We're back! Finally we have begun this re-write, and it's going to be GREAT.
As it says in the description, this fic can be read as a standalone, or as a companion piece to the original We Need You Around from 2017. We've changed a lot of things to make the plot more realistic (and dramatic) but kept a lot of the core elements. It's still a grand tale of loyalty and devotion—and friendship :)
Obligatory ground rules:
1. This fic is a collab between my sister and I, just as last time. She's not on this site but she's active on Tumblr under the handle tremendousardency, so check her out there!
2. Similarly to all of my other stories, we're writing with gijinkas. Seeing as how we are humans and not cute little frog people, it just makes the writing go a little more easily.
We've missed writing so much and we're so glad to be back! Hmu with any questions, be sure to leave a review, and most importantly, ENJOY.
Millions of miles of empty space, dotted with bright stars like glitter, spread out all around. A small Keronian transporter ship, painted a fitting green, drifted through the frigid vacuum of space as it had been for the last six days since its departure from Earth. And while the stunningly gorgeous but ever-unchanging scenery rolled lazily by outside, within the ship a squabble had broken out.
"You need to be more serious about this! This conference is a big deal! We're not taking a detour just so you can see some stupid Gundam exhibition!"
"IT'S NOT STUPID, GIRORO! IT'S THE MOST COMPREHENSIVE COLLECTION OF GUNPLA IN THE GALAXY! They have a Metal Structure Kaitaishouki RX-93 and a bunch of discontinued models! Plus, that planet is right next to Nyel'no, so it's not even really a detour! We'd be in and out in, like, a day!"
"We need that day to prepare what we're going to say at the convention! We're being honored as war heroes and you're treating it like it's a chore!"
"If you're so fussed about what you're going to say, then you should have been working on it since we got the invitation!" With that, Keroro folded his arms smugly and sat back down in his chair, clearly feeling that the matter was settled. Giroro still looked angry, but he too sat down in a huff. On the other side of the cockpit, Tamama was sitting and watching the back-and-forth with a bored, resigned expression. He stretched and asked, "So what are we gonna do, Sarge? Are we going to go to the exhibition or not?"
"We can go after the conference is over, I guess, since some people are being pissy about it!" said Keroro pointedly.
"We're not going to the stupid exhibition!"
"SHUT UP, CORPORAL!"
Tempers had been flaring since almost the second the voyage had begun. Everyone was already sick of the emptiness of space and of the living conditions. It had been a while since the platoon had made such a long interstellar trip, and they had forgotten how cramped the ship seemed when all five of them were aboard. There was no escaping each other's company unless one of them opted to hide in the bathroom or in a closet.
They had received the invitation two weeks ago, a letter summoning them to appear at the biggest military conference in the inhabited universe. Established and run by Keron and its allies, it was such an enormous operation that Keron had no venue large enough to host it; instead, the Army had a contract to reserve Nyel'no, the Convention Planet, for a week every ten years to hold the conference. Keroro's platoon were chosen to be honored this year for their successful, albeit unorthodox, conquest of Pekopon three years prior, and were expected to speak at a panel attended by more than two thousand soldiers, at least four hundred of whom were high-ranking.
The idea of speaking in front of so many people made Giroro feel very flustered. He was ecstatic that they were to be recognized for their great achievement-but as far as he was concerned, he was meant for the battlefield, not grand military summits or PR events (they had already had to appear on several big Keronian television networks to talk about the invasion since its completion). Nonetheless, it mattered greatly to him that the five of them present themselves as a competent, cohesive unit instead of the argumentative clashing of individuals that they normally were.
This sentiment was shared by Tamama, though he, by contrast, had been nearly beside himself with excitement ever since the letter had arrived. The young private-second-class seemed to think that a promotion was imminent and that this event would be the time for its announcement.
The corporal wasn't so sure; if the five of them were to be promoted, he thought it would have happened already. Usually such promotions would be handed out following the successful completion of an important and difficult mission, such as the conquest of a planet. He wondered whether the manner in which the planet was conquered coupled with the lack of clarity surrounding Dororo's status as a soldier were factors. The lance corporal had essentially defected when the platoon landed on Pekopon, and Giroro had heard rumors that higher-ups were debating whether he should be considered a deserter. He didn't imagine that this made it any easier to file the paperwork.
The lance corporal himself and Kululu, certainly the two most taciturn of the group, had been silently observing the fight from opposite Tamama with the air of watching a pro tennis match - that is, if you detest the sport of tennis. It was in this manner that the pair had witnessed all the previous arguments that had occurred on the trip already, and by keeping to themselves they had successfully stayed out of most of the trouble.
Now, after day six and counting, however, Dororo seemed exasperated even in his characteristically mild way, and he finally sighed and said, "Please relax, you two. You have been at odds all day today. Why don't we just try to enjoy the rest of the trip? This is a beautiful section of the galaxy, don't you see here that-" He gestured out the window toward, no doubt, something everyone else would be entirely indifferent to, and was promptly drowned out by Kululu yawning loudly and getting up from his chair with a grunt like an old man.
"You two are dreadful," he said, raising his voice slightly in volume to be heard over Dororo's cry of indignation. Kululu shuffled to the head of the cockpit and glanced at the computers with a passing interest. His fair blond hair lay in tousled curls atop his head. In his typical manner, he was dressed carelessly, looking comfortable but not fashionable in the least: a stained lab coat thrown over a yellow hoodie and ochre sweats, which he had bafflingly paired with brown crocs. He was the tallest and lankiest of the five, and he had an unhealthy, stretched-out look about him like a teenager going through a growth spurt. He exhaled a controlled breath through his nose, looking bored, then turned to the rest of the group. "I'm leaving."
Keroro's and Giroro's argument was certainly interrupted now. There was a beat where the others looked around at each other in confusion. Keroro frowned, looking indignant, and broke the silence. "What-like, you're quitting the platoon?"
Kululu didn't bother to look at him as he leisurely answered, "Just for this week… You lot can go to the conference, but I've got something I want to check into."
"What the hell are you talking about? Didn't you just hear me telling this one-" Giroro jerked his thumb at Keroro "-how important this conference is?!" he spat, a look of utmost disgust on his face. To even suggest disregarding such a high honor as a military convention clearly offended him deeply.
The sergeant and the corporal were a united front against their new target of disagreement. Keroro exclaimed, "Yeah, Sergeant Major, what the hell?!" Though shrill with rage, he still seemed pleased enough to have someone other than Giroro to argue with. "What was the point of conquering Pekopon if not for privileges such as these, yes sir! As the highest-ranking member of the platoon, you have to come!"
"Nah. I don't want to. I have better things to occupy my time." Kululu's upper lip was curled slightly in a little shiteating grin as he reveled in the disturbance that his announcement had caused.
Tamama crossed his leg with his right ankle over his left knee and appealed, "Oh, come on, Sergeant Major, there's no way the conference is gonna be that boring. What could you possibly have going on that's more interesting in a bumfuck nowhere part of the galaxy like this?"
"Probably attending a curry convention for nerds at a neighboring planet, yessir…," Keroro mumbled under his breath, folding his arms over his chest crossly.
"I have something I need to look into nearby," Kululu sneered, cryptic as ever. "I have a hunch about something. Once I'm done checking things out, I'll meet you guys at Mepki. You'll take me home from there."
Giroro threw his hands up, incredulous. "You think you can just do whatever the hell you want?!"
"Doing things my way has worked out for me so far, Corporal, ku ku…"
"Agh!" Keroro exclaimed. "You guys are the worst! Ungrateful!" He pointed at Kululu. "Unreasonable!" He pointed to Giroro. He drew himself up, stiff and straight, his ankles and knees together and his hands behind his back, and resolutely declared, "If he's not going then I'm not going, either!"
"Yes, you are!"
Keroro squinted at Giroro, looking positively bitter. Pink patches burned high on his cheeks, his skin flushed with his righteous outrage. He fussily adjusted the collar on his grass-green shirt and swiped his hands over the front of his pant legs, brushing off nonexistent debris, the dirt accumulated from his many battles he'd been forced to fight against his friends during their journey. He gave a short whine, then rounded on Kululu again. "Fine! Go to your curry convention, and we'll go to the conference without you-but what are we supposed to tell everyone when they ask where you are?"
"I s'pose we could just tell everyone he's sick," Tamama suggested, producing a colorful hard candy from his pocket and artfully unwrapping it.
"That is a good idea, Tamama," Dororo said. He folded his hands primly in his lap and added, "I'm sure that no one will mind if Kululu can't be present for the conference. He's not especially popular on Keron, anyway…"
"How interesting that you of all people would say that, Lance Corporal," Kululu commented snidely. He ignored Dororo's hurt expression and addressed Keroro shortly. "We're nearing a section of the galaxy right now where a planet called DFP-129 is located. This planet is largely uninteresting. Unremarkable. Until now, that is. It's come to my attention that there's an unusual broadcast coming from it, so I'm headed there to investigate the origin."
Keroro took a few steps towards Kululu, who recoiled slightly. Having already failed to make Kululu stay by simply yelling at him, he pivoted his tactic. He put his hands out, palms up, clearly trying to look unthreatening and diplomatic like a well-meaning individual trying to lure a stray animal onto their porch with food. "Why don't you come to the conference with us, and we can stop by your planet on the way back from the gunpla exhibition?" he suggested, grinning winningly. "After an event like this, we could all certainly do with a few days off, yessir…"
"It's not a vacation planet," Kululu retorted, drifting backwards a few feet to widen the space between himself and the sergeant. "And you four would just drag me down. Pick me up at Mepki in five days." Keroro began closing the gap between them again and Kululu turned away. "Five days," he repeated.
Giroro rolled his eyes. A thick vein stood out dangerously on his forehead, running directly parallel to the scar across his left eye and serving as a visual gauge for his level of irritation. He scoffed, "How are you even going to get there?"
"I'll take the cruiser," Kululu drawled. Docked onto their transporter ship was a one-man vehicle, intended to be used for emergencies. He pushed his glasses further up his face with his index finger and then wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "I should have enough fuel to get to the planet and back to Mepki without issue…"
"And if we run into an emergency and need that cruiser?" Giroro growled. "What will we do then?"
Kululu was at the head of the cockpit now, slouched with his hands in his coat pockets, standing where a leader typically would but commanding zero of the associated respect. He turned fully to face Giroro, seeming to pause for dramatic effect (or possibly just to prolong the corporal's irritation a little longer).
"Simple. Don't have an emergency."
