

He looks over the damaged thrusters expertly, and shakes his head. "That must have been one terrible meteor shower you went through. You're lucky to have gotten here."

I smile slightly at his observation. "Yes, which is why I'm in desperate need of a good mechanic. Can you be so kind as to direct me to one?"

"Not a problem." He points to one of the busy streets behind him. "Go down that way until you pass the diner, and it'll be the large yellow building on your left."

I give him my thanks and capsulize my spaceship. He stops me, however, as I turn to walk down the direction he has pointed out to me. The guard smiles a bit sheepishly.

"Sorry," he says, "but you'll have to fill out this small form." He hands me a clipboard. "Government policy," he adds apologetically.

I nod understandably and take his pen, looking at the information they want.

1. Name. 'Son Pan,' I write. 2. Planet of origin. 'Earth.' 3. Occupation. I hesitate before scribbling 'student traveler.' 4. Species. I make sure my cloak is wrapped tightly around me before writing, 'Human.'

After returning the completed form to the guard, I walk down the street, smirking and thinking, 'and one quarter Saiyan.'

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The mechanic's shop is new and well-kept, and as I walk in, I'm greeted by a kind old female Karunite, who introduces herself to me as Lexua, the shopkeeper's wife. She treats me to a spicy beverage native to the planet before the mechanic himself walks out.

"Hello, the name's Ferro. I run this place. Can I help you?"

I put down my drink and shake his hand. "Yes, I'm looking for parts to replace four damaged MC31 engine thrusters."

He thinks for a moment before answering. "I don't have the parts," he says slowly, "I just sold the last of them yesterday. However, I do have a brand new set of four. Just came in this morning. The problem is, they'll be more expensive if you buy them new..." he trails off, looking at me apologetically.

I nod, knowing where this conversation is leading, and reach into my cloak, pulling out a single capsule. I pop it open to reveal a very large and very heavy leather bag.

"Money is not a problem for me," I say briskly as I open the bag to reveal its contents. It's filled to the brim with solid gold coins. "However," I add, "time is. If you please, I'd like you to install them immediately, and I'll pay you straight out."

He looks at me, eyes wide. "That's no problem," he answers happily, "why don't you uncapsulize the ship out back, and I'll get my tools."

As he turns away, practically skipping, I smile mysteriously.

He probably doesn't want to know how I got all this money.

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Half an hour later, I inspect Ferro's finished work, pleased with the results.

"You have a very experienced hand," I tell him as I give him the bag. He smiles brightly.

"Thank you, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. Please, do come again."

I nod and head out, capsulized ship in hand, and wave one last time as I step through the door. Unfortunately for me, the whooshing door slams shut before I'm completely through, and my cloak is pulled off my shoulders.

Holy shit.

I'm standing in the middle of a Karunian street, garbed from head to toe in traditional Saiyan armor.

Like I said, holy shit.

"SAIYAN!!!" someone screams, and the entire street is in instant chaos. Male Karunites everywhere raise their hackles and hurry towards the center of the trouble, sharp fangs bared as they launch themselves at me, their powerful muscles rippling underneath shining coats of silver-gray fur as they run at me on all fours at superhuman speeds.

Hmph. Pacifistic people my ass.

I switch instantly into survival mode, flaring my ki suddenly and sending the first wave of attackers flying. I kick off the ground powerfully and blast off into the sky, followed closely by thousands of Karunian speeders, all of which are firing lasers at my poor, lonely, Saiyan self.

I grin widely.

Somehow, dressed in Saiyan armor and flying at the speed of sound with half a planet of snapping, snarling, murderous superwolves after my head, I feel happier and more alive than ever.

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A few hours and several Karunian casualties later I was once again surrounded by the comforting darkness of space. The euphoria from the chase hadn't worn off yet and I was losing my mind with boredom, so I decided to do what any other typical Saiyan female would do in this situation.

I beat the shit out of myself.

The main hangar is bathed in an eerie red light as the gravity stimulator whirs quietly. The only other sound in the ship is my harsh, ragged breathing as I continue my ruthless training, hurling one ki blast after another at the metallic walls of the room, only to have them reflect back and hit my already battered body. What's left of my spandex and armor is caked with blood, and my eyesight is starting to fail under the combined pressure of the pain, blood loss, and gravity. After bracing myself for one final hit and managing to stay on my feet, I stagger over to the control panel and shut down the machine, letting out a sigh of relief as I feel the pressure of the gravity on my shoulders ease. The red light fades.

I feel sorry to see it go, as it really is such a soothing, noble color.

The same color of Vegita-sei.

I reminisce a while longer on my lost heritage and my past before easing myself down the stairs to my living quarters. After peeling the remaining shreds of my clothing off my sweaty, blood-streaked skin, I throw myself into the regeneration tank in my bedroom, feeling the overwhelming need to sleep. I adjust the oxygen mask over my face as the tank automatically whirs to life, and pretty soon I lose myself to the darkness of slumber as the comforting turquoise-blue water surrounds me.

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Hours later, my groggy mind becomes aware that the regen-tank is beeping meticulously, reminding me that the healing process has finished. The machine drains the central chamber of the healing fluid and I pry the plastic oxygen mask off my face and stretch. I step out of the chamber, soaking wet and stark naked, and head for the shower.

A hot soak in the tub does wonders for my sore muscles.

I walk into the kitchen, freshly dressed in my pajamas - the only clothing I own that is even remotely human - to satisfy my growling stomach. While eating, I hear a small beeping from the cockpit.

"Well, I'll be damned," I mutter to myself.

It seems I have a message.

From Earth.

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The video screen blares to life, and I'm met by the very welcome sight of a very surly looking, spiky-haired Saiyan prince. I grin cheekily.

"Vegita!" I wave at him happily. "Good to see you! It's been a month, hasn't it?"

"Save the pleasantries, brat," he cuts me off curtly. He looks at me expectantly, arms crossed over his chest in his classic stance. He raises one regal, dark eyebrow, regarding me impatiently. "Well?"

"Yea, yea, I got the pendant like you asked. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Those Conan mercenaries are ruthless! I almost got my head chopped off!" I gesture to him with mock indignance. "You could have warned me, you know."

"Feh, if you couldn't even handle them, then you don't deserve to have the pendant in your possession," he snaps back at me.

"Alright, alright, no need to get nasty. I just stopped at Karun to repair my ship, but I'll be back within a month with your precious pendant. Do me a favor and tell my parents, will you?"

"I'll do no such thing."

"Thanks. See you in a month, then."

He scowls and the vid-screen blinks off.

I smile.

I'm finally going home.

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Trunks stretched lazily as the last of the foreign buyers left the conference room, satisfied at the progress Capsule Corp had made. Turning to his vice president and close friend Charles Whittier, he smiled wolfishly.

"Good work, Charles. If all goes well, we'll have them all signing contracts by the end of the month."

His partner smiled back and shrugged. "You're the Prez."

Trunks laughed and stood up.

"Listen, we should go out and celebrate tonight. After all, it's not everyday that we clinch four different multi-billion dollar deals. Call Celeste and set up a double date. I'll call Marron and make reservations at the downtown Bistro."

Charles shifted uncomfortably.

"Er... um......"

Trunks looked up from the phone. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Mmm..."

"Pardon?"

"Ah..."

"Char les, spit it out!"

"Um, well, I, uh, I kinda... broke up with Celeste a week ago," he finished quickly.

Silence.

"WHAT?"

Charles winced and turned around to face his shocked friend, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. He sighed sadly and hesitated.

"I thought you were proposing to her last week. What happened?" Trunks demanded.

"She agreed to see me that night only because she wanted to call it off. It 'wasn't working' and there was 'someone else', apparently." He slumped over dejectedly.

Trunks frowned and put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hey, man, if that's the case, then she doesn't deserve a guy like you. And why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I... er... I didn't want you to pity me."

"Dammit, Charles, why would I pity you?

He didn't reply.

Trunks sighed, frustrated. "Look -" he began.

Before he could finish, the door opened and Bulma plowed in, positively glowing. She was dressed haphazardly, her hair was mussed, and she was breathing excitedly.

Trunks blinked. "Uh, hey, Mom," he said, surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"Trunks! Oh, hello, Charles," she added quickly. The vice-president waved back meekly. "I've got the greatest news!" she squealed.

"Er... Bra's leaving the country?"

"No, your father just told me a moment ago - Pan's coming home!"

Silence.

"WHAT?"

"She'll be here in a month!"

More silence.

Bulma stared at her son, concerned, and set her hands on her hips. "Honey, are you all right, you look a bit green."

"Yea, I'm fine, Mom, just fine," he mumbled absently before collapsing into a chair.

"Well, in that case, I expect you to immediately begin planning your wedding," she said briskly. "This engagement has gone on far too long, and my grandchildren are long overdue," the blue-haired woman finished, voice commanding.

"Huh? Oh, yea, sure Mom, I'll get right on it," Trunks muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "Three years," he breathed to himself.

Bulma snorted derisively and stormed out of the room. Trunks sat unmoving, and Charles stepped forward, a bit hesitant.

"Hey, Trunks, man, you alright?"

"Yea, yea, just great."

A long pause.

"By the way, who's Pan?"

Trunks looked up and smiled slowly. "She's my best friend who left here three years ago, and I haven't seen her since." Charles motioned for him to go on. "It's a huge deal for her to be coming home, since she left on rather weird terms, but the reason Marron and I are still only engaged is because we were waiting for her to be here for the wedding."

"Well, why didn't you just fly her in on your private jet and then fly her back when the wedding was over?"

Trunks chuckled lowly.

"She left the planet, Charles."

More silence.

"Confidential research expedition," he added quickly.

A long pause.

"WHAT? REALLY? HOW COME I WASN'T INFORMED ABOUT THIS? WOW, THIS IS INCREDIBLE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? DO YOU THINK SHE'S MADE CONTACT WITH OTHER LIFE FORMS? CAN I MEET HER? WHEN WILL SHE BE BACK? DOES SHE WORK HERE? CAN YOU ARRANGE AN APPOINTMENT FOR HER?"

Trunks smiled as his vice-president and lead researcher continued rambling incoherently. He gathered his files from the conference room desk and put on his jacket, thinking all the while,

'It's about time, Pan.'

The rest of the month seemed like it couldn't go by faster just then.

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(One month later...)

I look over the front panel into the familiar darkness of space. Ahead of me, a swirling blue-white orb blinks warmly up at me, welcoming me home.

Home...

Earth.

My eyes are fixed on the beautiful planet below me as the ship begins to prepare to enter the atmosphere, the planet and home I have neither seen nor heard of for the past three years save what little Vegita has said to me. I think of my family, how they will react to seeing me "all grown up" as they would call it, and I muse on what to say to my parents and grandmother. What would have changed in three years? Had Bra finally told Goten how she felt about him? Did Mom and Dad look any different? Would Bulma have already handed down the company to Trunks?

'Trunks...' I think, and a my heart thumps.

I shake myself out of my reverie.

'Whoa, Pan, get a hold of yourself. You're over him already, remember?' I think to myself. 'Three years, and you haven't seen or spoken to him. You don't need him, you don't need anyone. You'll get home, stay for his wedding, then leave again. Space is where you belong.'

I nod, and my breathing returns to normal. The false reassurances work, and I feel relieved again. No, I won't treat Trunks any different than the others, and I won't act as if I'm anything else but a good friend to him. I'll do what's expected of me at the wedding, and then I'll turn around and leave again, so I'll never have to see him again.

"Yea, the only reason I'm coming back is to give Vegita his pendant, anyway," I say aloud to reassure myself.

Even to me it sounds like a lie.

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The ship shakes like it always does when entering a new planet's atmosphere, and I expertly guide the craft down to the correct coordinates. The landing gear shifts into place as I peer at the video screen, identifying for the first time in three years the shining yellow dome of Capsule Corp.

I smile.

I never thought I'd be this happy just to give Vegita some damn pendant.

The engine thrusters flare powerfully as the ship slows down to a mere hover, and I direct it down to the central courtyard of CC. Below me, I can see a long line of people jumping up and down and waving energetically as the ship floats down and lands gently on the grass. There's barely a thump. After three years of practice and experience, my flying and landing skills are both perfect.

I take a deep breath as I unstrap myself from the pilot seat, and my heart soars.

I'm finally here.

============================================================ ===

The large group of people stood waiting impatiently, searching for any sign of movement within the shining metal spaceship that had just landed so neatly in the yard.

There was none.

Trunks held his breath as he stood between Marron and Charles, the latter who was quivering with excitement. (His friend had positively begged him to let him come meet Pan and see the landing, so who was he to say no?) He took a deep breath. This would be the first time in three years he would see the girl he had always thought of as his best friend. He wondered what she looked like now, if she still had her orange bandanna, and whether or not she would remember him.

Feh, of course she would remember him. How could she not?

He tapped his foot impatiently when the door of the ship made no sign of opening anytime soon. Trunks growled, contemplating walking up there and busting through the door when there was a small beep and the door panel slid open with a whoosh.

His jaw dropped.

Pan walked out confidently, head held high and back straight. She was dressed in Saiyan armor - boots, scouter, and all - and a small black leather bag swung from a small belt that hung low on her slim waist. Her hair had grown long - even tied in a high ponytail almost on the top of her head, it fell down her back almost to her waist in a beautiful sheen of silky black, and under the navy blue spandex and armor she wore, Trunks could see slender, rippling muscles and - he gulped - the perfect and extremely... ah... curvaceous figure of a fully developed Saiyan woman.

"Dende," he breathed. How could anyone that petite have such long and slender legs?

Pan looked around at her home planet for the first time in three years. It was beautiful, she mused, and then she turned her eyes on each one of the people she loved so much - her family and her friends.

All the while, Trunks couldn't take his eyes off her.

She had definitely grown. Her cheekbones were high and slender, and her long lashes accented her big, chocolate-brown eyes. Smooth, creamy skin revealed a slender, flawless neck and full, soft lips. Her gloved hands hid fingers that were strong and supple but still feminine.

A blush rose up to Trunks' cheeks.

And then, Marron shifted beside him, and he suddenly felt very, very guilty.

Who was he to be... lusting after Pan, little Panny, when he was engaged and scheduled to be married in less than a month?

'Bad Trunks,' he thought to himself as he saw her embrace her parents and grandmother tightly. His eyes couldn't help but notice how the white armor molded perfectly to her every curve. 'Control!!' he ordered himself rather desperately, 'she's fourteen years younger than you, for Dende's sake! Okay, just breathe, that's it, don't look - damn it, focus on her face!'

Vegita looked over amusedly at his obviously uncomfortable son.

He smirked.

'The boy won't last as long as I thought.'

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Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Your support means a lot to me! About this chapter, the first part was just to give you a little insight on Pan's lifestyle for the past three years, and the rest of it? Well, let's just say it's building the fic up to the fun stuff to come later. ^_^

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Disclaimer: Any and all characters belonging to Dragonball/Z/GT are the legal property of Toriyama Akira and/or FUNimation.