Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is licensed by FUNimation Productions, Ltd. DB and all logos, character names and distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks of TOEI ANIMATION. I hate to admit it, but that means I don't own any of that. Only the content is mine, and the basic outline. This is based, more or less, on Felix's Pandora's Box. Go read that and give her a nice long review.

Warnings: AU, possible OoC, confusion, and possibly extreme violence.

Losing Innocence

by Taes Willett

Chapter 3

When he returned, things seemed almost exactly as he'd left them. It was peaceful, quiet, and so radically different from what he'd grown accustomed to it hurt. If he survived, then the day was considered average. If nobody died, then he was having a good day. If someone died, then it was a bad one. It was as simple, and as terrible, as that.

The group had gathered in a grassy spot, sitting underneath a tree and speaking in low voices. No one looked up when he got there, and no one noticed the look of confusion, even anger, on his face. He'd expected to come back to turmoil, at the most. To his friends fighting an evil he knew too well. At the least, he'd expected to come back to a scene where they'd come across them with little or no actual fighting going on.

What he hadn't expected, however, was a picnic.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, trying not to turn each word into a dagger. Didn't they get it? The androids were evil…not something they could take lightly!

He must have taken them by surprise, for the only ones who didn't seem startled-- not frightened, merely startled --were Goku and Piccolo. Trunks had to wonder if anything surprised Piccolo.

The Namekian smiled grimly. "It's eleven thirty. No sign of the androids, kid." He looked at him sideways, no trace of emotion flavoring his voice.

A thousand explanations ran through his head, but none of them made sense. How could he explain it? Why would they believe him, when everything he'd supposed was wrong? The silence went on for a few moments, before Trunks cleared his throat. "And you're just sitting here, waiting for them to start killing people?"

The blue guy, Zarbon, he thought his name was, rolled his eyes. "These fellows tell me they can't sense anything, which tends to mean there isn't anything wrong."

Trunks stared. How could they know about the androids? What the hell made them think they were exactly the same as everyone else they'd gone up against, when they'd all died at their hands? "They don't use their chi…the two of them rely almost entirely on their bodies, the machinery that makes them so much stronger than us, so it's impossible to tell where they are.

"When they attack, the only way to recognize their position is by the sudden lack of life around them. That's it. There isn't another way." He felt cold, and his voice was flat. Emotionless…hollow…like so many of the people on his world, he sounded dead. Anger flared within him, sending his chi straight up, dangerously close to Super Saiyajin. Holding it in check took conscious effort, and he wasn't sure it was completely worthwhile. "What have you been doing the past three years?"

Annoyance radiated from those gathered, but Trunks couldn't find it in him to care. "We've been training. What did you think we were doing?" Piccolo growled, glaring at the boy. "Having a tea party?"

Krillin, amused, but frankly offended, snickered. He stopped abruptly when Zarbon glared at him, and chuckled nervously, one hand behind his head. When Zarbon turned back to Trunks, the short, bald man muttered something that appeared to be half explanation and half irritated complaint.

Goku, on the other hand, looked wistful. "Tea? I want tea…getting kinda hungry…"

Everyone else nearly fell over.

Trunks frowned, and began pacing the length of the area, trying to figure out what went wrong, and what the hell he could do about it. Inaction would drive him insane. For a few moments, he didn't address the others at all; he just paced irritably and tried to think of what Gohan would do. "Why aren't you training now, then?" he asked at after a length.

Krillin chuckled in amusement, not the least bit surprised by this question. "We've been training for three years straight, kid. One more hour won't do us any good."

Trunks sighed. "Trunks. My name is Trunks." He said quietly, trying to forget what Gohan had always said. Some days, he'd only been able to train for an hour at the most, and he hadn't seen the point of it…how much could he improve in an hour? But Gohan insisted that he at least try, because an hour could sometimes change the fate of the world. You take what you can get, Trunks, he'd said.

"You take what you can get," he echoed. "And I haven't been training for three years. I've only been gone for a few months, which has me at a distinct disadvantage…so will somebody train with me or not?" frustration colored his voice, and he was certain they could tell…

For the most part, they just stared at him. He could tell they were uncomfortable, based on the way their eyes lingered on his right arm, in a sling once again due to another break, the bruises that colored his face, and arms, and the long diagonal cut leading from his left eye to the center of his forehead.

"Uh…" Krillin murmured something indistinct. No one else said anything.

"Never mind," Trunks admonished. They thought he was a cripple…someone who couldn't take care of himself, let alone anyone else.

Zarbon was far less casual about his condition than anyone else was, and stared openly at the kid. "So. What happened to you?"

Trunks glanced at him, and met his gaze easily. "I got in a fight with the androids. They decided I was going to be their pin cushion." He sighed again, frustrated. "Have there been any fires lately? Or has anything else happened, like buildings collapsing, or bridges suddenly going out of order? Suspicious or otherwise." He asked. No one said anything, and Krillin, answering for the group, wordlessly shook his head. "What about the people? The news usually finds the androids before anyone else can…Gohan and myself included." His lips twitched. "They have a way of going precisely where they're least wanted and hanging around until they're literally thrown out of there…"

For a moment, he remembered how many news reporters he'd met, who'd been the only ones who'd survived a catastrophe. The twins were amused by the reporters more than anything else, and tended to keep their sources of amusement alive until they became too bothersome.

Like him.

Like Gohan.

"Why aren't you watching the news? My mom has the news on twenty-four-seven, and is always aware of the state of the civilians…they can tell you a lot, you know." At their blank stares, and blatant amusement to his referral to his mother, he grew agitated. "Do you even know what the news IS?!"  Kami help me…this is impossible…!

"Er, well, yeah, we do know what the news is," Krillin replied, and laughed nervously. He put one hand behind his head, and tried to look unaffected by Trunks' temper. Trunks glared.

"You could at least have the radio on." He muttered.

After that, there was silence once again.

Goku shifted uncomfortably, not liking the heavy distrust, pain and confusion that remained so pronounced between the stranger, Trunks, and his friends. "We should split up. See if we can find anything…maybe they're looking around." Surprised, Trunks looked up at Goku, and smiled. Honestly thankful someone was able to take action, he stepped aside with much relief, hoping someone who truly understood this world, where peace wasn't so fleeting, worked.

He scanned the faces of the others, trying to gauge their reaction to the suggestion, and happily found they seemed to be in agreement with Goku. However, one thing jumped out at him he hadn't noticed before. "Where's Vegeta? Why isn't he here?" he asked, confused, and more than a little surprised. From what his mother told him, his father was never one to miss a battle, even if it meant 'staying around those idiots' for longer than could be considered 'agreeable.'

Zarbon snorted. "At Capsule Corps, I expect, drunk, and about as aware of the world as the dead." He rolled his eyes. "As usual."

Trunks stared. Goku had mentioned something about his father drinking, but…he hadn't thought he meant--

He stopped. No. He hadn't thought at all.

 "I'll go see if I can…get him to …help," he murmured, not quite paying attention to the others, or even what he said. Absently, he tried to pick out his mother's chi from the city and find his way home that way. He stopped. She wasn't here…he'd thought he'd at least be able to recognize her, but the woman here was nothing like his mother, and it showed in her chi. She had no love for him, didn't even know him. She wasn't worried, and didn't care at all…

So I can't find her.  He thought. So what? I'll find another way home-- to Capsule Corps. The Capsule Corps here wasn't home any more than Bulma was his mother. Sort of.

How he found his way there, he really couldn't say, but when he got there, it wasn't difficult to find Vegeta at all. He was the only chaotically unbalanced chi within miles, and practically radiated hatred and depression. Needless to say, he was a wreck. He lay on the couch, chugging bottles of some foul smelling liquid at a rate that made even Trunks uncomfortable. By his arm, a plate full of cupcakes rested on the table. The cupcakes were layered in pink icing and topped with cherries, and swiftly found new homes on the ceiling of the Briefs' living room.

He didn't quite know what to say.

"Well. If it isn't our little mystery kit…the brat from the future who decided he wanted to save the world." Vegeta said by way of greeting. He didn't bother to look up.

Trunks took a few steps into the room, and positioned himself directly within Vegeta's sight, and between he and the cupcakes. He was half afraid one of them would fall and hit him on the head… "It's been three years."

Vegeta snorted.

Trunks stared at his father, wondering what could have happened to make him act like this. "Aren't you going to do something?" he paused, hoping Vegeta would justify himself. Give him a desperately needed reason to forgive his father. "Try to help stop the androids?" but there was nothing.

Vegeta took a swallow from the bottle, and threw it into the ceiling when he found it was empty. The shards fell down on the two of them like so much rain. Neither of them blinked. There was a trace of movement behind him, and Trunks half turned to regard it. A brown, furry tail made a grab for another bottle, but, not wanting to see his father destroy himself any more than he already had, Trunks scooted it out of the way.

The tail twitched in agitation.

Strange, how Gohan and his mother had both told him tales about his father and Goku's experiences with the Ozuru, and the several times Goku's tail had saved him as a child, but he'd never imagined them quite the way they were. They were long and slender, with a spark of agility that surprised him. It was almost as if they were separate organisms…

Vegeta growled menacingly, bearing his teeth. "Why the hell should I?" he didn't seem interested in the world's welfare at all, and as if he couldn't fathom why anyone else should give a damn.

He kept staring at his father, not paying one wit's attention to the fact that he'd done nothing but that this entire time. "Because you can. Because you might make a difference."

Vegeta laughed aloud at that, a low, dark chuckle that clawed through Trunks' defenses in a way he'd never wanted to experience. His father couldn't care less if he died or not, and didn't bother hiding that from a total stranger, though this particular stranger happened to be his son. It was more than a little shocking. "I died the first time around, now didn't I?" Trunks didn't reply. "So why waste the effort if I won't do any good?"

"I didn't say that." He said quietly. To hell with denial…never did him any good anyways…so why was he bothering?

Vegeta looked him in the eyes, dark humor glinting still. He aimed his words like weapons, and he always shot to kill. Unlike Gohan. "Your Namek friend did." As an afterthought, he added, "Like you give a damn about me."

Trunks decided to ignore that. "So Goku didn't tell them…?" this was both a relief and an irritation. He specifically remembered asking to talk to Goku alone.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, and half sat up, as if trying to make certain this idiotic brat understood what he said. "No." he snorted, and flopped back on the couch, staring up at the cupcakes as if he too, waited for them to fall. "You had a spy, brat."

Trunks shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to continue the conversation, but needing to understand. "So what else do you know…?" he asked finally, not sure where to go from there.

"Not a damn thing." Vegeta answered, a few beats behind, and slow enough that Trunks had begun to think he hadn't heard him. "Everyone died, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah." He gestured vaguely with his hands, making disjointed, random motions as he spoke. All this accented his state of consciousness, which really needed no more emphasis than it had already.

"Androids. Three years. Kakarott would have died by some disease. That's about the gist of it." He laughed shortly. "The damn idiot made sure I knew." He snorted. "Like it'd make one hell of a difference."

Trunks didn't really know what to say. This certainly wasn't what he was expecting when his mother told him he'd be meeting his father. Not at all.

"Well, well, well. We found the right place after all." A dry voice admonished, speaking in low tones that conveyed boredom and some vague amusement that always lingered, but never showed itself outright. Trunks knew that voice better than he knew his own…he'd be able to place it in a thousand years…

Seventeen. So they existed after all. He hadn't been sure they would in this time line…

"Hmf." The low, feminine voice was clearly Eighteen. She seemed as bored as her brother, but more noticeably so. Unlike her twin, she wasn't amused by the deaths of humans; it was just something to do. That, and all human life seemed to annoy her. "It doesn't look the way it should." She remarked, tapping long, delicate fingers on her arm impatiently.

They were alike, yet different. Both were tall, slender, and delicate, and moved with grace that came easy to them. Their eyes, so different than the entire human population, gleamed like jewels, set in cool, calculating angles that accented the sharp sapphire as nothing else could. Her hair was a platinum blond, and his a black so dark it had blue highlights. Both had their hair styled in the same manner; straight and down to the shoulders, curving upwards ever so gently.

 He never paid much attention to their clothes. It didn't matter, not really. Their eyes held his attention, and their silent, deadly way of moving that spoke volumes of silence. And in that silence, thousands of stories were entombed; tales of the living brought to rest in their all-seeing eyes, and tales of horror and destruction. No, what they wore never stuck out much in his mind.

Seventeen rolled his eyes, un-phased by her behavior. "So what? Is everything about appearance to you?"

"Usually."

Looking at the two with some vague interest, Vegeta sighed, remembering his drink was long gone, and stood. "I'm getting a drink. You want anything?" he asked, tail flexing.

The twins looked at each other. "No." They replied in unison. Apparently, they'd forgotten anyone at all was in their presence, much less someone who wasn't afraid of them.

Kami forbid.

"Fine then." Oddly enough, the Saiyajin was as unaffected by their presence as they themselves were. "Take a seat. Make yourself at home."

Trunks stared. His father was being more courteous to the androids than he had been to him. And he wasn't trying to kill everyone. Part of him wanted to laugh, and the other part wanted to strangle his father.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he exploded. So. When it came to it, the angry side won out. "You can't do this, Vegeta, they're monsters!"

"Excuse the boy." Vegeta murmured, pushing his way through the two. They stepped aside to admit him, something he'd never seen them to do as long as he'd lived. "He's facing a serious family trauma at a young age; he's bound to be hysterical."

"WHAT?!" for a moment, he sounded almost exactly as his father had, when he was mad as hell and ready to kill every being in the universe. Only he could never have known. "They annihilated two thirds of the human population, destroyed the planet, and fucked over everyone's lives! Those that survive aren't even truly alive." Furious eyes met cool appraising ones, and swiftly to the offending people. "They're monsters!" he reiterated.

Vegeta looked at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "In your timeline, kid." He turned to the androids. "Would you like a cupcake?" his lips twitched, and he glanced casually at the ceiling. The two followed his gaze, and half smiled. "They're irritatingly sweet and strawberry flavored; they're positively disgusting."

Once again, the twins exchanged laughing glances, but shook their heads, politely declining. "No thanks," Seventeen disclosed. "I'm none too fond of sweet things."

Eighteen rolled her eyes. "I always wondered why you so disliked me." She smirked. Seventeen, for his part, ignored her.

This was getting a bit too odd for Trunks. When they were up against each other, the two never seemed to understand he was there, and continued talking as if he wasn't. It was frustrating, and made him feel that he wasn't even worth their full attention, which was probably true.

"So. What's there to do around here that's even partially interesting?" Seventeen wanted to know. Vegeta shrugged.

Trunks decided he'd had enough. He could stomach only so much of this…

It didn't take him long to find Goku. He'd known him less than a day, and already he could find him as easily as he might have found his mother. He shook his head in bemusement, wondering how a person could be so trustworthy. When he got there he stopped so suddenly the ground screeched in protest, the wind following his motions in a miniature tornado at his feet.

"The androids are at Capsule Corps," he began, speaking more calmly than he felt. "I think maybe we'd better get over there…Vegeta's…hmm…distracting them."

Flying over a city that was far from a pile of rubble, the group made it to Capsule Corps in less time than Trunks had. Fortunately for their windows, they had more experience at coming to a sudden halt, and only mild noise was caused. The twins were clearly visible through the open door, and Vegeta had clearly reentered the picture.

"I've decided I'll have one of those charming cupcakes," Eighteen was saying. "And Mrs. Briefs was kind enough to give me some tea." Her legs were crossed in the most lady-like position Trunks had ever seen her in, and instead of seeming bored, the android looked amused. Content, even.

Once again, Trunks didn't know what to say.

"Well, look who's back. The kid brought some friends." Seventeen smirked.

No one moved. They'd obviously noted that the androids, although a bit cynical, were not fighting. In fact, they didn't seem dangerous at all, in their eyes, but only Trunks had first hand experience with the two…although, to their credit, they weren't the same two he'd been accustomed to.

"Uh, Trunks? Don't you think maybe you're overeating a little?" Krillin asked tentatively, hoping he hadn't earned the wrath of a boy who, by the way it sounded, was far more powerful than him. Trunks glared at the androids, and didn't seem to notice the comment at all. Krillin sighed.

Inside, Bulma broke off her discussion of the latest fashions with Eighteen long enough to consider what Trunks had already told them. "You know, in your time line, kid, the androids may have been evil to the core, bloodthirsty monsters. These two might not be, you know? They haven't even attacked us!" she smiled reassuringly at Trunks, looking for a brief instant, like the mother he knew…

Seventeen muttered something about being willing to confirming the bloodthirsty monsters bit, appearing entirely too bored for Trunks' comfort.

"Listen." He sighed. "I'm going to the lab." Bulma nodded, absently giving directions Trunks didn't need, and he went down a spotless hall and into a laboratory with the supplies and power sources his mother would die for. He couldn't help but grin. Not only did he have unlimited access, he had a practically endless supply of materials, and workspace enough to last him awhile. The energy they had at home was limited, but here, he could do practically anything.

He was free. No restrictions on designs. No limit to energy he could use for a small gadget. No expectations.

Just total and complete freedom.

Happily, Trunks recalled the plans he and his mother had come up with years ago, and started to build a remote control. They hadn't had the chips they needed…and all the areas they could get the supplies from to make them were totaled long before they realized they could be of some use. It could work. It really could…

Even though he didn't have any restrictions, Trunks found himself mapping out the design on as little paper as possible, and using old conservation tricks he'd grown up utilizing. He went through several sloppy copies, as his mom called them, before even beginning to gather the materials needed.

The organization was a little less organized than he was accustomed to, but he supposed that was due mostly to his grandfather's presence in the lab more than anything else. It really didn't take long to find things anyways, so he wasn't too bothered by the lack of planning when putting things away.

The body would need to be big enough to hold a bug-box capable of powering the entire room, but other than that, he didn't need to plan too large. It would end up being seven and a half by eighteen centimeters, with a width of one and a half. He found a sheet of thick plastic fairly easily, and enough copper wiring to last a few years, with and silicon pieces that could very well be his savior.

He happily bent over his materials, and began the delicate task of programming the chips. It'd taken him three or four years to completely master that, but with his mom for a tutor, he couldn't go wrong. He barely realized his Grandpa's presence when the old man came in to work, and both of them absently helped one another with calculations when they bothered to speak aloud. All in all, they didn't bother the other unless specifically noted.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later, he was halfway done, and ready to eat lunch. "Grandpa, I'm going to get some food…why don't you join me?"

The doctor murmured into his mustache, not looking up at his grandson. "No, that's alright, my dear, I'm afraid I've still got quite a bit of work to do on this here thing-a-ma-jig…I'll be down later to get a sandwich, I suppose?" 

Trunks nodded absently, and made his way up and out, heading into the kitchen. He decisively ignored the androids, and made only polite conversation while eating enough food to stuff an army, as Krillin said, and taking off with half that amount for a snack.

"If I didn't know better, kid, I'd swear you were at LEAST half Saiyajin!" Krillin joked. "Where are you going with all that, anyway?"

"Lab…" Trunks replied, mouth full of salami, bread, and a handful of peanuts.

"Can I come with you?" a small, quiet voice asked. Trunks blinked, and looked down to see a small, lean child that nearly reached his shoulders. He saw a mop of black hair, long, thick and dark, framing pale skin in the Celtic definition of beauty. Wide, dark eyes, looked up at him, forming an altogether sweet, trusting boy who couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Was this Gohan? The years had marked him with a shy smile, a hesitant voice, and given him reason to know sadness; it lurked behind his eyes, and within his smile. But there was joy, too, and laughter.

Love.

He stood there, staring at the child for a few moments, trying to get his mind in check. Trying to fathom what it meant to be older than your elder teacher who's never taught you.

Surprisingly, Gohan wilted under his stare, mumbling something, "It's all right. I don't have to…" Trunks had to smile. The sweet, charming kid couldn't know what he meant to him…what he stood for in Trunks' mind. Even as a child, he was good and true, possessing every quality Trunks had admired about him to begin with.

"Oh! Of course, you don't need to ask me…sorry," he apologized, somehow embarrassed to have upset the boy. Hope rose in Gohan's eyes, and he looked cautiously up at the lavender haired teen. "I'm kinda out of it today…"

The grin transformed Gohan into a fun loving, slightly goofy kid that couldn't possibly be upset; Trunks had to return the favor, amused and pleased at this sudden change. Immediately after, Gohan began pelting him with questions about his objective, how he planned on getting there, what kinds of materials he needed, and many other things Trunks quite lost track of. He laughed affectionately, surprised by his intelligence and understanding.

Odd, how their roles were reversed. Gohan had always been his older-brother-figure, not the other way around.

Did Gohan ever feel like this, when he'd been asking-- begging --him to teach what he knew? Charmed, and a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm…?

Distantly he knew Krillin was laughing at him, telling Gohan something about calming down, and needing to keep a close eye on the two of them. Trunks was too busy reflecting, and stuffing cherry cobbler in his mouth. "Listen, Gohan, why don't you help Trunks carry his, uh, snack downstairs?" Krillin was saying, gently pulling a few things out of his precariously balanced armload of food.

"Okay!" he chirped. Trunks looked from one to the other, not sure he should relinquish his prize when he'd only recently taken hold of it.

Krillin, catching sight of his expression, snickered uncontrollably. "Typical Saiyajin expression; try to take food away, and they get possessive," he laughed.

Gohan looked at Trunks. They both shrugged.

The distance between the kitchen and the workroom was thankfully short, for even with two extra helpers, Trunks wasn't sure he could keep hold of all that food and eat at the same time…he couldn't remember the last time he'd been allowed to eat his fill…it was heavenly. He chewed happily on an apple, savoring the soft, sweet flavor and texture. Note to self, he thought. One more reason to fight for peace: you get to eat more.

Filing into the room one at a time, they carefully set the long table reserved for food or projects of a more assembly-line-like structure. Doctor Briefs wandered over and picked a particularly tasty looking sandwich. "Thank you, my boy, quite tasty," he noted, chewing mechanically as he went back to work. "Do tell your Grandmother she's done another fine job at cooking, won't you?"

Trunks nodded absently, and wandered back over to his worktable. Gohan followed at a respectable distance, Krillin at his side, eager to see what kind of project he'd been locked away with for the past long time. His blue prints, small, cramped and to proportion were as squished together as he could make them, with the formulas, notations, and theories he needed written in cramped short hand. Needless to say, unless you happened to be the creator, or his teacher, it made not one wit of sense.

Krillin took a step back warily, partly amused, partly mortified, and more than a little bewildered.  "Geeze, Trunks! What is that?" he inquired, aghast.

Trunks brushed his hands off, ready to get back to work now that all the spoilable treats had been demolished. "It's a remote control to shut down the androids," he replied, picking up a tiny pen especially wired to program chips. "Mom an' me designed it a few years ago, but our lab was completely wrecked…we don't have access to the types of things needed…here, I do."

Krillin blinked. "Shut them down? Trunks, do you mean to kill them?" he asked, waving his arms furiously. Trunks anchored his blue prints absently with a screwdriver that happened to be lying around. "They haven't DONE anything, though!"

Trunks didn't lift an eyebrow. "It won't permanently disable them, Krillin. Just temporarily so I can reprogram them…hopefully to not destroy cities, massacre millions, and generally enjoy bloodshed. Their creator happened to be an insane genius with a want for vengeance." He sat down, floating the various tools he wanted within easy reach.

Gohan strained to see the outline, curiosity bright in his large eyes. Trunks knew he was an intelligent person, but when he'd known him, Gohan never had time for idle interest; he didn't have time for eating, much less for progressive experimentation. Suddenly he had to wonder if the design would even start, if their plan was conceivable…the entire thing was based on theory…he'd never seen the androids mechanisms before. He'd no idea how they worked.

 "You write small," Gohan noted, with all the gravity of small children imparting some all-important fact. He squinted, turning his head slightly, as if a new perspective would reveal the meaning. He frowned, looking puzzled. "But why do you need that thing? What is it, anyway?"

"It's an energy converter…moves the currents through this," he tapped the metallic box, "which is called a funnel, for obvious reasons." He smiled, and knocked it experimentally. "Mom developed the idea a while ago, and specifically detailed it over time."

Gohan looked from the blue prints to the half-assembled funnel, eyes widening in surprise and some confusion. "But why? Wouldn't it be the same as making direct connections to individual parts?" Trunks grinned. If done correctly, that would work.

"That's it precisely. But the wiring would have to be very detailed, very thorough, and with all the problem spots down perfectly," he paused. "It'd end up being more work than it's worth."

Blinking, Gohan looked from one end of the table to the other. "No it wouldn't…not unless it'd blow a fuse with too much power, right? It looks like you're programming your own chips, too! The wiring shouldn't be too difficult compared to that."

Grandpa Briefs looked up, pulling his moustache experimentally. "Why ever would you want to do that by hand?" he looked puzzled. "If your pre-work is done correctly, then that computer could do it for you! If it wasn't right, then you can refigure it until it does come out the way you want it to be." He nodded to himself, unconcerned with Trunks' response. "I developed that machine myself, you know. Got tired of having this and that specialist running to and fro, doing more programming to that machine to program the left one than it was worth. Silly little buggers. Never made a wit of sense."

Trunks blinked, slightly embarrassed. What could he say to that? "Oh." He shrugged. "Well, I guess I'm used to it…we lost too much technology to be able to complete anything of real value…and besides, I've grown up programming everything myself."

"So why not connect it directly?" Gohan persisted. "How do you program something that little? The information's all compacted…" he hesitated. "Right?"

Trunks nodded absently. "Short hand. When I'm done, the processor will know the abbreviations better than the codes," he said simply. "It helps to have experience…"

Gohan shook his head, baffled.

Krillin laughed, but seemed to agree with Gohan. "You went waaaay over my ability to imagine," he grinned. "That thing isn't exactly very big…how could your gigantic tools get the job done?" he grinned.

Trunks shrugged, and smiled, guessing Krillin wasn't interested in his answer so much as hearing the silence filled with something other than metallic clinks and the slight buzzing the systems in place already made. Bending over a particularly detailed chip design-- the layers went too deep for this level of sight --Trunks frowned. Hmm… Absently he began to analyze Gohan's question, hardly noticing he was speaking. "The funnel directs the minimum amount of energy required to keep the device functioning at a constant rate. To directly connect the source to the output device would make that impossible…too much energy would be wasted." He half smiled, shifting everything above him with a gentle pulse of chi to get the items where he wanted them…above his head so he could lie down.

"It couldn't be that much of a difference…" Gohan murmured, before going back to another question he'd asked… "Would too much blow a fuse?" Unfortunately for Trunks, the kid spoke too quickly and moved from one topic to another too rapidly to get everything addressed. Wonder if Mom ever felt this way…?

Trunks blinked. "I don't…know…"

"So energy is that scarce? It's to the point where you have to conserve a nickel's worth to get anything important done? And even then you have to use it sparingly?"

"Uh…pretty much."

"This must be pretty wild for you then, huh?" Krillin asked, looking expectantly at the taller youth.

"Yeah…" he shifted uncomfortably, and smiled suddenly, once again pleased by the sheer amount of things available. "It's…interesting. We could never have built something as delicate as this, even with the substitutes available…it makes things…difficult."

"I would think so."

After that, things quieted down for a while, with Gohan and Krillin assisting where they could. Oftentimes the two would serve as an extra pair of hands, holding something down or-- very rarely --assisting in the actual programming. By the time dinner rolled around, the three of them were tired, strained, and ready for a break. His arm was hurting and his neck was sore.

The other two decided, or more correctly, Krillin made the decision for the both of them, guessing what Gohan's mother's opinion would be, to visit with friends and family, and leave the scientist work to Trunks. The androids were still there, but no one was quite sure how to treat them. Vegeta handled the twins for the most part, and everyone else stayed well out of their way.

By the sounds of it, they'd gotten around to playing a card game…something to do with fishing, and matching numbers… Trunks decided he had too much work to do to detail the specifics on the game.

He retreated to the lab with his Grandfather, and began work once again, picking up right where he left off before the snack. A few more minutes to a half hour would probably do it…then he could test the damned thing. Kami, I need a break…

And then, it was done.

He smiled, and tucked the blue prints safely in the filing cabinet, locking away the design and process for later use. There were a few things Gohan had helped him develop that may very well be used for later projects…maybe something that could lower the charge time of the time machine even…he couldn't wait to show his mother, and wondered how she'd react when he told her Gohan, a small child at this point, had contributed.

He walked carefully down the hall, and into the living room where the trio sat, gathered around a small coffee table. No one bothered to look up at his arrival, which suited his purposes very well. He hit the button, and watched the two figures collapse with much satisfaction. It worked.

He grinned. Vegeta glowered.

"Why did you disable my opponents?" he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. Trunks rolled his eyes.

"Reprogramming. Now, would you mind? I could use some help with this part…" he leaned over, and half pushed, half pulled the unconscious Seventeen off the couch and into his arms.

Vegeta didn't move.

He rolled his eyes, and gestured to Eighteen. "Please."

The Saiyajin prince slowly shuffled the cards he'd been holding into a neat pile, his eyes trained on Trunks. The teenager didn't move.  Finally, he nodded, and Trunks mentally prepared himself for another long haul.

This would be a long day.

*****

tbc…

The next chapter should be up by Friday, November 1st.

Thanks muchly so to Orlando_Sky and Late as Usual! *Grins* comments make me smile…To the former, thanks for the compliment! I try to keep Goku as In Chara as possible, but I may not always be right…feel free to tell me when he starts behaving Out of Chara. As to the date thing, this will hopefully keep up 'till the end of the story, but…*shrugs* I've only been able to post lately because it's already been written and is going through the editing process. (Thank my lovely editor for the grammar check, and his attempts to keep my pieces on track…so far it hasn't worked too well.)

Late as Usual…hmm…sounds like me. Spell check is a marvelous thing. *Laughs* you don't wanna see any of my writing w/o it! Thanks for the compliment, by the way.

For all of you who are getting bored, things will start picking up in the next two chapters, so please be patient. Any and all suggestions, comments, criticism, rants and/or letters are always welcome. After all, borrowing from one of many DBZ themes, you can't get stronger if no one's challenging you. I'm not saying I want an evil green grass hopper to try to kill me, but a really harsh critique would really help me grow as an author.

Also, it's kinda nice to know if I'm doing anything right.