7

Naviv

After once again taking flight, Trunks chose the opposite direction. He headed straight for the clouds of smoke and factory stench. Below him, whizzing by, the desert grew into a meadow and the meadow and beautiful landscape of hills and cattle, then a lake grand and blue. Clear as the waters back on Earth. He'd flown literally to the opposite side of Planet Vegeta. Where here the sky was not tainted red and the waters looked safe to drink. The grass was also very plush and green. And as he gazed around, Trunks noted how much like Earth the city in which he stood resembled. Even the people waltzing around the sidewalk and pursuing shops looked much like what he was used to. The cars they drove, while oddly shaped, were reminiscent of home. And no one stared at Trunks strangely as he walked around the crowd.

It wasn't until he walked over to a food stand and tried speaking with the owner that Trunks was given an odd stare.

The balding fat man scratched his sweaty head at Trunks. "Tessék?" he asked, voice deep and gravelly.

Trunks growled and threw his arms up, spinning around and going into his own bubble. "Oh just great!" he yapped to himself, unaware of the looks he gained from bystanders. "No one on the goddamn planet can understand anything I say. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Damn it!" His mother would slap him, he knew, if she'd heard his string of foul words. Likely his father would too. Neither of his parents cared for cursing. Surprising to Trunks, considering how vulgar and ruthless they both were ninety percent of the time. "I should have just let you do this after all, dad," Trunks sighed out, long and exasperated. "Or at least thought to bring a translator," he realized then that he'd been foolish and too hasty in leaving home. If he hadn't had to fight Vegeta for the ship, things might have been different.

"Uram, elveszett?" the food stand owner piped in, cocking his head in wonder and awe.

Trunks hissed at him, quickly whipping around and grabbing the man's counter with an iron grip. He scowled. "Translator? Speak my language? You getting any of this?" Trunks barked, aggravated more with himself and the situation than the startled man.

"Nyugodj meg, vagy hívom a rendőrséget!" the man snapped back, shaking but bravely standing up for himself. By now the two had gained quite an audience.

"Dear god," Trunks groaned, slapping his forehead, "I'm a fucking idiot. Why didn't I bring a translator?"

"Young stranger," a voice amongst the crowd suddenly chimmed. It was an ambiguous voice, small. "He will have you policed if you do not resign to a calmer state," the voice said and Trunks saw a few people looking behind them.

"Who said that?" Trunks's eyes went wide with relief and excitement. He sprang to life, brushing into the crowd to follow the voice. Most of the men and women stepped aside, gasping and afraid of Trunks. Some spoke angrily or puzzled at him. Trunks ignored everyone in lieu of finding the one person who could apparently converse.

Quickly the crowd dispersed once the scene mostly ended. A few stragglers remained, watching curiously as Trunks stood still, facing the one he sought after. Beside a lamp post stood a slender man dressed in a grey duster and a silver jumpsuit. He was pale skinned and his hair was a bright red mullet. His brown eyes stared hard at Trunks. He turned his cheek at Trunks and the many golden earrings he wore jingled, attached to the chain around his neck.

"These people cannot understand," the man said as Trunks walked near him and stopped, extending his hand as a show of good faith. He knitted his brow at Trunks but

took his hand and shook it.

"I'm Trunks," he said, smiling. "I guess you can probably tell I'm not from around here, huh?"

Looking Trunks over, the man crossed his arms. "Naviv," he greeted. "One of the few Tuffles who has mastered galactic tongue. Yours is very strange," he said slowly, his accent odd and his words slightly off kilter. Nonetheless, Trunks could understand exactly what the man was saying, garbled though it was.

"Wow," Trunks chuckled to himself, "I knew I came back pretty far, but I sure wasn't expecting this." Somehow he'd thought technology would have been more progressed. Vegeta claimed the Tuffles took to space travel far before the Saiyans. If that were the case, then Trunks supposed that maybe he'd gone back to a period when space travel was new to most of the Tuffle race.

"Came back far? From where are you?" Naviv asked.

Trunks wasn't sure how to answer. It was true that this timeline was entirely separate from his own, thus he need not really concern himself with changing much. Deciding this, Trunks hummed to himself and stared firmly, serious at the Tuffle before him. "Can we go somewhere more quiet?" Trunks asked as cars and people buzzed about. The heart of this city was a busy ruckus.

Naviv seemed wary. However he nodded and motioned for Trunks to follow him as he headed toward an open doored restaurant. It was rundown and basically empty, save the waiter who sat them. They didn't order. Simply sat to the back of the darken, triangle shaped dining room across from one another in a booth. It was awkward.

"I'm from approximately two billion years into the future. Maybe only about three point four million if you consider the length difference between our galaxies," Trunks said, and he expected Naviv to call him a liar. He was shocked when the man didn't, so he continued. "I'm from a place called Earth. In my time, it's a relatively new planet and," he paused, unsure where to start.

"Impossible," Naviv sniggered, sitting back, sure of himself. "Time travel is banned."

Banned? Trunks blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Emperor Hyatt banned time travel years ago," Naviv explained. "It is dark technology that can only destroy. No one has a means to travel time now. The equation was eradicated before my parents were born."

"Well," Trunks shrugged, "it's not eradicated where I'm from. I built my own machine," he held up his hands, flipped them over. "Hence how I'm sitting here," Trunks huffed. He was aware he might come off as snotty

Skeptical, Naviv studied Trunks. Moments ticked by and slowly Trunks grew impatient with this man.

"Listen," Trunks sighed, holding his temple and resting his elbow on the counter, "my father is from this planet, but he won't be a blimp in the universe for a very, very, very long time. He sent me here." He stopped as Naviv leaned forward, listening intently. Trunks had now grabbed his attention. But he knew that Naviv would probably assume the worst once Trunks explained his background. Yet how else was he to even ask about the rumored Moon Stone if he didn't mention Saiyans. Since they possibly had it held some place in those rocky mountains Trunks had visited hours prior. "He's a Saiyan," Trunks chose to be straightforward. Best just to get to his point. He was kind of in a time restraint here. What with the universe disappearing.

Naviv's eyes flashed at the word. He sat back fast against the booth and Trunks felt the man's energy level jolt. He was afraid. He was afraid and patting his pocket, likely looking for a weapon. But he was unarmed. Not that it would even matter.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Trunks assured him, holding up his hands in surrender.

"You look Tuffle," Naviv said. "Saiyans are hideous primates."

Snorting, Trunks thought about how his father would react to such a statement.

"Well," Trunks chuckled, "I'm only half Saiyan. My mother is a human. I guess humans resemble you guys quite a bit. But um," he scratched the bridge of his nose, amused and smirking, "my father doesn't look all that different from most of the people on my planet. Not really that different from you. Especially since he's missing his tail." He found it hilarious that racism existed everywhere.

"Why has he sent you?" Naviv asked then. His voice held an air of disbelief still. Like he was humoring Trunks.

Settling his amusement, Trunks got back to the task at hand. "I'm here because in my time, the entire universe is kind of caving in on itself," he said, "and we're trying to stop that from happening."

"Rebirth," Naviv said, nodding.

Whatever that meant. Trunks knitted his brow. "Well I'm not religious," he started, "but I'd say this is a lot worse than whatever god you believe in starting over." He'd caught a lot of flack from his family and friends because of his lack in beliefs and having no ritualistic practices. How, Goten always asked, did Trunks not practice some sort of religion? Why didn't he refer to the gods as they were? They'd all seen proof of an afterlife. They had even met some of the gods. Trunks kind of viewed Otherworld as an extension. It seemed to him that all the beings there were just as self absorbed and disconnected as the rest of the universe. They all had their own homes and jobs and lives. The gods everyone worshiped were nothing more than mortal beings with great abilities. And some of them not even so great. Most of which abilities Trunks and a lot of others had come to master as well. Take Piccolo for example. He had the same abilities as Dende, yet Dende was considered Earth's guardian because of his purer heart. Despite Piccolo now being one with Kami, who had previously reigned. And Dende was just some orphan Namekian brought to their planet as a replacement god. Silly. And what of all the Kias omnipotence? Every single one of them had a life span and were technically able to die. Just like Goku and everyone else. In fact, Goku had at one point become a so called god. Super Saiyan God. And had fought with the 'god' of destruction. Trunks kind of detested any form of belief system or hierarchy. Everything just was what it was. He supposed he was more of a believer in a super consciousness. One big ego. And also quite a big fan of anarchy. Though he kept that part to himself.

Naviv stared at the table top, deep in thought. While he did that, Trunks looked around the room. Their waitress was watching curiously from the hostess stand up front. He pondered waving her over. He was parched. But before he could, Naviv tapped the wood and got Trunks's attention.

"If this is true," Naviv began, "why is this planet unaffected? Time should not matter in such an affair."

Making sense of his words, Trunks cleared his throat and spent the next hour explaining advanced science that Naviv probably only half understood. Nevertheless, he did succeed in convincing the Tuffle that he was at least not lying about everything.

"Where is your machine then?" Naviv eventually asked.

Trunks looked around, anxious of showing anyone his capsules. But he needed this guy to trust him. He needed Naviv's help. So Trunks pulled the metal case of capsules from his pocket and watched Naviv's eyes glint. "In here," Trunks said, "packed away in one of these capsules."

"Prove it," Naviv said, eyeing the capsules with scorn.

Cursing under his breath, Trunks tucked the pouch back away and did what he had to. Maybe a bit forceful and without warning, but it would end this argument. He reached across the table, quickly grabbed hold of Naviv's arm, tapped his own forehead and transported them back into the desert. He did this with such speed that Naviv had no time to react unfavorably. That was, not until the transmission ended.

Dazed and confused, Naviv stumbled away from Trunks, screaming in both anger and fear. He pointed, shouting 'devil.' Meanwhile, Trunks calmly took out the capsule and released his time machine. Only then did Naviv quiet down.

"That's it," Trunks announced, waving at the yellow and black time machine. "I'd let you test it, but I kind of need what's left of its fuel."

Looking back at him, Naviv gave Trunks a poker face. It was impossible to tell what the Tuffle was thinking.

"Do you believe me now?" Trunks asked. "I don't know how else to 'prove' anything."

Slowly, a grin crept to Naviv's face. "Impressive," he said.

Grunting, Trunks wasted no time recapsuling his machine. He then sat on a rock and stared, tired, up at Naviv. "So will you help me now?" he asked, exasperated. He was starving and sleepy. Two crescent moons had risen and the sky was dark and cloudy. There were no stars and the moon cast a green glow on Naviv's figure as he looked down at Trunks.

"I will," Naviv said. "If I am able."


"Tessék?" IS "What?"

"Uram, elveszett" IS "Are you lost, sir?"

"Nyugodj meg, vagy hívom a rendőrséget" IS "Calm down, or I'm calling the police."