Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

“Les héros imaginaires de Daniel de Foé ou de Wyss, aussi bien que les Selkirk et les Raynal, naufragés à Juan-Fernandez ou à l’archipel des Auckland, ne furent jamais dans un dénuement aussi absolu. Ou ils tiraient des ressources abondantes de leur navire échoué, soit en graines, en bestiaux, en outils, en munitions, ou bien quelque épave arrivait à la côte qui leur permettait de subvenir aux premiers besoins de la vie. Ils ne se trouvaient pas tout d’abord absolument désarmés en face de la nature. Mais ici, pas un instrument quelconque, pas un ustensile. De rien, il leur faudrait arriver à tout !”

“The imaginary heroes of Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal shipwrecked on Juan Fernandez and on the archipelago of the Aucklands, were never in such absolute destitution. Either they had abundant resources from their stranded vessels, in grain, cattle, tools, ammunition, or else some things were thrown up on the coast which supplied them with all the first necessities of life. But here, not any instrument whatever, not a utensil. From nothing they must supply themselves with everything.”

-Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island (1874)



If one were to observe the colonists the last period of hours they would notice the five striding under a now clear sky. Disheveled they were extremely grateful to see the elements had cleared they now trekked back towards the Grotto. Glad for their number had increased from four to five. With Gohan in the middle of the group, they marched with Trunks and Yamcha towards the front, followed by 17, then brought up in the rear by Satan.

This was a sharp contrast to their plight of earlier. Pummeled mercilessly by rain for two days they had remained in the cave where they found their engineer. At that time, the entire atmosphere seemed to conspire against them, saturating every square inch with wetness. Although the rain remained outside the dampness left them shivering and huddling together for warmth. According to Gohan’s advice they had stayed put and had prevented compromising their health. Following this principle had cost the colonists ample chances to find more provisions, considering the state of the weather.

For food they had only ate what was easily obtainable. When they had exhausted their supply of food, they brought the resorted to cave mosses and some species of mushroom within reach that Trunks deemed edible. The flesh of the mushrooms was pale and bland with just an aftertaste of that flavor most botanists could ascribe to members of the fungi family.

The colonists had given the engineer a larger share of what they found in proportion to their own of their fare in order to aid in his recovery. Phosphorescent moss on the walls steadily lit them with blue dim light, much like that of the pod long ago. It gave them a familiar sense of comfort in the memory because they had overcome that ordeal. This was far less of a problem then marking time in a search for the place they now called home, even with the uncertain weather. Air was charged with mist and tasted like stone for most of the time. Only grim grayness seemed to penetrate the angry clouds and battering wind that howled against the opening. To talk over the wind at times they would have to shout to be heard.

Again, the colonists entered a sort of semi hibernation as they waited out the storm. Until the grey at last went away and sun penetrated through the thinning clouds and its first rays actually reached the cave. They emerged blinking at it and delighted how it warmed their faces. That had been earlier this day when they began their trek back. All the way Gohan glanced at the features that were once hidden in darkness visible in the full light of day.

Narrowing brown eyes Gohan shaded them with one hand. He peered up at the branches of the trees they now walked under. Not necessarily for the purpose of knowing what they were but for minute breaks or scattered pieces of wood that would indicate disruption from the passage of a craft roaring down to a possible crash. He scanned for bits of metallic debris or plastic that could have happened to rain down if there was a crash.

Beside him, Trunks also examined the species under daylight for a different purpose than Gohan, appreciative of their reveal and aspects for confirmation of identification. Yamcha glanced back to see Gohan’s intent perusal of the landscape, suspecting at first he was surveying their route.

As time moved on he had the feeling that the engineer was surveying things with a far more critical eye. He would come to know that probing look on Gohan’s face that hinted that something else was there. However, he said nothing because he knew Gohan would reveal to them what the reason was in time.

Gohan then murmured quietly, “No pieces of debris, gentlemen. My question of crash or explosion still remains unanswered for the time being.”

17’s blue eyes gleamed in understanding as he patted the place where he had normally kept notebook and pencil. He said, “Doubtless if we saw any material the position should be noted duly…”
“Only proves that the trajectory may not be this way till we go further,” Yamcha nodded to Gohan’s slight incline of the head.

“There’s dozens of possible ways it could have gone,” commented 17.

“Something for Gohan to cogitate on. I for one am curious to know how our cave weathered the storm,” Satan said.

“That’s very true, and I don’t like thinking about what we might find when we get back…” Yamcha muttered.

“We won’t know till we get there, so it’s pointless to speculate,” said 17.

“Regardless of what we find, it’s good to be in open air again. It smells wonderful!” Satan pronounced.

“Just with a hint of ozone,” said Gohan.

“Which is natural for after a storm,” said Trunks. “But I also smell the trees overhead. They have a spicy resinous scent.”

“Spicy?” asked Gohan. “Elaborate.”

“The rain must have caused their flowers to open wider,” Trunks indicated. Gohan nodded. As he peered up into the tree, he saw a few branches broken and wood chips scattered on the ground when he looked back down.

“What would cause that?” asked Yamcha as he moved to see what the other two were so intrigued by. Reaching down Gohan picked up a branch and stared at it carefully. Sticks crackled a bit under their feet, some drying, some still wet and green.

“Termites possibly,” Gohan muttered after taking a closer look back up at the tree.

“Exactly,” Trunks confirmed. “This chewing pattern is characteristic…”

He reached down and another branch with hollowed out centers that had fallen from the storm. Gohan knocked on the tree and it gave a hollow sound. 17 and Yamcha moved as well, looking at the other trees around it.

“Once we reach the grove we’ll rest,” Gohan said.

Nodding Satan’s blue eyes gleamed. “Got that right. We’ll rest, and feast…”

“When we get back we’ll continue our search for the ship,” 17 commented.

“Once we know where it is you mean,” said Yamcha.

“Just a matter of time before we track it down, right Gohan?” said Satan. “I’m not so worried because I know it’s a case of when, not if.”

“We’ve still got to find any significant signs that indicate where it crashed, and so far…” Trunks trailed off.

“Very true. Could very well be a lethal place riddled with radiation… depending on how it crashed…” Yamcha muttered, shivering.

“No protective suits would make that rather tough to handle,” Satan said, rubbing his bearded chin.

“Indeed,” Gohan said thoughtfully, rubbing his own chin. “But that is still IF it crashed. This discussion is academic because we lack sufficient shelter, food, and means of defense. One can’t search properly without the right needs being met.”

“But still…” 17 said.

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” said Trunks.

“Correct,” Gohan nodded, smiling at Trunks.

“Uh?” said 17. “Come again?”

“Yeah, my brain’s rusty on that,” said Yamcha. “Just WHAT it states…”

“The basic needs have to be met first,” Trunks continued.

“In the army we have a different name for it but that name rings a bell,” Satan nodded.

IN the ensuing silence a distinctive croaking growl was heard. The culprit slowly glanced up with blue eyes. 17 gave a slight chuckle accompanying the upswept corners of his lips. Trunks smirked and commented, “And one of those basic needs is naturally food.”

Satan patted 17 on the shoulder as they all exchanged humored grins. Gohan chuckled and asked, “How far is it the grove?”

“Approximately 5 to 10 minutes walk from here,” Trunks confirmed.

*****

The traveling party of colonists increased their pace, and an amount of time later the group noticed that the trees had a different form of bark. At the prospect of filling their growling stomachs their spirits were boosted. Just the mere idea of obtaining food made it much easier to put one foot in front of the other with greater vigor. In a series of steps further they had reached the grove they had noticed on the way in, and took the time to examine the strange fruit they had seen in shadows before. 17 heard branches crackling along with a tinny burbling chirp, and glanced up to see birds flittering among branches. Their feathers seemed metallic almost copper green and turquoise with more than the usual iridescence. Excitedly Trunks moved forwards and slid along a tree trunk to get a better look up into the canopy.

“Ferrous iridescence,” Trunks said.

“The birds?” asked Yamcha. Trunks nodded to his guardian.

“We should look for their nests further along. They don’t tend to nest in this species of conifer, but in deciduous trees,” said Trunks. He moved towards the front of the group near Yamcha, so Gohan now was second to the back with Satan. 17 moved in the middle, his blue eyes flickering back and forth, as he memorized every detail of what was around him, just as the others were doing.

“There’s the grove of fruit trees,” Yamcha said, pointing as his sharp eyesight spotted small spheres littering the ground. Each colonist hastened towards them, smelling a sweet tinge to the air that increased as they neared.

Gohan bent down to pick up one of the striped fruits. Satan and 17 did as well, turning the bruised produce over. “It’s gone rotten unfortunately,” Gohan said.

“I’ll climb up and get more,” Trunks said.

“I think I will as well,” 17 said, moving towards the tree near the first.

“I think that would be wise,” Gohan agreed. “You two are the lightest among us.”

“The issue is how to get the fruit down so it won’t spoil,” Satan said, shading his eyes with one hand.

“Hold out your jacket Satan, and let the fruit drop into it. You too, 17,” Gohan suggested. Satan removed his jacket.

“Sure,” 17 replied, approaching another tree nearby. He stripped off his jacket and handed it to Gohan.

“Let’s give you a leg up,” Satan said as he moved over and bent over, making a stirrup with his hands. Yamcha helped as well, steadying Trunks so he could use Satan’s hand. Trunks reached up with nimble fingers and grabbed the nearest branch. Almost like a monkey he shimmied up hand over hand. Then the aide-de-camp and the pilot assisted 17 in scrambling up his tree.

Trunks began to harvest the fruits, letting them fall into the cloth of Satan’s opened jacket held underneath. 17’s fruits dropped into his coat, held out by Yamcha. Soon they had a good number in each of the two coats, preserved from bruising. Then 17 and Trunks slid down the trees to join the others in sitting quietly in the grove. Each man enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit’s flesh wetting their tongues and nourishing their bodies that had eaten more meager fare.

“This is the food of the gods,” 17 commented.

“You’re just so hungry anything would taste good,” Yamcha answered.

“I say that hunger’s the best seasoning for any food, but conventional spices never hurt either,” Satan chimed in.

“This should provide us with enough calories and vitamins for the time being,” Gohan added. “Though we need to continue to gather what we can. So we have to replenish our strength for the hard work that awaits us in colonizing the valley.”

“There are bird eggs,” Trunks said, glancing around for any sign of the feathered friends he had seen earlier. “They usually contain essential proteins, vitamins as well as nutrients vital to muscle strength and many vital functions.”

“Never mind the eggs, how about one of those birds roasted on a spit. That’s protein for you,” Yamcha chuckled.

“So you’d rather not eat termites then?” 17 teased.

“They ARE rather tasty,” Trunks said. “Though it takes a good deal to add up to a large amount of nourishment.”

“There’s stuff to eat like the mushrooms in the cave, and then there’s real food,” Yamcha clarified. Mouth full of succulent fruit he added in a muffled tone, “This is FOOD.”

“And you’re this planet’s first gourmand?” Satan chuckled. “I’d say this would go great on a piece of toast… when we have bread of course.”

To his aide de camp’s comment, Gohan grinned as he squeezed Satan’s shoulder. With a note of enthusiasm and joy in his voice he replied, “Sooner or later we’ll manage a flour substitute so you can make toast and even brioche.”
The engineer’s dark brown eyes sparkled with the same enthusiasm his aide de camp shared. Turning to Trunks he then asked, “However for now, is there anything else to add to the food category?”

Trunks pointed to a clump of trees further over from the fruit trees they sheltered under against the warm sun. “I was noticing that there are other trees nearby that appear to be a species of almondine. The nuts have a good amount of protein content…”

“Easy or hard to open?” asked 17.

“We won’t know till we actually harvest them,” said Trunks.

“We might as well since we don’t know if the food at the grotto might be rotten,” Satan suggested.

As they had assisted Trunks before to harvest fruits, the colonists similarly aided him in climbing up one of the trees containing a nest.17 too shimmied up halfway so Trunks could pass down a nest containing the eggs. Nestled together were four ovoid shapes possessing an iridescent green shell with darker green blotches. They were at least three inches in length and two inches in breadth.

“With that color of shell,” murmured 17, taking in the opalescent sheen. “I wonder what the insides will contain.”

Satan set his eyes upon them commenting, “That has the makings of a good sized omelet.”

“We don’t have a pan to cook one though,” Yamcha lamented. The nest served as a container to carry them since they had only their pockets and garments available. Once several other nests had been harvested, the attention was turned to the obtaining of more fruits for the trip back.

*****

Conversation petered out for a time while they continued to take in the surroundings. That sweet smell hung in the air, such a vast contrast from the dank stone stench of the grotto. In fact, the air seemed heavier with something that tickled their throats, along with an ozone smell. The atmosphere seemed charged with a freshness that resulted from two straight days of cleansing rain.

“The stone smell’s truly gone,” Trunks noticed.

“I won’t be sorry for that,” Satan said with a shake of his head. He seemed to want to dismiss it from his mind entirely.

“We’ll soon smell stone when we get back to our cave,” 17 said.

Satan then said, “Since we’re on the subject we’ve still got that river to cross.”

“Mmm,” Gohan agreed. “And we need a means to do so safely.”

“Wading like we did before would be trickier… since the increased rain and flooding,” Satan pointed out, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like fighting that current anymore than you do,” agreed 17, shrugging.

“Tree branches slung together to make a raft maybe?” Yamcha suggested, mulling over ideas in his mind.

Gohan glanced around, nodding. He said, “There are plenty because of the storm blowing them down.”

Already Trunks and Satan glanced towards where Gohan pointed. “Over here, and here,” Trunks said.

“Let’s build a raft, shall we?” said Yamcha rubbing his hands together.

“Unfortunately that’s Robinson Crusoe’s mistake,” Gohan said shaking his head. “He first built his boat in the middle of the forest and was unable to move it later…”

“That… could be a problem,” said Yamcha a bit sheepishly.

“Not to worry,” said Satan patting him on the back. “Each of us can add to the other’s collective knowledge.”

“Then build it closer to the river,” 17 acknowledged with a bob of his head. Gohan confirmed this with a nod. All five colonists then proceeded to a place closer to the riverbank so it was well within eyesight as well as earshot.

Yamcha had suggested dragging any raft they created, but Satan had mentioned such a thing would be just as difficult. None of them wanted to risk snagging a craft they built on a root or feature in their path that would undo a good few hour’s work. As it stood, they still had a ways to hike to reach the river in question. In the distance, the sounds of crackling wood along with the fluctuating whistle tone were soon joined by that of the river’s rush. It grew ever louder until it eclipsed the other ambient noises and they had to raise their voices again to be heard over its cacophony.

A smell of mist and tiny droplets hit their noses once they reached the bank. Gohan and Yamcha raised their hands over to shield their eyes to see if this was the best point at which to cross. Up and down Yamcha saw the movement pattern of the water, reporting to the others if he could see any protruding rocks further down. Gohan analyzed the pattern of the whitecaps crashing over smooth and rough stones while Trunks eyed fish sliding under the varying fluid surface on their way along the current.

“Time to gather supplies for building our conveyance across the river,” Gohan stated with a definitive tone.

17, Satan, Trunks, and Yamcha each rose from where they sat and fanned out from their location in search of downed trees. Trunks noticed they were of varying species while Satan judged they had with diameters ranging from two inches across to six inches across.

Satan had his own classification. He chuckled, “this size is good for kindling, this here for burning, and this for building.”

Trunks spotted the characteristic creeping vines of the species Rhinitis parisita and was quick to point them out to the others.

Yamcha nodded and muttered to himself what Trunks had just said. “Moderate tensile strength and varying length, shouldn’t snap apart.”

As Trunks collected vines, Satan and Yamcha began hefting the first of the downed trees. 17 and the Engineer carried a log between them. He and Gohan let their wood clatter into the communal pile the others were adding to. Trunks wound out the lengths of vine he harvested and set it down near where Gohan genuflected on one knee, examining each piece of wood.

“Guess it won’t have to be pretty as long as it keeps us afloat,” joked Satan. He imagined Gohan already piecing together the trees in his mind into the most strategic and sound configuration an engineer of his caliber could envisage.

“I’m not sure I’m crazy about the stability of this,” 17 commented. “Though it’s better than fighting that current.”

“It only needs to hold together long enough for us to get across,” Yamcha reminded him.

“Something large enough to steady ourselves while wading, or something we can actually float on?” Trunks asked.

“Far better to keep above the water and save our energies,” 17 suggested.

“Correct,” said Gohan. “Let me see the vines and how we can best secure the limbs.”

17 knelt next to Trunks straightening out the lengths of vine for Gohan to look at while Yamcha and Satan positioned the downed trees. They had several short ones and a few long ones. They worked under Gohan’s directive, placing the logs side by side while Satan twisted lengths of vine to lash them together.

“Shouldn’t be too heavy to port there,” murmured Yamcha.

“All of us will be carrying it that can. You sound as if you’re going to carry me with it,” Satan joked. Yamcha grinned.

“Then you owe us one of your best cooked meals as a porter fee,” 17 wittily quipped.

“Fair price indeed,” Gohan further teased. Trunks and Satan chuckled at this, adding another strand of vine to further reinforce what logs they had lashed together. Yamcha and 17 had found two long limbs sufficient to guide the raft gondola style from the back and front, breaking off excess side branches to smooth them out. Once Gohan checked the raft again and nodded that it was complete, he directed Satan and Yamcha to take one end while Trunks, he and 17 took the other end. Guiding poles were set on top and the conveyance was ported among the five colonists to the riverbank.

With Satan and Yamcha steadying the raft, Gohan directed 17 and Trunks to help him guide it onto the bank. He then instructed Trunks to carefully climb on it with a helping hand from 17 and kneel in the exact center. At this point the provisions of eggs and fruits they had gathered into bundles made from broad leaves were loaded onto the raft. Once this was done, Trunks held the ends of the long poles while 17 settled kneeling behind him. Gohan instructed Yamcha to sit on it next, calling for 17 to lift one pole and push its end down to the bottom of the river. Only Satan and he were left to hold the corner as Yamcha grabbed the other pole and balanced the weight in front. Satan climbed on next in the left rear quadrant, waiting for the others to shift so Trunks moved closer to 17 in the middle, and Yamcha took a station on the front right quadrant to balance.

“Cast off?” Satan asked, waiting for Gohan to shimmy onto the raft. Now balanced with their various weights the craft shifted, drops of water soaking and splashing up.

“Easy now. Yamcha, Satan, guide us slowly,” Gohan instructed. “Trunks, 17, push off with the shorter branches if we turn about in the current…”

“Right,” both said as the raft shifted to the right slightly. A quick push from a shorter branch from Gohan’s side righted them, and they gingerly poled their way across. They drifted diagonally down the river at least ten feet, the strain of holding the raft steady evident on Satan and Yamcha’s faces from the front and rear of the craft. Knees were partly soaked from water dribbling between the gaps in some of the branches but each of them focused on watching straight ahead.

The raft twisted yet again, but 17’s nudge against a large submerged log kept them righted as Trunks added his strength to Yamcha’s pole to keep it steady. Gohan added his might to Satan’s pushing from the rear, their hands almost meshed on the long pole. Little by little, they edged across the river, their ears filled with the roaring noise. Trunks spotted two brown fish with silver spots pass under their raft without even looking up, to emerge on the other side near Gohan’s knee.

When Yamcha’s end of the raft finally touched the shore, 17 and Trunks grabbed his pole so he could reach out with a shorter branch and stab into the muddy banks. Shifting their weight, Gohan and Satan shoved their pole thrusting the raft forwards onto the dark earth and rocks. Yamcha leapt off, motioning for 17 and Trunks to clamber off while Satan and Gohan shifted along the raft and swung it around from perpendicular to parallel with the bank. Hearts still pounded in everyone’s throats by the time Yamcha scrabbled far enough up to wrap one arm around the trunk of a small tree and reach down for 17’s extended hand. As their fingers touched Yamcha’s hand gripped the reporter’s tightly, their eyes meeting in relief. He pressed the toes of his boots into the earth and grabbed the tree himself, both extending their hands to Trunks to scramble up after them.

Satan and Gohan managed to get clear of the raft, leaving it behind once they used it as footing on the muddy shore. Yamcha anchored by 17 and Trunks holding his left arm reached for the pole end that Satan held out towards him. Together the three pulled Satan along it so he could grab another tree trunk with his arm. Last was Gohan who gripped the end of the pole Yamcha and Satan held. Trunks brushed the sweat darkened lavender locks from his face to look towards Gohan, leaning next to Satan by the tree he held to for support.

“Made it,” 17 chuckled in relief.

“All in one piece, which is more than I can say for the raft,” Yamcha quipped.

“She was a good piece of work and did her job well, for such a short lived craft,” Satan observed. Trunks made a noise of assent.

Gohan watched as it slid down the bank and drifted partway down the river. His blue uniform tunic rose and fell as he caught his breath and smiled at his friends, saying, “Well done everyone. The raft is yet another example of what we can achieve together with the works of our hands.”

“Amen to that,” Trunks piped in.

“Indeed,” said Satan.

“Best to secure it with a vine in case we need it later,” Gohan then instructed.

“Good thought,” murmured Yamcha, immediately seeing the convenience in lashing it to a nearby tree for another trip across in the future. Both he and Trunks then set out to gather lengths of vine so Satan could help Gohan secure the raft so it would not break free and drift downriver.

*****

Once all five would-be-colonists had cleared the river, they followed the trail of a few days before through the thickening tree cover. Holes through the canopy of leaves they recalled before let in shafts of sunlight almost spotlighting their path. At the front of the group walked Gohan, next to Trunks. Yamcha and Satan walked behind, flanked from the rear by 17. Every once in a while Gohan almost came to a stop examining the trees overhead or bending to pick up a small dislodged branch.

“Looking at the damage from the storm I bet,” murmured Yamcha to Satan.

“Looking for landmarks more like and memorizing them for himself,” Satan whispered back.

“You smell the different saps too, Gohan?” Trunks commented at the latest stop Gohan made by one of the twisted trunk trees with gnarled bark. “This species has a more acrid odor.”

“Indeed,” Gohan agreed, examining the broken bits of branches as he reached up to grab one barely dangling from its fresh split.

17 remained silent while the group paused; his own mind occupied with the reasons for Gohan has continued examination of the trees. He agreed it could be a combination of Satan and Yamcha’s theories with an added twist. “Most likely thinking like an engineer, taking in all our resources,” he whispered to Satan and Yamcha.

“As well as we all are at this moment,” Satan agreed. He did not question much what Gohan’s motives were from any suspicion, rather from curiosity borne of admiration for his Captain. 17 noticed the sense of awe gleaming Trunks eyes mirrored that in those of the aid de camp’s eyes. Yamcha’s dark brown gaze held a similar gleam, guarded as it was with mild skepticism. He was the sort who trusted it was for a greater cause, but was waiting for the evidence of his own eyes.

They each depended on one another, but each laid the extra burden of hope upon their leader Gohan. As they had noticed throughout the last few days, the sunlight even seemed brighter with the engineer among them like a torch held before a spelunking group in an uncharted cavern.

*****

Further, on they wended their way on the reverse course of the trail that had led them to the grotto. Periodically Gohan continued to examine the trees and fallen branches for the untold part of the story they had not witnessed being confined to the cave. Although Trunks, 17 and Yamcha suspected continually there was a greater motive they still whispered it among themselves if they bothered to voice it aloud.

“It will be good to get back and see…” Yamcha trailed off as the entrance to the cave came into sight. Words stopped in his throat seeing bits of branches and other debris scattered before the front. He immediately rushed forward from the group, his heart sinking.

“Yamcha, a moment please, we want to make sure it’s safe, together first,” said Gohan, moving up to gently take hold of his shoulder. Yamcha stopped short knowing he was right, his heart pounding in anticipation just like everyone’s was.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Satan said as he laid a hand on Yamcha’s arm along with Gohan. 17 uttered only a noise of affirmation, right on his heels with Satan, then Trunks and Gohan behind them. With Gohan next to him, Yamcha rounded the bend to the entrance.

A loud cry of disappointment echoed in the cavern at the moment they stood just outside the cave mouth. Four sets of eyes beheld the scene before four hearts sank. Heavy silence descended, only broken by Gohan suggesting, “Let’s see what we can salvage.”

“Not a hell of a lot by the looks of it,” Yamcha muttered gloomily.

Yamcha’s eyes wandered a few paces into the space, walls spattered and plastered with splotches of mud. Walking in after him Satan bent down and picked up scattered broken bits of firewood that had been strewn about like a box of matches that he sometimes dropped at the office. Fine cracks at intervals and the wall and ceiling were the result of various sized rocks tossed about in the tempest. 17 paced slowly around various rocks piled in the muddy damp floor. Trunks helped him pick up various string bags that were pressed into the mud in the floor or draped over a flat boulder.

“Damn,” muttered 17, brushing a lock of straight black hair out of his face tucking it behind one ear.

“We can still use them,” Trunks said, running his fingers along the fibers. The bags were still intact.

“Firewood here, here and here,” murmured Satan, staring at pieces of it that he piled in front of the cavern to dry in the sunlight where Gohan directed.

Presenting the engineer with the meager stock of possessions, they gathered just inside the mouth of the cave. Gohan looked at each disappointment-shadowed face with a sympathetic nod. “Here are our priorities. First is a secure place for shelter. Also suitable wood for a fire must be collected as this is damp and won’t be dry.”

Yamcha swallowed back his urge to ask just how they were going to start a fire. Although it was on the tip of his tongue Satan’s reassuring gaze at Gohan held his tongue, along with the hand gently squeezing Yamcha’s shoulder in reassurance. He glanced up from the damp piles and focused fully on the engineer ticking off on his fingers.

“We require more nourishing food as well as tools to help obtain it,” he finished. Each of the colonists nodded, glad to have an outlet for their frustration at the elements hand that had scattered their previous work. 17 felt as if they were back to square one, and was sure the other three had similar thoughts on the matter. Oddly Gohan seemed very confident as if unaffected by their setbacks.

*****

Gohan then said, “Satan, you will gather firewood and continue to supervise what useable wood has dried. When you have done that, you will assist me with shoring up the walls and making this place more habitable. I will assess what resources we have to make food. ”

The aid de camp nodded, blue eyes shining with purpose. Next to him, Gohan then looked to the other three. Looking toward Trunks, 17 and Yamcha he said, “Your team will take the string bags and gather what foodstuffs you can find and bring back from the immediate area.”

“Should we bother to find anything that can be cooked on a fire we’ll bring it back?” Yamcha said halfheartedly.

“Always good to hope for the best,” Satan said.

“Then we’ll bring you a fair assortment to challenge your culinary preparation skills,” 17 chimed in, causing Yamcha and the others to smile a bit. Satan’s beaming smile was contagious and lifted the mood considerably along with Gohan’s assigned tasks. Carving definite pieces out of uncertainty helped deal with the morass of frustration stewing inside each of them.

Satan wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand, the other resting on a branch that served as a handle. Two feet lower down the branch multiple small twigs were lashed to the end of it, gathered into a bundle. After he had caught his breath, Satan dragged the item over the cave floor to serve as a crude broom.

Yamcha and 17 meanwhile selected a few pieces of wood of the right size and shape to serve as clubs. These they thrust into their belts or tied there with a length of vine to secure them. The occasional thump of a rock dropping to the ground caught Yamcha’s ear. He glanced up from carrying a string bag he had fetched from inside to see Gohan picking up pieces of rocks. Thoughtfully the engineer turned one over in between thumb and finger, then held it up to see better in the light of the sun. Then he genuflected down casting a shadow across the small piles of similar grouped stones to his immediate left.

Trunks had stopped to kneel next to Gohan, peering for a moment at the rock that Gohan was perusing. His own eyes looked over Gohan’s shoulder as if trying to see what the engineer was possibly noticing. A dry scraping of twigs across the cave floor filled the silence between the thumps of rock made by Gohan’s sorting.

Yamcha wondered why he was looking at rocks so diligently. He shrugged, straightening up to a standing position. Various joints cracked a bit from thrusting his hips forward to work the kinks out of his back. 17 moved into view on his right, holding a string bag of his own.

“You all right?” he asked softly.

“Oh, sorry… was just wondering something,” Yamcha commented, as he watched Satan walking back to the outside of the cave where the last pile of branches left there to dry were sitting. Crouching in a squat, Satan gathered them into a bundle over his other arm.

“Wondering what?” 17 asked Yamcha.

Returning to the cave mouth Satan noticed them staring at Gohan’s examination of the various rocks. “Am I missing something?” he teased.

“Well, nothing much. Just wondering why Gohan’s looking at rocks,” Yamcha said, watching Satan merely smile in response. He returned to the cave mouth and added to the woodpile. Puzzled at Satan’s response to this Yamcha nudged 17.

The reporter shrugged, whispering, “If Satan seems pleased then I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

For a brief minute, the duo turned again at another few thumps. Now Gohan turned over a grey stone riddled with tiny holes he then tossed to the left. He murmured, “Pumice.”

“Porous volcanic stone that floats on water,” Trunks murmured. Reaching over Gohan took hold of another rock.

“Agate,” Gohan said to Trunks who still knelt next to him.

“And that’s feldspar isn’t it?” Trunks said, indicating another small pile.

“Geology lesson perhaps,” 17 said with a smile.

Accepting this explanation for now, Yamcha then said, “You ready Trunks?”

“Yes Yamcha,” he said, grabbing the string bag he had set down. Yamcha moved over and reached down to help haul his charge to his feet and dust off his shirt. 17 picked up his string bag as well, and then nodded towards the other two. Waving to Gohan and Satan the trio set off on their gathering expedition, hoping to find a reasonable larder instead of depleting the immediate area.

*****

At the bottom of a tree, Yamcha and 17 made a stirrup of their hands. Trunks stepped into it, balancing on Yamcha’s shoulder then levering himself up with 17’s help. Once Yamcha straightened up Trunks caught hold of the lowest overhanging branch. His feet swung only for a second until he pulled up and hooked one knee over the branch.

“You okay?” Yamcha asked.

“Fine…” Trunks called down, a few sticks and leaves showering down on 17 and Yamcha. They could peer up and see his shape shifting against the meshwork of branches that blocked their view of him.

17 bent down and picked up a few scattered feathers that fluttered down, noting their reddish brown hue. Yamcha bent his head back keeping one hand partly shading his eyes to monitor Trunks progress. He squinted at the pinpoints of light sifting through the branches trying to discern Trunks shape reaching over to a crook in the branches.

17 held onto a string bag containing a few eggs wrapped in leaves to keep them from breaking. He precariously held them out from him while glancing around for other trees with the birds. Trunks soon called down then swung by one hand. His feet dropped into place. 17 and Yamcha reached up so he could step on their shoulders and steady himself. One hand bore another nest handed to 17, the other still clinging to the branch. It was up to 17 to set the nest to the side and help Yamcha bring Trunks the rest of the way down to the ground again.

Inside the nest, they all peered at four greenish spheres clustered. 17 remarked, “Just like the other tree before us… quiet a unique shade.”

“Calcina Ferrous,” said Trunks. “The reddish brown feathers you have there are iron rich, and the shells have a green color from the iron content in them.”

17 opened the string bag of eggs they already gathered. Yamcha wrapped leaves around them and added the feathers scattered as packing material to collect the eggs. A light blue metallic shell graced some of the other eggs, harvested from birds of the variety Calcina cuprous. Cousin species to one another, they were of similar size and diameter.

*****

Further, along the trail Trunks spotted a two-legged bird skittering into the brush. 17 caught a hold of Yamcha and 17’s arms, whispering, “Look there…”

“Ah, let’s follow…” Trunks whispered. “That’s a terrestrial…”

“You mean as in flightless,” Yamcha muttered.

“Well they fly in short sporadic bursts…” Trunks explained.

Yamcha asked, “If that’s the case, where do they normally roost, or gather?”

“By the edge of a marshy area, like storks or geese,” murmured Trunks. Creeping carefully the three scavengers made their way as silently as they could after their unexpected sighting. Sure enough, they arrived in a marshy area flanked by shrubs and mandrake like trees. Creeping vines sidled up some of the trunks while others hung down like some strange garland.

“Huh,” Yamcha said as he looked towards a length of vine. “Gives me an idea. 17 help me get some more vines… Trunks you let us know if you see the birds or not.”

“Right,” Trunks said.

17 reached up carefully to do just that, while Yamcha did the same, figuring Yamcha wanted to string the birds up if they happened to be lucky enough to catch one. However, he did point out, “We don’t have proper weapons to shoot yet, so we’ll just have to be patient enough to club them on the head, and approach them stealthily.”

“Yeah I know, but I was thinking we could make a net to catch them first, and then club them on the head,” Yamcha said.

17’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded. He murmured, “That’s a bit unusual but sounds worth a try.”

Reaching into his pocket Yamcha brought out a small sharp bit of metal, battered along one edge to make a cutting surface. Small raised letters indicated it had served as one of two dog tags Satan had used. Out of his own pocket, 17 retrieved a second one, fashioned from a dog tag bearing Gohan’s name, rank, and serial number. Requiring a set of knives for basic tasks, the engineer had requested Satan to remove the twin metal tags from around his neck. Removing his own as well the engineer had used one of the rocks he collected to batter the edge into a sharpened bit. One of them he left with Satan while he had given two for the hunting party.

Both men harvested enough vines to twist together, commencing their project by the time Trunks tiptoed back. “I’ve found their nests on the ground. You’re making a net?”

“It’s going to take a bit more time than I thought,” Yamcha murmured.

17 however cast him a reassuring glance, saying, “Not to worry.”

Trunks murmured, settling down to help them, “I’ll keep an eye out for them returning.”

Creepers and vines were twisted at right angles to one another. Working steadily between them 17 and Yamcha soon had a large enough and loose enough net to toss over a six-foot square area. All the while Trunks watched for the return of their quarry, hoping they would be fortunate enough to catch them off guard. Sure enough once they were done, he held a finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow him.

Several of the bluish iridescent birds clustered about, their scaly feet spindly like stilts as they milled about. The bright eyes were red, beaks showing tiny sharp teeth while the blunt wings allowed them to flutter just about from one place to another. Net in their hands 17 and Yamcha moved in unison while Trunks watched the position of the birds. Hearts pounded in their throats one second until Yamcha jerked his head at 17. With a hissing swish, the net sailed over some of the birds, others managing to duck out of the way. Feathers batted at the air along with the squeaking yelp. Necks and legs tangled in the wide mesh. In a flurry of yelps, Yamcha and 17 along with Trunks applied their makeshift clubs to knock them senseless.

“Woo hoo! We’re eating tonight!” Yamcha proclaimed, untangling several of the caught specimens.

“Very clever! I’ll have to add this to my list of catching methods for birds,” said 17, assisting Yamcha.

“Definitely resembling the archaeopteryx of prehistoric Earth,” Trunks observed, examining the claw like hands on the corners of the wing. Two fingers protruded while the other two fingers had extended through evolution into the pinions of the blunt wings. Scaly feathers along the neck ended in rough skin. Immediately around the eyes, there were no feathers, and those on the top of the head extended a half inch into a sort of crest.

“What we need are some herbs to prepare these birds with,” Trunks then mentioned, his face reflecting the exuberating of the pilot and the reporter. While Yamcha and 17 twined vines around the feet of their quarry, Trunks bent down and commenced scanning the immediate area for his goal.

“Let’s just hope there’s a fire to roast them when we get back,” murmured 17.

“Seems that if there’s a way then Gohan will have found it. Whether or not he does it by the time we get back is something that I’m wondering,” Yamcha murmured.

“At any rate we’ll know,” 17 remarked, slinging one of the strings of birds over his shoulder. Yamcha grabbed the other, amounting to about six between them.

*****

Carrying their acquisitions, the trio wended their way back towards their shelter. Legs were weary with their trek yet their string bags were full of their harvest. Somehow, the aching muscles would be worth it if their faith bore out in the accomplishments of the other team. 17 and Trunks both held great admiration for Yamcha’s clever decision to use a net to capture the birds they now carried over the reporter and the pilot’s left shoulders.

As for the string bags of eggs, Trunks carried those. In the right hands, the party carried other string bags containing fruits and more of the silex nuts. Improvised clubs were tucked into their belts as they had been on the outward journey, yet were now tested in the field. They spoke little, preferring to save as much energy as they could for hiking and silent reflection of their accomplishments and fortune.
Nervous anticipation mounted the closer the group approached. Narrowing his eyes as he scanned the skies through the trees, Yamcha wondered if he was imagining a grey curl of cloud whishing up from the distance. They had seen mists rising from the trees in the morning sun’s action to evaporate the dew, but this was different. Noticing Yamcha’s puzzled stance and slowing pace, 17 and Trunks appropriately reduced their step rate.

“Not mist, but something else…” Yamcha trailed off.

“Not evapotranspiration?” Trunks asked with a frown, focusing his own eyes as well.

“From the direction of the shelter,” 17 murmured. Yamcha grunted, increasing his pace once more. A renewed burst of energy rose in all three companions, intent on solving this new mystery.

With each passing minute, the wisp took on a grey appearance, curling steadily upwards proving it was not a cloud or a transient phenomenon. Hearts pounding more rapidly they approached ever closer, hearts daring to lift at what they all hoped it would really be. Something that filled one of the basic needs on the rung of human existence, making other advances possible. Had the other party actually achieved that goal, or would it be another false hope?

Yamcha figured they had batted a good average so far, however remained skeptical until he saw firsthand the source of the smoke plume. It could be natural, near the cave or beyond it. So far, none of the five had seen any source of civilization or life at the sentience level of themselves or those capable of producing the art of fire. 17 craned his neck examining the path of the smoke spewing upwards into the sky glowing almost pink in the rays of the late afternoon sun. Trunks own faith had been constant, not questioning the possibility, but just the mere timing of such a probable miracle.

Three pounding hearts pumped blood to three sets of legs trying not to stumble over each other in their haste to return to their temporary home. The diameter of the smoke plume had increased, emanating from the vicinity of their cave, confirming the reality ever more succinctly. As elusive as smoke hope was sometimes, though the presence of a bright spark coming into view soon after their eyes beheld the mouth of their cave and two figures squatting beside it.

One was Satan, emerging from the shelter to crouch opposite the other. Gohan crouched over the licking yellow dancers of light creeping up from wood set pieces of wood upon them. Breathes were held for only a long instant when their eyes registered fully what they were seeing. Both the engineer and the aide de camp were stoking a fire, the source of the plume of smoke that had been a beacon home.

“It was a question of when!” Yamcha exclaimed, wanting to burst into a run, but somehow his legs did not want to violate the sanctity of such a defining moment in their existence as colonists.

“Prometheus gift to humankind now lies before us,” 17 murmured.

“Given by Gohan, as we hoped, they’ve achieved what they had set out to do… and in a time that couldn’t be more appropriate,” Trunks agreed.

“I’ll be damned,” Yamcha laughed aloud, whooping. 17 saw his beaming smile melting out of astonishment, and could not stop the corners of his lips from curling up as well. Trunks stood on Yamcha’s other side taking a long moment to take in the beauty of the sight. He wanted to take a picture of this and frame it forever in his mind. Glancing at 17, he realized that was just what the reporter was doing with his almost perfect memory. Waiting and taking in all the sights of the immediate time to write later in the journal he was keeping. Once the silent reverence and awe wore off all three broke into a near run to cover the last distance between them and their miracle worker.

Gohan spotted them first, rising from his crouch with his own smile. Satan’s blue eyes fell upon them first, and then the bounty the trio carried, his own face filled with wonder that almost equaled that of the hunting party. In separate ways, the two teams had achieved their goals, which were essential for human existence.

*****

Satan quickly divided the labor among the colonists. 17 and Yamcha assisted with plucking the feathers from the birds on the string. In a small pile, the feathers were collected and saved for a future project while Trunks and Satan sliced the fruit. Among them, the four makeshift knives were again put to good use.

“We’ve brought some herbs to season the birds,” Trunks had said.

“I could also season them with some salt that Gohan’s found,” Satan announced. A quick look among the colonists was born of excitement at another accessory to the aid-de camp’s spice cabinet.

While preparations were made to roast, the bounty of the hunting and gathering Gohan removed two rocks that Yamcha recognized from the ones he had gathered earlier in the day. The entrails of the birds were also collected in the shell of a silex nut to be used later in a stew. Every bit of their quarry would be utilized to its fullest extent.

“Gentlemen if I may have your attention briefly, I’ve something to show you,” The engineer announced. Three heads popped up and swiveled towards his voice. As if in a classroom Gohan selected two of the rocks and showed them to the other four colonists as they glanced up from their tasks once he called them to attention. Bending over on one knee Gohan then placed the handful of vegetative material and positioned it into a small pile. Yamcha looked at 17 in question yet again, but merely shrugged rather than question it.

Trunks blue eyes narrowed in curiosity watching him strike one rock against another repeatedly. Small yellow sparks flew between the two surfaces, landing on the vegetation. After he had done this a few times a tiny glow transferred to the gathered small mass of what appeared to be moss. Yamcha stifled the question in his throat seeing Gohan cup both hands together and blow ever so carefully as if coaxing life into the inanimate objects.

“That moss, where did you find it?” Yamcha asked.

“It appears to be the species Hispanica inflammibus,” said Trunks nodding slowly in understanding. “Capable of igniting at the proper temperature after being dried in the sun for two hours.”

“Those two stones… one of them would be possibly silex?” asked 17.

“Correct,” Gohan said as he passed one of them around for them all to see.

“The other being a ferrous mineral I take it?” Trunks asked, to which Gohan merely nodded.

“So… by striking one against the other, you get sparks which is obvious. But it has to be those two materials to create the right conditions for the sparks,” Yamcha asked. Again a nod.

“You couldn’t use any other replacements for those minerals, except maybe flint in place of the non ferrous rock,” said 17.

“The ancient caveman’s fire kit,” Yamcha quipped.

“Indeed,” Gohan finally said with the gleam in his eyes of a teacher pleased their students had caught onto their example.

*****

Five spirits again soared smelling the aroma of roasting meat curling through the cavern. A small hissing sizzle of the juices dripping off the meat joined the crackling pops of the fire dancing merrily in its ring of rocks. Each of them sat on broad flat rocks or a cleared clean area of the cave floor spread with conifer needles to observe and assess what had transpired.

Closest to the fire tending it carefully was Satan, occasionally turning the spit to check the progress of their roasts. It was decided that due to the abundance of meat it would do best to roast it all, which would keep for a small period until the leftovers could be consumed for breakfast. 17 sat on the other side near the fire, holding a long stick he had sharpened the point of. Slowly he hardened its point in the fire fashioning the most basic of spears. He could not do this till now without a fire. A few other sharpened spears had already been made in the same way.

Munching on a piece of tiger fruit, which was what they christened the striped fruit, Satan commented, “I could eat the smell of those birds alone and be a happy man, couldn’t you, my friends?”

“If you bottled it and wafted it under our noses while we ate paste, I’d die a happy man all right and not care,” joked 17.

“I am certain we will remember this night for a great deal of time to come,” Trunks also added.

“I’ll be an extremely happier man when I actually tear off a few chunks of those birds myself,” Yamcha chuckled.

“Which will happen in due course,” Satan said. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

“I’ve waited days, a few hours is little more,” 17 commented.

“Still,” Yamcha murmured looking at the cleanly plucked carcasses slowly rotating as well as 17’s spears. “Just spearing and netting things isn’t the best way to go about this. We were lucky today with what we caught.”

“Luck was only a small component of it. You knew how to catch an opportunity,” said Trunks appreciatively.

“Though he is right,” said 17. “Conditions happened to be just right. We can’t be so lucky that all quarries will be so obliging.”

“Very true, which is why we’ll talk more about how to address that problem,” Gohan said.

“It’s ready,” Satan announced.
Waiting with bated breath the colonists gathered around their cooked abundance. Satan helped to serve out portions for each of them, using broad leaves as rough plates. Each of them lifted a leg or piece of cooked flesh to their lips. Yamcha’s teeth sunk into soft meat that melted off the bone. A blissed-out look came over his face as his taste buds exploded.

17 watched and a second later took a bite of his portion. The full aroma mingled with the satiation of solid food was ambrosia. Next to him Satan already sampled his meat and proclaimed, “This is a feast fit for a king…”

“The food of the gods,” Trunks murmured, biting into a drumstick. Drops of juice dripped down his chin that he licked away eagerly. Gohan himself took slow measured but ecstatic bites of each morsel. To know it was caught by their own hands and prepared with labor and sweat.

“Much better than that dried up space ration I’ll say,” Yamcha murmured blissfully between bites.

“I’d prefer to forget that,” Satan chuckled, reaching for another piece of meat.

“Almost better than sex,” 17 absently said, his eyes meeting Yamcha’s and the two were silent.

“Satan you’ve outdone yourself,” Gohan commented, his eyes half shut as he swallowed each bit of deliciously grilled food.

“I’m glad I climbed those trees,” whispered Trunks, reaching for a slice of the tiger fruit. Sweetness washed away the roasted game, complementing their first feast.

“It’s our own thanksgiving, I’d say,” Satan decided.

“Note the date 17, we’ll celebrate this day hereafter as our own feast day,” Gohan suggested.

“Amen to that,” Yamcha cheered, slapping them all on the back. Smiles abounded among the five as they continued to stuff their bellies with their hard gotten gain. A few hours later they lounged about; experiencing a sensation they hadn’t for months. Fullness almost to bursting of good solid food.

Trunks leaned against his guardian’s shoulder, letting the blood rush to his stomach to digest its contents while Yamcha sat with his back braced against a sturdy rock. 17 sat Indian style, finishing a portion of tiger fruit. Satan rested comfortably while Gohan sighed in pleasure. All savored the moment for they knew it would be motivation for gathering more provisions.

Once they had finished their feast, Yamcha commented to Gohan, “You mentioned something before dinner about taking care of our food needs problem.”

“Which is exactly why we will become more efficient hunter gatherers after we master the art of making stone tools,” Gohan announced.

“Like cavemen?” Yamcha asked, cocking a brow.

“Quite,” Gohan said. Satan merely smiled, nodding having been privy to perhaps some of this or having extreme confidence taking Gohan’s word prima facia for so many years.

“And the materials for the tool making,” Trunks nodded, anticipating what the next subject would be.

“Are at hand. I have made a survey of the minerals available to us. Those that are good for later usage I have noted and those for immediate usage are the obsidian, flint, and chert I have encountered. This is characteristic for its ability to conically fracture when the right percussive force is applied.”

Familiar with the history of hunting weapons, 17 nodded knowingly. He murmured, “As used first in the Clovis points discovered on the north American continent employed by paleo Indians.”

“Correct. The advantages of obsidian and chert are not only their workability but also their cutting properties. Even the flakes we discard can be used as a cutting edge.”

“Most scalpels we use now are ceramic in the emergency kits,” 17 nodded.

“So, knowing all this, how long exactly did it take to make one of these projectile points?” Yamcha asked. “To fracture a material as brittle as obsidian–like glass–you’d presumably use a mallet of some kind. We’ve got wood for that, or another stone?”

“Quite. Let us become flint-knappers, gentlemen,” Gohan said as he motioned to Satan. He brought over a few woven mats and broad flat leaves, as well as a rounded stone, a shaped bit of hard wood, and other pieces of varying sizes.

Gohan then sat down and placed the broad flat leaf over one knee. He grasped a fist-sized piece of striated red and brown chert, standing it up on end. Then grasping the rounded rock, he hit the edge of the top. A loud cracking sound followed by a hollow clink resulted with a curved bit that had fractured from the core.

“The first of many such blows,” Gohan said. “Now we will learn step by step.”

*****

17, Trunks and Yamcha sat on flat boulders, each bent slightly with various pieces of rock positioned on their knees. The scent of stone dust hung in the air palpably mingling with the sweat so it formed a fine grit that clung to their clothes. It was damp in the cave despite the fire they had going, from the efforts of their new construct.

Their first works had been crude and unsteady. Due to Gohan’s prospecting, they had a good supply of raw materials in the form of pieces of flint, chert and obsidian as well as silex. Each started out with a rough shape balanced on the knee. Holding it at the top end a quick blow with a wood hammer to the lateral side caused the first pieces to fracture. Once large pieces were scaled down, then each flint-knapper picked the most likely candidate to apply smaller blows to. Resting the rock flat on the crafter’s hip next, a blow from a rock was applied perpendicularly. Then a long edge flaked off and clinked to the floor. Along this, the knapper could make smaller more blows that are precise from the hammer stone making a notched series of conical fractures. A serrated edge would result.

A definitive crack reached 17’s ears. His slender hands creased with a few solitary cuts from the sharp core of rock he positioned standing up. It had started as a flat piece of obsidian. He swung the solid branch at the thin edge he had flaked off. Small cracks formed into a conical fracture producing a chip that dropped to the cave floor seconds later. It joined small pieces that already scattered about 17’s feet.

The back of Yamcha’s neck was one tight knot formed over the last few hours he hunched over the piece of obsidian he created. A bleached solid bone with a hammer end and a prong end served as his tool. Along the thin edge swirled with black in transparent glass, he pressed small notches. Tiny pieces of dust coated the leg of his pant, covered in a broad flat leaf. A small drop of blood dripped along the axis of the flake.

“Shit, didn’t even feel that cut,” Yamcha mumbled. 17 glimpsed the blood and shook his head. Yamcha set down his tool after 17 did, extending his hand for 17 to examine the clean slice.

“Technology and modern materials couldn’t craft a sharper blade with such a clean cut,” Trunks murmured.

“Nor let you not realize you’ve hurt yourself making them,” joked Yamcha as 17 bandaged his cut with a flexible leaf secured with a thin twisted fiber. The reporter also had a few similarly bandaged cuts on his own hands. Trunks only had one such makeshift dressing.

Trunks tapped his leaf shaped rock, opaque mostly with little translucence. Reds, blues and greens swirled together in its mineral structure resembling flint or the red cherts. Under his fingers, the stone felt refreshingly cool and smooth. He could run a finger over the conical fractures knowing he made each one deliberately. It struck him how something so naturally beautiful could perform such a vital function once completed. Nevertheless, in crafting it himself he imbued his own thoughts and design into it. If he reexamined the marked he had made he could almost remember what he was thinking at the time.

*****

17 missed his long black coat for what seemed the hundredth time since they landed. It would have made such a useful multipurpose garment. He could not keep from mourning its loss like an old friend even though he knew it was not good to obsess over it. Things you discard in a second’s thought to survive had a habit of haunting you later in their absence.

At first, he figured it was a way to hide his true body size. Among the other colonists, there was no longer the need for such barriers. They had forged friendships that were true and strong, a foundation upon which they could build their colony. Now another reason dawned to 17 just why he missed the long coat. As they walked towards the part of the river with a more gentle current, he pondered just why his heart pounded more quickly.

They had not bathed since arriving. Now caked with stone tool dust and faces streaked with mud, Gohan announced the need for personal toilet. Satan remarked that it would be nice to have soap but he would welcome the natural cleansing power of a cold stream. Yamcha had seconded that while Trunks quipped his hair was starting to look prematurely gray instead of its usual lavender.

“Let’s not grow up TOO fast shall we,” Yamcha joked.

“Plenty of time for gray hairs later,” Satan teased. “I’ve enough for Gohan and myself.”

“Let’s remove our clothes and wash them as we wash ourselves, then hang them to try on these tree branches in the sun,” said Gohan. Lifting his hands to his uniform tunic, he stepped over towards the bushes. Trunks moved over towards where Yamcha stood, while Satan began to disrobe near Gohan. 17 felt a bit awkward reaching tentatively for the buttons of his shirt, loosening them one by one. He shrugged off the jacket and hooked it over the end of a branch.

Already he saw the pale cloth of Yamcha’s suit shirt now that the pilot had removed his blazer and hung it to the side. Trunks pale olive back became visible to him as the boy pulled off his green turtleneck shirt. Yamcha took the garment and placed it with the others on the bush nearby.
He heard Gohan remark, “Without soap it’s still quite refreshing to excavate the dust from my face.”

17 turned slightly seeing Satan’s bare shoulders and slightly budging belly covered in coarse dark hair. He stood in more immediate view with his side partly facing 17. “And the others are making stone tools. I’m sure that will confuse any archeologists digging our remains up eh?”

“By that time maybe they’ll be digging up our fire pits, and our huts, as well as our spaceship’s remains,” Yamcha chimed in. Quickly 17 swiveled his head towards Yamcha’s direction, seeing a bare back streaked with a few scars. His pulse quickened at the sight of Yamcha’s muscles twitching under that firm skin.

“They’ll call it ‘technolithic society’ when they see we’ve got circuit panels with the stone chips,” said 17 as he tried to distract his hands from fumbling at pushing the halves of his shirt aside. He tugged it out of his pants waistband and bent to unbutton and shed them.

“Nice one,” said Gohan.

“Technolithic, not Paleolithic?” questioned Yamcha.

“Techno as in technology alongside stone aged tools, denoted by the word lithic,” Trunks voice piped in.

“Oi, 17, come on. I know the water’s going to be cold. Or do you want a dunking?” joked Satan.

“Nearly there,” 17 said as he swallowed his cracking voice. It was not the others he was nervous about stripping in front of it was that pilot.

Yamcha. Whose dark hair rippled down his back almost to the middle of his shoulder blades now he had undone that ponytail? Droplets of water slid down the sculpted muscles to just above a nicely toned ass. 17 stepped into frigid water, glad for one fact that none of them would show any evidence of arousal because of the temperature. He felt as if his skin would be pasty and pale in comparison. Strange for him normally considered a handsome specimen of the human race, close to genetic perfection, to feel as if he fell short of a standard. One set by a rugged scarred pilot whose features were natural and rough, unperfected by a genetics lab.

In addition, he was plastic. Not LITERALLY plastic but sculpted to perfection like a doll. A male Galatea to a societal Pygmalion obsessed with ridding oneself of any defects.

Little did he suspect that Yamcha’s dark brown eyes were making a similar appraisal of his slender nude body. To the level of their waists the water lapped, obscuring what was below most of their bellybuttons in rippling currents. As 17 bent over Yamcha swallowed hard at a lump in his throat. For a split second, he saw the curve of the reporter’s ass surface from the river. It vanished as he straightened up and shook his long straight hair out of his face. It plastered to the front.

He’s perfect. Damn perfect. Not a scar anywhere. Just look at me though. Compared to him I’m littered with them, Yamcha thought quietly. That soft skin seemed worshipped by the water drops trickling down it. Slender arms knotted with a bit of muscle extending from graceful long fingers that examined everyone’s wounds precisely. Two blue eyes that observed every detail around them, and which seemed to flicker in his direction. Yamcha steeled himself for a critical look, but saw instead saw admiration.

He likes what he sees. Yamcha thought in surprise and delight. He gave a slight smile to the reporter, turning around so his chest was visible. Being the taller of the colonists his groin was submerged just below the water level enough that a black trail of hair started midway below his belly button. His chest and arms had a slight covering of hair, in comparison to the thick dense hairs coating Satan’s body. Gohan’s body hair was moderate, but 17 barely had any. Much like Trunks.

“Nice…” muttered 17 to himself.

Yamcha turned his head, shifting just enough to let 17 get a tantalizing glimpse of an inch lower down. Just as he bent down to soak his hair. “Yeah it is nice to get clean. Even if it’s fucking freezing…”

“You said it, Yamcha,” laughed Satan in that rolling tone that started from his belly, which was quivering a bit. “F… ff freezing! But it’s good for the nerves.”

Gohan’s chest was graced with a fine sheen of soft dark hair. So was Yamcha’s, along the lines of his chest and down the middle. Along the arms and top of the legs as well. Dark hair atop muscular flesh. Satan seemed perfectly comfortable with himself naked, not averting his gaze. Trunks however seemed to be looking anywhere but at Gohan. One other fortunate side effect of bathing in frigid water was the suppression of any blushing. When damp Trunks hair was a deeper shade of lavender, his arms and young body devoid of anything but the same light dusting as 17’s.

“I shouldn’t look,” Trunks thought as he kept his head down. Yamcha was no issue because he was Trunks parent. Being naked in front of your parents or friends was no issue. Yet he sensed 17’s awkwardness. Reaching over he splashed 17.

“It’s cold!” 17 yelped, squinting as droplets collided with his face feeling like tiny pricks of ice. His whole body twitched and he could feel the weight of Yamcha’s gaze watching.

“But it’s good for the nerves right Satan?” Trunks joked.

“That I did,” Satan chuckled.

“Then have some on me… or rather on you!” 17 joked, pushing the surface of the water with his hands as he shoved it towards the Aide de camp. Satan laughed as he stepped back, almost falling over in the water. Tension broke for a few minutes at the innocent exchange of splashes after Gohan grabbed Satan’s arm to steady him and they both crashed into the water together. More droplets flew up, pelting Yamcha, Trunks and 17.

“Better then a shower,” Yamcha whooped, slapping his hands down to propel water into their faces once Gohan and Satan’s heads and shoulders surfaced.

*****

On the morning after their first day as flint-knappers, Yamcha and 17 continued with their craft of making more stone tools while Satan continued with making breakfast. Once served in the mouth of the cave, the meal consisted of the remains of the flightless birds, some fruits and more of the eggs. 17 and Yamcha then set off with the first of their stone spears to put them to the test and gather more prey.

Satan, Trunks, and Gohan remained behind at the cave to achieve other goals. While Satan continued with stoking the fire and reinforcing the cave, Gohan took Trunks a small distance outside the cave mouth. Stretching up for hundreds of meters was the stonewall of the formation the cave was hollowed out from. At one point it was easier to tell the stratigraphy of the rocky layers, and Gohan showed Trunks exactly where he’d found this from his rock hunting the day before.

“We need to determine what season we are in, and the length of them,” Gohan had said earlier as they stood there.

“And we need ways to put the pieces together from more than just one method,” Trunks had agreed. So now in each other’s company they searched for the various methods that came to mind, and brainstormed. After the meeting of minds, they separated not very much more than a few paces to begin compiling their evidence.

Trunks had gathered various accessible pieces of branch and noted the position of a rotted tree broken up into fragments by the storm they had endured. He called this to Gohan’s attention, and the engineer had nodded in eagerness.

“The strata are more distinct here,” Gohan observed, shielding his brown eyes with his left hand peering up. What small sparse vines could get a foothold in bare rock curled up and clung precariously to the face of the cliff. The break in the canopy afforded the bright morning light plenty of space to beam down and make trunks blink and squint in its rays.

Using a piece of string of a certain length, the length of his arm that he knew to be a precise length Gohan was measuring the height of each of the layers. Once he and Trunks had done so for about as high as they could reach realistically they strode over to the rotted tree to examine it more closely. Peeling away bark and repositioning bits of broken wood, they found a way to see deep into it to get a gist of the cross section of its rings. Together they counted the number of dark and light rings while trying to note the thickness of each and thinness of others. A pattern began to emerge that the engineer committed to his memory.

Together they communed in the collection of collaborative data, both complete comfortable in the other’s presence. The ease at which they communicated and fitted the pieces together encouraged Trunks to be as generous as he could with his thoughts and suggestions. To be taken seriously and feel that he was part of the team. Theirs was a bond of a student and teacher akin to researcher and mentor that developed in the confines of graduate school, not a large classroom with dozens of students to distract the teacher’s attention.

“If we are in spring, we can afford to have a week or two to answer some questions. But if it were summer, then our priorities would be different,” Gohan murmured.

“Leaving a precarious window of time that you need to know, for a margin of error for what we must plan,” Trunks confirmed. “Just like any ancient civilization that had to keep precise calendars for the purpose of planning, harvesting, and hunting.”

“Indeed,” said Gohan, still on one knee next to Trunks, their notes mentally taken because of the scarcity of paper. Except for the small notebook that Gohan had removed from his pocket and marked what evidence, they had on it in as compressed a form as possible to conserve the tablet.

Trunks then realized that ancient civilizations often put things to oral tradition. Repeated many times over many nights without the distractions of other information bombarding a person through computers, TV, holography and subspace broadcasts a human was free to allot memory for other things. Remembering information in the form of chants, rhymes or other methods. Written word was reserved for the purpose of astronomical observations while culture, history and other information relevant for other needs passed down to successive generations. The elders were the treasure house of knowledge and here Gohan was such a repository.

“The growing cycle of the tiger fruit, and the abundance of Calcina ferrous eggs indicate sometime in spring,” Trunks said. As confirmatory tests and observations, Trunks also recounted the growing season and life cycle of the plants they had observed and their stages of germination. While the year length on planets varied greatly, those with a roughly earthlike climate had some commonalities. What fauna and species resembled one another genetically would adapt to their world of origin, but the cycles were inherently similar to deduce the length of time between germination, flowering, palliation, and dormancy.

“The deposition of strata’s pattern seems pretty regular. From the position of such sediment storms seem to be prevalent once a season in the form of what we’ve seen,” Gohan also mused.

“And there is the pattern of alternating dark and light bands, some thinner during years with a variation in climate towards cold indicating less growth. While those that are wider show a more temperate clime,” Trunks added.

“And judging this planet has more of an earthlike biosphere and chemical conditions, as well as a similar geological morphology and process akin to plate tectonics from the volcano we’ve observed and the data I gathered before we landed,” Gohan continued, tapping his chin. More small scribbles resulted on his notebook from the pencil he had sharpened with a bit of obsidian flake.

“Not summer,” Trunks murmured with a slight question present in his voice.

“But spring. Giving us a week to play with,” Gohan said. Trunks initially opened his lips to ask why, but then hesitated seeing the engineer’s faraway look.

Trunks blue eyes often moved to linger a time on Gohan, admiring the carriage of his confident posture. Such an occurrence was hardly a new thing in the last few weeks they had worked closely together. Inside there was no doubt that he though youngest of the five was every bit as valuable to their cause. Slowly and gradually Gohan had come to rely upon him and impart his wisdom to the teenager’s experience. The bond between mentor and student was also two way for Trunks often saw how Gohan’s face lit up in delight when he asked a certain question that challenged what he’d been taught.

The two continued their enterprise collaborating and comparing notes. Once all the data was compiled Gohan interpreted the results in a final synthesis to pinpoint just what season they were now experiencing. Trunks noticed the smile across his mentor’s face and felt confident in his contribution to the enterprise. He could barely restrain his anticipation of the results when announced to the others.

*****

Over the next forty eight hours, more stone tools took shape and form of the basis for human Paleolithic civilization. Projectile points were lashed to firm shafts of hard wood with strung plant fiber, while smaller flakers were shaped into arrowheads. Trunks identified a species of tree similar to the yew on earth, noting its exceptional tensile strength and ability to snap back.

Small pieces of flake were not discarded but put into service as cutting implements ideal for Satan to skin whatever prey that would be brought home as well as peel the rinds of the foraged fruits. On the day that the first projectile points and arrowheads were finally attached to their pieces of wood and the bows were fashioned, 17, Trunks and Yamcha spent some time in target practice. Trunks proved to be quite adept at the wielding of his bow to the surprise and pride of the other colonists.

Gohan then presented the hunting party with a carved piece of wood he had fashioned, and showed them how to fit the hollowed out shaft of one of the projectiles. Then walking out of the cave he held the doubled back bit of wood with the spear fitted and charged forward, before jerking his hand back. Propelled by the conveyance, the spear shot up and arced through the trees to the amazement of the others.

Gohan then revealed the device’s name; the spear thrower, another means to launch missile weapons towards a larger target when arrows alone may not suffice. Excitedly the others had then found means of making another to add to their roster of equipment. Later that afternoon the atlatls and bows were employed officially as part of the hunting party’s equipment kit.

The haul of the day were more of the flightless birds, and smaller mammals that had the penchant to scurry away. Yet a well-placed arrow felled them with little difficultly. These mammals were strung up on fibers and thrown over the shoulder of Yamcha. Wading into the river, 17 waited patiently at the gleaming bellies of fishes milling along the currant. A jab of the spear with a practiced eye and hand added a piscatorial mode to their diet.

As bands of orange painted across the skies in the distance along with shades of pink and red, the party sat around their fire. Satan and Trunks turned spits of meat while watching the progress of fish roasting on coals. Broad leaves made good plates for the fishes laid before each of the hungry colonists who balanced them on their laps.

Midway through his fish dinner Gohan then leaned forwards, signaling his intent to speak. Immediately the other four glanced up as well, listening over the popping hiss of the fire to hear Gohan’s words. The engineer cleared his throat and said, “After due consideration, I have found that we should mount our expedition. With Trunks assistance I have determined that we are indeed in early spring giving us time to undertake a survey of our valley and its resources.”

The others nodded slowly, the mentions of this idea having been made gradually over the time of their settling into their cave. It was not news to them exactly, but the matter had not been discussed at great length because of the degree of their industry just trying to provide the necessities of living. Conversation had been limited to the means of stone tool fashioning or better hunting techniques as well as species identification.

“That means the next few days will be spent in preparation, gathering surplus food, and fashioning baskets and ropes,” Gohan continued.

“So we become coopers and weavers in addition to flintknappers,” Yamcha whispered knowingly to 17, who also nodded.

Gohan shifted his posture and continued, “Now that we can provide for daily needs, we must acquire a surplus of food that is non perishable. To carry the food we’ll need to fashion baskets, and to tackle the possible terrain we’ll need sufficient ropes for climbing.”

“We’ve already our weapons,” murmured 17, nodding but reflecting in a low voice.

“Only one step on our check off list but a significant one,” Gohan responded. Four murmurs of assent answered his reply.

“Over the next few days I’ll divide you into teams for the making of such items and the purveyance of more food,” Gohan continued. He turned his gaze towards each person as he announced their names and their duties.

“Trunks, you will scout for a surplus of fiber suitable for fashioning at least fifty meters of ropes in tomorrow’s hunting party. Satan, you and I will gather fibers for the making of baskets and commence fashioning them here. When the party returns, we will all learn the craft and take our turns.”

“The fibers of the Yuccan fibrosious bush make good nets,” Trunks murmured.

“If you catch a good deal more of the fishes they can be dried and salted,” Satan also murmured. Gohan and the others nodded at this. These lines were the start of the details of the preparations Gohan mentioned. Each soon learned their respective role for the following day.

*****

Yuccan fibers were harvested from the cacti like plants along with more of the vines similar to those that Yamcha fashioned his bird snaring net from. Using weights of dense stones tied to the bottoms of the lengths of fiber, they were hung from the higher branches of nearby trees. Then Yamcha and Satan twisted the fibers into plats of three ply. Once the triple plies were plaited, Yamcha twisted three cords of three ply by means of stretching with the weighted rocks.

Trunks and 17 meanwhile sliced long pieces of broad leaves into strips. Rushes gathered from the river’s marshy area were harvested and dried partly in the sun on broad flat rocks in front of the cave. Then the ends of a bundle were secured into a radial pattern. Ends of the broad leaf strips were interwoven with the rushes and pushed tightly together. From these the two fashioned conical shaped baskets.

Gohan spent parts of the next few days assisting in the rope and basket preparation, substituting for members of the party who moved to hunt more provisions or gather more fruits that were within reach of the cave. Satan’s fish salting project yielded preserved strips of meat that could be wrapped in broad leaves tied with lengths of reed. Any of the colonists could switch after Gohan’s approval so they could benefit from experience with any of the other projects.

17 noticed for a good time through the whole experience how his smooth fingered hands were now callused and crisscrossed with fine cuts from flint knapping. While Yamcha’s hands were already rough from the rigors of piloting and repairs, they shared the same sets of calluses blossoming on Trunks and Yamcha’s hands. Multiple cuts from stray pieces of reed or bruises from collisions with rocks were commonplace. Nevertheless, the speed at which they healed from the injuries bore witness to the health of their now varied diet.

Their immune systems seemed to have rebounded sufficiently that a clean slice from a bit of flint treated and cleaned carefully in the morning would have healed enough by the following day leaving only a fine red line where the skin had closed. All the unguents and creams of greater technology only assisted a natural healing process that worked well in far more robust settings.

Baskets took shape and were set aside in groupings once completed. Gohan noticed the ready production of the items and the increase in each pile with satisfaction. At the end of each day, the five colonists lay down for exhausted and dreamless sleep, content in their day’s hard labors. Gohan varied each person’s duties in order that each would learn the individual skills so all would be cross-trained in every skill for the benefit of their collective workforce.

*****

At the conclusion of a week, the colonists woke up early, as was their custom. Few words were exchanged but each of them was filled with the excitement of their new undertaking. Satan supervised the packaging of their provisions, assisted by Trunks. 17 and Yamcha secured the weapons and ropes in bundles for each of them to carry, making certain there were spare arrowheads and repair kits for the bows and spears in case of breakage. In addition, they divvied up portable flint knapping kits wrapped in broad leaves, secured with twine.

Yamcha and Satan exchanged many a smile, their wisecracks and jokes increasing in levity now their energy was not totally consumed in industry. Running a hand over a length of rope Yamcha commented, “Every time you use this you’re bound to remember me, Satan.”

“Likewise you remember me each time you munch on a grilled fish,” Satan joked back.

“How would anyone forget either of you is beyond me,” 17 quipped, lifting up a bundle of baskets as he grabbed his quiver of arrows.

“We’ve left our mark on this world in so many ways already,” Trunks reflected.

“And are about to see the true dimensions of it upon which we can continue to make our mark in a wider sense,” Gohan agreed, reaching to adjust the strap on Trunks bundle of possessions.

Gohan helped each of them secure their respective burdens, and took a last survey of the cave. They had secured it as best they could in anticipation of a return. Long poles were driven into the ground to act as a sort of barrier to keep out larger wildlife that may get in and disturb their dwelling. Mats of leaves were hung over the front to conceal the poles and make a sort of doorway.

Satan glanced around their abode one last time and grinned. “I’m going to miss this place, even though I know we’re coming back.”

“We won’t miss it TOO much when we find a better place to live,” Yamcha chuckled.

“Don’t speak too loud or you might hurt the cave’s feelings,” teased 17.

“Pooh, it’s been here without us and it’ll still be here when we come back,” Yamcha jibbed in return, patting 17’s shoulder. !7 returned the pat and both felt their faces flush with a slight pink they tried to hide from the others.

“Shall we be off now?” asked Gohan.

Satan laughed, “Lead on then, Gohan! Let’s see what else this world has to offer!”

Then with Gohan leading the way, they wended their path down the slope of the hillside. At the rear was Satan, with Yamcha beside him. At the middle walked Trunks next to 17.

In calm companionship, they trekked, shouldering their various possessions. Each of them carried a weight proportionate to his strength and ability, and none carried less then they volunteered to, knowing that their burdens would be increased with what they would retrieve.

Each of them had unanswered questions they could have posed to Gohan, but chose to allow the Engineer to continue showing them the way without much protest for they were all confident of his abilities. Still even though he was their guiding light, each knew the importance of their own roles was every bit as vital for they all had their skills necessary for the future of a thriving colony.