Barracks

Yaoi_Angel: Oh yes, the prince will keep an eye on Goten – the third-class is too evasive for his own good XD Well, the problem with Goten and his clothes is that he soils or tears them too frequently, haha
And don’t worry about chapters, I’m posting as soon as I get them for my beta. I finished chapter 66 as well. So there’s something to look forward too :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
A/N: There is more fan art for Barracks drawn by pika92. I also added some very sucky and crude sketches for the palace itself and Goten & Reyn’s room. I hope one day I will redraw them and make them more bearable. You can check all those goodies out here: http://chayron.livejournal.com/photo/album/294/?page=1


Barracks

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com)

Part 61

Goten jogged into the canteen, looked around, spotted the red-haired Human from yesterday, and rushed over to him. The canteen was bustling with about fifty people having their breakfast. A few of them raised their heads when the third-class trotted past their tables at high speed.

Once Goten was at the table where the freckled man was having his meal, he greeted him loudly, then flopped ungracefully onto the bench next to him. The Human and the two others at the table gave Goten surprised looks.

“I wasn’t able to sleep all night!” Goten complained to them. “I kept thinking over and over and…” Waiting for his scouter to translate, he leaned toward the red-head. “I can see it clearly now,” he said resolutely. While the Human was giving him a bewildered look, the third-class grabbed his hands. “We met on this Valentine’s Day – it’s destiny! We’re meant to be together!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the freckled Human grunted, astonished. “To begin with, I’m not even gay!” He tried to pull his hands out of the Saiyan’s grasp but it was like trying to move a building. His eyes caught movement at the entrance and he saw the second Saiyan from yesterday barging through. Panicking, he turned back to Goten. “Let go of me, you damn lunatic! Your freaking boyfriend is here!”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” Goten informed him with a dreamy look on his face.

Frantic, the red-head tried to pull his hands away before the older Saiyan could reach them. “I’m not the least bit interested in you! I’m not interested in him, you hear!” he yelled loudly at the inevitably approaching Saiyan, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “Not even a tiny bit!”

Alert, two second-classes from a nearby table got up and stood behind Goten and their colleague; in case this turned really nasty, it could escalate to a fight with ki-guns.

“Hey, no, that’s…” one of the second-classes started saying when Reyn reached out for the Human’s collar.

“It’s a misunderstanding!” the Human repeated.

Goten burst out laughing. “You should see your face!” He turned to Reyn. “Priceless, isn’t it?”

Straightening, Reyn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Happy now? Let’s go grab some food.”

Goten winked at the freckled Human. “Just getting back at you a little for yesterday.”

The Human frowned at him. “I nearly pissed myself, you asshole. And it’s not like I made fun of you! I just teased a little.”

Reyn sniggered, “I can’t believe you fell for this overblown drama spectacle. Seriously? You and a Saiyan? Goten would just fuck you to death. Look at how tiny you are!”

The Human’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Now look here, I’d not fuck him even if…”

“Gah!” Goten interrupted. “There’s no need to be so insulting, both of you! I’d not fuck you either!” He turned to Reyn. “And I think he’s pretty normal, according to their standards.”

“Which part of it is normal?” Reyn wondered. “He’s freaking emaciated! Look – skin and bones!”

“Umm… You’ve gotta eat more meat,” Goten advised the Human helpfully since it occurred to him that Reyn might be right after all.

“Go to hell!”

The flight officer waved them off and, leaving the two arguing at the table, went to get his breakfast; he was too hungry for this crap. When he returned with his steak, Goten and the Humans had been joined by the two second-classes from the nearby table. All of them were already laughing at something the red-head’s colleagues had said. It always went like this with Goten. Saiyans or Humans, it didn’t even matter. You could leave him in a room full of strangers and he’d make friends with half of them in two minutes. The other half, though, would try to kill him.

Goten went to get something for breakfast as well and, several minutes later, returned with a mountain of puffy pancakes and a bowl of bilberry jam. Neither he nor Reyn was familiar with bilberries.

“Oh, right,” Goten said, setting his tray down. “This is Reyn.” He pointed at the red-head. “This is Mathew, this is…ehh…”

“Kevin.”

Goten nodded at the Human who had waved his hand to introduce himself. “Right, Kevin. And this is Ryan. The name sounds a bit similar to yours, doesn’t it?”

Reyn shrugged; it didn’t. Once he had been told that his name sounded almost the same as their word for “rain” in one of the Humans’ languages. From across the table, the flight officer looked at the two second-classes. “You?” he asked.

“Kalan.”

“Endro.”

“Hey, this stuff isn’t half bad,” Goten said after trying his pancakes with the jam. “I think I like it.”

“Told you!” Endro said, content.

Goten pushed the plate with the pancakes towards Reyn. “Want to try?”

“Sure,” the flight officer said. He finished chewing his steak, took a pancake, dipped it into the jam and bit half of it off. “A peculiar taste,” he said after swallowing. “But it’s more like a dessert than solid food. You’ll be hungry again in an hour or so.”

“Yeah,” Endro agreed with Reyn, “I usually get pork or chicken as well.”

“Most men do,” Ryan said with a roll of his eyes. “Well, if they need a lot of energy, that is.”

“Saiyans always need a lot of energy,” Endro said with a snort.

“Yeah, be it fighting or fucking,” Kevin muttered.

“Is that a compliment or is that an insult?” Goten wondered.

“It’s a statement,” Kevin grumbled. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Aren’t you Humans the same?” the flight officer asked him.

“Yeah,” Mathew agreed, “but usually we aren’t so enthusiastic about fighting. And sex… Well, some are luckier than others, I suppose.”

“There aren’t so many women in the war industry,” Ryan clarified mournfully.

“And that’s a problem because…?” Goten wondered.

“Because we rarely fuck each other,” Mathew said, pointing one by one at himself, Ryan, and Kevin.

“No,” Kevin snorted, “we don’t fuck each other at all. Not that I can remember,” he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

Mathew chortled into his mug with tea while Ryan gave Kevin a disgusted look.

“It’s that ‘gay’ thing of theirs,” the flight officer tried to explain to Goten since his confusion was apparent. “Some really go only for females while most pretend they aren’t interested in males.”

“Hmm? Pretend they aren’t interested? Why?”

“Don’t bother your young head with it,” Kalan told Goten, waving it off. “I don’t think even they themselves know why. Do you?” he asked Ryan.

“You should rather ask Kevin,” Mathew him. “Ryan is openly homophobic.”

“Phobic of what?” Goten asked while chewing on his pancakes. “Homo? What’s that?”

“I’m not homophobic, you moron. As long as none of you tries to get close to my ass, I’m all good.”

Mathew saluted him with his tea. “Then we’re all good, I suppose.” He wanted to add that he wouldn’t go for Ryan’s ass even if it were the last ass in the universe but decided not to, since it would probably lead to Ryan flinging back some nasty comeback at him; Ryan had the deadly sense of humor of a brick.

Most of the men at the table were done with their meals and were just waiting for Reyn and Goten to finish theirs. They were reluctant to leave the table since there wasn’t much to do and, in general, the two newcomers provided more entertainment than cleaning water pipes, scrubbing the floor, or welding broken parts.

“There are quite a few royal guards around,” Reyn noted innocently while sipping his coffee. “Is that a normal occurrence?”

“Oh, no,” Kalan said, shaking his head. “Usually, it’s just second-classes and Humans around.” He leaned closer to the middle of the table and whispered: “We’ve got Prince Vegeta Himself on board!”

“Wow,” Reyn said as expected of him.

“No way!”

“Yes, yes,” Kalan confirmed, nodding respectfully. “I think also glimpsed Trunks Vegeta yesterday. Can’t be too sure, though.”

“How can’t you be sure when he’s got purpl-?” Reyn trailed off as someone kicked him under the table. “Isn’t lavender easy to recognize?”

“Larvanda? Lavanda? Levarnda?” Kalan tried, confused.

“It’s a color,” Mathew supplied him helpfully. “Lavender.”

Kalan’s face brightened. “Oh, His Highness’s purple hair. Yes, but it’s not like He’s the only one with that hair color. I’ve seen some Humans dye their hair that way as well.”

Reyn glared at Goten; so much for the other third-class’s attempt to be sophisticated and polite.

“What do you actually think about the youngest prince?” the flight officer asked the Humans.

The Humans at the table met each other’s eyes uneasily; this was a very complicated topic in any Saiyan environment.

Mathew cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “even if, officially, he’s our prince as well, we don’t really… You see, we don’t have princes or kings as such. Well, not ones that really rule over something anyway. It’s mostly just a title.”

Goten blinked at him. “Just a title?”

“Umm… Well, not exactly. You see, while Bulma Briefs Vegeta is our elected president, her son is… Well, since Bulma is running her seventh term in office, Trunks is…quite well-known?”

“I don’t get it,” Goten said finally. “He’s a…”

“He means he has no power in any dealings as such,” Reyn drawled slowly. “Absolutely none,” he repeated, astonished. “I had no idea there’s such a big contrast in our politics.”

Mathew shook his head. “Not quite. They had to introduce a few changes to the Constitution and he’s got immunity for life, he and his offspring will also carry the title of a prince.”

“Which actually has no meaning,” Reyn concluded, feeling stupid. “Why do I feel that we’ve been duped? He’s got no influence in the Earth Republic whatsoever.”

“Well, look here,” Mathew said impatiently. “How much influence does Bulma have in Vegeta-sei’s dealings? Freaking zero. The only things we do together are trade and war.”

“Which actually amounts to quite a lot,” Goten pointed out. “By the way, what’s ‘constitution’?”

“Basic laws on running a planet,” Reyn told him.

“Umm… Mostly, on how to run a country,” Mathew corrected the flight officer while the rest at the table just sat quietly, not willing to contribute anything to this complicated discussion. Saiyans and Humans normally avoided this topic as if it were a plague since it tended to result in Saiyans attacking Humans due to their lack of respect for royalty.

“I haven’t seen the princes around the ship, though,” Endro said in an attempt to end the topic; it annoyed him every time someone discussed it.

“They’re staying in their suites,” Kalan said. “I think they have food and everything delivered to them directly.”

“Yeah,” Goten agreed with a snicker, “even potted plants.”

“What plants?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just some plants.”

The Humans and the two second-classes gave Goten uncomprehending looks while Reyn glared at him. He knew perfectly well where the other third-class had seen those potted plants. Goten was an asshole.

“How about a spar in an hour or two?” Reyn suggested, suddenly overtaken by spite.

“Hmm… Yeah, sounds great,” Goten agreed, easily aware of Reyn’s anger. Feeling somewhat guilty, he pushed his empty plate away. “We haven’t sparred in awhile now, have we?”

“Need company?” Endro asked.

The offer sobered Reyn up and he thought for a moment. Basically, the second-classes were useless for a spar but to refuse their friendly offer would sound pretentious and unkind. Goten was still awful at measuring his ki but that kind of training would have to be postponed until later. Neither would be able to fight at their full potential.

“Yeah, sure,” the flight officer said finally. “Goten and I will just warm up first.”

ooOoOoOoo

Goten and Reyn went to the training hall a little earlier than agreed. There were five Saiyans in it. From their earlier conversation with Endro and Kalan in the canteen, the third-classes knew that the Humans didn’t come to this training hall since it was too dangerous to use it with the Saiyans. One could get accidentally hit or blasted. Besides, Saiyans liked to increase the gravity, and Humans didn’t handle it well. The Humans had their own training hall just several meters away, with all the newest training equipment, weights, and dumbbells. The latter were often borrowed by the Saiyans when they worked out in increased gravity. The Humans would always get angry when they had to get them back.

The third-classes started their warm-up.

“Do we actually spar with them?” Goten wondered loudly, stretching, turning his torso this way and that. “I suppose there’s something to learn from every spar, but…”

Reyn shrugged. “Well, if they want to. Just keep your ki low and pretend you’re trying very hard.”

Goten snickered. “That’s how you used to do it on Starcut?”

“No, you’re getting cocky now. I’d beat the living crap out of them and they loved every minute of it. Especially Edesha.”

“Oh.” Goten could easily imagine the soldier coming back for a spar over and over as soon as his bruises healed. “But you had to hold back a lot, didn’t you?”

“Well, naturally. It was more fun when they’d gang up on me.” Reyn turned to the door when it hissed open. “They’re here.”

Endro and Kalan entered the training hall and headed to the third-classes to join in their warm-up.

“Do we spar in increased gravity?’ Kalan asked, stretching his legs.

Reyn looked round. “No,” he said, “it’s bothersome asking so many people if they agree.”

They finished stretching and, after a short discussion, broke into pairs: Reyn with Endro, Goten with Kalan. They were about to start when a loud voice startled the whole training hall.

“What’s this?”

Goten turned to see a royal guard standing behind him. He threw a questioning look to Reyn, but the flight officer answered with a shrug. Goten’s eyes set on the royal guard’s shoulders. He wasn’t knowledgeable about the ranks within the Royal Division but the elite was obviously high-ranked and outranked everyone in the hall.

“Are you serious?” the royal guard continued. “Elites against second-classes? How pathetic can you get?”

“Umm?” Goten wondered. Then it occurred to him that the royal guard must have either seen the two of them in the assembly hall back on Bruminan or the award ceremony, or maybe both. He had mistaken them for elites.

Kalan and Endro were giving Reyn and Goten astonished and confused looks. Goten’s completely brown tail twitched under the disbelieving stares in the hall.

Kalan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, Sirs,” he stammered, bewildered. “We didn’t know. Had we known, we’d have never offered to join you in a spar. But Sirs’ tails…”

“See?” the royal guard told the third-classes. “You’re confusing people. I understand that you’re already done with your mission and have been reassigned to the Royal Division. Remove that color immediately,” he finished demandingly.

Goten squirmed under the elite’s expectant stare while the tip of his tail continued to twitch nervously. The silence started to stretch while neither of them moved or said anything. Goten couldn’t believe they got into this kind of situation.

“It’s permanent, sir,” Reyn said finally. “It will just grow back with time.”

“Re-dye it immediately,” the royal guard demanded again.

“We don’t have any dye, sir,” the flight officer told him.

The elite glared at him. He obviously wanted to say something, but the fact was that they really didn’t have even a drop of any dye, be it white or pink.

“Wait here,” the elite ordered. He turned around and walked out of the training hall briskly, leaving quiet people in his wake.

“Ugh…” Goten grunted, lost. He felt like facepalming.

“Well, want a spar?” Reyn offered to Goten. Now, Kalan and Endro wouldn’t even dream of sparring with them. The second-classes had retreated to the other end of the hall and, very likely, now were of opinion that they had been made fun of.

“No,” Goten muttered, “not in the mood.” He had a feeling that this was exactly how it was going to be from now on – the second-classes would be avoiding them while the elites would just ignore them. “This sucks.”

“Yeah,” Reyn agreed. “Quite the misunderstanding here.”

About ten minutes later, the royal guard returned. He was carrying a can of white paint and an unused paint brush.

Goten’s eyes widened. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“He’s fucking nuts,” Reyn agreed at the sight of the familiar can.

The elite put the can and the brush in front of the third-classes. “Here,” he informed them proudly, “I was assured it sticks to anything.”

“Yes, sir,” Reyn agreed, a morose look on his face. “They use it to paint the exterior of spaceships. You can’t even get it off with sulphuric acid.”

“My point precisely,” the royal guard said. “Now dye it.”

“I would not want all the hair to fall out, sir,” Goten said, hoping the man would come to his senses. This was ridiculous.

“Just put over the very ends of the hairs,” the elite said, giving an expectant nod towards the can.

“No, sir,” Goten said firmly, “I won’t.”

Reyn could see how Goten’s plain refusal had astonished the elite; the whole hall was so quiet that one could hear what people were talking about behind the walls. Reyn had to stifle a chuckle. At least Goten was wearing his uniform with the flight officer’s stripes, otherwise, the elite would have probably punched him. Not that it would hurt Goten; the third-class could easily beat the crap out of his potential superior. That, however, would be a very rocky start to their careers in the Royal Division.

“Tell you what, sir,” Reyn said, not quite managing to hide his grin, “let’s have a spar. Me and you, sir. If you win, we’ll paint our tails. But if you lose, you’ll never mention our tails again. How is that?”

Everyone’s eyes were on him and the royal guard felt he couldn’t refuse the challenge. Naturally, they had to obey him without any excuses but conflicts like these were very common amongst elites no matter their rankings. He had seen what the two were capable of when they had fought off the Leiador in the assembly hall. That couldn’t have been a fluke. He was confident in his skill but fighting someone who had easily overcome a Leiador of that caliber was… Yet, he couldn’t refuse. On the other hand, not using their ki should make matters between them much more equal.

“Fine,” the royal guard said. “No powering up.”

“Alright, sir. You should take your armor off, too, though.”

The elite took a look at himself. “Oh, right.” He reached out to his shoulder and started undoing the clasps there.

“You’d better not screw this up,” Goten hissed at Reyn while watching the elite take his armor off and pile the pieces of it further away on the floor. “I don’t want that white paint going anywhere close to my tail. If need be, I’ll beat him unconscious.”

Reyn rolled his eyes and moved into his fighting stance. Realistically, they might really end up painting their tails white voluntarily. That would be much easier to deal with than the constant questions and mistrust in the Royal Palace. Goten would have to come to terms with that. The problem was that they were listed as second-classes. For now, at least. Stupid prince.

The fight started out slowly, but ended fast. Reyn and the guard rounded each other, lashing out a few times, gauging each other’s skill and strength. Then Reyn blocked the elite’s punch and kicked him in the stomach, sending him to the floor. The elite’s back hit the can of paint and he yelped painfully, powering up unconsciously. Amidst the pain that had shot up his back, the royal guard came to the conclusion that Reyn had done this intentionally. The elite got to his feet and powered down.

The second round didn’t go much better for the elite. They exchanged a few hits, all of which the flight officer had blocked, then Reyn ducked the last one, fell to the ground, and swept the elite’s feet from under him. While the elite lurched and staggered forward as he tried to keep his balance, Reyn was suddenly crashing into his back. They hit the ground with a thud, flight officer already trussing the elite’s arm behind his back. All of this had happened so fast that neither the elite nor the second-classes in the hall could quite grasp that it was already over.

“You win,” the elite gasped out, trying to inhale; the hard crash to the floor had forced his breath out of him. The pressure disappeared off his back, his arm free again. Slowly, he stood up and started dusting his uniform off. There was nothing more to be said and he cast a regretful look at the can of paint. It was a pity. He didn’t understand why the two would be so opposed to the idea. Wasn’t it natural to want to be recognized and treated as their true status required? The royal guard turned to Goten.

“Maybe you would care for a spar instead?” he asked the younger third-class, hopeful.

Reyn chuckled. “I’d not recommend that, sir, – he’s better than me. Especially when he’s annoyed.”

Goten turned to the flight officer to give him a skeptical look, but Reyn just grinned at him.

ooOoOoOoo

During the rest of the journey, no one bothered the third-classes. Just as Goten had thought, the second-classes now avoided them while the elites ignored them. Even the Humans they had talked to earlier pretended not to see them.

Neither Goten nor Reyn had time to get upset or annoyed about that since their stay on the Imperial Destroyer ended quickly and they soon found themselves leaving the ship. Keeping their distance, they watched the Vegetas step out of the ship and into the hangar while surrounded by the royal guards. The third-classes had figured that, in order to reach the Royal Palace, they’d simply follow the group.

“Ah, here you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Goten and Reyn turned to see Daimara, who was approaching them quickly.

“Yes? Why?” Goten wondered.

“What do you mean why?” the elite sputtered. “I’m supposed to deliver you two to the Royal Division.”

“Um. Can’t we just get there by following them?” Goten asked, motioning with his head after the briskly moving group. “They’ll take an aircraft to get to the palace, won’t they?”

Daimara gave him a long look. “Yes, but you can’t take the same aircraft.”

“Why not?” Reyn wondered. “Is it because we are too lowly to step onto the same plane with the royal family and full-fledged royal guards? But we’ve just flown on the same ship together. What kind of crap is this?”

“Spare me your sarcasm or whatever it is you’re trying to pull,” the elite told him gruffly. “There aren’t enough seats on that aircraft.”

“Oh.”

“I bet that’s a lie,” Reyn said while glaring at Goten. He was certain that the only reason they were not allowed to use the same aircraft was that the youngest prince was afraid his daddy would figure it all out. This was stupid. It was not as if they would become invisible once they were in the Royal Palace.

ooOoOoOoo

It was a good thing that the exact reporting time hadn’t been given in the call-up papers, otherwise they would have definitely been late. As soon as they had risen into the air, the cat had become violently ill and kept vomiting until they had been forced to land. They had to the take the public transport. First, they had taken a bus, but, half an hour into the journey, they realized that they had been going in the wrong direction. Then they had returned and decided to switch to the metro. This time they had reached the destination successfully, but Goten had forgotten the box with the cat in the metro car. They had spent an hour chasing that particular metro car until, finally, Mr. Elite had been successfully retrieved. It took them two hours and a bit to return to the palace and then another half-hour was spent at the gate while trying to convince the security that they were really supposed to be there.

It was evening already when they finally set foot on the premises of the Royal Palace. The whole territory was surrounded by a protective ki-shield and Goten could see the dome shimmering lightly when birds and larger insects would hit it. Goten wondered if the shields were always up or were only raised in the evening.

The Royal Palace was a huge complex consisting of a palace with two wings stretching in two opposite directions. While the main building was three-stories high, the extensive wings consisted of two stories. The left wing, as Daimara explained, was mainly the living and operating quarters for the Royal Division and this was where Reyn and Goten were going to stay. The opposite wing was mainly used as a garage and training grounds.

There was a small round launch pad right in front of the palace. It was surrounded by a patch of grass, which then was encircled by a road that led directly to the gate. On both sides of the road, Goten could see lush greenery spreading almost as far as the eye could see. The left side boasted an enormous garden with trees and bushes and a large fountain in the middle, while the right side seemed to be more like a farmer’s dream: fields of potatoes, apple trees, carrots and other vegetables and fruit thrived in throngs. There was even a beehive visible further down. While passing the greenery, Goten wondered which Vegeta indulged in gardening. He found it hard to imagine the younger ones being interested in it.

The whole palace complex was, like most Saiyans preferred, in minimalistic style; efficient instead of beautiful. The main building was rectangular, the wings oblong. There were very few decorations, only the windows accentuated by white marble and the parapet on the flat roof made it seem a little more prominent than the rest of the buildings in the capital. There was also a flag with the royal symbol above the roof. A short flight of stairs led into the palace, where, on the main door, one more royal symbol could be seen.

Daimara took them to the living quarters in the Royal Division and, after asking around, the third-classes were shown to their room. It was a twin room with a big window, a large television set, a terminal, a fridge and a sink, and, most importantly, with two large and, seemingly, soft beds. Above the beds, on the wall, there was even a huge oil painting of a spaceship approaching Vegeta-sei. Out of the window, the mown lawn and a few trees could be seen. Goten had only seen so much greenery at once when he and his squad had been sent to Korama woods for the Capture the Flag game.

“Is this the room?”

The question was obviously addressed to Goten, but he gave Reyn an uncomprehending look. Then he understood. “Oh, you mean…” He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. A completely different one. That one is much fancier, too.” His chest tightened at the way relief flooded Reyn’s face. Turning away, Goten flicked the light switch on and the room lit up brightly. He lowered the box with the half-dead Mr. Elite to the floor that was covered with dark brown carpeting. The cat was worrying him but they had no time to spare.

“Where can we find this…?” Goten had to take a look at the call-up papers again to check the name. “Harada Lorimara?”

The elite rolled his eyes. “At this time of day? Most likely, he’s in his room already.”

“Care to show us there?”

“Right,” the royal guard said, already walking out the door. “Follow me. I must warn you, though, that he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his resting hours.”

“And who does?” Reyn muttered.

They walked down the long corridor, then rose to the second floor. The layout here was the same as on the first floor: there were rooms on each side of the corridor with an occasional arch and a window to let some light in. All rooms were divided into two blocks that shared a bathroom with a toilet and a shower. Daimara was quick to inform them that they didn’t need to worry about filth as they had cleaners.

There were only two kitchens, one per floor. The elite, however, assured them that there was a canteen on the first floor and that no one ever cooked for themselves. The kitchens were mostly used as gathering places to play cards or gossip.

“Here it is,” Daimara said when they had reached the door that was marked with the number 215. There was also a very crude drawing of Vegeta-sei on it. “He’s self-taught,” the royal guard explained in a whisper. “A bit of a fanatic.”

“Fanatic of what?” Goten wondered.

The elite shifted awkwardly and, instead of answering, knocked on the door.

“Who’s that?”

The tone of the voice made it clear that, depending on the answer, one may be let in or be told to go away. Somewhere far away, and for a few days or weeks at that.

“It’s Backeri, sir. I brought Dueri and Reyn here.”

“Send them the hell away. There’s plenty of time tomorrow.”

Goten wondered if he should correct the royal guard or not and whether that would make any difference. He was fine with going away but there was still tomorrow to face anyway. “It’s Bardock and Dueri,” he told the royal guard. He wanted to add an insult but, then, he wasn’t all that good with names himself.

“Sorry, sir,” Daimara spoke again, “Bardock and Dueri.”

For a few moments, it was silent behind the door. Then a confused voice floated from behind it again: “Bardock? Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir, he’s standing right next to me.”

“Oh.”

There was a sound of footsteps and the door opened. Goten and Reyn found themselves staring at a burly elite with short spiky hair. The Head of the Royal Division seemed to be thoroughly bewildered at the sight of them. His eyes set on their tails, then rose to the third-classes’ faces again.

“Right,” the said after his dark eyes took them in fully, “and I thought it was a joke.”

“We’re very pleased to meet you, sir,” Goten said automatically; he was used to this kind of reaction. “I’m certain that we’ll be a great addition to the Royal Division.”

“I’m not so certain about that…” Harada drawled. He opened the door wider. “Well, come in.” He turned to Daimara. “You may go.”

The other elite saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Reyn and Goten entered the room. Since the elite had been so set against meeting them, they half-expected to find someone else there but there was no one. The room was much bigger than theirs and they hesitated, not sure whether to stay at the door or to go further. Easels, painting brushes and other painting tools were strewn over the desk and most of the floor. It smelled of paint and some kind of acid. A few more crude drawing were scattered around the walls inside: a constellation of stars, which Goten didn’t recognize; an exploding spaceship near some kind of a planet; a shower of meteors approaching the atmosphere of Vegeta-sei; two battleships engaged in a battle. Goten now had a pretty good idea what kind of fanaticism Daimara had meant.

Harada motioned at the sofa at the opposite wall. He took the armchair in front of it and, while Reyn and Goten were getting comfortable, studied them again. “It would be better if you two dyed your tails,” he said, then.

“I’m sure, sir,” Goten said, “that, if we tried, we could find a unanimous solution as to how we can avoid that.”

Reyn glanced at Goten. He seemed to be pretty sure of everything and, pretty much, was also pissed off about everything. It was a quite peculiar and amusing sight. Goten’s behavior, however, was definitely going to get them in trouble.

“I suppose we could,” the elite agreed unexpectedly easily. He obviously wanted to add something but never voiced it.

Goten beamed at him. “We are very grateful, sir.”

Harada scratched the back of his head awkwardly; Goten’s behavior was baffling him. “Apparently you start tomorrow.”

“Already, sir?” Reyn wondered. “Don’t we need to get our qualifications first?”

“Do you have any experience? Dueri, was it?” the elite added as Goten shook his head. He hadn’t been asking the younger male, since it was clear to anyone that Goten pretty much didn’t have any experience in anything this kind of career required.

“No, sir. I’ve never taken any required training or courses. I’m a flight officer.”

“Yes, you two…”

“I’m not a flight officer, sir,” Goten said, pointing at his striped shoulders. “I’ve just borrowed his uniform.”

The elite’s brow rose, then he coughed to hide his laughter. “Right. So anyway, you will need to get your qualifications, of course. Normally, that’s done before becoming a member of the Royal Division, as you understand.”

Goten nodded dutifully. “Oh yes, sir, we understand.”

“There’s, however,” Harada continued, ignoring Goten, “no problem in getting your qualifications while already performing your duties.”

Goten was about to offer some comment to express his amazement at such a convenient turn of events but Reyn elbowed him in the side quite painfully.

“How long will it last, sir?” Reyn asked.

“Depends. Usually, the training takes half a year. In your case, it might stretch to two or so since you’ll be attending to your duties as well.”

Goten glared at his knees while his lips twitched with the urgent need to spit out something sarcastic about doomsday or the Ice-jins. Reyn didn’t say anything at all, even though he shared a very similar urge to punch a certain purple-haired bastard in the face.

“You will start tomorrow at seven o’clock. Your commanding officer is Ealdira Fidan, the deputy commander. I think he should already be back from Earth. He usually stays in room 200. Find him now and he’ll tell you more details. You’ll also need to get your armor.”

“Oh, him, sir?” Goten muttered; the universe appeared to be very small after all.

The elite gave Goten an interested look. “Do you know him?”

“No, sir. Just saw a few times from afar.”

Harada nodded, looked around, then stood up and went to retrieve a piece of paper and a pen from his desk. “Here,” he said, writing something down, “also go to this room and tell Berada I sent you and that you need to pass your qualifications tests. He will give you the required material.”

“Thank you, sir,” Reyn said, taking the slip. “And what duties will we be performing here actually?”

“You’ve been assigned to guard the royal garden.”

Goten pursed his lips. He could hardly stop himself from sniggering. “The royal garden, sir? Really? To guard it from what? Zombie squirrels? Mad rabbits?”

Harada chuckled. “You may never know.” In fact, even if he had believed the prince had made a joke about the new recruit, he had asked him the same question. The prince had mumbled something about the guards taking baths in the fountain during particularly hot days.

“With the recent events, we’ve increased security,” Harada said. “Just make sure everything’s in order and there’s no mess.”

“Right, sir,” Goten said enthusiastically, “we just count trees and bushes and make sure they understand they’ve got to be orderly and not to rustle their leaves so loudly at night.”

Harada’s lips quirked up again. “Yeah, that will do. Also warn them that they shouldn’t cast such a big shadow over my window.”

“Will do, sir,” Goten promised. He stood up and headed for the door, then stopped. “Oh, right, sir. Where can we find a doctor?”

“Is there something wrong with you?” Harada asked.

The elite sounded worried and Goten gave him a surprised look. In turn, Harada seemed to be surprised, too. The elite’s behavior, to put it bluntly, was weird. Goten had a feeling that he was missing something, but couldn’t quite grasp what it was. Even if Harada knew that they were the prince’s protégés, there was still something off.

“Umm, yes, sir, not feeling so great after the flight,” Goten said.

“The infirmary is on the first floor, at the far end of the living quarters, room marked as hundred eighty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Could I actually ask why you are here?”

Harada was staring at Goten and the third-class gave him an uncertain look. He turned to Reyn, but it didn’t seem that the elite was interested in what the flight officer had to say.

“I think it would be a better idea to ask the prince, sir,” Goten muttered.

The elite rolled his eyes. “I already have and he said you’d be looking after the garden.”

“There you go, then, sir. We’ll be looking after the garden.”

The elite rolled his eyes again. “Fine, go to the doctor now. Wouldn’t want anything happen to you.”

“Am I transparent, or what?” Reyn grunted after they had left the division head’s room. They were walking back to their room to collect Mr. Elite. “Seems like he’s specifically informed everyone which one of us is more important.”

Goten frowned at the corridor in general. “Any idea how much a cat’s treatment may cost us?” Medical treatment was free in all military facilities but Mr. Elite was just a useless animal that no one cared about.

“Are you sure they’ll agree to take a look at it at all?”

“The real question is whether we can afford it.”

TBC