It wasn't as quick a speech as it had been with Goten. Even so, Mom didn't interrupt, keeping her expressions carefully schooled as well, until I'd finished.

"Your father never told me about this," she said finally. A rare look crossed her face, like what I'd said had sunk it with some measure of severity for her.

"He – he didn't want to worry you," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure of why he'd actually told me to keep quiet.

"Shit," she breathed, as she steadied herself against the nearby table.

I watched her wobble a bit as she sank into the chair and placed a hand on her stomach. Even in the dim lighting, the pallor of her face ensured me that she hadn't taken the news lightly. And I thought Father was the one who was supposed to take things too seriously.

"You're overreacting Mom, we can handle ourselves and it's strictly a business trip anyway. We'll only be gone a few weeks," I said.

I hadn't expected her to take it quite so harshly, and now I was scrambling for a way to reassure her.

She did not look reassured.

"Trunks," she said.

"Kakarot's promised to stay the entire time we're gone. Piccolo and Gohan are staying too. Nobody will even think about trying to hurt you."

"Trunks -"

"Please don't tell Father I told you. Just when he's finally giving me responsibility -"

"Trunks!" she said loudly, voice ringing with authority though an odd quaver ran through it. It was enough to cause me to shut my mouth and let her speak.

"It's not that I don't trust you to handle yourself. Or your father, as impulsive as he can be sometimes. I'm not even worried about myself. It's Frieza I don't trust."

I frowned.

"Well, he might be the leader of the PTO, but he does rely a lot on us to provide him with soldiers," I said. "And he hasn't spoken with Father directly in, what – I don't even know how many years. Since I'm an adult now too, maybe he just wants to solidify his organization's trust with the future king. Or maybe that was Father's idea. I don't think Frieza has the time to care about little details when he has such a large business to run."

"Yes, but -" Mom pursed her lips. "He's still dangerous." It sounded like she'd been considering saying something else, but filled in with a safer option. She sighed, and it came out as partially frustrated and partially resigned.

"I guess I can't stop you from going. But mark my words, this isn't over. I'm kicking your father's ass when you two get back. He can't be this level of jerkhole and get away with it..." She muttered the last part to herself. Then her eyes took on a faraway look, like she was deep in thought.

"I want to give you something. Hold on," she said with a strange look.

She moved across the room, fishing through a closet until she emerged with a box. Taking the lid off, she pulled a smaller parcel out before replacing the box. She turned back to me, holding it out for me to take.

I obliged, turning the object around with my hands. It was a plain and rectangular package, beige and the size of a large hardcover novel, with what felt like bundles of something inside.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I wasn't sure when the right time to give it to you was. But, listen – don't open it now. Look at it only after you've spoken to Frieza. And don't tell your father I gave it to you."

I raised a brow. "Cryptic, Mom."

How many times had I been told recently to not tell so-and-so about something? Like a giant, ridiculous game of telephone, except all the players were trying to garble the message on purpose. And I was the one who got punished for it.

"I mean it. I want you to promise," she urged.

"Okay okay, I promise. What's in here that's so important, anyway?"

"You'll get it when it's opened. No peeking until then."

"Right. I won't." I bounced the package in my hand, testing the weight. I didn't have anywhere in my clothes to stash it because of the size, but it wasn't likely that anybody would bother me if they saw me with it. It was pretty nondescript.

I looked back at Mom and saw that she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset. Half the time she was distressed over little things, but this time I knew that my leaving her was more than that.

I came close to Mom, leaning down to embrace her. I didn't fully understand her motives, but it wasn't imperative to me that I know her reasons right away – hell, I didn't know what anybody was trying to do, and what was one more person added to the mix?

"Mom..." I began, but she spoke first.

"I won't try and convince you not to go, you're too damn stubborn for that. And I know -" Her voice caught. "- I know this means a lot to you, to be able to finally go somewhere beyond home. And it scares me, because even though you might not like it I'll always see you as my little boy. You're growing up and I don't want to lose you. Please make sure you come back."

She rubbed my back in soothing motions, like she was the one supposed to be comforting me. Her hair was soft against my cheek.

"You know I love you, right?" It came out as a sniffle and I knew she was crying a little.

"I love you too, Mom," I replied.

I released her before speaking again. "You know I'll come back. And, who knows – maybe Father will let me see Earth again eventually. Maybe he'll let you take me there as compensation for... all this."

She smiled sadly. "I'd really like that, Trunks. Maybe he will. It'd be funny, watching Goten try to show you the ropes. Because of course he'd want to go with you, you're like the tag team everyone wished they had."

Suddenly, an expression crossed her face like she'd forgotten something.

"Have you told Goten you're going?" she asked. "You ought to at least tell him goodbye."

"Actually, he's the one I told first. He helped convince me to tell you about it, and so did his dad." I neglected to tell her that Kakarot knew because he'd read my mind, but I figured that tidbit of information could wait until it actually became useful.

"You told Goku about this?"

"Ah... Yes. I figured he was trustworthy." Except for the part where he hadn't told anybody he was psychic, but I supposed that would be awkward to explain, particularly after keeping it secret for so long.

"Don't worry. He's trustworthy, especially where it counts. I've known him for a long time." Mom then put her hands to her hair, fixing wayward strands that didn't exist.

"God, I wish I had a cigarette right now," she muttered. Mom had kicked her smoking habit, but after all this time she still complained about it.

"Well, I guess I should let you get to bed. You have a big day tomorrow," she spoke up after a pause.

I nodded, and a smile crept on my face. "I guess this is goodbye for now. I'll see you in a few weeks, Mom."

She smiled back at me and hugged me again, arms closing tight around my midsection. "Be safe," she said.


"Get up. We're leaving within the hour."

I almost shot straight out of bed at my father's voice. I hadn't heard him come in, or even approach me for that matter. He could move surprisingly quiet for someone with a reputation for loud, angry outbursts.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," I slurred, because I was most certainly not awake.

When my eyes focused on Father, I could see he was fully dressed, armour and all. He didn't look the slighted bit tired from the early wake-up. Considering I actually had no idea when he usually arose, maybe this wasn't early for him.

"Meet me at docking port two," he said, then turned on his heel and strode out without another word.

I got up and dressed quickly, the adrenaline of excitement beginning to sink in. Based on what Father had been wearing, I chose an armour set with my family insignia on it – to anyone in Frieza's envoy, it would be obvious who I was. Plain suits would be available on the ship for me to wear if I needed them in between here and there, but I surmised that I had to bring this one too.

I grabbed my bag of personals, including mom's 'gift,' strapped my sword on and left in a flurry. I tied my hair while I was en route through the halls, crossing only a distrait guard once or twice and no one else. A few of the lavender locks, just a bit too short for the messy ponytail, hung down at the sides of my face; I resolved to fix it later.

From the windows I did pass, I knew that the sun had not yet risen. When I reached the doors to the docking port I needed, which let me outside to the platform, my suspicions were confirmed. There was a faint wind, enough to blow around a bit of dust that I couldn't see but certainly felt.

Docking port two was where the larger ships for only our family were stored (port one contained the smaller ballistic capsules, for emergency or speed). I'd thought we'd be taking one of the smaller ships that could move a lot faster – but I guess Father wanted something with more room and equipment.

Father was standing on the platform, waiting for me. Someone unfamiliar with his mannerisms may have thought he was irritable, but I knew he was being fully patient. I assumed anything extra he'd wanted to take was already inside one of the ships, and all that remained was for us to board.

When I reached his position, he turned and headed towards the closest vessel – a massive model with a vaguely saucer-like ring attached on the outside, but could easily fit full sized ceilings in the internal, almost rectangular centre. Obviously, I'd never been inside, so I was awed with the proportions of the ship up close.

"We're taking this one? It's huge," I said, and Father made an amused noise.

"This is nothing. Designed to fit one squadron in comfort at most, though few of the cavalry ever get to use anything other than the attack pods. Save being impressed until you see Frieza's ship," Father explained.

When we were centred under the spacecraft, there was a faint whirring sound and a section of ramp descended from over top us. Father went up the steps without hesitation, but I took one last look behind me before following him up.

Only the sight of the port greeted me, framed by the plain night sky. The ramp had already begun to close when we were halfway up, pulling us back into the ship with it and obstructing my view. Not that there had been much to look at.

When the entryway had sealed shut with a hiss of the airlock, I took the opportunity to scan my new surroundings. There was the initial entry chamber that I was in now, but I pursued Father past one of who electric bulkheads and into a short hallway, with another door at the end. The temperature inside the ship was cooler than I had expected – it was probably air conditioned to prevent it overheating in the sun, or freezing while in space. With the heat I was accustomed to, I knew it would be a bit of an adjustment.

The main interior of the ship was another larger hallway, but it tapered wide at one end where it branched off to lead into other rooms. Father chose the one in the centre that I tailed him through, and we emerged into what seemed like a large pilot's cockpit.

There was a massive dashboard that circled half the room, and an equally large window, the view of which currently was only nearby platforms and desert. The control panel was completely touch-screen, but the glass was Saiyan-grade sturdy. However, the script displayed was all Galactic Standard, though the only trouble I had in reading it was the sheer amount of it.

Father seemed completely familiar with the controls, effortlessly navigating the console as he inputted whatever directions he needed for the autopilot. Any other adjustments were made with the same quick accuracy, and in no time I heard the ship fire up with a faint hum.

A shield descended over the window; even though the translucent pane was probably thick, a cover would be needed for exiting or entering the atmosphere, as well as if the ship was under attack.

"Get comfortable. It will take us twelve days to arrive," Father explained, his finger tapping the dashboard as his eyes grazed over the display. I revisited my earlier surprise at him not having chosen faster transportation, but he'd probably brush me off if I asked. Then again, I had little to no knowledge on how long it should take; I didn't even know how far Frieza's base was from my home planet.

I had the sudden, odd realization that this was one of the few times I was with Father and no one else was around. Of course, there were rare moments where we talked alone, but I didn't know what to do with myself when it was going to be twelve days. We didn't exactly participate in the usual father-son bonding thing often.

I shook my head. We'd probably just maintain our usual, clinical distance, maybe exchange a couple two-word sentences. I didn't know how to approach him just for the sake of conversation, so unless he initiated one, it wouldn't happen.

"Is there something you find remarkably interesting in this room? If you're quite finished gawking, go put your things away. I trust you can explore the ship to your leisure and find the bedrooms on your own. You may come back to this room whenever you'd like, and if you wish you can reopen the window once we're in space." Father gestured to the switch in question. "But don't dream of touching the controls otherwise. It's on autopilot for a reason."

I quickly nodded. I'd had no plans to attempt driving the thing, but Father's insistence that I not fuck around with anything made me extra wary. I turned and left the room, selecting my next direction at random by curving my path into the next adjacent doorway.

It appeared to lead to a kitchen of some kind, but all I found in the compartments as far as food went was the powdered, packaged kind ideal for space travel. I'd once found a stash of it as a kid and eaten twelve of them, just as powder, then viciously thrown up afterwards. They tasted pretty much like sand until rehydrated; when water was added there were a few individual flavours to choose from. Though they were never anything special in the first place, and my childhood memory had placed them rather low on the desirability list. I'd have to make do with them for twelve days, at least.

There was a niche at the far end of the kitchen where I finally found the dried and thermal-stabilized goods. There was also a medium-sized, humming compartment that I assumed held cold foods, but nothing available to heat food if we wanted. It was either lukewarm or chilled, though at least it was better than powdered chalk.

Beyond the kitchen was a lounge or dining room, and another door at the end seemed to loop around to the restroom and showers. I went back the way I came and chose another hallway, which took me to a large area I assumed was used for training. It definitely wouldn't be strong enough to handle anything more than the weakest of ki blasts, but there was plenty of room for solely physical exercise.

The third hallway I took led me to the bedrooms. They were small, but private areas instead of bunks, enough to fit a moderately sized bed and a bit of walking space. One of the rooms was locked, so I assumed Father had chosen it and I selected mine at random.

When entering the room fully, I noticed a closet that could fit a few articles of clothing, so I removed my armour and placed it in the storage space, leaving myself only in the plain bodysuit. Opting to leave my gloves (and boots) on as well, I placed my sword and bag on the bed and sat down next to them.

The mattress was much stiffer than I expected. I bounced my weight on it a few times, confirming that while it wasn't as uncomfortable as regular accommodations for soldiers, it wasn't just my royal privilege that had me noticing how inflexible it was. The frame of the bed itself was bolted to the wall and floor, and so was the nightstand next to it. I supposed if anything were to happen to the gravity or worse, the foresight to avoid having large objects floating around had been a good idea.

I put the things from my bag into the drawers of the nightstand. I left Mom's package covered inside the satchel, just in case, though Father had never stepped near my things before and wouldn't start now. There wasn't anywhere to put my sword, but I wanted it out in view anyway; I wouldn't need it but having it near was a comfort.

Though I didn't actually move in place, I suddenly felt an odd, weightless sensation for a moment before I assumed the artificial gravity kicked in. The slight clink my sword made in its sheath confirmed what had happened – we'd probably left the atmosphere by now. I hadn't felt us moving otherwise.

Once I was sure we'd settled at speed and wouldn't encounter random turbulence, I got up to explore the rest of the ship.

One room contained battle gear and blasters, though it was mostly the former, and the latter – which there were few of – were locked securely, so they wouldn't accidentally fire off or explode if something unforeseen happened.

The last room contained strange pods, large enough to fit a person inside. There was a panel at the head of each one, but the screens were dark. The containers had a glass cover for the lid, clean enough that my hand left fingerprints on it. It was slightly cool to the touch, but nothing out of the ordinary, so whatever they were, they were inactive. There didn't appear to be any sort of restraints or proper bedding inside, though there were tiny holes lining areas of the interior. Perhaps they give air, or fill the tank with something else.

In the back of the room, but a good distance from the pods, there was something that looked a lot like a jail cell, large enough for one or maybe two occupants. I didn't bother to give it more than a cursory glance before leaving the strange room.

With nothing left to do, and Father not having sought me out to tell me anything specific, I returned to my bedroom. I'd been woken up rather early, and though I wasn't hungry, I hadn't eaten yet, which had left me on the fringes of exhaustion.

Deciding my body would wake itself when I inevitably did get famished, I decided to settle down for a light nap. I moved my sword to the floor and lay down as I was, fully clothed. I was asleep mere minutes afterwards.


I woke up with the realization that I'd been asleep for longer than a light nap. I felt replenished in the mental sense, but I was still a bit groggy and my stomach was painful in a way that meant I'd missed more than one meal.

I couldn't exactly look out the window and tell the time of day, so I rolled out of bed in a state of half confusion. I felt cold and stiff, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that except get up and move around.

Following the direction of Father's ki, I found myself in the lounge room, where he appeared to be tinkering with a scouter. He would rarely play around with technology, but I knew he was very well acquainted with that device in particular, so I doubted anything would wind up broken. Saiyans often had trouble with certain fine-tuned motor skills, where humans were more adept, according to Mom. I seemed to have no trouble, and I'd never noticed if Goten did – but I could see it sometimes with Father and especially Kakarot.

There were a few empty dishes on the table in front of Father. I assumed he'd already eaten, as it was probably past the usual time we ate our middle meal of the day.

"For a 'luxury' vessel, those beds sure are uncomfortable," I said, stretching my arms to work a kink out of my back. Father took note of my presence by looking at me for a singular second, then returned his attention to the scouter.

"As with the rest of the furniture, they're designed to stay put together in case of an emergency with turbulence or the gravity." Father then gave a short, one-syllable laugh. "And as this is a luxury vessel for soldiers' needs, they are also designed to take a beating."

"Take a beat-" I stopped talking when I realized I didn't want to know what that detailed and why it amused him. "Uh, anyway, what's for lunch? Does it matter what I eat? I mean, I can tolerate the powdered stuff, I guess..."

I really didn't want to have to tolerate it, but I hadn't made note of the rations we'd had when touring the ship.

"We have enough dried food so you don't have to. Unless you decide to make a habit of eating from boredom, we'll have enough until we arrive at Frieza's station."

I guess boredom may actually become an issue. Doesn't seem like there's a whole lot to do.

"Speaking of boredom," I said, moving into the kitchen to fetch myself a meal, "what's there to do while we travel? I found the training room, but it seems pretty limited. I did bring a book, but I'm thinking I should've brought two..."

"Don't expect me to entertain you. The stasis chambers that you may have found while exploring the ship – those are sometimes used for longer journeys, but they're not necessary for us. I'm sure you can manage twelve days without that third-class boy around," he said.

I pursed my lips, without a comment. From the food storage I pulled myself out a few dozen crackers, two hunks of dried meat, three palm-sized containers of a pudding-like substance, and several strips of firm greens that were a lot softer than they looked. As an afterthought, I took a canister of water, considering the amount of salt in the food I'd chosen.

"So," I began, setting my food down. I sat a ways across from him, without intruding his space in the slightest. "I, uh, basically slept half the day away. If we're in space, does it matter when I sleep?"

"It doesn't. You'll probably have to reset your sleeping intervals anyway on Frieza's station, as everyone there could be set on a different cycle entirely. You may eat or sleep whenever you want," he replied.

I nodded, feeding myself at a moderate pace.

Afterwards, I took a brief visit to the training room for some moderate exercises. I became sluggish a lot faster than usual, my movements sloppier than Father would've considered acceptable, so I gave up and decided to go to the control room to see the view of space.

I hit the switch Father had pointed out to me earlier and the shield retreated slowly.

Beyond the glass pane, the scene looked similar to a moonless night sky. Countless stars decorated the backdrop of the void, and I could almost feel the cold seeping through the window. With nothing else pressing at my mind, I gazed out into space for an indeterminate amount of time, hoping (but not expecting) to pass by a stray planet or a colourful nebula.

During the second day of our journey, two calls were placed from Planet Vegeta to the ship – one in the morning, and one in the evening (as relative as those times of day could be in space). Father ignored both, and the caller took the hint.

After day four, I'd fallen into a routine of sorts, sometimes doing things for the sole purpose of warding off my perpetual chill. My sleeping pattern wasn't too far off from Father's, though even so, it felt more like we were occupying the same space instead of living together.

I often spent time sitting in the control room, as I enjoyed the view of space, even if we weren't near anything to look at. We did come in close view with a small moon once, though I mistook it for a planet at first glance until Father explained otherwise. It was one of the few times we carried on a conversation, the second was just short of one week in.

I was in the lounge, reading the book I'd brought. Despite all my excess time, I hadn't made as much progress through it as I'd hoped, but had made some in little increments. Wading through some of the obsolete, formal phrases was more difficult than I'd originally thought it would be, but I found immersing myself in the novel seemed to help.

When Father entered the room, I was so engrossed that I didn't notice him for some time.

"I doubt I've seen you with such focus before," he said eventually, interrupting my concentration. I looked up at him and blinked away the letters floating behind my eyelids, letting the book come to a rest in my lap.

Father strode a few paces closer, his eyes glazing over the exposed pages. I knew he could barely read Mom's native language, so it probably just looked like scribbles to him. I recalled how strange the lettering had looked to me when first learning it.

"I assume you can read the language quite well," he said, frowning at the tiny and clustered text.

"Yeah, Mom always wants me to practice," I said.

When his attention still seemed to be held, I continued. "The novels are more engaging than nonfiction sometimes. Especially when I first started learning as a kid. Gohan really encouraged me and gave me books he thought I would like." I thumbed the pages, flipping through idly. "It's not as hard as it looks, since the most difficult part is the grammatical stuff – thanks to the translator, we already know how to speak it. All it takes is remembering to link what you're reading to the right language, but learning the sounds of the letters isn't hard at all."

Father gave a vague sort of nod, and an idea came to me. I closed the book and pointed to the cover.

"See this? This is the word 'the.'"

"'The' is a useless word," replied Father, frowning again. We were communicating in Standard, as we did most of the time, which lacked a properly equivalent word altogether – I was thankful again for our nanotechnology, as having to explain the meaning of 'the' would've been nigh impossible.

"The letter 't' makes a tuh sound, the letter 'h' makes a huh, and 'e' makes uh in this case. But when 't' and 'h' are next to each other, it usually means you get a th sound. Hence 'the,'" I elaborated.

"That sounds far too complicated for a useless word."

"If you think that's complicated, I'd hate to see how you handled other Earth languages. In some of them, 'the' is masculine or feminine, depending on the words that come after it, not the gender of the speaker."

Father looked baffled and slightly angry that something so needless existed. I would have laughed, but then I decided I wanted to show him something. He seemed bored enough to listen to me, and I was happy to have something different than the numerous days of monotony.

"I can show you a different example of Mom's language that's easier to explain, and actually useful. Do we have something on board I can write with?" I asked.

A few minutes later, while Father waited (having taken a seat, apparently ready to tolerate my explanations) and his gaze followed me around, I returned with the tools I needed.

I sat back down not quite across from him, but not next to him. Smoothing out the paper, I tested the ink in the writing utensil on the corner before beginning my tutorial.
"This is how you write your name," I said, before writing it out all in lower case. I made sure the letters were spaced just enough to be easily identified.

"And this is mine," I continued, and followed suit with my own title.

"They have one symbol the same," he remarked. I was surprised he'd said anything, but I supposed it was a good thing that he was willing to participate in something so mundane.

I nodded, then wrote out Mom's name underneath the other two. "This is Mom's. Usually names have something called a capital letter at the beginning, but it's not really that important."

Father still seemed to be paying attention, so I continued.

"You probably noticed that this first letter of your name is pronounced a little different in Mom's language, more of an elongated sound. That's why it's a different letter than the one at the beginning of mom's name, unlike how it is in the Standard. In all of our names, each letter is one sound," I said.

I wrote out some other names familiar to me in a list to demonstrate further. Some of them, I was unsure of the spelling, but I assumed they were close enough for my purposes. When the list was complete, Father picked it up and scanned the arrangement.

"The fourth name is Kakarot's, and I assume the seventh is Gohan's. I don't know the rest, besides what you showed me," he said.

He'd picked up what little I'd explained rather quickly and used it to decipher more – I supposed he was smarter than most people gave him credit for.

"You got Gohan and Kakarot right," I told him. "If you know those, you can work out the rest, given time."

"Hmph. You got your enthusiasm for this sort of thing from your mother, not me," he said.

Just then, an alert beeped from somewhere, indicating that attention was needed in the control room.

"There better not be something wrong with the ship," Father grumbled and stood up. Out of curiosity, I followed him, leaving the paper where he'd replaced it on the table.

"It's an asteroid field," Father said, once we'd reached the control room.

I could actually see it through the window. Massive boulders spiralled through the emptiness, many of them bigger than the ship we were travelling in. Even some of the craters pockmarking them were over twice the size.

Though it was impressive to see, I wondered how the phenomenon would mark as an unusual sight when Father continued to explain. "It isn't marked here on the map. A planet is. It must have been destroyed at some point very recently."

I recalled Goten telling me avidly about one of his favourite Earth movies where this happened, but I didn't think Father would appreciate my attempt to relay the detail. Besides, I myself understood the implications of a exterminated planet – the people on it, mostly. I knew that Saiyans were often sent to purge planets and sell them, but I tried to justify the difference in my mind by not thinking too hard about it.

"An asteroid may have collided with it, or perhaps one of Frieza's cronies blew it up. Either way, we'll have to detour around, though it shouldn't take enough extra time to make a difference," Father said.

From that time until we arrived, it was the most that he said to me.


I was asleep when the next alert sounded. I had half awoken at the noise, debating whether I should keep sleeping, and had decided to do so when Father moved to stand in the doorway I'd left open (with no one else on the ship, I didn't care – he never even looked inside the few times he walked by when I was in there).

He must have known I was awake by my ki. "We'll be docking in a couple hours, I suggest you get ready," he said.

It took me a moment to process, but I rolled up right away as soon as it clicked in.

"A couple hours? Uh, okay..." I stood up after he wandered away, deciding to take a shower as my hair was probably a mess. I'd gotten so used to it long that I'd decided to leave it that way, and just deal with the bit of extra care that came along with it.

I combed out the knots with my fingers while showering, tying my hair back right away after I got out. I put on a fresh bodysuit and the custom armour I'd brought with me from home, then returned to my room, taking my sword with me though not strapping it on yet. I double-checked that Mom's package was secure before I left the room.

I went to the kitchen and leaned my blade against the wall while I grabbed a small sum of food. I was getting anxious – though I wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad feeling – and I hoped that something in my stomach might help.

After eating and then pacing around the ship umpteen times, I decided to go wait in the control room. Father would be in there, and from the window I would be able to see the station while we approached.

When I entered the room, I could immediately spot the station – we were a lot closer than I'd thought, or the facility was much larger than I'd expected. In fact, it was utterly colossal; thousands of ships the size of the one we had could fit inside. It was made up of one solid body, but numerous smaller sections stuck out in places. I felt suddenly tiny in the face of something artificial this large.

Behind the station was a planet. It seemed larger than home and looked quite different, as it was marked with vibrant purple and green swirls. From the looks of it, it may have been a gas planet, which was marginally disappointing to me. However, my dissatisfaction was gone quite quickly after.

Within a few minutes of my entry, Father began operating something on the dashboard. A small square of light flashed on the screen and he touched it; it grew in size but became black on the inside. I assumed it was an optional video feed.

"This is King Vegeta, requesting permission to dock," Father said. He then recited a code of numbers and waited for a response.

There was a brief silence before a voice spoke back over the intercom. "Request acknowledged. Please stand by."

A pause again, and the voice was back. "You have clearance to dock at port four. Locking onto your position now. Welcome back, sir." The person on the other end said nothing else after that.

It seemed to be longer still before we actually came into view of port four. At that point, I felt a small tremble go through the ship, which I guessed could be some sort of traction beam to help us dock, or our artificial gravity readjusting to the same level as the station's. When I could see the port door opening slowly ahead of us, the window shield began descending as an automatic response to landing, and soon my view was cut off.

I was shifting my weight nervously, but Father seemed calm, albeit his expression was set sternly. He looked at me then, scanning my face for something, though I wasn't sure whether he'd found it or not.

"Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded because I didn't know how my voice would come out sounding.

The ship's lighting suddenly dimmed and I knew we'd completed docking.

While we walked to the exit, I reached up and let my fingers graze the pommel of my sword. Its familiarity calmed me somewhat, but I was surprisingly thankful for my Father's presence in the situation. I would've been floundering in confusion otherwise, and being with someone who was confident (and always seemed to know what to do, especially in this situation) made me feel less like I was in over my head.

"What's this Frieza guy even like?" I asked. Considering he ran the PTO, I assumed he was at least strategic and probably more than a little ruthless. I didn't know what species he was either, but the way his name was spoken made me think he was rather intimidating in stature and presence.

"I doubt we'll be seeing him right away – but I'll leave describing what he is for when you meet him yourself," replied Father. He was definitely scowling now, and I felt a ball of nervousness form in my throat and stomach.

Our boots on the gangplank echoed in my ears in the moments before the platform began to descend, revealing us to the station.