It took him until he was well into his thirties, but Trunks eventually found the Vice-President he needed. She had enough technical knowledge to know where an invention was going and enough business sense to know whether it was marketable, and enough integrity and sheer balls that she could say "goddamnit Werner, we told you no on this project, it'll cause at least three small-scale apocalypses" and actually be obeyed. She could also do Julienne fries.
Of course that meant the second he cautiously admitted that perhaps she was good enough that he might permit her to hold down the fort (without siccing his mother on her, even), Goten was saying "Great! We can go then" and herding him into a spaceship.
Apparently they were going on an adventure, before his transformation into an office zombie was complete.
Even for half-breeds, thirty-six wasn't that far from saiyajin adolescence, so even though he bitched and threatened to hack into the computer and turn this ship around goddamnit Goten, it wasn't long before he was letting his best friend drag him hunting for pirate treasures and foiling coups d'état on tentacle-monster, five-moon planets.
They even picked up a pet. Or a sidekick, of sorts. It looked like a baby otter, just bigger, pale green, and with six legs. Trunks had to admit (in the privacy of his own head) that it was adorable, and that leaving it alone after its mom was eaten by that monster would have been really cruel.
Also after a couple of months it was becoming less adorably clumsy and more actually useful, always eager to bring Trunks machine parts when he was trying to fix the stupid ship computer so they'd know where the hell they were going instead of flying at random. (It wasn't his hacking, damnit, he'd done nothing to the hardware, he was sure it was Goten's fault somehow.)
It got really good at guessing which parts Trunks was going to need next, actually. Really, really good.
Trunks and Goten also got really, really good at guessing when, in the middle of the night, it was going to need to slip off their bed and go potty. Somehow.
The tipping point was when Goten named it Tanegaarlzp Irlitt, and then said the name had just popped into his head like that, but come on, it fit really well, didn't it. Even without the accompanying chirping.
Trunks abandoned the computer repairs to make himself a quick intergalactic translator. It was easy, he still remembered the scouter blueprints so he didn't have to reinvent the wheel.
"Yeah?" Goten said, tickling Tanegaa under its third left foot. It chittered in delight, fuzzy tail sweeping the ground.
"Did you know it was sentient?" he asked, slowly, so he wouldn't freak out.
Goten gave him a 'duh' look. "Uh, you remember its dying mom handing it to us because we were the only living creatures left standing in the area?"
Trunks facepalmed. "That doesn't mean sentient!"
Goten blinked and gave him a weird look. "It looked so heartbroken and so hopeful about its baby, and you thought it wasn't a person?"
"Alright, alright, alright!" Trunks started pacing around the room, tugging at his hair. Goten and Tanegaa kept being disgustingly cute, Tanegaa's plump little body curled into a fuzzy, sage-green circle on his lap as he gave it nose kissies. "Alright, we seem to have accidentally adopted an alien. What the hell are we going to do about it? How are we supposed to raise it?--"
"Keep doing what we're doing? Seems like it works fine."
"--And what about when we go home --"
"We're saiyajin, it could be in ten years," Goten replied placidly. Trunks ignored him, as he finally reached the true core of the matter...
"--And why the hell am I the mom?!"