by Becky Tailweaver
Chapter 6: Day to Day
"Man, I'm starving," Trunks grumbled, almost to himself.
"Join the club, Karaikoro," Kalifer replied with a dark grin. "Slop time's not for another two hours."
Trunks scowled as his stomach produced an audible gurgling rumble of protest at its emptiness. He'd already been hungry to start with, before his incident with the asteroids, but then he'd gone who-knew-how-long in the cold, empty escape pod--and now he was positively famished. He was starving enough that he could feel the lack of fuel in his body; his muscles felt a touch rubbery and his ki seemed somewhat wan. Add that to his nagging slight headache, the soreness in his chest, and his hunger-induced irritability, and it became apparent that Trunks was definitely not in top form, nor would he be until he got some food and rest.
The two Saiyan youths had spent the last hour or so in Engineering, staying clear of Nuriz, the blue-scaled reptillian Chief Engineer. Kalifer explained the function of this section, and how it controlled most of the important aspects of the ship, in simple straightforward terms that showed that the full-Saiyan didn't have too tight a grasp on mechanics and such himself, but understood in general what everything was supposed to do.
Basic engineering principles came easily to Trunks--after all, he was the son of Earth's resident genius, Bulma, and had just recently assisted in the construction of his own vessel. Not that he said as much to Kalifer. But the burlier Saiyan was impressed with Trunks' present grasp of mechanics, and how well he comprehended new information. Even Nuriz had stopped his work to watch Trunks operate one of the consoles, raising a scaly brow ridge at how quickly Trunks passed up Kalifer in terms of knowledge. Nuriz practically ordered Kalifer to have Trunks assigned to the Engineering section when next he spoke to Taliquin.
Kalifer showed him around to various other stations--Cargo, Security, Requisitions, Weapons, and especially his own section, Navigation. He wasn't the chief of that department, but he was one of the best navigators on board; he had excellent visual memory and an eye for plotting quick, direct, safe routes through space.
The last place Trunks was shown was the galley--and it was just about dinner time as well. Once the door was opened, Trunks nearly ran down his larger companion to hurry in, blue eyes wide and eager, nose almost visibly twitching as he tried to see what kind of food was available and how soon he could get at it. There were crewers everywhere, some in a line before the kitchen area and some at the various bench tables eating their meals, and the room rang loudly with many-voiced conversations coming from many different kinds of mouths. The smells coming from the cooking area were not nearly as pleasant as his mother's kitchen, but at this point, any food smelled sweeter than roses. The scent of whatever was on the stove made him salivate as he and Kalifer took their places in the line.
"Whatever that is, I hope there's a lot of it," Trunks said, just loudly enough to be heard over the galley's din. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
"Whatever a horse is, it better not be too big," Kalifer responded, arms folded across his chest. "I wouldn't count on much slop if I were you. Urun isn't a good cook, and he's not too generous either."
The galley was as noisy and raucous as a high-school cafeteria, and the "bread line" at the kitchen area was similarly arranged. There were no trays, but a few high stacks of dishes. Trunks followed Kalifer's example and grabbed a plate and a bowl, both made of a thick gray plastic.
Urun, the cook, turned out to be something like an almost-humanoid octopus. Blotched green-and-brown in color, he had a broad flat face and two large, swiveling eyes, and stood on four of his thicker tentacles while six others maneuvered ladles and tongs for the food. Even as weird as he looked, his expression still seemed sour and unpleasant as he served up the crewers' meals.
Trunks eagerly held out his dishes beside Kalifer's when it came their turn to be served. Upon spotting Trunks, Urun hesitated, eyeing him briefly before serving up the chow. Into the bowl went a thick yellowish stew-porridge that smelled almost like greasy potatoes. The tongs set a few chunks of some grilled mystery meat on his plate, while beside them was placed some slices of what appeared to be some kind of tuber or root vegetable, an orangey-brown in color almost like a yam.
As they headed out of line, Kalifer showed him where to grab a strange three-pronged fork and a broad-dished utensil that resembled a soup spoon from a mixed bin, then led him over to one of the empty tables in a far corner of the room. Now that he'd been there a while, people were beginning to notice him, and he could feel various crewers' eyes on him as he sat down on the table's bench and readied his silverware.
"I usually eat alone," Kalifer informed him. "No one on this boat wants to sit with a Saiyan."
"Their loss," Trunks replied with a shrug, earning an odd look from his companion. Before beginning, he carefully inspected his food. "Okay, what is this?" he asked finally.
Kalifer sat down across from him, then stabbed a chunk of meat and held it up on his fork. "This is grilled yarak--which is a sort of plant-eater that's fat and plentiful on several planets. This stuff--" He gestured to the bowl. "--appears to be lutanim soup; that's a sea-tuber so it might be a bit salty. And this dratted vegetable is gom, the most common and disgusting root in the entire galaxy." Kalifer made a face as he shoved at the vegetable on his plate. Obviously, it was not his favorite food.
"I guess it's okay for me to eat, then," Trunks said, pulling his plate closer. If Kalifer could stand to eat this stuff, then it must be safe for Saiyans. Without further ado, he dug in, eating as only a starving Saiyan could.
Which immediately amazed Kalifer, to say the least. The other Saiyan was left staring at Trunks in a sort of morbid surprise, only half of his meat finished, too startled to continue. Trunks had wolfed down the yarak, swallowed the gom slices almost whole, and gulped the soup in less than a minute, and was now licking his chops and looking for more.
"That wasn't so bad," the purple-haired youth said. "Can I get in line for seconds?"
Kalifer stared at him for another moment, then blinked and took another bite of meat. "Nope. That's it, squirt. That's all of dinner for the day."
That took a second to sink in. "What?" Trunks almost yelled. "That's all I get?" His wide eyes and slack jaw looked so stricken that Kalifer almost began to laugh, nearly choking on his nasty-tasting gom.
"Should be a good enough meal for a little guy like you," Kalifer chuckled, once he'd cleared his throat of the offending gom. "Heh, you eat like a starving Saiyan."
Trunks froze. "Well, uh, I haven't had much to eat lately..."
"Try slowing down next time; it'll make your food last longer." Kalifer held up his last piece of gom, waving it in front of Trunks' eyes as though it were a steak before a hungry tiger. "Slow down, and never spill a drop--I learned that lesson early. You'll just have to wait. It's only fair--everyone else gets one turn as well."
Trunks scowled petulantly. Well, this sucked. Here he was aboard a big old pirate ship, and the meals were even skimpier than he'd had aboard his own cramped little vessel. And he'd been complaining then! "Crap. Is there anything to drink?" he grumbled.
"Cups're on that stack, drinks are in those coolers." The Saiyan pointed vaguely toward a couple of big jugs on the counter across the room. "Water and whatever juice Urun felt like serving today. Bring me some water while you're at it."
"Sure." Trunks rose and headed for the cups and jugs, grabbing a gray plastic cup and reaching for one of the jugs. Before he could, however, someone jostled past him, shoving him roughly aside. "Hey!"
"Out of the way, short-stack!" growled a deep voice. A green-skinned humanoid crewer filled his own cup with dark red juice, contemptuously ignoring the purple-haired half-Saiyan's silent snarl at him.
Trunks glared, teeth half-bared, holding his temper in check while the taller man finished his business and went on his way. He didn't want to start any fights, but he was in no mood to be pushed around. Glaring after the man, he stepped up to taste-test the dark juice. He put a little in the bottom of his cup, but found it unpalatably bitter, so he went with plain water instead.
"Who was that green jerk?" he grumbled to Kalifer when he returned to his seat. He slid the second cup of water to his companion.
"Never mind him," Kalifer replied with a shrug, taking a swallow of water. "There's a lot like him on this boat. Scum like that used to shove me around, 'til I got big enough to stop 'em."
"I would have let him have it, but I didn't want to start a brawl in here," Trunks said.
"Feh--you? Don't get your tail kicked, Karaikoro. Braggarts like him actually have the muscle to back up their mouths. He'd squash you like a bug."
"Maybe not." Trunks sipped the water, frowning when he found it a bit off-tasting--but compared to the juice, he had little to complain about.
"It's bound to happen a lot," Kalifer told him. "Used to happen to me all the time. You're new, and you're little--better get used to it."
Trunks frowned fiercely and finished his water, not feeling much better than when he started. His stomach still knotted; that "meal" had been little more than a snack, barely taking the edge off his hunger.
Kalifer apparently interpreted his sullen expression correctly. "I'm hungry too, Karaikoro. But there's nothing either of us can do--that's just the way it is. This ship should have been named Spacer's Hell, not Wyrkel's Fire." The Saiyan shrugged. "Just do the best you can. Maybe someday Carro will let you go."
Trunks didn't reply. Instead, he stared at the cup in his hands, mind working. Damn straight that fat bastard's going to let me go--and a lot sooner than you think, Kalifer. And you're coming with me--you're the only other Saiyan I've found alive, and if you feel the same as I do, you'll jump at the chance to leave this hellhole of a ship behind!
As crewers began to filter out of the galley, meal-time coming to a close, the two Saiyans dumped their dishes in the receptacle and beat a hasty retreat; Kalifer warned that Urun often shanghaied late eaters into dish-washing duty. Trunks had no trouble helping with dishes at home, but the thought of cleaning up after dozens of sloppy crewers of uknown origins made him scurry out with the same furtive hurry that Kalifer had.
After the meal, Kalifer brought him to the bridge, where First Mate Taliquin stood on duty. During his interview with the First Mate, to ask if he could have some of his personal items from his wrecked spaceship, it was recommended to Taliquin that Trunks might work in Engineering with Nuriz. His obvious skills there made him a likely candidate for science and engineering duty, and after a brief question-and-answer session with Taliquin, the ram-horned officer agreed that Trunks should be assigned to Nuriz's department.
Trunks was allowed to fetch his clothing and personal goods from his wrecked ship, and the First Mate carefully inspected what he chose to bring, making sure the young half-Saiyan wasn't trying to trick them. In a way, Trunks was glad that he'd chosen to leave his sword safely encapsulated for the journey through space. For one thing, he and his mother had originally thought it would be just another several pounds of needless deadweight for the ship to carry. And now, Trunks feared that his favored weapon might have been confiscated and sold for profit by these ruthless pirates; it was a sword of fine craftsmanship and worth a pretty penny to those who fancied that type of weapon. At least Nuriz and his flunkies hadn't yet figured out what capsules were and how they worked, despite all the time they spent picking through the Dream.
Trunks seethed with rage every time he saw Captain Carro, but kept quiet, not wanting harm to come to Kalifer by his actions. Or, by some slim chance, himself. Carro or one of his men just might be able to dump him into space by surprise, even if Trunks was several magnitudes stronger than any of them; even the most powerful of warriors can be taken by a weaker opponent if he's not careful. So he swallowed his pride and let Carro go unharmed, not showing his anger at all.
Time was passing into the ship's "night" rotation, and the corridor lights were dimmer here in the living sections. Resentful, tired, and hungry, Trunks carried his case of belongings to Kalifer's quarters, where the bigger Saiyan showed him where to stow his gear. The half-human youth barely spared the time to shove his things into his half of the cramped closet. As Kalifer turned out all of the lights but the small one in his bunk, Trunks pulled himself up to the upper bed and flopped down, facing the wall.
Kalifer stood there for a minute, gazing at Trunks' back, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face. Then, with a deep breath, he flicked off the bunk light, stripped out of his coveralls, and climbed into bed.
* * * * *
"Come on, squirt, roll out!" A rough hand shook his shoulder, jarring him out of sleep. "Get your butt outta bed!"
Trunks, startled by the gruff, masculine voice, sat up suddenly. Halfway up, his forehead came into abrupt contact with the metal ceiling, eliciting a loud thunk! and a sharp "Ow!" from the young half-Saiyan. Still not completely awake, he struggled and rolled, falling out of the bunk and landing instinctively in a crouch on the floor. Blue eyes wide and blinking rapidly, he focused on the bemused figure standing over him, trying to pull his thoughts together. Who was this, and where was he? Why was he sleeping in such a place?
"You awake yet, Karaikoro?" the figure said again.
Karaikoro...that's me. Right...the pirate ship. Trunks drew himself to his feet, a bit unsteadily. "Kalifer? What's going on?"
"It's your friendly wake-up call, that's what." Kalifer grabbed him roughly by the shoulder of his jacket and dragged him through the door. Once in the hallway, the bigger Saiyan shoved him ahead. "Get moving, squirt. It's breakfast time, and you're missing it."
"Breakfast?" At the sound of the hallowed B-word, Trunks' stomach let go with a growl that would have shamed a lion on the Serengeti. Trunks himself was brought completely awake as well, and picked up his pace considerably.
"Yeah, I figured you wouldn't want to miss it, since you were so hungry last night," Kalifer responded as they hustled. "I could have just gone myself, you know, and left you snoring."
"I don't snore!" Trunks shot back. "Anyway...thanks."
Kalifer grunted, obviously not used to gratitude. "Hurry up then. There won't be any left, and Urun will make us wash the dishes!"
"But...what about...washing up or...?"
Kalifer snorted. "Don't bother. You look like you just climbed out of bed, but nobody's going to care."
"Ack!" Trunks tried to smooth his rumpled hair as they hurried, wishing he had access to even the cramped little washroom on his own ship. He imagined he must look a sight, not having bathed in several days and his hair probably a mess on top of that. But some of the other crewers he'd seen last night looked as though they didn't even know what soap was, let alone used it in the past few weeks. Perhaps Kalifer was right; maybe these pirates wouldn't even notice.
They pelted into the galley, diving into the noise and clatter of the ship's eating area. Everyone seemed a bit more cheerful in the morning, well-rested, instead of grumpy and sullen from a long day's work. Some of the diners actually waved at Kalifer, but Trunks was curious as to why the Saiyan ignored them--until one of the wavers spoke up.
"Hey, monkey-boy--still babysitting that purple twerp?" a finny-looking alien gurgled mockingly.
A heavyset apelike being near him guffawed loudly, and several of the others at that table spoke up with some jibes that made Trunks scowl darkly. Some of the surrounding tables jeered at them as well, but Kalifer strode past them without a twitch. Trunks followed him, startled that he, a Saiyan, had not retaliated to the other crewers' insults.
"Someone ought to set those idiots straight," Trunks growled as he and his companion stepped into line. "You aren't my boss--or my babysitter."
"Let it slide, squirt." Kalifer's low, gritted voice startled him.
"What?" Trunks took a closer look at him; Kalifer's tail was bristled where it wrapped around his waist, and his eyes were dark and hard.
"It isn't worth it," the Saiyan explained, obviously working to contain his temper. "There would just be a fight, and Carro would come down here and beat the hell out of me, and I'd get sent off to work without any food."
Trunks gaped at him for a second. "But...they..."
"Just ignore them," Kalifer snarled, then snatched a bowl and turned away from him.
Trunks had been none-too-pleased with some of the insults he'd heard from the tables they'd passed. Monkey, moon-freak, savage, rat-tail, stupid beast--and those were some of the milder ones. It could have been me, he realized uncomfortably. I can hardly believe they hate Saiyans that much. If they knew what I really am...they would be calling me those things as well. His lip lifted, almost a snarl, as the crewers' mocking voices rang repeatedly through his mind. Those jeers bit deep, even if they had not been directed at him; he was Saiyan as well, and while he only understood a little of what it truly meant, he still felt a shadow of Kalifer's anger and shame. I am not a monkey!
Still stewing in his dark thoughts, he stood behind Kalifer in line and waited to be served the pale, mushy porridge that was apparently their breakfast. It was grainy and slightly bluish, but didn't smell too unsavory. And with the way his stomach complained, any food would be very welcome. "Oh, yummy," he commented lightly as they left the line, bowls full. "Blue snot."
Kalifer actually gave a snort of laughter, his face lifting a touch. "Heh. Good one."
Crossing to the next counter, they fetched their silverware and drinks. Trunks had to set down his bowl to fill his cup; this time, Urun had seen fit to supply a juice that was moderately tolerable and tasted a little like apple-orange. Trunks had to gape as Kalifer gave him a remarkable display of the prehensile abilities of a Saiyan tail; the bigger youth cradled his breakfast in his left hand, turned the juice spigot with his right, and held his cup in a loop of his tail.
"Look Ma, no hands," Kalifer said with a grin.
"That's an interesting trick," Trunks responded, eyebrows high in amazement.
Kalifer gave him a very Saiyan smirk as he transferred his beverage to his free hand. "Don't you wish you had one?"
Trunks swallowed, faked a laugh, and declined to comment as he followed Kalifer to a table.
* * * * *
Trunks somehow managed to survive the days of tense nothingness. Breakfast seemed to take place at the shipboard equivalent of five or six in the morning. Afterwards, Kalifer dropped him off at Engineering and then bolted for his own station, hurrying off before he was further abused for any tardiness. The Saiyan was on-duty in shifts of four and five hours, while Trunks had to work two seven-hour shifts with only an hour break in between. Dinner, as far as Trunks could figure, happened at approximately nine at night, and afterwards the two Saiyans would be quite tired, usually going directly to bed. While Trunks and Kalifer slept, a smaller portion of the crew kept up a graveyard watch.
Nuriz worked Trunks steadily, yet never for a moment took his yellow reptillian eyes off of the half-Saiyan; the Chief Engineer did not trust him at all yet. Trunks attempted to learn some kind of work skill for the Engineering section, but with the way Nuriz restricted him it was nearly impossible to do anything without the Chief's permission. His main job ended up being a sort of monitor, keeping track of guages, dials, and readouts; he wasn't allowed to do anything major that might affect the ship's functions.
Once Nuriz discovered that Trunks was a bit stronger than he looked, the reptillian engineer put him to work as a go-fer; he would fetch fuel cells from their storage compartments aft whenever it was needed, carry heavy components necessary for repairs, or open and close engine valves under Nuriz's instruction. The Chief Engineer was a brusque sort, sharp-tongued but a tolearable taskmaster. Trunks disliked his harsh impatience but gained some respect for his vast knowledge of mechanics and spaceships' functions. However, he was always glad when his long shifts were over.
Trunks' off-duty time was spent trying to stay out of the other crewmates' way. During mealtimes, which were only twice a day and quite meager for a Saiyan's dietary needs, Kalifer stayed close to him and helped him--though not overtly--learn the social etiquette of shipboard life. It wasn't easy; because of his small stature he was perceived as an easy target by most of the crew. The evening of his first full day aboard, an ugly fellow named Jaketi--a wolflike alien with green-blue-gray mottled fur and a bad temper, who also happened to be Chief of Security--had somehow taken offense at him while waiting in line at the kitchen. The big brute had savagely knocked him across the galley to slam into and dent the far wall.
This hadn't hurt much at all, although the alien's sharp claws had torn four parallel gashes through his favorite Capsule Corp jacket and drawn blood on his shoulder; he had been lax in keeping up his ki-shield, given his constant hunger and fatigue. But with all eyes on him, he swallowed his pride and pretended he was hurt, lying there and gasping like a beached fish, keeping a careful ruse of being weaker than the other members of the crew. The last thing he needed was for Carro to perceive him as a threat and pop him out an airlock. It was hard enough keeping his power constantly supressed so as not to trigger anyone's scouters; most of the crew considered him "below three hundred," whatever that meant. He didn't hold his power down as low as he normally did; he wanted to appear nonthreatening, not as a weakling.
Only Kalifer was anything like a friend to him, treating him with a gruff tolerance reminiscent of Vegeta and probably typical of whatever friendship Saiyans could show in public--though Trunks didn't really know why the big Saiyan seemed to like him. But Kalifer saw to it that his arm was bandaged after Jaketi's claws did their work.
The First Mate, the ram-horned Taliquin, treated him with polite indifference, like he was just another crewer, and Trunks appreciated his stern, firm manner and fair ways. He was not cruel or impatient with those who worked under him; he seemed intelligent and somber, and his presence seemed to moderate Carro's temper somewhat.
There was also a red-scaled, lizardlike alien with a physique like a bull named Hash. Trunks had been taken by Kalifer down to the cargo bay where Hash worked, and shown how the heavy cargo cranes and loader operated. Hash had taken an immediate liking to him, offering to show him around the whole department. The big Dargun did not have a tremendous IQ but he had a large and friendly heart. He was by far the largest of the crew, and Trunks wondered how such a gentle giant fell in with a band of such ruthless pirates. Hash treated him with a kind of rough affection he'd never seen from such a monstrous-looking creature, mussing his hair with a horny paw whenever he came down to visit.
Hash was also the one in charge of keeping an eye on Trunks' wrecked ship, which sat in the corner of the ventral storage bay. When Trunks had asked to investigate it, Hash told him apologetically that he wasn't allowed to touch it--Captain's orders--and Trunks didn't want to get the big alien in trouble. Hash was the one--with Kalifer's help--who described to Trunks the dimensions of their vessel, its cargo capacity, its weapons payload, its smuggling capability, the distance it could travel and how fast it could go. It turned out that the Wyrkel's Fire was a decently-sized freighter. Fully loaded, she could travel incredible distances even when filled with tons of cargo. She carried enough firepower to level a moderately-sized city. She had two small dorsal bays with cloaking capability for larger smuggling loads, and many hidden hatches and panels for smaller jobs. Boosted engines and a better fuel converter gave her twice the speed of a normal ship of that class--well beyond anything in legal limits.
The little lizard/bug/bat creature, Spit, also made himself well-known. Trunks would often spot him clinging to a wall or ceiling out of the corner of his eye, or see him scuttling off down the corridor when he came out of his quarters. He had few doubts that the creepy little alien was spying on him, at least part of the time, so he watched ever more carefully what he said and did. However, the gossip chain aboard the ship was fast and large, and Spit appeared to have caught wind of a few of Trunks and Kalifer's conversations; several crewers poked fun at him for being such a pal with a Saiyan. To make matters worse, Captain Carro went out of his way to dare him into any kind of defiance, obviously trying to egg the youth into a fight. Trunks would grit his teeth and ignore the Captain's prodding.
As the days passed with no break in the grim routine, Trunks became increasingly tired, hungry, and frustrated. He withdrew into himself, becoming a silent, purple-haired shadow; he rarely spoke, even to Kalifer or Hash, and spent most of his off-duty time in his quarters. He functioned on auto-pilot, stumbling through his duties in Engineering. He did not avail himself of the ship's bathing facilities, which were a bit unsanitary, very public, and usually in use by several crewers at any given time. His clothes had not been washed--the ship's facilities for that were less than satisfactory as well--and he rarely bothered to change them anyway; he got up, made it through the day, then fell into bed when it was over, only to rise and repeat the sequence over again. He was depressed and miserable, and even a thick-headed Saiyan like Kalifer could see it.
Finally, after Trunks had spent a week aboard the freighter, Kalifer cornered him in their quarters one evening and practically pinned him to the just-closed door.
"Alright, Karaikoro, that's enough."
"Enough what? Move, Kal, I'm going to bed." Trunks tried to push past him, but the bigger Saiyan didn't move, blocking the narrow space with his broad shoulders.
"What's wrong with you?" Kalifer demanded. "You're a mess, and you never talk any more! What happened to that spunky runt that came in off a derelict pile of junk a week ago?"
Trunks sighed in irritation. "He's dead. Happy? Now get out of my way."
Kalifer scowled. "There's something wrong with you, squirt. You used to have spark to burn, but now you're dead as a rock. Are you telling me you gave up already?"
"Gave up?" Trunks glared at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You gave up. Quit. Rolled over. Went under. Lost the fight." Kalifer gazed at him. "I thought there was more to you, squirt. Or are you really the weak little runt that Carro thinks you are?"
"Get...out...of...my...way," Trunks bit out, eyes narrowing. "I'm tired and you're pissing me off. Bad idea, Kal."
Kalifer turned up his nose, snorting contemptuously. "Feh. So Carro has beaten you. Figured he would--I knew a soft little brat like you wouldn't last long on this boat. The Captain's broken you, and he'll own you from now on. It's funny, I've seen it happen so many times--you're just like all the rest--"
Trunks snapped.
"Shut up!" His bottled-up anger came out in a rush, and he shoved Kaliffer violently backwards. The Saiyan slammed into the far wall with an impact that echoed through the nearby bulkheads as Trunks snarled in frustration, his aura flashing visibly around him. "You don't know anything, Kalifer! My life was already bad enough before I ended up here! Now I'm stuck on this hell-cursed rust-bucket and I can't get off! I'm tired of working for these bastards, I'm tired of being worn to the bone, I'm tired of being hungry all the time, and I haven't been able to train in weeks! I want to go home--I'm sick of this crap!"
He didn't even flinch when his fist slammed into the closet door beside him, crumpling the metal. His ki was flowing hotly, flaring around him, and he came very, very close to exploding violently right then and there.
Then he noticed that Kalifer was smiling at him. No, not just smiling--the big Saiyan was laughing at him. "What...the hell...?" he gritted out, momentarily confused.
"Heh, I knew you still had it in you," Kalifer chuckled, still leaning against the wall where he'd been thrown.
"What?" Trunks glared at him.
"You're stronger than this, Karaikoro," Kalifer replied gruffly. "You know, I was like you once. I came close to letting Carro beat me. But he hasn't--I'm still strong. I've been on this tub for years, and I've stood up to all of it. I think you can too."
Trunks' aura flickered away as he stared at the Saiyan in confusion. It was beginning to sink in that Kalifer had not been serious with his jibes, but had meant instead to prod him out of his depression. Amazingly enough, the Saiyan was actually concerned about him, though his way of showing it was odd. "But...how...?"
Kalifer shook his head. "Carro wears you down and then he breaks you. When that happens, you bend to his every whim. It's happened to so many others on this boat. I've seen it way too often." He stood up straighter. "But I'm Saiyan, and I'm proud of it. I refuse to bow to that overblown tub of lard. If I hadn't, where would you be now?"
Trunks blinked. "Still sitting in my escape pod..."
"Yeah, that's right--a purple icicle." Trunks glared at him again, but Kalifer waved him off. "It's nice to see your fire hasn't gone out, Karaikoro. You've still got some fight left. And on this ship, you'll need it. You're no Saiyan, but if you can throw me like you did, you're tougher than you look. If you pull yourself together you can stand up to anything Carro does to you."
Trunks gazed at him, mildly astonished at the unusually soft way Kalifer was speaking to him. Ashamed of his hot-tempered outburst at the one person who was the closest thing to a friend he had right then, he looked down at his feet and slumped against the door. Kalifer was truly trying to help him, and he'd burst out at the Saiyan in a fit of childish rage. "I...I'm sorry I..."
"Feh...shut up." Kalifer shrugged, his voice growing a touch gruffer. "Carro's done worse without even trying. You didn't rattle me a bit."
Deflated, Trunks sat down on Kalifer's bunk, still staring at the floor. "I hate this ship," he confessed softly.
Kalifer folded his arms and shrugged again. "So do I, karaikoro-sonjuka. I'd give anything to be free of Carro. But I have no place to go, and this galaxy hates the Saiyan race with a passion. It's not all that great, but I can live here. I'm more stuck than you are--if you do escape, you might be able to bum a ride home. But...I have no home to go to. Not any more."
Hearing this, Trunks' heart wrung in pity. Is this how my father felt when Freeza destroyed Planet Vegeta? Did he go and work for Freeza because...he had nowhere else to go? The galaxy hates Saiyans, and the survivors were all alone... Maybe Father went to Freeza because he could live there, even if it was awful. Because he had no home any more...
Upon coming to that realization, Trunks' head jerked up. "Will you come with me?" he asked suddenly, the words bursting out of him like his aura had before--quickly, loudly, without thought.
Kalifer looked at him in surprise. "Come where?"
Trunks stood, though he still had to look up into Kalifer's eyes. "When I get off this ship, will you come with me? You could come live on my planet, with me and my mother..." He slowed down a bit, seeing the skepticism in Kalifer's eyes. "It would be okay! Most of the people don't even know what a Saiyan is. You already said that my kind looks enough like a Saiyan--if you kept your tail hidden no one would ever know. My mother would let you stay with us as long as you want. You'd be welcome with us!"
For a few moments, behind the Saiyan disdain, there was a look of deep longing, of terrible loneliness, in Kalifer's dark eyes. His mouth turned from a smirk to a frown. "Sounds...too good to be true."
"My home planet is a good place," Trunks continued, a little softer. "My mother knows about Saiyans--she wouldn't mind you at all. My trainer's father was one of her best friends growing up. She even--" He cut himself off quickly. --even fell in love and had a child with a Saiyan. Realizing what he'd been about to say, that he'd come far too close to revealing his ancestry, he looked down again. "She wouldn't turn you away. She's very kind."
Kalifer gazed at the smaller youth for a time, brows low, his eyes intense. "Maybe," he conceded after a few moments. "Maybe I will."
Trunks let a small smile slip through his defenses. "Think about it. I want to get off this barge soon, and when I do I'll want to know if you're coming or not."
Kalifer gave him a wry look. "No guerantees there, squirt. You'll be lucky if you escape Carro that easily. But if you did manage to skip off and get home, that would be something to see."
You have no idea, Trunks thought, but outwardly he only shrugged. "Anything's worth trying."
"That's the spirit," Kalifer said with a grin. "Tell you what, Karaikoro--if you manage to come up with a way to escape from Carro successfully, I'll be glad to come with you."
"I'll let you know as soon as I think of something," Trunks responded with an equal grin. "Think of something" my foot. All I have to do is wait 'til we land on a planet, get my ship, and blast my way free. No sweat. Won't the Captain be surprised...
"You'll have to fix the door you busted, squirt," Kalifer informed him. "Now move your scrawny butt. I'm going to bed."
Trunks blinked, then stepped aside. "I guess...good night, then," he muttered, thrown as always by the Saiyan's rapid changes of tone and subject.
"Speaking of cutting loose," Kalifer mentioned after the lights were down and the two were safely ensconced in their bunks, "we're coming into port tomorrow."
"Wha--?" Thunk! "Ow! Dammit..."
"You'd think a guy would learn by now," Kalifer drawled in the dark, amused.
"Aw, shut up." Trunks, flat on his back on his bunk again, rubbed his forehead. He was not used to sleeping on a bunk, even after a week, and in the dark he had a definite tendency to forget the ceiling was there. This was the fourth time he'd whacked his head on the metal; there was probably a dent in the bulkhead by now. "We're coming into port?"
"Yeah. Little planet called Arinto. Been there a couple of times. Kinda backwater, but they've got some good spicy barbecue..."
The mention of food other than the usual shipboard slop caused Trunks' mouth to water. "You mean...they'll actually let us leave the ship?"
"Hell yeah. I don't know about you, but we've been in space for a month now, and we're all due for some shore leave." Trunks could almost hear the smirk in Kal's voice. "Once the work's done, the crew's gonna take off like kibu abandoning a sinking boat. I've got some decas saved up; I'll show you around a bit, see if we can't find a decent bite to eat or maybe a good ol'-fashioned brawl with no Carro to get in my way..."
He's sure spoiling for a fight, Trunks thought with a smirk of his own. Well, he is a Saiyan... "I'll be glad just to see the sky again. Any sky," he confessed. "And breathe real air."
Kalifer snorted. "Sentimental mush."
"Say what you like, but ship life sucks."
"You're right. So shut up and sleep--tomorrow will get here quicker."
Below him, the Saiyan rolled over and went right to sleep, but Trunks remained alert for a good while. Air, sky, light, freedom...the memories that washed over him--visions of his own beautiful, if scarred, homeworld--caused his heart to tighten with homesickness. The prospect of walking on soil, of breathing fresh air, of seeing sunlight once again--it seemed too good to be true. He couldn't wait for their arrival!
Despite his efforts, Trunks lay awake in almost childish excitement for quite some time.
To be continued...