Barracks

A/N: Thanks to my friend White_Youkai for inspiring the scene with Trunks and wine, and the C.A.T.

Sophie: I’m glad to have given you a good start to the New Year :) Thanks for your greetings and wishes.
This chapter was a lot of fun to write – so many things going on. I don’t want to spoil your reading, so will just say that, with this chapter, some old faces come back into the picture.

TristaML: yes, achillona has a few stories to her name on this site and she used to leave reviews as well. It’s a pity I didn’t manage to finish Barracks earlier.
Well, the writing style can change a little but the story itself was planned out about six years ago, so it, at least, won’t affect the main storyline. The question is about the way I will deliver the ideas and the additional details, events.
The thing about DBZ characters is that I watched the anime a long, long time ago, and I hardly remember anything about those characters. I just have the main mold for them in my head. Goten is quite a complicated character in Barracks and he often contradicts himself. He is very indecisive but once his butt is on fire, he can be the epitome of efficiency. He also acts quite differently depending on who he is with. I don’t think he even realizes that he’s pretending most of the time.
Yup, my beta has already received chapter 58 and will hopefully be done with it in a few weeks’ time.

WonderMint: First of all, I must say you impressed me with your fast reading and attention to details. I have a feeling you know the reason for things I write better than me. I am not being sarcastic.
Now off to tackle some issues you raised. The spoiler about Trunks being the shaii in the third chapter. It was sorta revealed in the first few paragraphs of the chapter (the blue eyes), and I didn’t think the chart above will be a spoiler, but I see what you mean.
Oh my, Almanda. You’re absolutely right about this one – her namelessness was very distracting and it annoyed me. The problem with Almanda was that she was not supposed to stay in the story. She was just an extra and was supposed to be gone in a chapter or two, so I never bothered to give her a name. I actually avoided giving her one since I already had a full cast of original characters and believed that one more new name might be one too many. The problem arose when I realized that Almanda was not going anywhere – she became one of Goten’s friends. All of it got to the point that it was impossible for me to suddenly start using her name without it looking super ridiculous and it was impossible to get rid of her. So consequently I had to incorporate Goten’s “stupid” moment and make him find out her name.
I would answer your third “complaint” but I don’t want to give spoilers. I did receive a few demands/flames concerning Trunks’ absence but I’m kinda used to these things. They don’t work on me. I mean this is not a commercial novel, I’m not paid to do this and any demands to cater to someone’s particular taste just piss me off.
Barracks has a ton of original characters. Like seriously, heaps of them! If I were the reader, I’d not remember their names. I was very skeptical when I started working on Barracks and thought that the sheer amount of OCs was going to be overbearing on the reader and I was quite surprised that the readers didn’t freak out at the sheer amount of unknown characters.
I haven’t seen GT either. I have no idea how Trunks or Goten would behave. The thing is that when I start any story, I borrow characters that appeal to me (may only be their appearance or behavior or both) and twist them into what I want/need them to be. When time passes, I forget the canon and their true behavior (I don’t normally re-watch or reread things). Barracks was born many years after I had watched DBZ. It was molded by tons of various fanfiction for various fandoms, by all possible books I read, series I watched, etc. And, in the end, my stories tend to take their paths of their own. I think I said it about some hundred times but Barracks was supposed to be some 15 chapters at most. Characters don’t listen to me – they lead independent lives. Take Almanda. She is not even supposed to have a name.
Ooh, I was very keen on space adventure when I started Barracks. I don’t even remember if I started it with the war in mind at once or it came later as an excuse to send Goten into space. I’m glad I had an opportunity to write it. It wasn’t really about character development, it was more about space adventure XD
I don’t want to give you any spoilers, so I will keep quiet about Reyn and Trunks. In chapter 59 we finally reach the third arc (can you imagine it?! Took me only 9 years!) and thus the beginning of the end.
I will also avoid answering the questions about Darren appearing or not appearing further, Goten being poisoned by the royals, and him talking or not talking to his dad concerning the whole “Prince Vegeta recognized me, why and what do I do?” business.
Thank you very much for your inspiring comment, it was really a pleasure to read it. I can only hope that the upcoming chapters will keep you engaged in the same way as the previous ones. It’s been a long time, after all.

Barracks

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by quatreofdoom

Part 57

The largest part of the conference hall was submerged in dust. Chaos reigned, but glowing spots here and there indicated that the elites had raised defensive shields to protect themselves and people around them from the falling ceiling. Before the conference, the door had been locked down for security reasons and no one was able to leave. The back wall was missing now. Visibility wasn’t good enough to try and climb outside, yet a few people could be seen trying to get past the rubble. Some of the decorations, chairs, and the red carpet close to the wall were on fire.

Not certain where the enemy was, Goten was scanning the smoky hall from the platform but he wasn’t able to see past the white fog. Some people were running for the door or the back wall and the perpetrator could be amongst them. Goten’s ears were ringing with Humans’ shouts while his head was buzzing unpleasantly. He didn’t know how much he’d powered up, but he was certain that if anyone had one of those old scouters that they’d used at the school, it would have already malfunctioned.

A blast bounced off Goten’s shield and the third-class turned in the direction it had come from. Another explosion shook the hall when the ricocheted ki-blast hit the far corner of the room. There he was. Goten’s eyes set on a Leiador with a gray uniform. It seemed that the man had realized that no matter how powerful, his ki-attacks were futile against the shield surrounding the prince. Now the Leiador was flying towards the platform.

At the sight of the assassin approaching, three royal guards rushed out into the hall to bar his way. Prince Vegeta managed to catch one of his guards by the arm and hauled him back.

“Stay inside!” he growled as much for the man he had grabbed as for the rest of his guards. It was too late, though. At the sight of the two advancing royal guards, the Leiador launched another blast. The elites summoned their ki-shields but the force of the collision tossed them backwards, the more powerful enemy destroying their shields easily.

Furious, Prince Vegeta glared at Goten’s glowing back. However, before the prince could shove the younger man aside and take matters into his own hands, the reinforced door to the hall and the front row of empty chairs exploded. A Saiyan flew in.

Amidst the settling dust, Reyn concentrated on the stage. His attention was preoccupied by a powerful Saiyan male. Something in the back of his mind recognized him as Goten but he could not help but growl. Then a ki-blast flew at him and, concentrating on the hostile Leiador, he forgot the troubling Saiyan.

A little amused, Goten watched the assassin launch a second blast at Reyn. The flight officer batted it away and bore down on the Leiador. It was over in seconds. Goten grimaced at the sight of the green neck snapping in Reyn’s hands. Someone applauded. Others kept cursing the dust and smoke that was getting into their eyes and lungs.

Goten could feel the burning glare on his back. It was over, but he was afraid to power down. He turned around slowly to meet Prince Vegeta’s stare. The third-class saluted smartly.

“Honored to meet You, Your Highness!”

Then Goten ran. Or rather he flew, because running could not get him away as fast from this accursed hall as he would have liked. Confused, Reyn blinked at the other third-class’s back, then decided to follow him. The royal guards and other security personnel reacted according to the principle “if it runs from you, chase it down” and rushed after the two third-classes. Halfway down the hall, though, the prince’s command stopped the royal guards.

While whipping through corridor after corridor, Goten was trying to fit his scouter back over his left eye. It didn’t go well as he had to concentrate on flying and his fingers were shaking with tension. Cursing, he finally fitted it over his eye and dialed his father.

“How did it go?”

At the moment, Goten wasn’t able to wrap his mind around the question. “I don’t know!” he hissed, agitated. “The prince was alive last time I saw him! We are heading to the launch pad! Where are you? What happened to the ambassador?”

“That’s great!”

“What’s great?” Goten panted, turning a corner at full speed, nearly crashing into a soda vending machine headfirst.

“That the prince is alive,” Kakarott repeated patiently. “And concerning the ambassador – hasn’t Reyn told you?”

Goten turned to Reyn, who gave him a blank look. “I didn’t ask,” Goten grunted. Smiling down at a few confused passersby, he picked up speed again.

“Why are we running away?” Reyn asked, frowning.

“I don’t know!” Goten spat. “Wasn’t that the plan? And you are supposed to be in that ship waiting for me! Can you imagine what would happen if they find out that we’ve only been pretending to be NS agents?!” he asked, pointing at the security personnel chasing them.

“We get a medal for saving the prince?” Reyn offered.

“No! Knowing my luck, we get kitchen duty in prison for life!” Goten hissed at him.

Reyn rolled his eyes. “Stop flying, Goten. We can’t escape. Their security system is fully functional – there was no reason to turn it off. The ambassador agreed to cooperate as soon as he was promised the safe return of his family. It appears that one of the Leiadorian radical military factions took some of them hostage. Their government is dealing with the situation on their side and we sent a rescue party.”

“Oh.”

They were rapidly getting closer to the launch pad, but Goten started to realize that it was, indeed, pointless. They would only be able to board that ship if they dealt with the security personnel that were chasing them. No one would let them board the ship without a fight and there was no need for innocent victims at this stage of events. Besides, with Bruminan’s security system fully functional and hundreds of ships orbiting the base, there was not even a tiny chance that they could survive long enough to use a hyper jump.

At some point, Kakarott’s voice had died out in Goten’s scouter without him noticing. He tried to contact his father again. It took a moment or two to connect and then there was so much crackling that Goten couldn’t hear anything and ended the call. Almanda, though, answered right away.

“Yes, Goten?”

“Where the hell are you?” Goten demanded through the static noise. He heard Almanda sigh.

“On our way to Earth. We just set off.”

“Don’t tell me you two are still on that ship…”

“Well, of course we are,” the elite confirmed. “Where the hell else do you want us to be?”

Goten rubbed his forehead in frustration. “On Bruminan, of course!”

“Do you want them to arrest us or something? I’m not supposed to be there, remember?”

Goten groaned. “We are not supposed to be here either! And my father crashed the last plane he piloted.”

The elite cleared her throat meaningfully. “You are supposed to be there, remember?” There was a short pause in the conversation that let the implications of that fully sink into Goten’s mind: the orders would be checked and the shaii was going to find out that, surprisingly or not, it was he who had sent two third-classes to protect his father. Goten was drawn back to the present by muffled voices, then Almanda continued: “He says he’s become better at landing.”

Goten glared straight ahead. “Well, of course he has! Which part of ‘crashed’ didn’t you understand?”

“We’ll be fine and…”

The static noise was becoming louder and Almanda’s voice started crackling; the scouters were reaching their distance limit.

“Tell me you took Mister Elite with you,” Goten asked. He heard Almanda laugh.

“When do you think we could have done that? That thing’s still on Bruminan.”

“Goddamn you! You promised!”

Almanda laughed again. “We had no time. Anyway, it seems the connection will be cut off shortly. Take care, Goten. It’s your treat next time we meet.”

There was a click and the conversation was over. Goten turned one more corner, then started slowing down. He landed on his feet and switched his scouter off. They were right at the door to launch pad 3. He turned to Reyn, who landed next to him.

“If they crash…”

“They won’t,” the flight officer said. “I taught him how to use the autopilot.”

Goten’s eyes widened. “I am sure he planned this ahead of time.”

The flight officer shrugged. “Probably? Or maybe he was just getting ready for all transmutations of fortune.” He chuckled softly. “At least Almanda should make it safely to Earth.”

The two of them watched the security personnel scurry past them and further down the corridor.

“She’ll probably just tell them she had passed out in the shuttle and woke up on Bruminan,” Goten said, wondering if they could really be that lucky. “Something like that anyway, and they would not want to start anything so trivial with an elite female and would just leave her alone.”

“That’s them!”

No, they wouldn’t.

“We’ve wasted so much money in getting all that food and supplies into that damn ship!” Goten groaned, pointing at the door leading to the launch pad. “This sucks! This sucks balls!” He threw his arms apart. “Everything’s gone!”

“I moved everything to our hotel room as soon as I received the news about the ambassador,” Reyn consoled him while the security personnel surrounded them. “I also extended our stay.”

“The cat?”

“Back in the hotel room.”

Goten sighed. “I’d say it was a very smart move, but the cat will die there of neglect and, I’m afraid, we won’t be able to use any of that rescued stuff while in prison anyway.”

ooOoOoOoo

The prince was just out of the shower, his lavender hair still damp. Heaving a sigh, he flopped into the couch and sprawled comfortably. It had been a hard day. He rolled his head around his shoulders, making a few sleepy bones let out a soft cracking noise. He stared at the ceiling for a minute, then straightened and took the remote from the glass coffee table in front of him. He directed it at the large TV screen that was situated along the wall and, with a soft press on the power button, turned it on.

Nothing interesting was on. The prince stared at the screen blankly without really registering two half-naked Human women preparing some kind of a supposedly exotic meal. The camera was more focused on their breasts than what their hands were producing. The prince switched the channel to a herd of elephants thriving in a jungle. The room was filled with loud trumpeting and growls. Changing the setting to watch Saiyan television didn’t improve things one bit: now the prince was subjected to a weather forecast for the Saiyan colonies.

He dropped the remote back onto the coffee table and rose to his feet. Ruffling his hair with his fingers to dry it faster, he went to the cupboard by the window. Apathetically, he cast a glance over his liquor collection – it had been reduced considerably during the last two months. He picked a bottle of wine, grabbed a glass, and carried them back to the TV. After a few seconds of quiet struggle with the bottle, he opened it and poured himself a glassful. Leaning back against the couch, he brought it to his mouth and nearly spilt it over himself at the insistent pounding on the door.

“Sir! Sir! You’ve got to see this!”

“Wha-?”

Ealdira rushed into his chambers before the prince could give his permission. The prince adjusted his bathrobe but his former mentor wasn’t interested in his disorderly appearance. The elite crossed the room like a flash of lightning and went straight to the TV. He was carrying something in his palm.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes!” Ealdira grunted excitedly, already tinkering with the TV’s ports.

“I might have been watching that,” the prince said reproachfully when the weather charts disappeared from the screen.

Ealdira snorted derisively. “You’d rather be watching this!” He backed away from the TV and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. With a few clicks, he chose the necessary folder and then the video file. “It was aired only some twenty minutes ago.”

Trunks lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. Passively, he watched the video start, and a news announcer’s face filled the screen.

“Just seconds ago,” the announcer began ominously, “we received a report about a terrorist attack on Bruminan Station, where a very important assembly was being held. Our sources report many injured and several fatalities. If any of your relatives attended the meeting, please call the number provided at the bottom of the screen.”

“Is Father alright?” the prince asked worriedly.

“Yes, yes, he’s alright,” Ealdira muttered, waving him off impatiently.

“We will now try to contact our correspondent on Bruminan Station for more information. Thomas, can you hear me?”

As soon as the announcer addressed the correspondent, the view on the display split in half, one part of it showing the announcer’s head while the other screen was still black.

“Yes, this is Thomas Robinson live from Bruminan Station for More News,” came the crackled reply from the black part of the screen. The screen flickered and went black again before a middle-aged Human reporter appeared. “Just minutes ago, Bruminan Station was shaken by a series of explosions. It is known that the attack on the station was carried out by one of the Leiadorian radical military factions. Presently, none of them have stepped forward to claim responsibility for the attack.”

“Most of them want out of the alliance,” the prince muttered sombrely.

“Shh!” Ealdira shushed him. “Here comes the best part.”

With a roll of his eyes, the prince sipped more wine and concentrated back on the screen.

“We are on the very scene of the recent terrorist attack,” the reporter continued animatedly, motioning at a large hole in the wall surrounded by a crowd of uniformed men and other reporters, “where it has been reported that two brave Saiyan soldiers thwarted the murderous plot of Leiadorian extremists that would have left the Allied Nations without their political leaders.”

The reporter turned to the wall again and the camera left his face to zoom in on the wreckage. There was a sudden clamour, voices rising, and the camera zoomed out from the smoking wreckage to set on the back of the news reporter, who started pushing past the crowd.

“Yes, yes, here they are!” the news reporter squealed in excitement. “Here they are!”

It took a few seconds of vigorous and skilled crowd swimming before, finally, the reporter broke free. The camera concentrated on a startled Saiyan. The Saiyan’s eyes ran to his left and right, then he nudged someone at his side. The camera slid sideways and concentrated on Goten’s face. The third-class’s eyes went wide.

“I told you it’s gonna be good!” Ealdira said smugly when the prince choked on the wine and started coughing.

Trying to catch his breath, the prince reached out for the coffee table to lower the glass before he could spill the rest of the wine. Ealdira smacked the prince on his back a few times when he didn’t stop coughing. Sputtering and wiping the wine running from his nose with the sleeve of his bathrobe, the prince pushed Ealdira’s hand aside and tried to follow the events on the screen. Currently, the camera was pointed at the man, whom the prince now remembered as Reyn Dueri, the man from the same project as Goten. The one Goten had claimed to get along with tremendously.

“Were you the ones who helped to arrest the terrorists?”

“No.”

The camera shifted back to Goten. At the sight of the microphone, the third-class’s big eyes grew even wider. “I didn’t do anything,” he said quickly.

The reporter gave a blinding smile to Reyn and pushed the microphone over to him again. Reyn gave him a bright smile back.

“There was nothing much left to arrest,” he said. “I snapp-”

“We know nothing!” Goten declared, cutting Reyn off.

Someone laughed loudly behind their backs, making all three of them turn around. A bulky Human standing a few steps away clapped Goten and Reyn on their arms heartily.

“If not for them, this conference hall wouldn’t exist anymore!”

The reporter was giving him a skeptical look, obviously thinking that there already wasn’t much of the hall left. He attached his microphone to the other Human’s face for more information but then someone called him over and the Human ran off. The reporter stuck the microphone back into Goten’s face.

“Could you tell everyone how everything happened in detail?”

“This is confidential information,” Reyn said. “The investigation is still being conducted and we suspect that there might be more people responsible for today’s attempt.”

Goten stared at the microphone as if transfixed and Reyn elbowed the younger man to bring him out of his trance.

“Yeah, right,” Goten mumbled, endorsing Reyn. “Top secret. Is this live?” he asked suddenly, pointing at the microphone.

The reported nodded happily at the prospect of a meaty treat. “Yes, it is. Is there something you want to tell the viewers?” he said encouragingly. “How do you feel after having saved so many lives?”

Goten looked directly at the camera. “Monteira, I mean, Fawa, sir, we’ve accidentally taken Mr. Elite with us. But don’t worry, sir, the cat is safe and sound. I promise we will find a way to send him back.”

Confused, the reporter blinked at the Saiyan, who was still staring at the camera with the most honest and apologetic look on his face.

“What cat?”

“Mr. Elite,” Goten repeated.

“What has…?”

“What are you doing here?”

From the reporter, the camera went to two second-classes with National Security cards attached to their armour. One of them motioned at the camera.

“Turn the camera off or it will be confiscated. No press is allowed in here; go back to the other side of the wall.”

When his scouter’s translation ebbed away, the view on the screen went black but the reporter’s sly bartering voice could be heard in the background. The video ended.

“That’s all of it,” Ealdira said, walking back to the TV, intending to unplug the unit.

“Play it again,” the prince demanded.

The elite chuckled and returned to the couch for the remote to replay the video.

The prince didn’t receive any of the answers he expected after watching the video for the second time. The mystery of what Goten and his buddy were doing on Bruminan had only intensified. The prince had received a report from Starcut that Goten had left the ship a few days ago. He had immediately checked what had happened and found nothing. Goten had disappeared only to materialize on Bruminan at the center of events. The third-class was good at that.

“The ‘cat’ is obviously a code,” the prince told Ealdira. “Find out what it means.”

“Yes, Sir,” the elite said with a nod, already walking towards the door with the task on his mind.

“Oh, yes,” the prince said, making the other man turn around. “Book me the earliest flight to Bruminan station, will you?”

The elite frowned, already regretting that he had shown the prince the video. “Sir, due to security rea-”

“Get me a ship.”

“Crazy Authentic Twat,” the former mentor muttered under his breath softly, closing the door. “Creepy Abdominal Twister,” he spat again.

ooOoOoOoo

Goten looked around nervously. He and Reyn were in a luxurious hotel room that they had been lead to by one of the royal guards soon after the awkward interview. The royal guard hadn’t explained anything, just told them to follow and then wait. The lavish suite was giving Goten ideas. With its heavy curtains, thick carpets and freshly conditioned air, it strangely reminded him of his dream with the poisonous tea party.

Reyn tested the fluffiness of the carpet with the tip of his boot, then went to sit on the leather couch against the wall. His eyes went wide in surprise when the couch nearly swallowed him whole. The royal guard gave him a disapproving look but said nothing.

“This is amazing,” the flight officer said, impressed by how his entire body was suddenly lulled into a comfortable leisure. He motioned for Goten to join him. “I want one of these on Starcut.”

“Provided you ever return there,” Goten muttered. Ignoring the invitation, he cast Reyn a somewhat jealous look – the man didn’t seem to be nervous at all. Was he only pretending, to keep both of their spirits up? Goten felt himself getting annoyed by that possibility.

Before they were ensnared by the reporter, Berlington’s team had questioned them for about an hour but, to both Reyn’s and Goten’s surprise, released them. To their even bigger surprise, the National Security agents didn’t even bother interrogating them. By this time, it had to be known that none of them belonged to National Security. Goten suspected that the matter had been taken care of by Veden Grendal, courtesy of Almanda.

And yet, here they were, in this scary and ominous hotel room where a night’s stay would probably cost Goten’s annual salary. This didn’t bode well.

Goten was about to sit down when the door opened and two more royal guards entered. Behind them was Prince Vegeta himself, followed by Veden Grendal and a few more elites. From up close, the prince didn’t seem short. He also seemed to be much more intimidating. Feeling his stomach churn and twist, Goten straightened and saluted. Next to him, Reyn was the epitome of diligence – Goten had never seen him salute so smartly before.

“It seems you’ve survived the reporters,” the prince said, walking further into the suite. With a white-gloved hand, he motioned for the two third-classes to follow him.

Neither Goten nor Reyn knew what to answer to that or if they were expected to answer at all, thus they just followed the prince quietly to the elegant glass table in the middle of the suite. The prince motioned at the leather armchairs, then turned to his guards.

“Leave us.”

Uncertain, Goten stood at the armchair, but then the prince turned around and took his seat at the table right in front of Goten, and there was nothing else left to do but sit down as well. A bottle of unidentified liquor and a plate of eats materialized on the table at once. Another elite rushed to the buffet to get the glasses.

“You have put my guards to shame,” the prince said, reaching out for the bottle. The elite closest to him hurriedly reached out as well, intending to open it, but the prince batted his hand away. “Two of them are in the infirmary now.” The prince opened the bottle and a wineglass was helpfully placed in front of him. He filled it and motioned at Goten. The elite took it over to the third-class.

Goten gave the glass an apprehensive look. The prince was already filling another one. The third-class cleared his throat, the forced sound making him even more uncomfortable. “Thank You very much but… Your Highness will have to excuse me, but I have to refuse.”

Prince Vegeta gave him a level stare, then shrugged. “Your friend?” he asked, motioning at Reyn.

Reyn glanced at Goten and, taking note of the huge ‘no’ in his eyes, shook his head. “No, thank You, Your Highness.”

Amused, the prince motioned for Goten’s glass and it traveled back to him. He took a sip and leaned into the comfortable leather chair. The other elites remained standing near the table.

“Unfortunately, Zeiran Nunghmihnh’s family perished during the rescue mission,” the prince said and Goten was amazed that he managed to pronounce the surname without stumbling once.

“Oh.”

Prince Vegeta nodded and sipped his wine again. “As did the whole rescue squad. I suppose someone forgot to take the Leiadors seriously.”

The last words were meant for the head of National Security and he coughed politely. “I did not, Your Highness. In fact…” The prince motioned for him to be quiet and he closed his mouth.

“Then you will have the pleasure of informing the ambassador that we have screwed up and that his sons are dead,” the prince told him.

Grendal nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Goten suddenly had a feeling he knew where this was going. Prince Vegeta’s attention returned to the third-classes and he saluted them with his wine.

“The Saiyan Empire welcomes your initiative and praises your efforts,” he said sombrely. “You will be awarded Medals for Merit to the Empire. The ceremony will be held in an hour outside the assembly hall,” he finished with a roll of his eyes and took another sip.

Goten blinked. “Huh?”

“Your Highness, with all due respect,” one of the elites protested. “They aren’t National Security agents. They are imposters! It is outrageous to…”

The prince looked at the elite over the top of his glass. “Of course they are National Security agents. They are our best secret agents. And they are so good and so secret that no one knows of their existence.”

“Huh?”

“This is the Deputy of National Security,” Veden Grendal introduced the protesting elite. “I am certain that you know who I am.”

Goten nodded dumbly.

“Yes, Sir, we do,” Reyn muttered.

The deputy accepted the explanation with a scowl. He was obviously tempted to ask his chief whether he knew the two men but held back. He tried to smooth his face out. He didn’t succeed, but neither the prince nor the head paid him attention. In protest to the course of events, he bowed, excused himself and left the suite.

The prince looked over at Grendal. The deputy was a very reliable and discreet person but had an unbendable tendency for order. “He won’t rest until he finds proof of their existence,” the prince said. “Make sure he finds it.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Prince Vegeta turned back to look at Goten. “Did Trunks really send you all the way here?” he asked, finishing his wine. He pushed the glass aside.

“Ugh.”

“I suppose I shall just ask him,” the prince said when Goten’s ashen face stayed blank. “You seem unwell.”

“Yeah,” Goten agreed. “I mean, yes, Your Highness. I can’t say I am well.”

Prince Vegeta smiled. Goten’s stomach churned and he felt that he was about to start vomiting on the expensive carpet under his feet. He could not shake off the feeling that the man knew him personally. He was somehow… For one, the prince was ignoring Reyn. Usually, it was the opposite – Reyn looked somehow more serious, more important and, between the two of them, people chose to talk to Reyn. He was already used to that. Yet the prince wasn’t paying Reyn any attention. There were those dreams too. Asking the prince directly seemed to be the epitome of absurdity, though.

However, before Goten could come up with anything tangible, the prince stood up, indicating that the meeting was over. Goten and Reyn stood up as well and bowed.

“Until the ceremony, then,” the prince told them, already walking towards the door. The other elites followed him. In a few moments, the prince stopped. “Give regards to your father. We seem to keep missing each other.”

Wide-eyed, Goten stared at the door that had closed behind the prince’s back. The voice had been somewhat sarcastic. Goten wondered what exactly the prince had meant.

“How does he know your father?”

“Beats me.” Agitated, Goten waved his hands about. “I’ve got no freaking idea what’s going on!”

“Well, the only thing that is certain is that we’re getting medals,” Reyn summed up. He could not help adding: “Told you.”

“I’m more worried about what we’re getting after that,” Goten muttered. “They might arrest us after.” They were indeed imposters. Not only that, they weren’t even second-classes. In a sensible Saiyan world, they would have never been allowed to even look Prince Vegeta in the eyes.

“That would be a grand waste of military power,” Reyn pointed out. “Not that anyone would care,” he said, deflating.

Goten stared at the red carpet quietly. “I have a feeling that they will send us to deal with those fucked up Leiadorian extremists,” he ventured a few seconds later.

“Hmm… I doubt it. I think they’ve already sent your father.”

Goten stared at him. “Ohmyfuckinggodscrewit!” he spat, realizing that the flight officer was right. “He will drop Almanda off and then will go deal with those assholes. But why didn’t they give him a pilot?”

“They probably wanted to. Only that this way they would have discovered Almanda.”

“Ah. So he rushed off without waiting. Can he do that?”

“Um, well, he did?” Reyn scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. It felt as if they were in some kind of a nonsensical dream – logic didn’t matter here. He felt no less confused than Goten. He shrugged. “On the other hand, hasn’t she already been discovered? Grendal knows that they were here. I don’t know, maybe Kakarott’s really just dropping her off and that’s it.”

Goten walked to the door and, carefully, opened it. He closed it slowly and turned to Reyn. “There are two guards outside,” he informed the flight officer. “Are we under arrest?”

Reyn sighed. “Ask them?” he suggested.

It appeared that they weren’t under arrest. The guards politely explained that they were guarding the suite. It appeared that this suite had only been booked as a distraction for possible assassins while Prince Vegeta, in fact, lived in comparatively modest apartments two floors above. Goten thought that it was a complete waste of all possible resources and wished that he were able to switch rooms.

They went to check on Mr. Elite and have something to eat. The cat was fine, albeit very discontent about his box confinement. He started meowing demandingly as soon as he heard the door to the bathroom open, then went berserk when Reyn turned on the light.

“You need to clean the box,” Reyn said, pinching his nose at the stench. “I think he’s also rolled all over his shit.”

“Why do I have to clean it?” Goten grunted unhappily from the other room, searching through the bags of food that Reyn had stacked all over the floor.

“Because I cleaned it last time.”

Goten frowned at a large piece of smoked ham. He wanted to say that it was actually Almanda’s turn but it was pointless. “Fine,” he muttered. Longingly, he put the ham aside and went to the bathroom; he’d rather deal with the shitty situation before his meal than after.

“Ugh,” he said at the horrific sight of the cat. “I’ll have to wash him as well.”

“Yeah,” Reyn agreed. “Last time it didn’t end so well, did it?”

“I will just have to lock the door and spray him down with the shower head.”

Sarcastically, Reyn gave him thumbs up. “Good luck with that.”

ooOoOoOoo

Everything felt surreal. From a makeshift scaffold, Goten cast his eyes over the throngs of soldiers and reporters in front of him. They were standing behind a thick, red rope that encircled the platform. There was also a generous amount of security agents there to make sure no one breached the border. Goten turned to Reyn, who met his eyes just as uneasily as Goten felt.

“I can’t believe we are really getting those medals,” Reyn whispered.

“Either that or we’ve been tricked, and it’s a public execution,” Goten whispered back.

“Shit.”

The ceremony started as soon as Prince Vegeta and his entourage appeared. Grendal was carrying a small square tablet that was covered with red velvet. Two triangle medals sparkled on the tablet. Prince Vegeta and his suite approached the platform and stopped. While the royal guards and the rest of elites stayed back, Prince Vegeta and Grendal climbed onto the platform. The prince took one of the medals and walked over to where Goten and Reyn stood. The reporters kept taking photographs while the rest of the spectators waited with baited breath.

When Prince Vegeta stopped in front of Goten, the corners of the third-class’s lips twitched uneasily. As one of the elites had taught him beforehand, Goten was standing at ease and staring straight at a wall further ahead. His shoulders felt bare like never before and he could not even begin to imagine what the spectators were thinking.

“Goten Bardock, I, Prince Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans, present you with the Medal for Merit to the Empire for the bravery and honor that you showed today.”

The third-class bowed. “I humbly accept.”

“In the name of the Saiyan Empire,” the prince said, attaching the medal to Goten’s uniform. Cameras went wild. Once the prince was done, he took a step back and, pressing his fist over his heart, Goten saluted.

“It’s an honor, Your Highness.”

The Saiyans present at the ceremony saluted. The prince saluted Goten as well, then sniffed and frowned slightly; Goten stank. The prince stopped saluting and turned to Grendal. At the signal, the head of National Security approached and held out the tablet carrying the remaining medal. The prince unpinned it and stepped closer to Reyn. He repeated the same procedure and, a minute later, the medal was glinting on the flight officer’s chest.

And that was their five minutes of glory; fast and efficient. Nonetheless, five minutes still counted.

“What about my father, Your Highness?” Goten called softly when the prince was about to leave the platform. “Won’t he get a medal as well?”

Prince Vegeta turned to face the third-class again. The question seemed to have both surprised and amused him. “Kakarott?” he chuckled in light disbelief. “I don’t think he’s interested in medals. And as for Grendal’s daughter, she is lucky to have avoided house arrest.”

Once the prince left the platform, he was surrounded by the royal guards and the group moved back towards the hotel they had come from. Several Saiyans and Leiadors rose from behind the red rope separating them from the platform and, ignoring the meek protests of the local security, moved onto the scaffold. Goten could hear the dissatisfied reporters’ impatient clamor but they were not allowed to step over the rope.

Both third-classes accepted grateful and congratulating pats on their shoulders and backs. Most of the soldiers were high-ranking officers but Goten was lost amongst the varicolored uniforms and countless shoulder-straps. He felt lightheaded. The question “What now?” kept spinning in his head. He didn’t know what to do and, in addition to that, it seemed like he had gotten Ranvera into trouble; Prince Vegeta said he was going to ask his son for more details. The shaii might confirm that it was he who sent them to Bruminan Station, but then he would look into the matter himself. Hopefully, Ranvera knew how to hide his trail.

When Reyn and Goten rose into the air and headed for their hotel, the reporters surged after them.

“One second, please!”

“How did you find out about the intended attack?”

“How does it feel to receive a reward from Prince Vegeta Himself?”

“What are your plans?”

“Where are you staying?”

The last question disgruntled Goten. He could already see throngs of reporters besieging his hotel room. The whole hotel would be infested with them – they would easily make a connection between him and Kakarott Bardock. Reyn had probably come to the same conclusion as he was giving Goten a questioning look. Goten shrugged and landed in front of the hotel. With a few security agents that had trailed after them, the third-classes entered the building. The reporters rushed towards the hotel. Goten looked around frantically, hoping to find something to block the door with. There was nothing, the transparent automatic door opening and closing as soon as anyone approached. He patted the closest Saiyan to him.

“Can you hold them ba-?” Goten started saying but when the Saiyan turned around he saw that it was Raidri Mandera. Goten cleared his throat guiltily. “Never mind.”

The second-class laughed softly at the awkwardness on Goten’s face. Motioning to his colleagues, he stood in the doorway, barring the reporters’ way. “Of course, Sir. Go on, we’ll keep them busy.”

“Let me through!”

“You’ve got no right to stop us!”

“Oh, really?” Raidri turned to the security agent next to him. “Don’t you think that he looks suspicious?”

The Human nodded. “Very.” He reached out for the reporter’s ID but the reporter stepped back.

“I’ll sue you!”

“Very suspicious!” Raidri said, lunging forward and grabbing the reporter by the back of his collar. He tore the ID off his chest and tossed it over to his partner. “Check it thoroughly.” The second-class turned back to the reporter. “It will only take a minute,” he assured, lowering him back to his feet.

When Goten and Reyn went further into the lobby, they were met by another security agent from Berlington’s team. Areno walked up to them and saluted quickly. “Sirs, they know where your hotel room is and are already waiting there. It’s best you stay somewhere else until they give up.” The look on his face told Goten that he didn’t think it was going to happen any time soon.

Thinking about what to do, Goten looked around. People were streaming past them, coming and leaving mostly through the hallway connecting the hotel to the launch pads. They had minutes, maybe seconds, until the reporters ambushed them from the underground.

“Let’s just find a bar and wait for the night,” Reyn suggested. “Most of them are bound to leave and if we still find some at the door, we will throw them into the bathroom, lock them up, get our shit back, and find another place.”

Goten, who wanted nothing more than to rest, nodded enthusiastically.

“I can show you to a really neat place, Sirs,” Areno offered. He smiled sheepishly at the suspicious looks the third-classes gave him. “In apology for yesterday, Sirs. We didn’t mean to bother you.”

Reyn and Goten looked at each other. “Umm…” Goten drawled. He wasn’t certain why the second-classes were treating him and Reyn so differently all of a sudden. “It’s fine, we’re cool now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “So how about that bar? It would be awesome if we got there before those damn reporters found another way in.”

TBC