by Becky Tailweaver
Chapter 4: Spaceflight
"...and the engine capacity should never, ever run above one hundred twenty percent, understand? And if you do have to go that high, make sure to open the secondary coolant valves--those are the blue valves above this casing--or else you'll have a nasty meltdown. This guage here tells you the coolant pressure, and remember this one is the engine temperature--don't forget and mix them up, because... Trunks? Earth to Trunks--are you listening to me, honey?"
The purple-haired half-Saiyan finished an expansive yawn, blinking and quickly bringing his attention back to his mother's lecture. "Oh! Yeah, Mom, I'm right here. Um...throttle valves, you were saying?"
Bulma raised an eyebrow sardonically at him. "Son, that subject went by about ten minutes ago."
Trunks dropped his eyes and fiddled with his fork. "Sorry. I'm excited about leaving tomorrow. It seems like it's taken forever to finish the Dream."
Bulma and Trunks were currently at the dinner table--although dinner was long since finished. It had been a massive affair; Bulma had really overdone it, packing as many of her son's favorite dishes into one meal as she possibly could. In typical Saiyan fashion, Trunks had graciously polished it all off, and now that the meal was over, he and Bulma were poring over charts and diagrams of the small spaceship's design and components. Bulma was determined to see that Trunks knew all there was to know about flying a ship, and he had listened attentively--at first. With the meal consumed and the evening wearing on, he was beginning to get a little bored.
"I know how you feel, Trunks," Bulma responded kindly. "I'm excited too. And I guess I shouldn't be trying to drill all of this into you now--you helped me build it, after all."
Trunks shrugged, then found himself fighting off another yawn. "Man, I'm so full tonight..."
"I'm not surprised!" Bulma said triumphantly. "That has to be the biggest effort on dinner that I've ever made! I think I've finally outdone Chichi."
"It sure was good. And there was so much of it."
His mother grinned. "Did I finally achieve the impossible and actually fill up a Saiyan's stomach?"
Trunks laughed. "This Saiyan's stomach, anyway," he admitted as another wide yawn interposed itself into his conversation. "I'm liable to crack my jaw if I keep this up."
"Then I guess it's off to bed with you, young man," Bulma announced, rolling up the diagrams and rising from the table. "You don't really need me to chatter at you all night. The ship's computer has all this data, and you've got a big day tomorrow. You need to be fresh and rested to--"
"Whoa, whoa, wait a second!" Trunks protested, standing up beside her. "I'm not that tired--just a little sleepy from eating too much. What about the dinner dishes? What about the preflight systems check on the ship you said--?"
Bulma cut him off with a wave of one hand. "Nothing to it. I can take care of it, son. You're the one who's going off into outer space tomorrow morning. I have all the time in the world at home, and you need get your sleep."
"But you're the one who's only human, Mom. And..." Another yawn--he was beginning to become annoyed with himself for doing that. "...you've been working so hard--"
"But nothing, Trunks. Go to bed." With a conspiratory wink, she leaned close. "Besides, you being sleepy is all my fault."
That made him jerk in surprise. "What?"
"It's an old trick Chichi taught me," Bulma explained smugly. "She always said, 'Nothing knocks a Saiyan out faster than a full belly with no fighting to do.'"
"But--!"
"Trunks."
He cringed. There was no arguing with her when she was like this, especially when she spoke his name with that tone. The Mommy Voice held a note of command that not even the mightiest king could hope to match. "Are...are you sure you don't need...?"
"Like you said, all this technical jargon is just boring you, and you need to be ready for tomorrow." She hugged him, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I can get the dishes and the preflight done. It won't take long."
"You promise me you'll rest once I'm on my way," he told her sternly.
"Yes, yes, of course I will."
"Promise!"
Bulma paused and looked at him. His eyes held something concerned, something anxious, that made her sigh. "Son, I'm not going to suddenly collapse on you. Fine, I promise, as soon as you're out of the atmosphere I'll take myself to the new sauna and then treat myself to a parfait. Maybe I'll even invite Chichi to come with me. Good enough?"
His blue eyes searched hers for a long moment. "Yeah. I guess." He embraced her in return, sighing in affectionate exhasperation. "Good night, Mom."
She tweaked his chin as he drew back, smiling affectionately. "Good night, son."
Reluctantly, he stepped away, still feeling guilty for leaving dishes on the table, not to mention that he hadn't taken the trash out in three days, the pantry was getting empty mostly due to his appetite and he hadn't gone shopping recently, all because he'd been so wrapped up in getting the spaceship finished as soon as possible...
He took one last look at the chiding expression on his mother's face, and with an affectionate sigh, headed to his room for the night.
Oh, the power to be strong,
And the wisdom to be wise;
All these things will come to you in time.
On this journey that you're making,
There'll be answers that you'll seek;
And it's you who'll climb the mountain,
It's you who'll reach the peak.
Son of man, look to the sky.
Lift your spirit, set it free.
Someday you'll walk tall with pride;
Son of man, a man in time you'll be.
--Phil Collins, "Son of Man"
The Dream gleamed proudly in the early morning light, fresh sunbeams reflecting blindingly off the spaceship's white metallic skin. She was a fine little ship, sleek and sturdy, trimmed with blue and gold, bearing her name in striking blue letters on her smooth side. The engines hummed readily, vibrating the air around the launch pad, sending up heat waves from beneath their exhaust ports.
"Looking good, Mom!" Trunks called from the ship's hatchway, halfway up the side. "She's running at eighty percent, and by the time I launch it'll be at full!"
"That's great!" Bulma shouted back over the engines' throaty rumble, looking up from her palmtop "clipboard." After having finished the preflight checks last night, the ignition sequence early this morning had been a snap, and they were sailing through the engine warmup with nary a hitch. "Is there anything making funny noises up there? Like a whine or a rattle?"
It made better sense to ask him; a Saiyan's ears could hear tiny nuances of sound at higher and lower frequencies than a human's, so any out-of-place vibrations would be easily detected by her son. The only other time she'd started up the Dream's engines had been in a test, and they had discovered two loose valves and a broken housing thanks to his keen ears.
Trunks disappeared from the hatchway for a moment, ducking down the ladder/stairs to peruse the ship's engine room for any "funny noises." Bulma waited anxiously for him to return, reading off everything they'd checked over already. Oil and coolant pressures, fuel level and mixture, oxygenation status, navigational diagnostics... When she looked up again, Trunks was giving her a thumbs-up from the hatch. "All clear, Mom!"
"Then I guess we're all set!" Bulma announced, hiding her anxiety behind a facade of cheerful-genius.
Beaming from ear to ear, Trunks hopped down from the hatch. It was a good twenty feet from the ground, but to him it was as simple as walking down his front doorstep--also why Bulma hadn't bothered putting up any temporary stairs. In a single half-skipping hop, he was at her side, looking over her shoulder at the preflight checklist as she headed further from the ship, where it was a bit quieter.
"Is that it? Is that everything?" he asked, almost wriggling in excitement as he paced beside her.
Bulma grinned at him, holding back her laugh as her half-Saiyan son struggled to contain his jubilance and keep his stride even. They stopped just inside the hangar, where the walls of the garage dimmed the engines' noise a little. "Yes, son, that would be it. Now, if you remembered to pack your toothbrush, you should be good to go."
"Of course I did," he said, a bit apalled that she'd think he would forget something as silly as that.
"It's okay, Trunks," she chuckled, reaching up to tweak his nose playfully. "I'm just teasing. I know you've put more into this than I have."
"But...Mom...you're the one who made all of this...work." He gestured to the interior of the garage/lab, where bits of spare machinery lay half-forgotten, diagrams were strewn about, and computers hummed through simulations and diagnostics. "You're amazing--I couldn't have done it on my own. Us Saiyans...you know we don't do well at much else besides fighting." He laughed softly at his self-mocking half-joke.
Bulma smiled at him, setting down her palmtop to chuck his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, kiddo. I'd like to think that some of my stunning genius won out over Vegeta's brute strength in your DNA. I could never have gotten all this done so well--and so quickly--all by myself, you know."
He shrugged, self-conscious. "Yeah...well..."
They walked back out of the hangar, stopping at the edge of sunlight and shadow. The Dream rumbled eagerly across the lot, ready to go.
"Trunks..." She turned to stand in front of him, looking him straight in the eye. "I want you back. Promise me, no matter what else happens--even if you can't get the Dragonballs, even if...anything goes wrong...promise me you'll come back alive."
"Mom, I'll get Dad back for you. And the others. I'm going to do this--"
"Listen, Trunks." Blue eyes matched blue eyes will for will. "I want your father alive as much as you do. But I've learned to live without him and the others. I can't..." She broke off, eyes misting, swallowing hard. "I cannot learn to live without you. You're all I've got left. Even if Vegeta never comes back, you have to--do you understand?" Her voice, usually so unperturbed and steady, became shaky with desperation.
Trunks regarded her for a time, torn between wanting to vow his father's return and wanting to promise his mother something, anything, that would take the sorrow and longing out of her eyes. "Mom..."
"Please come back to me, Trunks."
"I...I..." He could never abandon her like that. He wondered, briefly, if she had tried to get such a promise out of his father before he left to face the androids. He also wondered if Vegeta had promised...or merely blasted off without a backward glance. "I promise you, Mom. I'll come back. Even if I have to fly across space under my own power. I won't leave you alone like Dad did."
"Trunks...Trunks..." She threw her arms around him, crying suddenly. "I'll hold you to your word--you have to come home. You're my baby...I don't think I could live if you died too..."
"I won't be gone for long, Mom," he said softly, hugging her in return. "And no matter what it takes, I'll come home. And I'll have Dad and Gohan and everyone else with me, so you'd better promise to be alright, too--you'd better be right here waiting for me when I get back." His voice took on a note of scolding, but beneath it was an unspoken plea: Please...please be okay with me gone, Mom...
"You know I'll be just fine, honey," she told him softly.
He breathed deeply, catching his mother's comforting scent, reminded of how precious she was to him, how he'd do anything for her happiness. "Very soon we'll be standing here again, only we'll be saying hello instead of goodbye, and everyone will be with us again. I promise that, too."
"Trunks..."
"I love you, Momma," he said, his voice cracking as he used a name he hadn't called her since he was very, very young. A twinge of premature homesickness made him close his eyes and hold her just a little tighter. Just the thought of leaving her--of leaving the Earth itself for so long--alone and unprotected without him...
"You'd...better get going, Trunks," his mother reminded him, gently pulling back from his embrace. "Wouldn't want you to be late for your date with destiny."
"Yeah." He stood back to look at her, memorizing every detail, molding her face into his mind so that she could give him strength in the long journey to come. She was so strong--strong in ways that he could never hope to match, far stronger than any Super Saiyan could ever be. Her heart held such love, passion, hope, and life.
"Have a good time," she told him, releasing her grip on his sleeve. "Don't stay up too late. Remember not to eat too much right away; don't forget to keep loose things locked down...remember to flush, and brush your teeth, and exercise when you can...!"
He smiled at her concern, at her simple, boundless mother's love. "I think I'll be okay, Mom."
"Yes." She sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Of course you will! You're a grown man, after all..." After taking a deep breath, she stood straight and smiled. "All right! Let's do it, son--it's now or never!"
"I'm off!" With a jaunty grin, Trunks bounded into the air, alighting at the ship's hatchway. Before he hit the 'Close' button on the door panel, he turned to see his mother, who remained a safe distance from the launch pad, her hands clasped at her chest, watching him with such love and pride that it made a lump rise in his throat. He raised his arm to wave to her, putting all his own hope and love into his final goodbye. She waved to him in return.
And then he was slapping the door key and whirling away, hurrying to the cockpit while a strange heat rose in his face, burning behind his eyes. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat, checking guages and dials as he gripped the control stick and the throttle. Everything was in place, even as he swiped unfamiliar moisture from his cheeks. "3...2...1..." he counted to himself as he took a deep breath and prepared. "Liftoff."
He eased the throttle forward, feeling the engines' low hum begin to rise to a powerful rumble. The ship shook; with a heavy sensation and a thundrous roar, the Dream began to rise.
After a few moments, it took some courage on Trunks' part to look out the port window to see the horizon looking very far away indeed. "It's working!" he exclaimed to himself, overjoyed. "Yes!" He leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his home city in one of the side viewports...but it was directly behind him, and he could barely see the edges of the half-demolished former urban sprawl. A normal human would have been pinned to their seat by the G-forces of the launch, but Trunks was far from normal, and he barely felt the increased pressure.
Still accelerating, the Dream bore him ever higher, while the Earth's edge spread out before him, growing more and more curved. The blue of the sky seemed to melt before his eyes, growing darker and darker as pinpricks of light appeared--like time-delay sunset, only without any hints of orange or yellow. The velvety indigo of deep space stretched out before him like a vast new playing field, lit by distant orbs of light around which orbited countless hubs of life.
Breathless, Trunks watched the vista of space unfold before him. Weren't stars supposed to be white? There was no word for the awesome sight of glistening hints of colors in each shining jewel; many stars were shaded to a new hue--crystalline blue, faint yellow, sparkling green, quartzlike pink... He had never seen colors in stars before. Outside the Earth's atmosphere, were his Saiyan eyes somehow able to pick up wavelengths of light previously dimmed by the thickness of the air? He didn't know...but it was so beautiful he couldn't speak, could barely breathe. He felt a pull beckoning him onward into the sea of glittering lights. The huge ocean of space called to something deep within him; his hand tightened on the throttle as he answered by increasing his little ship's power.
There were still tears coming from his eyes, even through his elation--his flight was a bittersweet one. He was heading out on a grand new adventure, like nothing he had ever experienced...but he was also leaving Earth; leaving home. This was nothing like his little jaunt in the time machine, just hopping from one era to the next, remaining on his own familiar little world and still among generally familiar faces. Now...
Now he was venturing into a far greater unknown than the past. He was leaving the only home he'd ever known. Like a Saiyan child from Planet Vegeta, he was spinning out alone into the stars.
While Trunks blasted away from the planet of his birth, the cosmos trembled in apprehension.
A Saiyan was on the move in the depths of space once again.
Bulma squinted and shaded her eyes, watching the bright speck that was Trunks' Dream as it strove for the stars. Her own eyes were streaming with tears, but she didn't seem to notice; she was utterly focused on her son's fiery ascent.
"Go, Trunks, go!" she whispered, cheering him on though he couldn't hear her. "I know you'll succeed."
Finally, after long minutes, she could no longer make out any trace of the tiny point of light. Once she lost sight of it, she turned and dashed into her home, heading for her bedroom study where she had set up the controls to the transponder unit.
The special homing device she'd invented was the most powerful piece of equipment she'd installed on that little spaceship--a tight-beam transponder relay that let her know his exact position, wherever he was in space. On the roof of Capsule Corporation's dome rested a big new satellite antenna, which received the information from above and fed it to the computer in her study. She'd be able to keep accurate track of Trunks' progress with it.
Sitting down in her chair, she switched on the unit and waited until the transponder finished diagnostics and loading. In a few moments, the screen lit up. "Ah, there you are!"
The bright blip that represented Trunks' ship hovered above a large blue wireframe sphere, a representation of Earth. It was rapidly gaining speed, pulling away from the planet, showing that the accelerated engines her father had improved from the original Saiyan design--and that she had improved even more--were working quite well. Soon, Trunks' ship flashed past the moon and was well on its way to the outer planets.
That's my boy, she thought affectionately, touching the little dot on the screen. You'll make it--I know you will. You have hope, and faith...and the Dream.
When destiny calls you, you must be strong.
I may not be with you, but you've got to hold on.
They'll see in time, I know;
We'll show them together.
'Cause you'll be in my heart,
Believe me, you'll be in my heart;
I'll be there from this day on,
Now and forever more.
--Phil Collins, "You'll Be In My Heart"
* * * * *
Aside from the novelty of being in outer space for the first time--although that wore off after the first couple of days--Trunks found himself with little to ponder as he rode the starwinds in his little ship, the Dream. Once he was clear of the solar system--which had taken all of three hours--the ship pretty much flew itself, following its preprogrammed course to New Namek. There was little for Trunks to do, besides routine daily checks of essential engine functions and to make sure he was still on course.
Now that he'd watched all the videos, played all the computer games, and listened to all the music he'd brought with him, he was getting really bored. There was no real place to train aboard the Dream; it was all cramped living space and ship's engines. And he found himself rather...antsy without any way to burn off the energy that slowly built up within him. It was annoying to be cooped up inside a little capsule day in and day out, for what had been a week and a half now.
And the other annoying thing was that he was hungry, too.
It wasn't that desperate, belly-twisting hunger that claimed him after a heavy exhertion or going too many hours without eating. It was a nagging, low-grade gnawing that gripped his insides and made his temper grow short. His mother's careful rations, made to accomodate the nutrients and calories he and the others would need for the duration of this two-way trip, didn't feel like enough. His body was getting what it needed to function in perfect health--but his stomach wanted to be full, dammit! Being a Saiyan, without any fighting or training to do, his body fell back on what lay next on its list of priorities--food. It was strangely infuriating to be unable to simply plop down in front of the table and eat until his belly ceased its complaints. But if he ate too much now he'd go even hungrier later; even the ship's larder was packed with intricate, exacting precision because everything down to the last nut and bolt had to be precisely weighed for inertia and fuel economy.
As hungry as he was, he was seriously missing his mother's good home cooking.
Aw, why'd I have to go and think about that? Now I'm even hungrier! he mused dejectedly, turning over on the couch-like resting seat in the main living area. He stretched his feet out and rested one arm over his forehead, staring at the ceiling. He tried to ignore the familiar tension in his guts as his stomach quietly informed him that it was not filled to capacity. I've already used up today's rations. Man, I knew Mom should have packed extras...
He began to appreciate what his mother put up with while raising him, catering to his Saiyan feeding habits and seeing to it that he had everything he needed and wanted; he'd never paid this much attention to his enormous appetite before. There had barely been enough room on the ship to store what he needed, and what the others would need when they arrived--and it was all encapsulated, at that!
Stupid stomach, he thought petulantly, sourly, as he stared into nothing. Stupid rations, stupid ship, stupid Saiyan appetite...
A brief, humming vibration quivered through the ship, causing him to sit up abruptly. After a second, he recognized the sensation as the ship's static field repelling a slightly-larger-than-safe object from the hull. As always, he held his breath, waiting to be sure that nothing bad had happened with that particular close brush.
He nearly sat down again when the vibration returned, again brief. Now that was odd; usually he only had one of those every couple of days, at most. But two in one day? Very strange.
He had no time for further thought when a hugely different vibration shuddered through the ship, hard enough to send him and several loose objects tumbling to the floor. He hit and rolled with a startled yelp, not expecting anything so drastic as that...near-miss with whatever-it-was. Suddenly alerted, he clawed his way to his feet and made for the cockpit.
He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.
Streaking by mere feet away from the rocking little ship were massive asteroids, hunks of broken rock the size of houses, cities, states! Some rushed by so close he could almost feel them whisking finish from the side of his ship. Gasping, he dove for the pilot's chair and throttled down, slowing the little ship drastically so that he could actually see and anticipate the massive stones. The speed he'd been going, not even a Super Saiyan could have reacted in time, and the ship itself certainly couldn't.
It turned out he slowed down just in time. A football-field-sized monster loomed in front of him, and he veered desperately, pulling hard up and right. Whew! If I hadn't come up here just now, I'd have been a new crater and a messy smear on that thing's dark side!
But he had no time for thought now; he was in the thick of them, desperately steering around them, struggling for maneuverability in a ship that was never made to jockey among asteroids like a starfighter. He suddenly felt utterly vulnerable and alone; Super Saiyan or not, all that stood between him and death was this ship's thin metal skin--a skin that seemed so very much thinner than his own.
Another near miss made him bite his lip; he concentrated everything he had in getting through this asteroid belt. Around another moon-shard giant, under two strangely rolling ones, through a hole in that narrow stony one... And he could see the end! Ahead, the asteroids thinned as the bright field of space awaited him.
He was so overjoyed to see the end to this nightmare that he never noticed another of the oddly spinning asteroids brush perilously close to his already-scratched spaceship. The jutting edge of the jagged rock knocked the Dream off course, sending it spinning wildly toward another asteroid. Trunks regained control just soon enough to glance off of it instead of colliding directly, but the jolts his ship was taking were too much.
Unable to avoid several jarring collisions, Trunks swore as the Dream settled into a lazy, multi-axial spin and the engines sputtered and died. He could hear pressure alarms ringing all around him, and stress guages read that his hull had been pierced by the impacts in several places. The computer indicated that his third engine was completely nonfunctional, and the fuel pipes leading to it were obviously cracked and leaking--an explosive hazard which made him dearly hope there weren't any sparking wires down there. And his air--precious air that not even the mightiest of Super Saiyans could live without--was rushing away into space.
"No..." he rasped, unbuckling his straps and racing aft to check on the damage. I can't let this happen...
"No!" The wind from the gaping holes tugged at him; his stomach lurched strangely as the artificial gravity faltered and the ship's unnatural spin pulled him in odd directions--but he didn't think the sickening sensation came only from the inertia problems. He stared fixedly at the dark gaps in his ship's hull, each one like a miniature black hole prepared to devour him alive. Mom...I promised...I can't die like this...I can't leave her alone!
"No!" He railed against the injustice of the universe, his rage and sorrow burning in a bright blue corona around him as he raced to think of a way to stop this disaster, or at least slow it a little. He refused to acknowledge the futility of his situation--there had to be a way to survive this! I can't die now...not now, she'll be all alone...Mom...I promised her I'd come home!
"Nooo!"
The soft pinging noise slowly drew Bulma out of her sleep. Blearily, she sat up out of bed and peered around, looking perplexed. It gradually sank in to her cobwebbed brain that the beeping was coming from her study next door, so she rose, pulled on her robe, and stumbled into the next room.
The computer was sitting there peacefully, flashing a message and signaling with an alarm she'd only added as an afterthought, because she'd been so confident. "Signal Lost" stated the warning message. "Transponder no longer transmitting."
Her hands fell to her sides. She stared at the screen, which still blinked with the Dream's last confirmed location--but this time in a blood-red dot. If the transmitter on the ship was no longer functioning, that meant that it had somehow been damaged. And she'd built the darn thing with backups and failsafes beyond anything else on the ship, because she'd wanted to know where her boy was at all times--to know that he was alive and safe. There was no way to shut it off or break it down, unless...unless...
"Oh, no...!"
She fell into her chair, her knees suddenly too weak to support her insubstantial weight. Something in her heart tightened and shattered, her eyes welling up with tears even as her mind refused--adamantly refused to process what she was seeing. She couldn't move, could only stare at the screen. It's all some kind of crazy dream...has to be... The ship...oh good Lord...the ship can't be...
"Oh, please, dear God, no...!" She was crying openly now, unable to think of any other way for the transponder to have been destroyed. "Not my baby...not my Trunks...he promised me...he promised!"
Leaning on the desk, she buried her face in her arms and sobbed, inconsolable. All the while, the computer placidly continued to emit its soft, strident alarm, its display still clearly flashing the message "Signal Lost."
"He promised me he'd come home!"
No words describe a mother's tears,
No words can heal a broken heart;
A dream is gone, but where there's hope...
--Phil Collins, "Two Worlds, One Family"
To be continued...