When the light finally returned, they moved the ship to the only populated section of the planet, a barren port town where various essentials were sold at extortionate prices. With difficulty, they had set up a new shuttle from one of their spare capsules, but it needed a bit of fixing— they'd originally planned to rely on the shiny new one they'd had to leave behind.

Trunks put down the dirt-encrusted component he'd been cleaning for longer than was strictly necessary and went in search of Pan. They were being terribly polite to one another. No mention of the recent mission. No discussion about what came next. Every day they trained together, saying little, excessively considerate in their tone and their behaviour. It was unnerving him.

They went to the market together. Pan had agreed to come, without fuss, as soon as he'd asked. This was almost as unsettling as the strange formality that had settled between them.

Pan was haggling for some parts. She'd turned out to be quite good at these sorts of negotiations. Years of fielding Baba's demands and outbursts had taught her something about how to handle unreasonable people, Trunks thought. And there seemed to be some serious skill required if you wanted to walk away from a transaction on this planet with a shred of dignity and a couple of credits still in your pocket. He and Marron had failed dismally on a couple of occasions.

Pan appeared to have a range of strategies. Once or twice when they were dealing with particularly difficult vendors, he thought he saw her gesture at them in an odd way. Then, usually, their faces became very calm — almost vacant — and they became more cooperative, sometimes even dropping the price slightly.

Trunks was watching this happen again, hanging back from the bargaining, when he saw the dark-haired woman. She was leaning over an array of foul-smelling ointments and animal innards, pointing to something. The seller had the air of someone keen to get rid of a customer as quickly as possible.

At first, he thought what he was seeing was a trick of the light— a shadow, perhaps. His eyes searched the area around the woman. Then he wondered if he might be hallucinating. He looked for a moment longer, before moving closer to Pan, leaning in to tell her what he thought he was seeing. She followed his gaze.

"That is a tail," she agreed, her eyes very wide.

"Should I …"

"Yes," Pan was breathless. "I can't believe … and maybe she's not. But she looks … We've got to know, don't we? We've got to find out or we'll always wonder. Go, I'll follow in a minute. I'll just wait for them to find the second part. Be careful!"

She shouted the last bit, because he was already on the move. The woman had noticed the two of them observing her and, with a hostile look in their direction, snatched up her items and moved down the narrow market road at pace.

He went after her. She ducked into an alley and turned to face him.

"Wait, hey, just wait a second!" he called. "Are you a Saiyan? Because I —"

She launched herself at him with such speed and ferocity that he scarcely had time to block the attack.

But block it he did, and the shock was evident on her face. She aimed a sharp kick at his head. He intercepted that too.

"There's no need for this, I only wanted to talk to you," he said.

But she was already leaving, having taken off as soon as he'd paused to speak. She leapt up and over, landing on the sandy-coloured rooftops and disappearing. He sped after her, trying not to lose her.

She bounced from rooftop to rooftop as if they were stepping stones. They soon reached the edge of the market town and left it behind. Once or twice she turned to see whether he was still giving chase. Each time, she sent vicious energy attacks at him, huffing in frustration when he dodged and carried on.

He began to wonder how long he could keep this up for — or whether he ought to accept the rejection and turn back — when she landed near a rock face many miles from the town.

She vanished into a cave. He could see a strange, gleaming ship parked just inside. She emerged again a moment later, another woman at her side.

Trunks had seen some unusual-looking people in his life — he had grown up around the luridly-green Piccolo and the three-eyed Tien — but he had never seen someone like this other woman, whose skin was a blazing orange. Her hair was as white as the first woman's was black. She was the taller of the two, and had an air of authority.

He landed, and held up his hands in what he hoped resembled a gesture of peace.

"What do you want?" The orange one was only a little less unfriendly than the one he had followed here, but at least she hadn't attacked him yet.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean … I know this must be alarming. But I followed your friend because I thought she might be a Saiyan." At this point, he noticed the orange woman had a tail too, as white as her hair. It was tightly wrapped around her middle.

"Why?"

"Because she has a tail, I'm sorry if I got it wrong."

"No. Why did you follow her if you thought she was a Saiyan? What business have you to follow Saiyans?"

He smiled. This was his chance to clear up the misunderstanding. They were going to be as excited by his presence as he was by theirs.

"I'm a Saiyan too. Well, a half-Saiyan." He realised with a flicker of anxiety that he didn't know how Saiyans felt about half-Saiyans.

The black-haired one made an impatient noise.

"That's unlikely," the orange one remarked.

"But not impossible," Trunks countered.

Another woman had emerged from the cave — she looked younger than the other two. She could have been human, except for the pale green cast of her skin. He couldn't see a tail. She looked at him curiously.

"Was it your mother or father who was Saiyan then?" the first woman demanded.

"My father is a saiyan."

"Is? So, alive?" The orange one again.

"Yes, he's on earth."

The women looked at each other, exchanging shrugs.

"We don't know this place," said the orange-skinned one.

"What's his name?" The first one demanded, scowling.

"Vegeta. His name is Vegeta. I don't know if he had a second name or anything."

Their expressions had changed suddenly. Of course — Vegeta was royalty, they would know about him.

The orange one had covered her mouth. She was shocked, Trunks thought. He graciously gave her a moment to recover herself.

A moment later he realised she was stifling laughter.

The dark-haired one was laughing openly now.

"Okay, son of Vegeta!" She howled. "Naturally!"

"You should leave," the orange one said, struggling to hide her amusement.

They went back into the cave, the black-haired one wiping tears from her eyes.

The green one stayed. She was looking at him still. A cold wind whipped his clothing, the only sound in the bitter silence of the desert.

"No one knows where the prince died," she said finally, "it's possible that he still lives."

"He is alive."

"How do you know that he is who he claims to be?"

Trunks was brought up short by that. "Well, I suppose I take it on trust. He hasn't got much to gain by lying about it — it's not as if there's anyone left to reign over."

"He's definitely a Saiyan?"

"Yes."

She examined him. "You don't look like a Saiyan, if I'm honest, but then neither do I."

"Are you one?" he asked. He involuntarily took a half-step towards her before he caught himself.

Her expression became cold. They were exceedingly sensitive on this subject, it seemed.

With a slight rushing sound of air, Pan was beside him, engine parts clutched in her hands. "Sorry, I had a lot of trouble locating you — you suppress your energy so much habitually, do you know that?"

She noticed the green-skinned woman. "Did … did you lose her?"

"The other one? She's inside the cave. She didn't think much of my claim to be Prince Vegeta's son."

Pan's eyebrows shot up. "Ah. I suppose it could sound a bit ridiculous."

Trunks gave a half-smile. "I can't make it any less ridiculous-sounding when it's the truth."

Pan looked at the young woman. "You don't believe him?"

"I'm not sure," came the cool answer, "but my companions don't. Who and what are you? Another long-lost elite?"

"Oh, no. My grandpa was a nobody from what I can tell. Vegeta used to bang on about how low-born he was. He's stopped in recent years, it didn't bother my grandpa but I think everyone else thought it was a bit rude."

"What is 'bang on'?" the woman asked, brow furrowed.

"Like, repeating himself."

The other woman seemed to think this over. "And what is your grandfather's name?"

"Goku."

"Kakarot," Trunks said.

"Which is it?"

"Kakarot is his original, Saiyan name, yes." Pan looked curiously at Trunks. "But no one calls him that except Vegeta."

"Stay here." The woman went into the cave.

Pan looked at Trunks. "This hasn't quite gone to plan, has it?" The wind lifted her black hair. "Not that we really had a plan for this situation … "

He didn't have time to answer. The white-haired orange one was back. Pan did a poor job of concealing her surprise at the newcomer's striking appearance.

The other two joined her a moment later. The one he had followed here gave Pan a once-over. "Heh, well, she at least looks like a saiyan."

The orange one and the green one both turned to look at their companion, who had the good grace to look embarrassed.

His mind was whirring. He had their attention now but he was at a loss over what to do with it.

"Trunks," Pan whispered, "what if you show them your super form? That's a way of proving what you are."

"They may not even know about that, it might not mean anything to them," he said, under his breath.

"What is it that you think we do not know?" The green one evidently had very good hearing. Her two companions glanced back at her with some smugness.

"Do — do you transform, when you battle? There's a big power increase, and your hair changes colour, and …" He really hoped they did know what he meant, because otherwise they might fall about laughing any moment now.

But they hadn't. They were looking at him, inscrutable.

"Show us," the green one said, "like your friend said. Show us this form."

Pan stepped back slightly. He tightened his core and allowed the familiar power to rush into his center, feeling it build. It took only a moment for him to have enough — and to send it streaming outwards into the rest of his body. He was bathed in golden light, his hair rising upwards, as yellow as the aura around him.

The dark-haired one's eyebrows had shot up. The three women exchanged looks. The orange one looked in the dark-haired woman's direction and gave her a small nod.

She unfolded her arms, and a moment later, had matched Trunks's transformation. They stood, both of them radiant, dust whipping up around their feet from the force of their energy. Trunks couldn't stop himself from grinning. A slow smile spread across the woman's face.

"It's good to meet you," the orange one said. "Why don't you come inside?"

"Bring your ship here. We will train with you."

It wasn't really a question, and as far as Trunks could tell, this was about the closest thing to 'let's be friends' that a Saiyan could say.

He was in the control room with Marron. They were doing some checks on the static landing gear to settle the ship into its new parking space and avoid it being blown over if a surprise sandstorm should whip up.

"So — Anz, Reet and Zaym?" Marron said. He'd arranged the briefest of introductions inside the cave when she'd first arrived.

Trunks smiled. "Yeah. Anz is the one who looks like she could be Goku's sister. Reet's the … bright orange one. And Zaym's the younger one … and she's green."

Marron looked puzzled. "She's green? How did I not notice that?"

"Take a closer look when you see her in the better light outside the cave."

"I will." Marron smiled and continued running the checks.

Trunks was looking at the monitors. "There's a lot of data building up, isn't there? But not many leads. I should maybe look through some of it manually."

"No need," Marron answered quickly, her eyes fixed to the screen. "I'm on top of it."

He felt relief.

"Do you think it's silly to keep looking?" he asked her, winding a cable up.

She paused. "He wasn't happy to see you, clearly. But it was also a shock, so his reaction in that moment doesn't necessarily mean there's no hope. I think it would be a shame to give up now."

"Me too. I think we should try once more. We came all this way."

Marron nodded. "Shall we go?" There was a trace of impatience.

"Yes, sorry."

"Let's bring some food out. We all know the way to any Saiyan's heart is through their stomach."

They spent several evenings around the campfire, their exchanges of rapid fire questions gradually settling into broader, more ponderous discussions.

The Three (as Trunks was now calling the women in his head) knew now about their families and their mission. It had not escaped their notice that they had shared more with the women than they'd been told in exchange. But they'd discussed it on the ship and decided to keep some of their questions back up as not to trigger the bristliness of their first encounter. But they were becoming bolder.

"It's just … really wild to have found you at all," Pan said, with a glance in Trunks's direction. Seeming to find no disapproval on his face, she continued. "How did we not know about you? Where have you been all this time?"

"I could ask you the same thing, little one," Reet said, with a laugh. "We've been around. But quietly, and not in large numbers."

"So have we, I suppose," Trunks said. He passed around some of the remaining rice and bean stew, which had proved very popular with the Three.

"We have been rebuilding," Reet said, "and we have been looking for others, but … our technology is not what it used to be. We've not had the same reach. Your home planet is many months away from here. And we had no idea you were there."

"When you say 'we' …" Trunks looked at her with interest. "There are more of you — of us— right?"

Pan and Marron had fallen quiet and were listening intently. Zaym and Anz became very still, watching Reet.

Reet considered for a moment. "Yes, there are more of us. And I have decided we will ask permission for you to come and meet some of them."

"Really?" Pan breathed.

"How many are there?" Trunks asked.

"Not enough," Anz said, looking disgruntled. Reet shot her a withering look.

"All in good time," Reet said warmly. "You will see."

Pan had given him the kind of look that might turn a person to stone when he'd delivered the good news to her — Anz was going to get involved with her training.

Now the two women were sparring in the air, while Trunks watched from below.

Pan was dodging Anz's onslaught of kicks and punches with some success, but landing no attacks. She wasn't really a match for Anz, who, unlike Trunks, was not holding back or taking it easy on her. Anz sped up, moving in on Pan harder, crowding her till she couldn't evade.

This had been going on for some time. He wondered when Pan would complain and want a break. He wasn't sure whether he'd acquiesce or try to push her.

Above him, Pan held up her hands and the two women broke apart as if electrocuted. Trunks didn't understand what had happened.

Anz began to laugh. Pan floated in the air, keeping a safe distance. Several moments went by.

"Very clever, little one. You've blurred my vision somehow. But now, when you have me like this, still you don't attack me?"

"You're not a threat now, why would I attack you?"

Anz was on her in a flash.

"And then you spoke, and you gave up your advantage," Anz hissed, landing a hard punch into Pan's gut. A moment later, a second blow to the back sent her plummeting. She collided hard with the ground below.

Anz landed beside Trunks, rubbing at her eyes.

"Can you see?"

"It's coming back," Anz said, blinking. "That girl's a fool with no battle sense."

Trunks couldn't disagree with that, but it wasn't entirely fair to Pan.

"She needs experience, I'll give you that. To learn how and when it's worthwhile being merciful."

Anz snorted.

"But," Trunks went on, "she's good for someone who didn't know how to fight until recently."

Anz looked interested, so he continued.

"The raw materials were there, she had the core strength and balance, and the necessary ki control to be able to fly."

Anz said nothing.

"She's also got this impressive … precision. She can twist and move and land on her feet without any ki assist, which makes her fighting style very economical. And she's creative on the battlefield — she thinks of new sequences constantly, mixes things up, surprises me. Like she just surprised you."

Anz shrugged. "The surprise didn't mean much, in the end. If this was real, she'd be dead," she said.

"Well, like I said, there are still things to learn," he replied. "Thank you for helping."

Anz grunted in response and strode away.

As he turned to go back to the ship he saw Pan nearby, looking rather roughed up, pretending not to listen. She had a bad habit of showing up in his vicinity while he was talking about her. He hoped the praise wouldn't go to her head.

"Just think, children with purple hair and green skin," Reet said to Zaym.

Trunks was doing the very thing he hated — eavesdropping. He slowed his walk, finding it irresistible to listen. He had been looking for Marron, to ask her whether she knew what was slowing down the comms system. Large packets of unreadable data had been downloading and uploading for several hours now, and he wondered if the system had malfunctioned and started drawing in reams of things they didn't want or need.

He thought she might be on the Three's ship, helping Anz redo a couple of repairs that hadn't held up well. But now he was lurking behind the ramp, watching them through a small gap and listening to a conversation he was certain was not meant for his ears.

Zaym was chuckling. "Purple hair and green skin? An unfortunate combination, is what that sounds like."

There were some clicking and rustling noises. They were repairing some armor.

"Could be striking," Reet said mildly.

"Hard enough being green."

"True. At least they admire your proper black Saiyan hair."

Zaym shook out the lengths of her lustrous mane with a laugh.

Reet continued, her tone becoming business-like. "I could test your reproductive compatibility — but from what I know, I'd assume it's reasonable. And there are ways to improve the chances. I have had good success with small edits to the genomes."

Zaym snorted. "Do you think about anything other than the science of Saiyan reproduction?"

"Of course. I also think about my children, and fighting."

Trunks wondered if he should be flattered. Zaym was beautiful, in an otherworldly way. But he had a feeling this was more of a sperm-donor scenario they were imagining. He wasn't sure how he felt about being drafted in to provide his genetic material for the furtherance of the Saiyan race.

"It's not time for me yet," Zaym said, her voice growing softer.

"It's not," Reet acknowledged. "And it will be a bittersweet day when I send you back to make some fine younglings."

"It is Anz's time."

"Yes, almost."

"When will you send her?" Zaym asked,

"Not now, but perhaps soon. When some of the present danger has passed."

They lapsed into silence, examining the armor together from different angles.

As noiselessly as he could, Trunks re-entered the ship, hoping Zaym's superior hearing hadn't betrayed him. He could find Marron later.

They were all about to eat when the soldiers arrived.

Pan, fresh from a sparring session, still sweaty and dusty, stepped forward slightly, her hands balled into tight fists. Trunks saw Anz flick an approving glance in her direction.

But Reet placed a hand on Pan's shoulder and addressed the soldiers, her tone low and dangerous. "Yes?"

The soldiers wanted to know what they were doing here. Bandits come to these caves. Were these ships stolen? They would need to check, they said.

There were a dozen of them. They began to examine the ships' exteriors, moving through the cave with surprising casualness. Trunks thought they must either be very strong, or else they didn't realize what sort of people they had stumbled upon.

Two soliders were hanging back, their eyes travelling lazily over Marron and Zaym, who were side-by-side making preparations for the meal. Marron had stopped, watching the soldier in alarm. Zaym was continuing to break the shells of whatever sort of bean or nut (Trunks wasn't sure which) Pan had acquired at the market yesterday.

Anz reached for some of the bread on the table, and tore a large piece away.

"I know you," one of the soldiers said, his eyes lighting first on Reet, then sliding to Anz. "You ripped one of my crew's heads off without warning, just a few days ago."

The cave became very quiet.

The solider beside the one who had spoken had a stun gun of some kind in his hand, and was now pointing it at Anz.

Anz took another piece of bread, and regarded the solider. "The question, then, is whether you have come here to lose your head too?"

The soldier fired, but too slow. Zaym had somehow crossed the room in the time it had taken him to decide and pull the trigger. She had him in a headlock, the gun pointing ineffectually at the roof. The shot had sliced through part of the cave ceiling. He was choking and spluttering in Zaym's grasp, clearly struggling for air.

The soldiers seemed not to have really taken in the scene before them prior this moment, and now they looked around, their eyes landing on the tails, the musculature, the pieces of armour set off to one side.

"We've seen what we need to." The one who remembered them had decided it was time to leave.

Some of his crew seemed to want to argue, but were pulled and pushed from the cave by their fellows, back onto the transport they'd arrived on. Zaym dropped her prisoner when he passed out — two of his companions scurried back to wrangle his limp body onto the transport.

They were gone. The noise of the transport grew faint, too far away now to hear.

Anz, apparently quite unruffled by the whole thing, looked at Pan. "Were you going to fight them, little one?"

Pan looked faintly embarrassed and Anz aimed a friendly mock kick in her direction, sitting down again at the table and continuing to polish off the bread.

Trunks went outside for a few minutes, hoping some of the tension would leave his body. He'd wanted to scare the soldiers off too, but the image of Anz ripping someone's head off had made his guts twist up in a way he couldn't shake.

Then Zaym was behind him.

"You are disturbed by our approach to our opponents," she said. It didn't seem like a question.

"It's … reasonable to defend yourselves."

She gave him a long, searching look, then glanced away.

"You have to understand," she said, "that Anz is planet-born. She remembers. Reet and I never saw our world. Reet was born elsewhere, and I'm moon-born. We have our Saiyan pride but … there is a difference, I think, for someone who saw what came before, and to have its demise rubbed in your face."

He wasn't sure he understood, since the soliders had said nothing about them being Saiyans, but he nodded anyway.

Zaym went back inside. Trunks thought about how little they really knew these women, and how quickly they'd fallen in with them. He wondered what his father would make of this, if he were here. He kept involuntarily slipping into a scene in his imagination, seeing himself explaining to Gohan or 18 what had happened, why he had trusted these people, and how it had all gone wrong. He tried, to little effect, to stretch some of the tension out of his shoulders.

He gave up, and went back inside, following the sound of Pan's laughter.