Kami's Lookout. The highest location in the world. A tall, thin tower ran for miles before curving out abruptly into an upside-down half circle. Atop it sat the buildings in which Mr. Popo, Kami's aide, and the Kami lived. There were many things of legend in Kami's Lookout, but it was chosen because the planet's current guardian could see most of the world from on top of it, from Korin's Tower to Pepper Town. Kami, the guardian, watched over the world from his perch in the sky
Kami stood on top of his lookout, watching the humans fly off in his ship. It had taken a short while to get it started, as it hadn't moved since he first arrived here, but it was running fine now. The aged guardian smiled slightly. Soon a tenth of his subjects would be back again. He had confidence in the skills of everyone on the ship, no matter how worthless they were, since Goku hadn't gone along with them. His smile darkened in one instant and became a scowl the next. Saiyans. He hated every last one of them, Goku was just as bad as all the rest. Only young Gohan worked for his side, and he was just a half saiyan. Even then, he was still a simple fool.
Ahh, Kami loved Dragonballs right now. All Nameks could, with training, make Dragonballs. Kami had created his own set, but they had just been used, by his evil alter-ego. For a while this had put him at a loss, but a solution had quickly been found. So now they went to gather the Dragonballs on Namek. Hopefully his predecessor had created a set there.
Walking back into the main building on the lookout, Kami thanked his lucky stars for the fact that Goku was still in the hospital. He had tried to have him killed, but King Yemma, guardian of the Afterlife, had interfered, just for the purpose of spiting him, so Kami couldn't get rid of him that way. Worse yet, the one saiyan, Vegita, had survived. Kami gritted his teeth as he sat down heavily on his throne. That was when Goku had shown his true colors. He hadn't killed the menace to their world, allowing him to live. Kami had never liked him, but this had confirmed his suspicions.
Suddenly a large shape darkened the hall, throwing his head into shadow.
"Mr. Popo?"
"Are you saying I'm short, black colored and fat?" Kami would know that voice anywhere.
"Piccolo." He practically spat out the name. His entirely evil side. When he had wanted to become Kami of Earth, he had split into his good side and evil side. The evil side had been Piccolo Diamo, but Goku, still as a boy, had killed him. Kami would have died, because they were still partially connected, but Piccolo Diamo had one last son, Piccolo, and his life lived on in him. Piccolo towered over him at well over six feet, his solid black gi covered by his white shoulder pads and turban.
Piccolo smirked and moved into the hallway to stand before him, arrogant and defiant. Kami almost growled at him before he caught himself. Ever since they had met again after many years Piccolo had always made his temper rise, with his sheer strength and mocking attitude.
"Yes, Kami, it's me," Piccolo said, moving closer.
Kami looked into his eyes hatefully. Piccolo dropped his arrogant cover for a few seconds and Kami gasped. Deep beneath those black eyes glittered a pain of something horrible, something terrible beyond words. Like one who has seen the future and is still haunted by it. In that instant he saw deeply, saw forking paths to destruction. Kami hadn't believed that his alter ego could feel those emotions. He still didn't.
"You still don't believe I can, do you?" Piccolo was smirking again, almost reading his thoughts.
"Why did you come here?" Kami asked him angrily, nearly rising out of his throne.
"To tell you that you and I will be dying soon."
"What are you talking about?
"You don't know?" Piccolo laughed. Kami thought it was an evil laugh, "I'm surprised at you. Even I felt all of that. Maybe I should have been Kami instead of you."
"No!"
"Oh yes. Don't you realize that your subjects hate you? They hate you as much as you hate saiyans. Why, do you ask? I'll tell you why. They hate anyone different from them, you installed that feeling in them. This is partially your fault, too. Now there's a planet full of nothing but dark ki and hate toward everything."
"That wasn't me, they already had that inside themselves!"
"Maybe so. Maybe not. But you haven't helped it any and now you're playing with a time bomb that could cause the end of the galaxy. Do you really think they'll succeed in getting the Dragonballs on Namek?"
"I have every faith in them."
"Then you are a fool. Do you know what they'll be up against? Frieza is there, Kami, going for the Dragonballs, too." Frieza. The name struck a chill in Kami's heart. The master of the galaxy, the destroyer of worlds. For years he had been easily the most powerful being in the galaxy, destroying worlds for the fun of it. And he was on Namek. Piccolo was enjoying himself, reveling in the fact that he knew more of the future then Kami did. Suddenly the light in his eyes died.
"But it won't matter," he said softly, gruffly. "Even then, it wouldn't matter. I'll die, Kami, many people will die. There is nothing I can do to change that."
"How do you know so much?" Kami breathed, not realizing he had no breath to breath.
"I know what I know," Piccolo said sadly. "I know I will die. While I can't change that, I will make a difference. In my death, I will accomplish more then you ever have, more then they will accomplish on Namek. Maybe I will fail in saving the world, but I'll do my best."
Piccolo stepped backwards towards the door, then spoke one final time. "My only regret about dying," he said as he flashed a cocky, fanged smile, "is that I won't get to see you die with me. See you soon."
His cape swirled, and Piccolo strode out. In seconds, he was gone. Kami sat in his chair and buried his head in his hands. For the first time in his long life, he didn't know what was going to happen. Another first in his life, Kami cried.
Goku awoke in a hospital bed. Shaking his head, he looked around a bit. He was covered head to toe in bandages. His gi was laid out neatly by the foot of his bed. Getting up shakily, Goku decided he was mostly well, just very, very tired. Memories started coming back. Piccolo wishing him back from the Afterlife to fight the saiyans. Running back to the battle, where he saw Nappa, the first saiyan, beating everyone. He remembered beating him, only to have Vegita, the saiyan Prince himself, kill Nappa for being defeated.
Then there had been the battle. Vegita had proved to be far less than a match for him, until he suddenly had used an artificial moon ball. This transformed him into a giant Oozaru. Goku's tail had been removed, and he started getting pounded. Everyone had left him for finished, except Piccolo. His own son had left him. The instant that occurred to him, it was snuffed from his brain by his subconscious. But he hadn't been finished. No he hadn't. Even now Goku felt a lot stronger from the battle.
He ripped off the bandages and put his blue shirt on, then his orange gi over it. Taking the blue sash, he tied it around his waist. Then, exhausted from the effort, he fell back down into the bed again. He hurt with every fiber of his being. And he was hungry.
Vegita floated in the rejuvenation tank. Even the saiyan prince's hair looked damaged; it wasn't sticking up as high as usual. His saiyan armor stood outside the tank, his older, higher-ranking set having been blasted during his fight with Goku. The oxygen mask covered his face, feeding him air while the tank healed his broken and injured body. But Vegita's mind was laced with injuries that no tank could heal. His spirit was frantically clawing at itself in agony.
How could he have lost? To anyone, much less a low-level warrior who didn't even matter? He felt like a failure. No! He couldn't let his mind start down that path. That path led to defeat and agony, his father had always told him. Yes, his father had told him a lot. As soon as Vegita had learned everything he could from his father, he killed him. Not that Vegita cared. The first lesson his father, King Vegita, had taught was that a true warrior had no allies.
He should have remembered that for Nappa! Why had he brought that weakling along? Nappa had almost been defeated by even the weaklings on Earth, then Kakkarrot had almost killed him in one punch. Kakkarrot! He was going to die for this! No one, absolutely no one, defeated the saiyan prince and lived long after. But how had he won? By all rights, Vegita should have been the winner. What advantage didn't he have? It didn't help that he insisted on being called by his human given name, Goku. Vegita wouldn't do it, though. Useless humans. But how had Kakkarrot beaten him?
He had been born the strongest saiyan ever. Kakkarrot had been so weak he had been sent off to a frontier planet. Vegita was a regal prince. Kakkarrot had been dropped on his head and forgotten everything about his saiyan ancestry. Vegita had been trained by the very best in the royal palace. Kakkarrot's training consisted of learning from a bunch of weaklings on Earth and self training. Vegita had some of the strongest moves in the galaxy, techniques that could destroy planets. Kakkarrot had a simple Kamehameha. Vegita had his tail, while Kakkarrot the fool had gotten his surgically removed.
But it hadn't mattered. Kakkarrot had defeated him at every turn, proving himself the stronger. Vegita remembered laughing at him, and becoming an Oozaru. He remembered how his son and everyone else had deserted him in the face of his power. And he remembered, most painfully of all, Kakkarrot's Kio-ken technique. He remembered taking more and more painful blows until his tail snapped off. Without that, he was nothing.
Even worse, Kakkarrot hadn't killed him. He had beaten him, but allowed him to live. The fool honestly believed that people were good at heart, even as everyone around him hated him. But that was his mistake, and Vegita would make him pay for it. As soon as he recovered from near-death, his power would increase beyond what it had ever been before. He opened one eye and glanced at the completion meter. His healing was almost completely finished.
"Your days are numbered, Kakkarrot," he muttered to no one through the liquid, "and I'll do my best to make it gets lower soon!"
The Namekiian spacecraft zipped through space at top speed, flying for its destination. It reminded them vaguely of a spiked bug, but it was fast enough to get them to Namek quickly. Inside, its seven inhabitants waited anxiously for the ship to land. The onboard map said they were almost there.
Gohan sat in a corner, running thoughts of all that had happened through his mind, trying to forget he was half saiyan. Being so young, and in such situations, had forced him to grow up fast. He brushed straight black hair away from his eyes and looked around the ship. Krillin had been Goku's best friend, but no longer. He'd been rivals with Tien, but Goku's return had made them put aside their differences. Chou-su, Tien's former closest friend, sat nearby. Now, however, the two of them had grown apart, and they rarely spoke. Yajirobe sat behind them at the table, gi splitting at the seams. A sword was slung across his back, but Gohan had never seen him use it effectively. Yamcha sat in another corner, glowering at Bulma, who was tinkering with some of the machines below. Both of them were still angry with the other after a fight they'd had.
"Uhh, Bulma?" Krillin asked, breaking a stony silence that had reigned the past days of the trip.
"What?" Bulma stuck her head out of a small compartment she was working inside, brushing aside a strand of lavender hair.
"How exactly are we going to find all the dragonballs?"
"I've adapted the Dragonball Radar to search for Namek Dragonballs as well. Kami had to help me a little bit, but from there it was a cinch."
"Uhh, okay. "
"We're entering the atmosphere!" Tien called from up front. Krillin made a break for the cockpit and Bulma scrambled out of the compartment to join everyone. They looked out and saw a vast, beautiful world speeding toward them. It was far larger than Earth, thin clouds whirled over it.
"The ground is blue and the water is green," Gohan said, sounding disgusted.
"Yeah." Yamcha's eyebrows twitched slightly.
According to their database, a giant storm had recently taken out a good portion of the Namek population. The villages that remained held their seven Dragonballs for a time when they needed them. Not that they ever would. Guru, the eldest Namek, wasn't even sure why he had made them. But now the only way to destroy them would be for him to die, and he didn't want to do that just yet. Now they only served as a way for people to try and get whatever foolishness they thought they wanted.
The ship landed perfectly on the blue grass. A door opened on the side, to allow everyone to get out. All seven of the passengers clambered out. Yajirobe got stuck in the door for a while, but everyone working together got him loose. Everything looked pretty much like Earth, except the obvious color changes. Bulma pulled out the Dragonball Radar, and Gohan took it.
"My dad isn't here to boss us all around," the boy began.
"Thank goodness," Chou-su interrupted.
Ignoring him, Gohan continued, "so I'll be in charge of the mission."
Turning on the Dragonball Radar, they saw a blinking dot northeast of them. Gohan put the radar in his belt and they all started walking toward the Dragonball, not wanting to arouse the Nameks to their presence by flying or using any ki. Glancing at the Radar, Gohan saw a few more Dragonballs nearby. This would be a cinch, there weren't any strong powers near the Dragonballs. With any luck, the Nameks would just give them the Dragonballs, or at least cower in fear while they took them.
Another spaceship landed quite a ways away, the engines burning the dirt below to crisp. Large pointed fixtures gripped the ground as it settled, then the hatch opened and lowered to the ground. A few guards advanced out, looking around carefully. Soon, however, they judged it safe and formed two lines at either side of the ship itself. From inside a few more figures walked, through the rows of guards, then looked around carefully.
Frieza, the master of the galaxy, looked around the planet, nodding. He clicked the scouter on his head and turned in a full circle, getting readings on all the powers within sensor range
"So this despicable place is where these Dragonballs are," he smirked. "I don't sense anyone with a lot of power on the planet, so I guess it won't be much of a problem. Well now, Mr. Dodoria, Mr. Zarbon, head out. There are large masses of ki that appear to be villages, so the Dragonballs must be there. Move. The rest of you, fan out over the planet and take as many of the Dragonballs as fast as you can. Expect ineffective resistance. I'll remain here. Bring them to me when you're done. Go!"
Hundreds of warriors blasted off in different directions, heading toward whatever ki they could sense. Smiling evilly, Frieza snickered and watched his plan come into fruitation.
Scouting out the Dragonballs, Gohan nodded and pointed the way. The entire team walked as quickly as possible and moved towards their first destination, and their first Dragonball.
An elderly Namek walked from his house toward the well, ready to gather another bucket of water. The bucket fell from his hands and struck the ground hard, and he gawked toward the sky. Something very evil was coming, something he had not felt in a long time. Before long, the Namek gathered himself and hurried back in, calling for the warriors.
"What is it, honorable elder?" one asked, looking down at him. The elder gasped for breath, then spoke.
"An army, coming this way! They'll be here any minute!"
"Right." Motioning to the others, the warrior left and stood outside. They'd long ago learned to trust the senses of the old one. They had barely all assembled when a whole group of Frieza's troops flew in the horizon, then landed, smirking at them. An attitude among them made it obvious that they had never been challenged. The Nameks got into fighting stances warily.
"Give us the Dragonball now and we might not kill you," the leader said, stepping forward.
"Never," one warrior barked, "they are only for a time of great disaster!"
"Well, refusing us will be the biggest disaster ever!" His hand moved up to his scouter, his symbol of leadership, and he sneered. "All around 3000? Do you expect to fight us? Now die!"
Frieza's forces rushed forward, but before they closed the distance between them, blue auras burst up around the Nameks, and they flew forward instantly. Almost before the fight had really began, it was over. Only a few of the attacking warriors remained. They backed away, into a tight huddle in a circle of glowering Nameks. One spat in their direction.
"This can't be!" the leader stammered, "they've all risen to 8000!"
"I've heard of such races, that can hide their true power," another muttered. "Any bright ideas?"
Whether or not any would have come, an instant later nothing remained.
Gohan looked around carefully again, and decided to head around the large rock formation as the best way to reach the Dragonball. As they circled around it, they saw an entire Namek village before them. Seeing no other option, all of them headed in the direction of the village. Nameks turned to look at them, surprised.
"Where is the Dragonball?" Tien asked one, who shrank back from him.
"I don't know, please-" His words were cut off as Tien incinerated him. The others recoiled in shock, but then a very old Namek opened the door and came toward them slowly.
"Why do you want the Dragonball?" he asked them. "What is the motive in your hearts?"
"Just give it to us!" Gohan growled, gripping the Namek by his shirt. An instant later a beam shot out, hitting Gohan from the side and knocking him into a house, which exploded and began burning. The others first whipped their heads to look for Gohan, and then toward where the beam had originated. Eight Namek warriors stood before them, all looking angry.
"Do not harm him," one commanded them, "and we might not harm you."
"Jump in a lake!" Yamcha sneered. "Actually, it looks like you've been in too much green water recently!"
"You are fools to challenge us!"
"Bring it!"
The Nameks all suddenly flared up, power igniting around them. For a moment, the Z Fighters were all impressed with the display of strength, but then Gohan emerged from the building, clothing torn, teeth clenched, but otherwise unharmed.
"Now you've made me mad," he hissed. "Prepare to die!"
All of Earth's warriors powered up to full instantly, and then they converged on the Nameks. For one single instant, things seemed to be even, and then one Namek fell. Capitalizing on that one weakness, the fighters redoubled their intensity. Firing a Masenko, Gohan finished off the last one. Turning back to the elder, he smirked.
"Now, where would that Dragonball be?"
"No..." he stammered, "I will... never tell you... You are evil!"
"Your words, not mine."
A flare of power wiped the Namek from existence. The Z Fighters turned back toward the city, and all of its defenseless inhabitants.