"And, should the Gods deem it necessary, they shall fell the sky, heave the land, and snuff the stars, if for no other reason than to bring together two tiny pieces in the Infinite Puzzle." – Passage from the Scrolls of the Seven
Sasei was still toweling himself down as he stepped out of the small shower stall, a fine mist of warm steam following him out into the somewhat cramped interior of his spacecraft. The Star's End was a relatively small vessel, a stealth cruiser big enough for a single person and little more besides. The cramped cabin served as personal quarters, navigation station, battle station… just about anything one would need for a lonely trek across the galaxy.
"How long until we pass within broadcasting range of the nearest Federation relay station?" Sasei asked to the empty air as he casually pulled on a pair of black, slightly baggy pants that transitioned sharply to being skin-tight below the knee. The apparent solitude of the cabin did not detract from the command in his smooth baritone voice. He clearly expected someone to answer him.
And someone did.
"The nearest Federation-controlled relay station is thirty-five point two parsecs from our present location. At current speed, we are projected to enter within broadcasting range in approximately six galactic-standard hours." The answer came in a soft melding of two nearly identical male voices, a slight mechanical timbre present as was common with even the most sophisticated AI systems. Sasei nodded his head in satisfaction, not at all disturbed by the disembodied voice that addressed him. AI-controlled ships weren't terribly common among most space-faring races, even among his own race anymore. He supposed this was just one more medieval holdover of his, a clinging to traditions long since gone.
He pulled a light vest over his broad shoulders, letting it hang open over his bare chest. He was never fond of uniforms, so stiff and restricting. So long as he was out here in the backwaters of the galaxy, he saw no need to stick so strictly to dress code as to make himself uncomfortable. Best to save formality for when he was face-to-face with his superiors back on Trantor. For now, he was content to just sit back in his pilot's chair, relax, and watch the endless sea of stars zoom past just beyond the forward viewport.
He wasn't able to relax for long. Suddenly, the entire ship shook violently, the star field outside the viewport sent tumbling into an erratic spiral. Sasei dug black claws into the arms of his seat to keep from being jarred out of it, bracing himself against the force of an unplanned, uncontrolled change in velocity. It didn't take a genius to figure out what must have happened; the ship had been hit.
"Damage report!" he barked out as soon as he could gather himself from the initial shock. The ship's AI replied faithfully, it's self-echo of a voice showing no discernable concern for the present situation.
"Impact to starboard aft, directional thrusters operating at eight percent efficiency, main engines offline."
Sasei cursed under his breath at that, the alien expletive coming out as an almost reptilian growl. What could have crippled the ship so suddenly? A meteor impact? If so, it'd have to be an extremely lucky shot on the meteor's part.
"Are there any habitable worlds nearby? Can you manage to steer us into an intercept path?" he asked a little calmer now, the stars outside slowing slightly in their wild spinning. He could hear a very faint buzzing reverberating from the aft of the ship as what remained of the directional thrusters fought to right their course. He knew that, with the engines out, they'd be flying on built up momentum alone. A momentum that wouldn't deteriorate in the vacuum of space unless effected the gravitational influence of a planet or even a large asteroid. He hoped there was enough of the thrusters left for the ship's AI to compensate for any drift that would be caused by that.
"This system contains one Class-M planet, inhabited by approximately 8 billion intelligent lifeforms. However, the lifeforms in question are not of a space-faring race and are unaware of intelligent life outside their planet. Federation Protocol forbids—"
"To the Void with 'Federation Protocol!'" Sasei interrupted, bearing his fangs instinctively as he growled out his dissent. "I refuse to be reduced to a piece of flotsam for their precious regulation! Get me on that planet! I'll figure out where to go from there as soon as I'm on solid ground."
"As you wish." Was the ever-unperturbed reply, and that was that. Over the next few hours, Sasei could do nothing but stare forward out the viewport, watching helplessly as a pale blue sphere drew nearer and nearer.
The AI of the Star's End was nearly correct. Most of the population of the planet Earth was blissfully unaware of the teeming galactic civilization beyond the bounds of their solar system. However, there was one small group on that pale blue sphere who knew all too well. A majority of this group was currently in the rural eastern province of the main continent, gathering for an evening celebration at the residence of one of the greatest heroes the planet had ever seen.
Piccolo stood out on the balcony of the large, dome-shaped house that served as the Son family's residence. It wasn't always this big, of course. Hercule had built the place as a wedding gift for his daughter and his new son-in-law, and clearly spared no expense to improve upon the design of the original humble home that still sat just next door. The extra space was certainly going to come in handy, especially since the family would be expanding soon enough.
The Namekian cast a stoic glance down at the festivities in the yard below, preferring to observe rather than join in. They had set up long tables out on the lawn, half of which held enough catered food to feed an army, the other half holding gifts wrapped in pastel wrapping paper, pink bows and balloons everywhere. Most everyone was there, all gathered in small groups and chatting. The biggest group was, of course, gathered around a rather pregnant Videl.
He didn't let his eyes linger there for too long. It was all just so odd. Vaguely surreal, even. To him, Gohan was still that same little boy he'd come to think of as a son, yet here he was, about to become a father himself. There was something a bit bittersweet about the thought. It wasn't that he disapproved at all. No, far from it. Gohan had found a nice girl for himself, and he actually got along with Videl rather well. She was polite to him, a courtesy not many humans bothered to give him, and in turn he treated her with due respect. He even accepted her invitation to this silly 'baby shower,' a human tradition he'd never understood, but he knew it would make her happy if he came.
Perhaps it was just dawning on him that Gohan was all grown up, with a family and responsibilities of his own. He didn't need his old mentor anymore. That sort of thing was happening more and more lately, it seemed. Even Dende would have no more use for him after his training was through. There's only so much an old Guardian can teach a new Guardian before the former must step back and let the latter take his place proper. After that, what use did he have on this world? Perhaps he should just…
Piccolo's reverie was broken when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down behind him, meeting the eyes of a grinning Gohan. That face… Even the hardened Namekian warrior couldn't help but smile back. That grin hadn't once left the half-Saiyan's face since he first found out he was going to be a father. There wasn't a thing that could bring him down. Was it any wonder that it brought a smile gleaming through even Piccolo's iron-clad façade of stoicism? It was all he'd ever wanted for the boy after all. To see him so happy meant the world to him.
"What're you doing up here, Piccolo? Not enjoying the party?" Gohan asked, his grin faltering for a split second at the prospect of having made his closest friend uncomfortable in any way. Oh, now that wouldn't do at all, no matter how justified his worries may have been.
"It's not that at all, don't worry. It's just… It's not the sort of gathering I'm apt to attending." he replied, trying to dismiss the subject as casually as possible. Gohan let out an amused snort at that.
"Are there any gatherings you're apt to attending?"
Piccolo gave the young half-Saiyan a sardonic smile. "I suppose you've got me there."
"What I'm trying to say is… Thank you for coming. I know this sort of thing isn't really your scene – and don't you try denying it for my sake. I know when you're uncomfortable. You don't hide it as well as you think. Anyway, I really appreciate it. Videl's happy that you decided to come, too. She's really taken a liking to you, you know. She's even agreed to…"
Piccolo waited for Gohan to finish his thought, but it never came. When he looked back down at him again, he found that the young man had gone rather sheepish all of a sudden. Piccolo folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat lightly.
"And you say I can't hide a look of unease… What's wrong?"
"N-nothing's wrong, just… Well, Videl and I were just wondering if…" Another long pause, in which Gohan flushed slightly and was unable to make eye contact. He managed to finally get it out, but only in a whisper. "… If you'd mind being the baby's godfather."
Now it was Piccolo's turn to struggle for words. He knew the concept of a godfather, of course. One didn't watch over humanity for centuries and not pick up on a few things here and there. He was just absolutely astonished that it was being offered to someone like him. That, and… Well, he already knew he could handle young boys with Saiyan blood. He'd had plenty of practice with that, but Videl was having a girl. You couldn't be so rough on a little girl, he knew that, but that was about his extent of his knowledge on the subject. Still, this was Gohan's daughter. He couldn't say no to that.
"I-I'd be honored. Thank you." He replied, unable to completely choke down the unease in his voice. If Gohan noticed at all, he didn't show it. His grin returned in full force.
"Great! Thank you so much! I couldn't think of anyone else I'd be more comfortable with this sort of thing."
It was a few moments later that their conversation picked back up again, this time with Piccolo taking the initiative. "Speaking of fathers, I can't help but notice yours isn't here."
"Yeah, this isn't really Dad's scene either. Vegeta, too. As much as Mom and Bulma would probably have wanted to drag them along anyway, I'm sure they'd just be bored at this kind of party. I think they're still off training with Whis anyway."
Piccolo nodded in agreement at that. He honestly couldn't picture Goku or Vegeta coming to something like this. Perhaps it was for the best. Those two seemed to attract trouble wherever they went, especially Goku. Uncomfortable as it was for he himself to be there, he wouldn't want the event unpleasantly disrupted for Videl.
"Look, Mommy! A shooting star!" came Marron's tiny squeak of a voice from down below. Piccolo wasn't sure why he'd picked that up out of the myriad of conversations going on there at the party, but he inevitably caught himself looking up to the sky nonetheless. The sun was well on its way to sinking completely behind the horizon, the orange-tinted sky fading more and more into an inky bluish black, the first of the night's stars just barely visible directly overhead. He honestly only expected to catch a brief glimpse of light streaking across the twilight sky, a meteorite the size of a pebble burning up as it entered Earth's atmosphere. What he saw was a fireball.
"Piccolo…" Gohan whispered as the streak of flame disappeared behind the distant tree tops. The Namekian didn't have to ask what he was referring to.
"You felt it too, then?"
The half-Saiyan nodded gravely. Piccolo couldn't help but curse under his breath. To the average Earthling, that may have looked like little more than a particularly spectacular meteorite. To the knowing eye, however, the object's true identity was unmistakable; it was a spaceship. An occupied spaceship. He just had to jinx it, didn't he?
Gohan and Piccolo weren't the only ones to pick up on the true gravity of the situation. Aside from 18 and her young daughter, most of the guests present would be able to sense the life-force of the single occupant on the burning spacecraft. They were able to sense as well that same life-force flickering to near nothingness upon the ground-shaking collision in the nearby mountains.
There was no way to ignore the event now. Whatever was on that ship, friend, foe, or otherwise, it was badly hurt and couldn't be left out there to die. It was for this reason that Piccolo, Krillin, and Gohan were now flying overtop the vast forest in search of the wreckage.
"Man, are you sure whoever it was is still alive? I can hardly sense anything out here that comes close to what it was before it crashed." Krillin asked, a slight note of hope in his voice. It was his general experience that nothing good came out of a spaceship landing on Earth.
"It's there, it's just exceptionally week. It's hard to pick it out from all of the animals around here. Besides, even if they are dead, it wouldn't be wise to just leave a spaceship and corpse out here for someone to find. It would ultimately cause more problems than it's worth." Piccolo replied, coolly shooting down the former monk's hopes of turning back. He knew Krillin had re-taken his Buddhist vow of peace and sworn off fighting, something he was apparently rather serious about maintaining now that he had a family. Piccolo genuinely hoped he wouldn't be forced to break that vow.
"Maybe we should split up. We couldn't see exactly where it landed, and the sooner we get to it, the better the chances are that the pilot is still alive." Gohan suggested. Even with the possibility of the unknown pilot being a threat, the concern for the life of another took precedent in the young Saiyan's mind. Truly the mark of a good character, Piccolo couldn't help but think. He nodded in agreement and the three of them parted ways, Krillin veering west into the setting sun, Gohan taking the darkening east, and Piccolo heading straight north in the general direction of the burning vessel's flight path.
Piccolo had been flying slowly for about ten minutes when movement caught his eye. He managed to come to a halt just as a huge black bird shot up out of the tree cover to intersect his path. If he hadn't stopped, he'd have crashed right into it. He watched for a moment as the bird cawed unhappily at him, veering off to fly in a vaguely northwestern direction. As he watched, he couldn't help but notice a thin, nearly invisible stream of smoke rising up from the trees in the direction it flew. It was only then that it clicked in his mind just was kind of bird it had been; it was a vulture.
Piccolo took off as fast as he could in the direction of the smoke, shooting past the large scavenger and letting out a burst of energy that was sure to signal to the others that he'd found the shipwreck. Once he came upon a streak of charred land devoid of trees, he dropped down. The craft – at least what was left of it – was about the size of a small passenger jet, its wings curved forward like two claws of an open pincer. Its long, sleek black hull was horribly charred and still smoldering towards the back, where one would imagine the engines would be. Perhaps this alien truly did land here purely because the ship was damaged and not for any ill purpose.
That was a question for later, though. He shot a quick glance at the sky above, spotting the large vulture from earlier circling overhead against the backdrop of twinkling stars. How ironic. Without that damned buzzard, he likely wouldn't have found the ship in time to save the pilot, yet it was a corpse that carrion-eater wanted more than anything. As it was, Piccolo could still feel the faint flicker of life in the cabin of the ship. He had time, but not much.
The Namekian leapt up to the top of the ship, just over where he imagined one would put a cockpit in such a vessel. Grabbing hold of an edge of metallic plating that had come loose in the crash, Piccolo began peeling back the hull as fast as he could manage. Once he'd cleared a big enough gap, he looked in.
A figure sat slumped to one side of what was obviously a pilot's seat, a streak of deep purple blood running down the side of his face from a wound on his head. Oddly enough, the one feature that unconsciously leaped out at him was the black tattoo that covered the alien's entire face, like tribal war paint in the vague shape of a bird. The truly astonishing fact, however, didn't make itself apparent until Piccolo realized why the tattoo was the first thing he noticed. The color of the skin, the intricate lines naturally marking his skin… The body seemed so natural to him he might have seen it every day of his life. In fact, he did. Perhaps that was why it hadn't clicked immediately, but it seemed to be the single most important identifying factor he could have made.
The pilot was a Namekian.