The muted light came in from one of the small boarded up windows that were lined across the ceiling. Each crack in the in the wooden boards that barred the window like jail bars let in streams of light which illuminated the dusty, smog filled filthy air. Pipes hissed and screamed, as steam poured out at temperatures that could cause third degree burns. Still, it was better than working outside, Goten reminded himself. He sighed and buried his face in the crook of his forearm, laying flat against a ceiling beam about fifty feet above the ground. The room he was in was a large circular dome, with cracking white paint, and boarded up windows. An essential look for any good waterworks plant.
Goten sat up on his ceiling beam and stretched his arm over his head, yawning. No matter how hard he tried, there was no possible way for him to take a nap in this room. Which was saying something, because it could not be said that Goten did not know how to nap; if he could, he would take a whole month and devote it solely to sleeping. But this room was impossible, for one there was the screaming pipes that burst at the edges, for another there was the almost intolerable heat. Goten hoisted his hands over his head and touched the ceiling above him in a stretch. He smirked in satisfaction as he heard his shoulders crack and pop back into place in response to the tension he put on them. Suddenly a screech jarred him from his contentment and he looked down off his perch, to survey the work area.
His eyes landed on the owner of the shriek, and he leaned forward to get a better look. It was a pale pink alien boy, gripping a large metal girder, which was steadily slipping out of his hands. He was standing on top of the huge bronze and copper boiler, which sat in the center of their work area. Another pale pink alien was standing next to him, trying to reach down and grab the girder to haul it back up, but the weight of the thing was too much for them. Goten stood up straight and began to eye the rafters above him. Without his flight, he would have to settle for jumping. He saw one lower rafter, and braced himself, and jumped forward, grabbing it with all his might. He managed to grab it, and used his ongoing momentum to propel himself towards the distressed aliens. He landed several feet away and rushed over as quickly as he could, waving his arm.
"Here!" He called. "Let me help!" The two looked over at him confused, and the girder slipped another few inches. Goten reached down, kneeling besides one of the boys, and grabbed the girder with one hand. He then stood up straight and hoisted it over his head, like it was made of styrofoam rather than a few tons of steel. It was still a bit heavy for him, with all his Ki bottled up, but he was still much stronger than anyone here. The two aliens stared at him,gawking.
"How did you…"
"Thank you!" The other chirped, elbowing his companion in the ribs. "That could have been a disaster."
"Aw, sure. No problem," Goten smiled back. "Where was this supposed to go?" He asked, chuckling a little. "I'd like to put it down now."
"Of course," the first boy said, pointing behind him. "Over there, by the others."
Goten nodded and walked over, setting the girder down. He looked back over and smiled. "If you ever need help with the heavy lifting, just call me. My name is Goten."
The boys both nodded and smiled at him with gratitude heavy in their eyes. "Thank you. It's so kind of you to say."
"Well, hey," Goten said, rubbing the back of his head. "Us boiler brats have to stick together, right?" He said, turning around. He walked to the edge of the boiler, and sat down, swinging his legs off, and slid down till he landed on one of the thicker, and therefore cooler pipes. He sat down a moment and was prepared to jump down again to get to the work floor when the door at the far side of the room opened. He stood up quicker than he thought he could have and grabbed one of the bolts on the side of the pipe and pretended to be tightening it. Always looking busy was a better strategy than hiding when Saiyans were involved. He looked down as a few low class Saiyan warriors filed through; he rolled his eyes and let his arms fall back to his sides. Just another few army warriors taking a tour of duty down in the slums and sewers to keep the slaves in check. It was easy work and most of the time they were put on duty here as training, or work for when they were injured, sometimes even as a punishment. Goten slid down the pipe and sat down at a curve, he watched them all file through and snickered. They were practically slaves themselves, masquerading around as members of the army. He leaned his head back, watching them, until a sharp voice jarred him from his reverie.
"Raditz! Hurry it up!"
He looked down and leaned over, to see who had barked the order and his eyes widened in shock. "Dad?" The words came out louder than he meant to, and he nearly fell off the pipe he was sitting on. The man standing there in green Saiyan armor with red wrist bands was standing at the door, waiting for someone. The man who followed had hair down to his waist and it was as bushy and spiky as a hedgehog. Goten gasped and jumped down onto the moist and moldy floor and ran forwards, towards the man in the hall. His father. Son Goku.
"Dad!" He yelled, reaching forwards. His heart soared. His father had finally come here, he had finally come to save him, he was finally going to go home! His happy thoughts were roughly torn to a halt when another third class clotheslined him, knocking him to the floor.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, slave?"
Goten blinked in surprise and sat up, looking at the man whose eyes were on him. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out at the sight. The man standing in front of him was not father. He was not here to save him, and he was not going home. The look in this man's eyes was cold and ruthless, and the scar on his cheek and the green scouter on his eye gave Goten all he needed to know that this man was not his father. His eyes stung with tears as he wiped his chin on the back of his hands and stood up. "N… nothing."
"You ran over here for nothing?" The third class sneered. "That seem like nothing to you, Bardock?"
The man who looked just like his father scrutinized him. "No, it didn't," he walked forward. "You have business with me boy?"
Goten's eyes narrowed and he curled his fist. If he needed proof that this man was not his father, he had it now. His father would never have spoken to him that way. "No sir," he looked past him and pointed. "I… need to adjust that valve behind you," it was a weak lie, but luckily he was standing in front of a valve.
His father's look alike, Bardock, turned his head and then looked back at Goten before nodding at it. Goten took a few steps towards it, grabbed it and gave it a twist. He hoped to god it wasn't important, and wouldn't blow this place up with him in it, and gave it a second twist before turning around and looking at the two men staring at him. He noticed the other man, with the wild hair was also scrutinizing him. Bardock glowered a bit.
"What are you waiting for, a medal?" He asked. He jerked his head back at the boiler. "Get back to work."
Goten turned towards the boiler and ran towards it, tears stinging at his eyes. It was a whole new level of hurt, having his world ripped out from under him all over again. He took a shuddering breath to calm himself and curled his fists, attempting to will his pain away and transform into determination. He wasn't sure who this man was, or why he looked just like his father, but by god, he was determined to find out. Maybe it wasn't anything, maybe it was just a huge coincidence. Or maybe it had something to do with everything, and would be the key to getting out of here once and for all. Either way he had a feeling he knew where to go to get some answers. The sewer rats.
The sewer rats were basically the underground information network of the slaves, rather literally. The sewers ran all throughout the planet, and therefore made it easy to spy and eavesdrop on things happening above ground, anywhere and any time. If you had something to trade, you could learn all sorts of useful things. It didn't always do much good, seeing as Saiyans didn't respond well to blackmail and were ruthlessly efficient when it came to hunting down runaways or putting down rebellions; but the right word in the right ear you could advance to a better or easier job or help someone else.
Of course, they weren't really rats, not all of them anyhow, but the nickname was fitting. Every classification had a certain nickname amongst the slaves, working in a water treatment plant made Goten a boiler brat.
Goten stopped by a small grate in the floor and looked around before squatting down next to it. He licked his lips and whistled twice, tapping on the metal grate. "Anyone down there?" He whispered, leaning in.
A few moments past before a dirty face appeared beneath him. Goten smirked and rested his hands on his knees. The slave beneath him wiped her face, and looked up at him expectantly. "What'cha want?" She asked.
"I need to know about a third class warrior," Goten said. "His name is Bardock. He's got hair like this," he grabbed his own hair, which had become more tame as he had grown, like his brother's, and stood it on end. "Know anything?"
"Off the top of my head, no. But I'll ask around, do some snooping," she shrugged. "Depending. What'cha got?"
Goten smiled widely and reached into his back pocket and produced a small brown sack. "Rations. They'll last you a week. Longer depending on how many friends you have."
The girl's eyes lit up and she nodded. "You've got a deal. Come back here in a few days and I'll give you a report."
Goten nodded and he stuffed the small sack between the bars into her eager hands. "Thanks," he said grinning from ear to ear.
"Right back at'cha."
With those words the slave was gone, and Goten stood up and hurried away from the grate to avoid any suspicious glances. He furrowed his brow. It couldn't be a mere coincidence that this man looked just like his father. Coincidences like that just didn't happen. Usually. His frown deepened as he began to climb the large metal structure next to a wall. He wondered if his father had even made it through the heart virus that had struck him only days before the invasion. Bulma said she could treat it, but it would take time and might not work at all. And with Gohan training with Piccolo up in the heavenly realm, he had to wonder if anyone was going to come for him or Trunks.
His thoughts wandered to his best friend and he reached out with is Ki to feel for his own. Trunks' Ki wasn't too terribly far, now. Which was a change from what it had been only yesterday. He wondered if he had been sold, and if he was doing okay. His Ki wasn't in distress so he assumed he was fine, but he could never really be sure. He heaved a sigh and pulled himself back onto his rafter, and leaned against it. He looked down at the battalion of third class soldiers and his eyes landed again on Bardock and the other man he was with. It couldn't be a coincidence… could it?
Bardock looked over at his son with a disdainful glace. Raditz was listening closely to what their instructor had to say, or so it would appear. Bardock was never quite sure. His son was powerful to say the least, but he always had a incurable attitude. It was what had landed them both there in the first place. Needless to say, Bardock was unhappy with the situation. He folded his arms and looked around the water treatment plant and scanned the area for the slave who had run up to him earlier. He had said he was only there for the valve, but Bardock wasn't that naïve. You didn't run up to someone shouting "dad" and with such hope and happiness in your eyes and then claim it had been nothing more than a faulty valve that needed tending to, only idiots fell for that. Bardock frowned and gave a sidelong glance at the other Saiyans with him. The brat had referred to him as his father. He wasn't sure why, and honestly, part of him didn't care. And yet he couldn't shake the look of hurt the boy had stared at him with after being knocked to the ground.
The instructor finished talking and Bardock folded his arms. "Try not to make any sort of scene this time, Raditz. Especially if you want to go back to the royal guard."
"I won't, father." Raditz nearly spat the words out.
Bardock's eyes finally found the boy he had been searching for. He was sitting up on the rafters now, fiddling with something or another. He narrowed his eyes. "Raditz."
"Yes, father?"
"That slave from earlier. Have you seen him somewhere before?"
Raditz snorted. "No, father, I haven't." He said, putting his hands on his hips. "Though I'd have liked to teach him a lesson-"
"He referred to me as father." Bardock said, cutting his son off mid-sentence.
"What?"
"When he ran over here. He called me father."
"I didn't hear that."
"I did." He glared over at Raditz angrily.
Raditz just shrugged his shoulders and looked around nonchalantly. "So? The kid must be delusional from all this steam. It's seeped into his brain," he said, tapping the side of his temple. "What do you care?"
Bardock turned and glared. "I don't."
"So then what's the problem?"
"There isn't one," he turned around and faced forward. "Just go and do your job," he snapped.
He could practically feel the scowl on his son's face. "Yes father," and he took off into the boiler room.
Bardock looked back up at the boy on the rafters. His face twisted into a scrutinizing scowl. Perhaps the boy was delusional. Or perhaps it was something much more than that.
