Title: Another Life: Return of the Fallen

Chapter Two: The Pursuer Becomes the Pursued


Before, Videl had stayed in the guestroom to mope, but now she was restless. She wandered the halls of Capsule Corp., passing by Bulma's lab each time; the vidphone had been moved into there. And she was curious, even if it had only been two days. She hesitated, knocked on the door then went in. Bulma glanced at her then refocused on the computer.

On the screen there was a lined diagram of Piccolo's ship. Videl could see that a large piece in the front was red and blinking. Bulma snatched out a trail of paper from the printer and scanned them over, her face going sour.

"There's something wrong with the ship," she said.

"What?"

"Piccolo's going to lose this entire side," she gestured to the monitor, "if it doesn't get fixed."

Bulma grabbed the vidphone, plugged it into a larger screen and punched the button. Piccolo's face appeared on the screen moments later.

"What happened to the ship?" Bulma demanded.

Piccolo explained what had happened, leaving out specific details about the men who had attacked him – like the fact that they had Saiyajin armor and scouters.

"Well you need to fix that thing, buster. Go get the toolbox, it's in one of the capsules," she ordered, "I'll take you through this step-by-step," Bulma said, much calmer.

"Wait," Videl said quickly. Once they began working, she wouldn't get a chance to ask. "Have you… is there any sign of Pan?"

Piccolo shook his head. "I can't feel her, she's too far away." Then, as an afterthought: "She might also be suppressing her ki."

"Why didn't you say anything about that before?" Bulma asked incredulously. "I might be able to come up with something!" She paused thoughtfully, already working out the plans in her head. "But first we need to fix the ship before it falls apart."

~~~

Dumu had left her alone in a roomful of aliens, roaring with talk and laughter. She caught glimpses of his orange hair in the crowd, talking to others about trading for whatever their spaceship needed. Pan had isolated herself by the wall. She felt small, alone; there was no one in the room that looked even remotely human.

One of the aliens was staring at her, probably at her bloody pants. She glared at it – what was its problem? The creature stood and came over, its three-toed feet stopping next to her. Its was hay-colored and, if she looked closely, she could see the cracks in its dry skin; its outfit was a simple, rich green bathing suit. Though, Pan didn't think they knew what a bathing suit was out here.

It spoke to her in an alien language, brought its hand to its round beak and made a gesture that she didn't understand. A pink monocle covered one of its orange eyes. It was odd that only one had a vision problem – or maybe it was colorblind. The glass was pink. There was also a collar around its neck.

"I don't understand you," Pan said, hoping her facial expression and body language would convey her message.

"You speak Icejin?" it asked. It sounded male.

Pan was puzzled.

"I've never heard of… Icejin."

"That. You're speaking it," he said.

"Oh."

"I'm Totan," he said.

He sat down in front of her, curling his tail around his waist twice - that thing had to be the length of his body. Totan stared at her, waiting for her introduction. If she really wanted to begin a new life, she could make up a new name. No one here, with the exception of Dumu, would ever know her lie. Pan's mind rapidly thought over it. She didn't even have to be human out here – she could say she was Saiyajin. Totan was still staring at her expectantly. Damn! What could she call herself? What was that name Vegeta had called Grandpa G? His Saiyajin name. Kaka…

"Kakaraddo."

Pan mentally cringed. That didn't sound like the right name.

"Just call me Kaka," she amended. At least that part was right, but it still didn't sound good.

"Kaka," he nodded, "you're very powerful."

Pan wondered if she should tell him that he felt only a portion of her actual power. She felt his ki, which wasn't even above an average human's; that was pathetic.

"My lord is looking for men like you. Strong," Totan said.

"I'm a woman," Pan snapped.

He smiled apologetically and said, "I meant it in the figurative sense." He paused. "Are you looking for work?"

Until he mentioned it, she hadn't even considered a job.

"I guess," she shrugged. "It depends, really."

He rattled off a list of jobs that didn't interest her, then gave her a thin-lipped smile.

"You could be trained for battle, if that sort of thing appeals to you," he said, eyeing her pants.

That caught her attention.

"What kind of 'battle'? Joining the army kind of stuff?" she asked.

"Come with me. I believe my lord could explain things much better than I." Then added: "If you're interested, of course."

When Totan mentioned 'lord', she suspected that meant boss. Pan was interested, but she also didn't want to leave with a stranger. If things didn't work out, then what would she be left with? She'd be stranded. But he had mentioned battle, which made her think of army or military-type training, and space travel. That was what she had wanted.

"If I go with you, but I don't like it…" Pan trailed off. She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"I'm sure we could bring you back here, or wherever it is you would like to go."

Pan thought more about it. After all, she did want to get away from Dumu and here was her chance. Get out on her own, with a new life and identity, do what she wanted.

Finally, she nodded.

~~~

"There. We're done," Bulma sighed.

The volume on the vidscreen had been upped to maximum so that he could hear her instructions and, after four hours of being screamed at for not being tool savvy, Piccolo was finished. There had been no way to replace the actual plating, but he did learn how to weld using a finger beam. Then all he had to do was replace the melted bolts and tighten the loosened ones. He was now very practiced with a wrench, since his fingers had been too big for the job.

Don't sound too exhausted, woman, I'm the one who that did all the work.

Piccolo reentered the ship, wrestled to get his suit off and then went to the screen. Bulma snickered at him.

"It's your fault it's too small," he said.

"I'm sorry, Piccolo. I'm going to get to work on that ki-detecting device. 'Ki detector', sounds like a good name for it, don't you think?" she asked.

He didn't care as long as it would work.

"How soon can you have it made?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Something like this isn't gonna be easy, you know," she said. "I-"

Something made him suddenly alert, sharper. A multitude of ki's approaching, too close together for him to distinguish much. Were they looking for him? He seriously suspected they were. When he blew up that ship, he hadn't considered any repercussions. He had dismissed the notion that there was some enormous empire leftover from Frieza's reign, but it was foolish to think that no more than three people had been excessively loyal. Piccolo had to be cautious. The ship wouldn't be able to withstand another attack and he wasn't going to take the chance, especially since it could be more than one vessel. If they were searching for him then he was going to have to hide.

"I have to go," he said quickly and switched off the screen. He had cut Bulma off, which would no doubt make her angry with him, but she would get over it.

He got the distinct impression that this was not one of the friendlier territories in the universe. Piccolo dampened his ki to a ridiculously low level and barked new coordinates to the computer. There wasn't a planet nearby, so he would have to get as far away as he could in another direction.

The ship thrusters propelled it forward, moving onto its new course. Piccolo folded his arms, scowling at the screen. What he was doing to get that damn brat back was unbelievable…

Roughly a day later, Piccolo estimated, he knew they were following him. No matter how low his ki became or which way he went, they somehow stayed right with him. He was at a loss because he, even with his miniscule understanding of machines, knew that he couldn't outrun another ship. It hadn't been built for that.

There were three ships, he determined, but he couldn't figure out how many were actually onboard each. It felt like a lot. Piccolo searched through the cabinet of capsules Bulma had packed: water, fuel, spare parts - nothing that would help him. He couldn't outrun them any longer; he would have to fight if he didn't want to risk them blowing up his ship. So he put on the orange suit top again, secured the helmet and oxygen pack and floated out to greet his pursuers.

Several men came out of the ships; only two of them wore helmets. Piccolo didn't know how it was possible to breathe in space – there was no air - but they did. Maybe it came naturally for some species, or maybe there was some kind of technique that allowed someone to breathe in space. Or maybe they could just hold their breath for a really long time. Piccolo couldn't believe he was trying to figure it out and stopped trying to logic it. There was one thing he wanted to know, though:

"How did you follow me?"

The man in front floated closer – Piccolo assumed he was the one in charge.

"Your ship left a nice trail for us to follow," he said.

Damn. The ship! Fuel, smoke; he supposed that stuff was traceable.

"So," the man said as he fiddled with his scouter, "you're Namek."

He recalled Radditz's scouter: it could read power levels and be used as a communicator. It could not determine the race of a being. The device must have been modified over the years.

Piccolo said nothing.

"Well, Namek, either come with us willingly or we are going to hurt you," he said.

As long as he didn't blow up the ship…

"I'm not that willing," Piccolo said, slipping into a fighting stance.

"Very well."

The man in charge raised his fist into the air and waved out another group of men, each of various shape and origin. The majority of them, including the leader, were small yet built and well defined. They moved into practiced formation and Piccolo knew he was outmatched; there was too many. The first wave of troops came blazing with rapid-fire discharges; the others began forming a circle around him. Piccolo skimmed away from a blast that was much too close to his ear, working out possible escape routes. He knew they were surrounding him, he could feel it in his antenna.

Some pulled out spherical, handled weapons from the hooks installed on their armor and aimed; others raised their palms and began collecting energy. Piccolo dodged under another blast and shot downward. His best chance was to outrun them. They fired their weird guns, following him with a bright stream of… what? Electricity? He phased out of sight, reappeared and tried to jet through a gap in the perimeter of bodies. Stupid idea, he realized. The alien closest didn't hesitate to shoot. Piccolo's body convulsed ferinely and eventually he slipped out of consciousness, his gi smoldering.

The leader drifted toward him and nudged his arm. No movement.

"Guess the Namek couldn't handle the charge," he scoffed. "Get him up onto the ship. I want him in containment before he wakes up."

"Yes sir, Bénán!" The troop bowed, fisting a hand over his breast.

When Piccolo awoke he couldn't see; the darkness was too complete for his eyes to adjust to. He was on solid ground, so they hadn't left him in space to freeze or suffocate. He rolled over tentatively and found a sliver of light at the ground that outlined the base of a door. Piccolo stood and hit his head on the ceiling. He cursed, tilted his head uncomfortably and fired a bolt of ki at the door. It ricocheted back and he ducked reflexively. It bounced off the ceiling, into the back wall and struck him in the back. He threw his shoulders back and hissed. Great, he had been taken prisoner and the room was blast-proof.

Piccolo sat down to meditate. He extended his senses, touching on the ki's of the crew. One of them was headed his way and, when the door parted, he didn't move.

The man, who he recognized as the head honcho from earlier, demanded that Piccolo stand. His mind sifted rapidly through all the possibilities of escape: he could easily knock this man out of the way, but where would he go? He didn't know how to get off the ship. They would capture him before he ever found an exit. He could blast a hole through the hull plating, get sucked out and make a dash for his ship. No, they had probably left it behind and he would never be able find his way back to. How long had he been out for anyway?

"If you do something stupid, I will kill you, understood?" he asked.

Piccolo looked hard at him, then nodded. He was instructed to walk, one of those odd-shaped guns pressed into the swell of his back, jabbing him constantly and directing him into a lit, empty room. There was a large screen set up on the far wall that he recognized. The man pushed him onto a platform in the center of the room and pressed in a code on the control panel. After a few moments, the screen flickered and a black, furry face appeared on the screen.

"What is it?" the beast growled, his flat nose wrinkling.

"I want a containment cell prepared by the time I arrive for my prisoner," he answered.

"And how does this concern me, Bénán?" He bared his yellowed canines.

"I need a meeting arranged with the lord, Shoruum," he said, then pointed at Piccolo, "he's from Namek."

Piccolo glanced at him, but didn't correct his assumption.

"Does he know anything?" Shoruum asked.

"He isn't talking," he lied quickly. Bénán looked at Piccolo, daring him to say otherwise.

"Try asking again. When Lord Rhoune returns, I'll let you know if you can have your meeting."

Lord Rhoune?

"Bénán," he continued, "do not kill him."

Shoruum reverted briefly into another language; Bénán understood it and nodded. He put a fist to his chest and closed out the link.

"What did you need me for?" Piccolo asked, irritated. Now that he knew the orders were to keep him alive he could afford to be a bit insubordinate, but he wouldn't push it too far.

"Proof," Bénán replied. "Because you aren't supposed to be alive. How did you survive anyway, Namek?" he asked.

"I'm not talking."

Bénán backhanded him with the gun, "Smart ass."

~~~

Since Videl had a little knowledge of ki-tracking, Bulma had asked her to stay. She had been asked so many questions that were frustrating to answer that she had said no more - doing it was so much easier than explaining. Bulma had left in search of her husband, who would have a better understanding of it.

Videl was about to leave the lab and return to her room to mope when the large screen began to fizzle with static. A scratchy picture appeared on it, too disjointed to make out anything. She fiddled with the connection cord, which did no good – the ship was getting too far away to get a good signal from. She hit the vidphone with the heel of her hand and the picture cleared for a moment. It wasn't Piccolo there. And there certainly wasn't two of him. Videl hit it again and the image remained somewhat perceptible. Two bald, brown things were arguing with each other. One had lapsed into a foreign language, the other spoke in a rough-sounding English.

"You could've killed us! What if that had been a self-destruct button?"

The other alien yelled at him and glanced at the screen. Its eyes went wide then it pointed at Videl. She backed away from the screen, her mouth partially open in uncertainty.

"Turn it off!" one said.

They scrambled to turn it off, but couldn't find the right button on the board. Videl panicked, grabbed the cord and ripped it out of the socket. She slammed the vidphone closed and shut it off. For a long while, she stared at the contraption wide-eyed and breathing heavily. Then she ran out of the lab.


A/N – This chapter was taken down so that a few minor details could be changed after a healthy discussion with my beta reader.

So that no one gets confused – Pan will be referred to as "Kaka" in dialogue only. In regular paragraphs, she's just "Pan"… because that's less confusing. ^_^

My beta-reader, Steven, pointed out a nifty little thing to me: "English" doesn't seem to exist in the Dragon Ball world. Or rather, it's never mentioned. No name was given to the language – it's just spoken. :P So, forgive me for actually specifically naming it as English. And also a big thanks to him for beta-reading this chapter!

Planned Update – 5/4

Quote That Amuses The Author - "You can stay in my body until the fight with Frieza's over. After that, I'm charging rent." – Piccolo (I was looking at a nice, long quotes list. I'm easily amused)