Namek

Chapter 54: Planetfall


To say that Yamcha followed his senses to the strange ki he felt would have been erroneous- he was drawn to it, like a moth to a lit flame, and could have done nothing else until he discovered what exactly was reaching out to him. All across the planet he felt Namekians, Tien here, Bulma there, even Bez back by the shuttle… but this ki was so unlike everything else he'd sensed that a strange dread began to come over him. This was an alien world, after all. He really didn't know what exactly he was presently flying towards.

But even as his mind lingered over these doubts, the painted colors of blue and green continued to pass by him below, and the sense of air rolling over his skin comforted him. Just the simple act of flying was refreshing. He had spent far too long trapped either in a ship, a prison, or by other, stronger people than himself. That's really what his life had felt like ever since Raditz and galaxy had knocked on their intergalactic door- it felt like he was straining to work around the restrictions placed on him. And whatever he was doing now was not giving him that feeling.

The strange ki loomed in his mind, continued to grow in size and complexity- until Yamcha sighted a jutting spire of earth rising out from the flatlands below, nearly high enough to reach his current altitude. As he drew closer, he saw an oval-shaped, capsule-white building resting neatly on the spire's top, with two protruding, rounded spikes coming out of it like horns. By now his sense of ki was buzzing. Whatever was inducing this sensation was within that building.

Now, for the first time realizing how close he was to potential danger, Yamcha suppressed his ki even further than he had before setting out and came to a gentle rest just before the building's front opening. Peering inside, there was an interior wall that blocked a full view of its interior and split the short path in into two at a perpendicular direction. A general gloom seemed to rise out from further within, almost tangible enough to spill out in the bright day outside. Wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead with a wristband, Yamcha steeled himself and padded inside.

There was an immediate shift in the atmosphere once beyond the building's opening- the air became more muted, placid- and whereas before Yamcha couldn't hear anything, distinctive, rhythmic sounds now reached him, and once he poked his head out beyond the limits of the interior, he saw they originated from two indistinct humanoids at the far end of the room. It was clear that this was the only room the building contained, and that these people- presumably Namekians- were speaking in a language wholly unintelligible to him.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lessened level of light- and then he gaped. While the closer being, clothed in a loose, flowing dark blue vest with an exposed midsection, looked very similar to all the other Namekians he'd seen, the person against the far wall-seated in a gigantic, stone-gray chair- was easily twenty feet tall seated. Their full height would be far too tall for the building to contain- but as Yamcha looked closer he saw the deep wrinkles and folds of skins pocketing the being's green complexion, the dark splotches of brown and red that patterned their body like clouds in an overcast sky, and he heard the rattling, weak voice of that being, as well as the slow and labored motions of a chest rising.

Was he looking at a Namekian? Was this their elder, Guru? Either way, this thing had been emitting the ki he had been focused on. And now that he was nearly on top of it, he sensed an ancient, failing quality underlying this being's gentle and awe-inspiring aura. He felt sad.

The scene before him was so novel, so utterly consuming that Yamcha failed to notice when their conversation dropped away into nothing. The gigantic being didn't physically move from his chair, but suddenly Yamcha became aware of a light touch, like someone running a finger along his scalp, fall upon him from that direction. 'Come forward,' the seated being said, their words strikingly comprehensible as compared to the previous sounds that filled the room. 'You have no reason to hide.'

The more-normal sized Namekian paused briefly- he faced away from Yamcha, and so he couldn't see what, if any, thoughts were running across his face- but then spun around, his eyes locking on Yamcha as if he had just become aware of his presence. 'Stop!' he commanded, raising his arms as if ready to charge him. 'Come no further!'

A thick timbre filled the room. 'Nail, let him approach,' the seated being said in a tone that reminded Yamcha of the warmness his father used with him when he was young and excitable- of guiding words delivered in a fatherly fashion with kindness instead of sternness.

'Lord Guru-'

'He is not intruding, nor is he a menace…' Guru exhaled. 'Let him come.'

The Namekian identified as Nail hesitated, then grudgingly lowered his guard and moved slightly to the side. '...As you wish, Lord Guru.'

Yamcha cautiously came closer, his eyes still adjusting to the lack of light within the room. If Guru's size was visible from afar, his presence could only be felt from up close- by the time Yamcha stopped before the elder of the Namekian race, halting just adjacent to Nail, he imagined himself as some sort of groveling subject of a great and mighty King who was liable to silence him with a simple wave of a hand.

He was, in fact, silenced- with great effort, Guru raised a haltering hand off of his left armrest and moved it piecemeal out and to the left. 'Come closer,' he urged. 'I wish to learn of you.'

This elicited a shuffling at Yamcha's side. 'My Lord-'

'Nail,' Guru said, again calling upon his patient, fatherly tone, 'I wish to know of our visitor.'

This seemed to shut Nail up- he became silent again.

The lifted hand, barely held with what looked to Guru's full strength, looked both inviting and foreboding to Yamcha- the fingers were massive, easily large enough to encompass half of his body, and if the Guru's age and condition was of any indication, the purpose for why he had done such a laborious act was not clear to Yamcha. Still- he had come this far, and despite his reservations, Guru still radiated a comforting, reassuring aura. There was a reason for why he had felt pulled here… even if that reason wasn't explicable to himself.

With blindly confident steps, Yamcha strode forward. He felt Nail's eyes burrow into his back as he stopped underneath Guru's outstretched, downward-facing hand.

The sensation from earlier returned in a stronger form- now it felt like a hundred fingers were moving slowly across his scalp, forming a perfect mesh of movement around his skin. 'Ahh… I sense great conflict, present in the past and your mind…' Guru said. 'You are… saddened.'

'Who is this person, Lord Guru?' Nail asked, audibly irritated. 'Why are they and their friends here on Namek?'

Friends? He knows of Tien and Bulma, then,Yamcha thought, glancing back towards Nail. Perhaps the conversation he had walked in on earlier had been more personally relevant then he'd initially supposed.

'It is as Moori informed us,' Guru said after the sensation layering over Yamcha's head had lessened. 'They are noble-hearted visitors from another world, seeking to revive their friends. There are…' Guru's voice faltered briefly. '...questions that remain, but I am wholly convinced of the good aim of their intentions.'

'Moori does not know the difference between a friend and a threat…' Nail muttered underneath his breath.

'You were mistaken to mistrust your older brother in this matter, Nail,' Guru said, surprising both Nail and Yamcha that he had heard so quiet a muttering and causing them to jolt. 'He is… he will be…' but Guru faltered again, and slid into a serious of long inhales and exhales.

Yamcha heard the sound of air passing through clenched teeth behind him. 'You should leave,' Nail said brusquely. 'Your presence here is unwanted, and furthermore-'

Even after Guru's lapse, the sensation around Yamcha's head had never fully left- now it sparked back into full-throated life. 'Do not scare our guest, Nail,' Guru advised, as if from a distant and far-off place. 'I wish to… to see…'

'Lord Guru-'

'Nail…' Guru said softly, 'I sense a soul hurt and fractured. I have the power to… attempt to mold the pieces back to their original shape.' Then, for the first time since approaching the outstretched hand, Yamcha distinctly felt Guru's intangible gaze settle on him. 'Would this be acceptable to you? May I do so?'

Yamcha, somehow aware of the displeasure radiating off of Nail from the other side of the room, nonetheless answered nonverbally yes, and felt a recognition of his answer resonate in Guru.

'Very well... '

He braced himself, expecting some sort of outside pressure or sensation similar to what he had felt when Guru had first examined him- but nothing could have prepared him for the rushing, overwhelming flow of himself.

0o0o0

He hadn't noticed when the crowd around him had turned into a mob, nor had he seen when the Namekians had begun to threateningly brandish farming tools, but now, stuck in what felt like a rapidly shrinking tournament ring, Tien recentered his attention on Moori, who held his ground directly in front of him. The villagers must have been reacting to their elder's expression- Moori, whether due to his temperament or his reaction to Tien's last comment, looked ready to attack him. 'Explain yourself,' Moori said with a look that would've killed Tien if it had been permitted to do so. 'What have you brought upon us?'

'Nothing!' Tien protested. 'We're deserters- or, more accurately, escapees of an army that we had been forced into. And there's a small chance that, well, this army may follow us here! May be in the process of doing so! So I'm sorry for being impatient!' Tien said, in a tone that indicated that he really wasn't. 'But we don't know how long we have before people come for us and try to collect us, or worse!'

Moori narrowed his eyes. 'So you claim that we are under no threat? Only you and your friends?'

Tien took a look of the crowd, saw them begin to relax some, and sighed. 'Yes.'

'I see.' With a series of glances, Moori directed everyone present to loosen their grips on their impromptu weapons. 'Then I think I was right to wait,' Moori said scornfully. 'I think I was right to make you wait. The fact that you would conceal this fact from us is telling- you only wish to exploit us for our dragonballs and leave us as soon as possible so to avoid the people chasing after you.'

'No- no, it's not like that,' Tien said. 'We- we just needed to get our wish and leave here as quickly as possible so that we didn't bring any harm on anyone here…'

'And if you succeeded, what if your pursuers think we helped you, and that, failing to find you, are inclined to take out their frustration on us?' Moori said cooly. 'Did you consider that?'

Gradually, a forlorn expression washed over Tien's face. 'The decisions that led us here were the best of the other bad ones available to us.'

'For you, or for us?'

Moori's words rang through Tien's being like a broken bell- and it was made painfully clear to him that the Namekian elder spoke the truth. They had never stopped to consider what danger they might be bringing onto the Namekians- they had just seen them as a means to end of reviving Krillin and Kami. They had treated them more like objects than people.

A rustle of movement went through the inner boundary of the crowd, and Bulma emerged into the center next to Tien. Judging from her remorseful expression, she must have caught the tail end of their conversation. 'I- I don't know what to say-' She managed.

Moori gestured her to be silent. 'No more words. I have come to a decision- a final decision. You are to leave Namek immediately, for it is obvious that your motives and conscious have done nothing to endanger us.' His eyes flickered up to the green sky. 'Perhaps, out there, you may find something else-'

He halted mid-sentence- and his eyes seemed to focus on something far more discreet than a cloudless expanse. The sounds of feet gently touching down on the ground sounded from behind Tien, and he turned-

Yamcha- it was Yamcha, examining the gathered crowd, side-by-side with a stoic-looking Namekian. He looked inexplicably confident- no, it was more than that. He felt utterly different. It wasn't just his strength- which had jumped to a previously unthinkable level, which, if Tien's handle on his ki was right, was close to rivaling Vegeta's strength- but also its character. Whereas before the energy felt more contained or bound, now Yamcha's ki felt like a loosened spring, bubbling and flowing effortlessly. Tien couldn't even remember the last time he had sensed so serene a ki.

The Namekian Yamcha had landed with wasted no time with any sort of idle examination. 'You and everyone else needs to come with me, Moori,' he said, addressing the elder. 'Guru wants to see them.' He shot a nasty glare at Tien and Bulma. 'All of them.'

0o0o0

A short time later- the Namekians as a group were able fliers one and all, as they easily made the voyage alongside Tien, Yamcha, and a carried Bulma- the sum of the village descended onto the spire Tien and Bulma had seen from a distance. They observed that this place seemed both familiar and sacred to any Namekian who wasn't Moori or the stolid warrior who they learned was called Nail. Apparently he was something of a bodyguard to Guru- which made the contemptuous glares he threw at them all the more disquieting.

But he had led them here with Guru's own blessing; it seemed that, contrary to Moori's pronouncements, their time on Namek wasn't quite at an end.

There was a single building, squat and round, that occupied the spire's top. Grudgingly, Nail entered and signaled them- all of them, including the Namekians- to follow.

Of this place Tien had sensed something off the moment they had arrived at the village, and no sooner had he entered the dimly lit, one-room building atop the spire, he sighted the source- Guru, presumably, seated in what looked like a permanent fashion, looked to be ailing. Examining him up close, there was indeed an astonishing quality to his ki; but what was more apparent to Tien was that it was on the verge of being snuffed out. He had never doubted the truth of Moori's words when he claimed that Guru was sick. But Tien had been unwilling to accept that his worst fears- that there was a real reason to deny them the dragonballs because their use might kill someone- were real. Now, standing in this festering place, he could no longer cling to that ignorance.

Which made his presence here all the stranger; had they all come to see off a dying being? All around him he saw distraught and anguished Namekian faces warp and shudder. They, too, saw what Tien saw.

A nudging at his side- Bulma. 'Look,' she said, grabbing his arm and his attention and pointing it forward. 'Look at him.'

Yamcha was walking to Nail's side, though neither looked particularly happy to see each other. 'What?' Tien replied, seeing nothing special.

'Tien-' Bulma shook his arm and pushed it slightly farther to the right, '-look!'

He sight followed the length of his arm and saw Guru. Guru gesturing for him. Confused, Tien glanced back to Nail and Yamcha, and the latter nodded and gestured with his head to move forward.

The crowd in the hall was quiet and somber, every Namekian wrapped up in their private grief, while Tien cautiously approached. He was careful not to disturb any of the other Namekians standing near him as he moved forward. Once he was free of the crowd, a growing hush rolled over him from behind, but he ignored this and continued to walk. Guru's right hand was now precariously hovering in the air, shaking and trembling but never quite failing. When he reached Guru's right side, this thick, heavy hand came to comfortably rest on his head, conjuring in his head the image of someone laying their head down on a pillow. At the same time, a soothing rubbing sensation seemed to capture every inch of his smooth pate.

'Yes…' a rumbling voice came from above Tien- Guru's voice, then. 'You are like the other- you two are both noble and brave… yes,' Guru refocused, tightening his grip on Tien's head ever-so-slightly. 'Noble and brave…'

An immediate and astonishing rush of energy filled Tien, and for a moment he thought it was Guru's- but then its nature crystalized in his mind and he realized that it was his own. A bright, intense white aura poured from his body, smacking and bouncing off of the floor, and yet it was incredibly contained and focused, and even more perplexingly, peaceful. He initially thought he had never sensed ki like this before, but then he placed it- he had received the exact same impression from Yamcha's ki. So… my power?... He turned his ki sense inwards. It's grown massively bigger...

Then it was over, and an astounded Tien felt Guru's hand weakly lift from his head. 'Thus... I have done the same for you…'

Guru inhaled, and even though he didn't move, Tien intuitively knew that his next sentence was directed towards the general crowd gathered. 'There two… they will save us,' Guru said, wheezing. 'We must do whatever we can to help them. They must gather the dragonballs… they will save us…' And, then, a series of violent coughs erupted from Guru, so powerful and unrestrained that the air of the room was pushed back with each and every shot. Nail wasted no time- he said something intelligible to them and the room rapidly began to clear of people. He, Moori, and a few other Namekians rushed to his side, pushing Tien out of the way, and began to speak in hushed tones and tend to him.

Not knowing what else to do- he was clearly unwanted near Guru's side- Tien moved over to Yamcha and Bulma.

'You seem to have gotten a bigger boost than me,' Yamcha said wryly.

'So it was-' Tien then gave Yamcha a look. 'What, you care?'

Yamcha smiled- and it looked incredibly natural, not forced in the slightest, and Tien started to wonder whether this was the same person he had just spent months scrounging to survive with.

Bulma must have been having the same thoughts, for she said airily, 'Is that you, Yamcha?'

'It's me,' he confirmed, letting his smile fade from his face in an easy-going fashion. 'Guru hasn't replaced me with a clone, if that's what you're worried about,' he said, laughing.

'Did he… help you?'

'Not directly, but in a way, yes. He… ' Yamcha slit his eyes, concentrating, '... made things clearer to me, I guess. My perspective is different.'

'And what is your perspective telling you?' Bulma probed.

Yamcha gave another broad smile. 'That we're on the verge of bringing Krillin back.'

On any other person his cheeriness would have been contagious- but, coming from him, it was absolutely pathogenic; before Tien and Bulma knew it, they were smiling as hard as Yamcha, each one imagining seeing Krillin again, or being home, or some combination of the two.

But they had scant time to enjoy these thoughts- Nail and Moori strode over to them soon after, looking significantly grimmer than them. 'Come with us, please,' Moori ordered of them.

0o0o0

Once they were outside- it seems that the Namekians who had exited the building had gone back to the village, for there was no-one around- Nail turned and addressed him.

'I'll say it simply,' he said in a gruff, martial manner that reminded them of Piccolo. 'Guru is failing. None of us, his children, have any authority to doubt or abridge his decisions- but his mind is muddled and twisted. I do not believe that he was thinking clearly when he chose to unlock your latent powers-'

'That's what Guru did to our ki?' Tien asked.

'-nor do I think he was correct to grant you unconditional permission to use our dragonballs.' Nail continued, ignoring Tien's comment. 'I don't think I actually agreed with a single thing he said earlier, if I'm being honest. We were wrong to measure his remaining time by years, or even months-' he said this more to Moori, 'he most likely has days.'

Nail's words sobered them. 'We're sorry,' Bulma said, speaking for all of them. 'We're sorry that he's dying.'

'There is nothing that can be done for old age,' Moori said, resigned. 'Time comes for us all, in the end. Perhaps, if the dragonballs were not linked to his power… no,' he shook his head. 'He would not want that. He would want his death to come when it should.' Moori sighed. 'There is… nothing we can do.'

'There is, however,' Nail interjected, 'the question of his mental soundness. You would be doing us a great favor by forgetting everything he just said.'

'He seemed perfectly lucid when I was with him,' Yamcha countered politely. 'He seemed about the same with Tien just now.'

'You do not know him as we do,' Nail said with a barely disguised antipathy. 'We have known him far longer than you three have, and we remember the visitors to this planet that Guru promptly dismissed-' Nail paused '-not in a violent manner, but in a diplomatic one, to be clear.'

'But you said it yourself, right?' Bulma pressed like a well-trained surgeon on an open vein. 'You two have no grounds to overturn his decision once it's been made. And he did grant us the right to use the dragonballs.'

'He did,' Nail conceded, 'but you, as to be expected, lack any knowledge of context- do you not remember what preceded him granting this privilege?'

'...Something about saving you?' Bulma hazarded. 'He did, admittedly, seem a little bit out of it then…'

'Guru was, again, incorrect- we do not need you three to "save" us. But he was drawing upon relevant information nonetheless.' Their blank expressions seemed to irk Nail. 'What? Do you not sense it?'

'No clue what you're talking about,' Yamcha said.

'If you two claim to be fighters, then you are bad ones,' Nail said dismissively to Tien and Yamcha. 'If you cannot stretch out your ki sense beyond this planet, then I will do it for you- a plethora of strong kis have just arrived within the solar system, and are poised to land on Namek any minute.'

Their faces- including Moori's- one and all hardened, their eyebrows forming haggard lines on their faces. 'The PTO? They're here?' Tien whispered.

'If this is true,' Moori interjected, searching Nail's face briefly, 'then I hope, for all our sakes,' he said gravely, looking specifically at Tien, 'that you can expound on what you told me earlier.'

0o0o0

Situated on the bridge of the ship like the true captain that he was, Zarbon peered out of the main glass panel that dominated the front section of the bridge. From end to end it ran horizontally, thick and transparent, serving as a port to view the inky black splashes of space just beyond it. And whereas this panel helped to frame the blank reaches of space dotted with stars, space itself framed the green and milky white planet that sat in the dead center of the panel. The ship was held at just the right distance away from the planet to magnify its image just enough to nearly run the panel's height- nearly. Slivers of black wound around the planet on its top and bottom, feeding into the larger pools of darkness to its right and left. It was exactly how Zarbon had wanted it- and, thus, it was perfect. This ship and its crew were undoubtedly underutilized in their last assignment ferrying whatever resource they were hauling on the edges of Frieza's empire.

As for the rest of the flotilla he had under his command, well, he'd have to reserve judgment for later. All in all, he had almost twenty ships under his command. Most were small troop transports, fit for nothing more than ferrying troops to and from battle, others were various support and logistical ships either involved in handling the fleet's communications or supplies, but there were two particular ships that he was surprised to have at his disposal- and, consequently, cared a great deal about them.

Somewhere out in space right and back relative to where he was now was the crown jewel of this fleet- an Arcin class destroyer, top of its line, named after whatever long-dead engineer had drawn up the first design of it, gilded peacefully on the black expanse, guns carefully trained on the planet before them. The relative stability of the galaxy of the past few centuries, as Zarbon understood it, meant that the emphasis on research and development had shifted from ship-based weaponry and survivability to ground-based combat and personnel utility- to stronger beam blasters and armor that wouldn't immediately break apart in the field. This was more due to the PTO's modus operandi than to anything else; purging planets didn't involve glassing them from orbit such that they became unlivable. Compared to ground forces, ship-based weapons simply lacked the precision needed to prepare a world for market without causing irreparable atmospheric damage or knocking the planet a few degrees of its axis. Couple this with the fact that any planet that had the sad misfortune of being on the receiving end of the PTO's wishes typically weren't advanced enough to field a capable space fleet of their own, ships like this destroyer were rare- but still a luxury, as they offered unrivaled long-range firepower for eliminating hard targets. So far he was unsure if he would even need to call upon it, but it felt good to have at his disposal nonetheless.

The ship he currently stood on was of no less repute, was of the foremost quality and is counted among a class of vessels usually reserved for Frieza or his highly esteemed agents- those above even his own status within Frieza's empire. Beneath him, the engines thrummed lazily in an unspoken challenge to be pushed, the ship-to-ship weapons laid underneath pivoting siding clamored to be used, and the accommodations and amenities provided one with the best quality of life the galaxy could afford when conducting a campaign. It was such an unprecedented gift to have that being on such a ship without his lord was so utterly foreign to Zarbon that every time he rounded a corner he half-expected Frieza to pop out and spook him.

Perhaps this was for the best- it would do more good than harm to keep Frieza, and specifically, his wants and desires, at the forefront of his mind. Once the frantic preparation for this expedition had been made, he had had time to decide upon what would be the most effectual approach- or, more accurately, what response would be most likely to please Frieza. Thus, he stood like a statue facing the horizontal panel, gazing at the green and white circle in the far-off distance and willfully ignorant of the quiet chatter passing back and forth between the officers around him.

He had a great deal of information at his disposal- soon to grow even larger- to parse through. He knew the tracker placed upon the renegade Saiyans' ship had stopped transmitting just a few hours before, and in that time, his technicians hadn't detected any ships launching from the planet's surface. Whoever these renegades are, he knew they were still on the planet. If Zarbon chose to attack, he would most likely have the element of surprise, even if the tracker had been destroyed due to being found; a tracker told them nothing as to how many soldiers would attack, or when this attack would occur, or from which angles it would come from- all it told them was, in some way, shape or form, an attack was coming. Zarbon was actually glad that the transmitter had been discovered. Stewing, fretting people usually made paltry enemies.

If he had the luxury of time, he would have held the forces under his command in orbit indefinitely and let the renegades come to him- but, sadly, he was conducting this operation on the behalf of someone else. And Zarbon was aware that Frieza did not care for the lives of his common soldiery- as foolish and arrogant as that was- and, accordingly, he had to adjust his preferred plan. It did not matter that his force hadn't fully congregated, that it wasn't yet at full strength; Frieza would expect an immediate and overwhelming assault to be launched as soon as any pieces were in the position to do so. Within the hour, troops under Zarbon's command would descend to the planet's surface. In total, they would scarcely spend two hours in this system before being sent to fight.

While Zarbon reflected on this fact- it struck him as both sad and brutally efficient- he became aware of a hissing, sliding sound. Soon after, a pink, bulbous alien came up to his side. 'The readings are in from the sensor ships,' Dodoria addressed him, his large, spiked arms hanging out and held loosely at his sides. 'Cursory scans of the planet revealed a very small native population. Numbering anywhere between 50 to 200 lifeforms, judging from the pictures of their settlements. Levels of technological development are substantially lower than the civilization of a typical contract planet.'

For the first time in hours, Zarbon moved his physical gaze from the panel and directed it towards another living being. 'How low?'

Dodoria gave a wide, smug smile. 'They're farmers, one and all.'

Zarbon looked at him for a time, then returned his gaze to and out of the panel. 'How strong is the average inhabitant?'

'Readings a are a bit flaky in that regard. We've caught readings ranging from 500 to 4,000 or 5,000.'

'That low?' Zarbon said, his voice belying some skepticism.

'Don't trust me?' Dodoria chuckled.

'I am… doubtful of those readings,' Zarbon admitted, furrowing his brow. 'I've studied Vegeta's dossier extensively and the last reading on his file clocked in at around 15,000. That would mean that, at the bare minimum, for someone to evade him as they did, their strength would have to be upwards of 16,000, maybe 17,000.' He paused. 'Obviously, whatever that number may be, it is outside of the range you've just given me.'

'And?'

'I'm not sure,' Zarbon murmured, 'whether to doubt Vegeta's word or our sensors.'

'We know there's some sort of civilization down there,' Dodoria rumbled, casting his gaze towards the green-white sphere facing them. 'Could be those Saiyans are hiding with them.'

'And that would affect the reliability of our scouters?'

'You know as well as I do ship-based sensors aren't that accurate from this far out,' Dodoria said, unhurried. 'We won't be able to many any final judgments until we get on the ground.'

'Hmm.' For a moment they both stood there, side-by-side, Zarbon on the left, Dodoria on the right, framed from the front by their impending mission. Aquitaine contrasted by pink- a tall, lean build complemented by bulging, sinewy skin and muscles. They were, Zarbon reflected, as odd a pair of hands as any galactic overlord could ask for.

'Dodoria, I want you to lead the first assault,' Zarbon finally said, turning to his fellow enforcer. 'While you're on the ground, keep an open line with your company officers and with me. Your first and only task is to locate the renegades. Do not engage with the natives unless threatened. If possible, enlist their help.' He dictated.

'And my second will be?...'

'Take Cui.'

'Will do. What'll you be doing in the meantime?'

'I will be giving the first of many reports to Lord Frieza,' Zarbon explained, his face an expressionless mask, 'as are my responsibilities.' His mouth was oddly strained. 'Is there anything you wish for me to pass on?'

'Not looking forward to it, are you?' Dodoria asked, grinning.

Zarbon looked over at Dodoria again, and sighed. 'I've never understood your relationship with Lord Frieza. He never seems to expect anything from you.'

'What he says, I do. It's as simple as that.'

'But surely you have thoughts of your own? Feelings that things could be different, or better, if he Frieza would simply be more open-minded?' Zarbon then glanced around the room and saw a number of faces turned to them. 'This conversation does not leave this room under the penalty of death, just to be clear,' he quickly added. Several heads nodded vigorously in response.

Dodoria gave another one of his dull-looking smiles. 'Let me tell you the most valuable piece of advice I've ever been given. You're going to live a hell of a lot longer by playing dumb. Frieza thinks I'm a big, stupid oaf, not suited for anything but smashing heads in. And you know what? I enjoy that. Pays the bills and gives me some pride to boot. And I do enjoy smashing heads in.'

Their conversation, if anything, reminded Zarbon why he disliked Dodoria- he was a tool, he knew that he was a tool, and was happy to be so for as long as he could. If this dragged for on any longer, he'd have an outburst to rival his master. 'You have your orders,' Zarbon said. 'Go.'

Flashing him an oafish grin one last time, Dodoria even gave a little dip of his head, spun around, and bounced out of the room. Zarbon held his breath for a moment before releasing it in a steady, tensed hiss.

Dodoria was something else, too- a fool. Zarbon knew his story as well as his own- they had both first learned of the fickleness and cruelty of the universe by Frieza's own hand. And that pink thug was deluded if he thought treading water would keep them at his side forever.

In front of him, the planet, his soon-to-be pedestal where he'd stake his worth, hung in space like a painting mounted on a black wall. If all went well, it would be here that he would buy another five years. Ten, if he was lucky.

0o0o0

All sensation became a blur to Piccolo. He could access the fiercest level of concentration when sounds, light, and touch became irrelevant, even nonexistent, as his, body, spirit, and soul slipped into a meditative state. In this arrangement he could freely, briefly, ponder the external events around him. The intermittent flashing of red light continued unabated to his right before he swept it from his purview. Somewhere to his left, he heard Master Roshi, the metaphorical bar which he stretched to reach, leafing through a never-inexhaustible supply of magazines. Damn human- he should have run out of reading material eons ago. He stinks of magic.

The revelation that his damned rival, Krillin- rival? Is that the right word? No, he's an enemy, a flimsy stumbling block, nothing more- would learn a technique that he could not had at first enraged him. It seemed too unlikely to be true- that his own lineage, his essence would prevent him from learning such a powerful technique. But time spent searching the inner contents of his soul revealed this to be fact; his regenerative essence was too deeply intertwined with how he manipulated his ki to perform this technique as King Kai taught it to Krillin.

Piccolo had also been quick to realize as well that King Kai was one of many teachers of many different styles, and just because this one did not know how to make this technique compatible with his body, it did not mean that it was impossible for Piccolo to learn it. It was just a matter of patience, time, and experimentation...

Regardless, he reflected, this developing divide between himself and Krillin only made his own strengths all the more prominent. His regeneration enabled him to train like no other being in the galaxy, allowed him to push himself for longer and harder than his human counterpart. Even now he felt a clear divide start to emerge in his and Krillin's strength- if he ignored his damn technique, that is.

Grr… Frustration was not productive to meditation- he had learned that well enough in the long years spent brooding between his hollow victory at the World Martial Arts Tournament and Raditz's arrival. With a careful, steadied breath, Piccolo brushed aside the feeling, drawing up the walls around the center of his mind. Methodically, he turned his attention to his body.

He felt a familiar ache pulse through his muscles, the ripened fruit of a day (or whatever the analog was in a nightless realm) spent training, though while in the meditative state this ache did not occur to him; rather, he called upon it to present itself, much like a librarian examining a single book before carefully indexing it in a bookshelf. Caressings of his mind came and went, each garnering the briefest of looks from Piccolo before being methodically cataloged and sorted.

It was in moments like these that he always received the clearest sense of himself- who he was when the roar of the outside world was reduced to whisper and he was free to reflect unhindered. He would always wonder what he had come from. Lacking any knowledge about his origins, his father had tried to construct something to pass onto to Piccolo-but King Piccolo's death had ended whatever plans or dreams he had. Piccolo had never identified with his father and his desires, and yet out of loyalty he had tried to finish his work… and he died. When he woke in Otherworld, and saw that frowning, wrinkled fool Kami at his side with a halo above his head, Piccolo had accepted that he had done what he could; his life was spent.

But the impending prospect of being revived had changed things. If he found himself back on Earth, he could consider himself free of his father's legacy and all the burdens it entailed. He had already given one life for it, after all; why give a second? And if he was being perfectly honest- and, in this state, he was- he himself never cared that much about conquering the Earth.

He would never admit this, of course, but within his mental sanctuary, he palmed this thought and passed it along nonetheless.

His thoughts and sensations came slower now, each one coming up against the walls of his chamber and rubbing gently against it- once judged, each one was guided away. The procession grew lazy...

Duh dum. Something thrummed in the distance, causing Piccolo to sweep his mental gaze in the sound's direction...

And then something impinged.

0o0o0

King Kai, basked in a thick red glow, beamed. 'You've got it!' he exclaimed, running his gaze excitedly over Krillin's crimson-outlined form. 'Getting the base form was the hardest part- now, accessing the higher levels should be a cinch!'

Similarly enthused, Krillin examined his hands and forearms, studying the traces of flame-like crescents that bounced and licked off his body like water lapping a beach. In the next second, the light disappeared, Krillin took a series of pained breaths, but through this his proud smile never lifted from his face. 'I… actually got it,' he said, expressing his own disbelief. I didn't think it was possible, to be honest…'

'Now,' King Kai said in a playfully chiding voice, 'why would you have thought that? You're studying under the greatest teacher in the North Galaxy.'

Krillin shot King Kai a confused look. 'North?'

'Remember my official title? North Kai?' King Kai prodded. 'There's a reason for it- I watch over the north quadrant of the galaxy.'

If anything, Krillin's confusion deepened. 'Watch for what?'

King Kai frowned. 'What, do you think my only job is to train you two goofs? I'm a watcher, first and foremost-'

'HAAAAAGH!' Piccolo suddenly and loudly screamed from just a few feet away, rushing out of his sitting position and summoning around him a white, raging aura. He stretched to his full height, slapping wind across everyone else present in heavy, coiled waves, and then as quickly as it began, his aura flickered out and he nearly collapsed, just barely keeping himself on his feet.

'Uhh…' King Kai adjusted his tinted, round glasses, which has moved slightly out of place from Piccolo's flare of ki. 'What was that?'

Piccolo continued to pant and seemed to shrink in on himself. 'I… I don't know,' he said, sounding uncharacteristically confused. 'For a moment I felt something… almost tapping against my consciousness.' Piccolo then raised his gaze from the ground and looked at King Kai- his eyes were grave and fearful. 'That's never happened to me before in meditation.'

'So you lost your focus?...' King Kai said, throwing out a guess.

'No-' Piccolo answered sternly. 'It was more than that. It was almost like… someone reached out to me, and tried to get inside my head.'

A silence fell on them- and was broken up as quickly by the sound of a magazine being shuttered and put aside. 'What's this?' Master Roshi said, surging to his feet and stretching. 'I didn't quite catch everything of what was just said, but that last sentence sounded ominous.'

Krillin wasn't quite sure how to judge this situation- it was weird, and moreover distracting, because he wanted to get back to learning the Kaioken as quickly as possible. But a glance over at King Kai shut up anything he would have said; his teacher now looked incredibly pinched, as if the concerned kneading of the muscles in his face had crumpled his entire body.

'I concur,' King Kai said, folding his hands behind his back and walking over to Piccolo. 'What you just said was extremely ominous.'

Piccolo brought his hands to his face and began to rub his temples. 'I… I think it was nothing. It's gone now- whatever it was, it must have been a freak accident. It's not a problem,' he said hastily, his voice straining to return to a normal cadence.

'Actually, it's a bigger issue than you know,' King Kai swiftly retorted. 'I have an intimate and omniscient awareness of every single flicker of energy that so much as floats across this planet. And, whatever just happened to you, I didn't sense a bit of it.' King Kai appeared to think for a moment before snapping his fingers crisply. 'Come here,' he commanded of Piccolo, motioning him closer with one hand. 'I want to do what I did before.'

A wary expression rose on Piccolo's face. 'I didn't enjoy it the first time- I'd rather not-'

'People on my planet aren't allowed to have outbursts without explanations,' King Kai said imperiously. 'Come here.'

Piccolo looked conflicted, but eventually he conceded, and under the curious gazes of Krillin and Master Roshi, he strode over to King Kai and stuck out his head, proffering it to King Kai. Without missing a beat King Kai extended his hands and placed them on Piccolo's head like he had done when they had first arrived. After a time, while there was no sudden explosion of activity, King Kai withdrew his hands. He was sporting as grave an expression as any one of them had seen. 'That's… incredibly concerning.'

'Well?' Piccolo asked evenly, straightening his neck.

'It was faint- but I picked up on some lingering energy floating around in your mind. Somehow, I didn't sense this when it first affected you…' King Kai muttered, folding his hands underneath the crooks of his arms. 'This is very strange…'

'Yeah? So where'd it come from?'

'It felt like energy from hell,' King Kai said bluntly. 'But… that's impossible. This and that realm are separated by the highest order of magic and spiritual energy- nothing should be able to cross this barrier… but, then again, it should have been impossible for something to reach this planet without me being aware of it. So, I guess a lot of impossible things are happening today…'

Nearby, Krillin shuddered- he remembered vividly how distressing being in hell had been, and he had hoped that he would be done with it after leaving. From what King Kai was saying, that didn't seem to be the case.

'Someone… in hell?' Piccolo pieced together. His mind was whirring. Father? Suddenly, his meditative thoughts felt much less private.

King Kai nodded. 'The only possible conclusion I can think of is that a very strong magic user is sneaking their energy into this realm, and is trying to inflict you with some sort of… something. Impossible to tell anything of its motive or effect other than, manifestly, it was very unpleasant.' And then King Kai's face lightened abruptly and lifted his gaze in Piccolo's direction. 'But, lucky for you, there's a means to clear away this mystery.'

Piccolo frowned- and noticed that King Kai's gaze actually went through and around him. Master Roshi, the gaze's intended target, walked past Piccolo soon after presented himself like a soldier to King Kai. He didn't seem to be disturbed by the previous pronouncements- his face was set in an expressionless cut. 'That bad, huh?'

'What?' Krillin asked, glancing back and forth between King Kai and Master Roshi. 'What's going on?'

'Find whoever did this and do your job,' King Kai said to Master Roshi.

'Same process as before?' Master Roshi asked. 'Rough 'em up until they can't stand?'

King Kai nodded. 'The very same.' He then turned to Krillin and Piccolo. 'Master Roshi is about to do his job around here- here being the Otherworld, that is. For we've taken him on as something akin to an enforcer. Whenever there are troublemakers in hell, we send him down there to bust some heads,' King Kai finished, smiling devilishly.

'Wanna know a fun fact?' Master Roshi joined in while stretching his arms in large, round circles, and ruffling his slick black hair. 'If you want to speed up the time it takes for a soul to be absorbed into hell, you beat 'em up!' He said proudly, ramming a fist into his other hand.

Listlessly, Piccolo and Krillin stared back at him. 'Really?' Krillin asked.

'Yes!' Master Roshi cheered, jumping into the sky and blasting off and away from the planet. He was moving incredibly fast- he pierced the distant fluffy yellow clouds below in a matter of seconds. Krillin and Piccolo were equally stupified by how quickly he had done so.

'I had no idea…' Krillin mumbled, unmoved from peering down at the yellow clouds.

'Why would you?' King Kai said. 'We never told you.'

Piccolo held his gaze below for a moment longer, and then turned to King Kai. 'Question.' he said, glancing at King Kai. 'Master Roshi said that beating up souls speeds up how fast they're absorbed by hell. If that's the case, why isn't he always down there "busting heads"?'

'Well, for one thing, there's no need- usually the realm does that well enough on its own. But, if I'm being honest,' King Kai said off-handedly, 'there are some beings in Hell Master Roshi couldn't even touch- it's a good thing those people are dead, because they would be causing a lot of harm if they were still alive!'

It was an odd thing to tell two students who had both, to varying degrees, come to regard Master Roshi as a god, but they shrugged, and moreover, felt glad that they were up here at King Kai's planet and not down below.

0o0o0

'Nothing?' Moori repeated, his eyes desperate for any morsel of information. 'You can tell us nothing?'

Bulma shook her head remorsefully, as did Yamcha. 'We weren't exactly with them for a long time,' Tien elaborated. 'And the time we did spend with them, we spent at a single outpost. We aren't exactly aware of their capabilities.'

Nail snorted. 'You Earthlings are truly pathetic. And we're to believe that you were able to defend your planet from one of these PTO soldiers?'

'We know that they don't like us and that they're here now,' Tien said flatly. 'That's enough for us to work off of.'

'How?' Nail questioned. 'You have no idea of what they're planning, of what strategy they will employ. What could you possibly know?'

'We know that we need to leave as soon as possible. So, to that effect, we're going to make our wish and leave,' Tien said willfully, staring down Nail.

Nail stared back for a time, but then he glanced away and scoffed. 'Fine. You have Guru's permission, that much is clear- but don't expect any help from us. You'll have to collect the dragonballs on your own.'

'And you aren't worried that the PTO won't gun for you while they're coming after us?' Yamcha said. 'What your people get in the way when they attack us?'

'We'll deal with that if we have to, and I doubt we will, 'Nail replied coldly. 'But I've studied the strength of these visitors- and we can handle them if need be. Up until that point, however, we will remain neutral.' He glanced at Moori out of the corner of his eyes. 'On this, I and Moori are of the same mind.'

'There's nothing you can do?' Bulma said, focusing her gaze on Moori, who she sensed was the more amenable of the two in this conversation. 'We've described the PTO to you- you know how vile and depraved they are! They'll attack you no matter what you do!'

Moori looked torn- he kept glancing back-and-forth between Nail and them. 'I cannot offer the help of our people at this time. This "PTO" as you call them has no reason to attack us. We have done nothing to antagonize or harm them- as long as we do not help you. Facing the prospect of Guru's imminent death, I cannot bring any more hardship onto my people,' Moori said solemnly. 'I am sorry, but you are on your own.'

'A decision I agree with, for a change,' Nail added scornfully. 'The faster you three leave Namek, the better.'

By this point, Tien, Yamcha, and Bulma were undeniably frustrated. 'So what if Guru dies?' Yamcha asked, barely concealing his fury. 'If the dragonballs cease to exist, what then?'

Nail gave them a slow, considerate look. 'I'd recommend you move very quickly.'

A minute later, after Nail and Moori had withdrawn back into the building, Bulma broke up their group argument and pushed Yamcha and Tien nearly off their feet.

'I don't care who carries me!' Bulma shrieked, beating a fist against both Tien and Yamcha's chests. 'Just make up your mind so we can start collecting the dragonballs! We literally have no time!'

The two human fighters exchanged a wary, nervous. Eventually, Tien shrugged, gestured to Bulma, and then with her consent scooped her up in his arms and charged into the sky. Yamcha followed a second after.

0o0o0

The coward in Bez had wanted to flee the planet with the shuttle, consequences be damned, the moment he realized that the arrival of a PTO force raining down destruction on the planet was imminent. The bigger coward in him, though, rationalized that it was incredibly likely that the PTO had already set up a functional blockade of this planet- and, lo and behold, there was. The shuttle had a cruddy sensor dish- but not that cruddy that it couldn't pick up on twenty-odd ships parked in orbit around the planet.

Which left him with a horrible choice- a choice he was all too familiar making. But he discovered he had an even bigger third coward in him; he wanted to delay making that choice as long as possible.

So, keeping the engines as cool as possible, Bez nimbly directed the ship into the sky. He searched for a handful of minutes before finding a relatively narrow gorge- something of a rarity on this planet- where he could neatly hide the ship from any sort of long-range sensors.

Then, with the ship tucked away, Bez had time to think- and as much as he didn't care for what his other deserters thought of him, he really couldn't afford to alienate them and the PTO. All that'd get him would be a painful suicide.

Within the hour, he grabbed a spare scouter from the ship's cockpit, jogged down the ramp, and set off.

0o0o0

They flew through the air at twice, three times as fast than their usual speed, Tien and Yamcha both milling out every ounce of energy possible to move them faster. They, thus, were pushing themselves and their burgeoned powers to the best of their abilities. But they had never flown this fast before, and as a result, the air was fighting them.

Cradled in Tien's arms, Bulma tried her best to shield her face from the savage, cutting wind. 'I don't remember the wind hurting this much last time!' She yelled, her voice barely carrying over the howling.

'Well, we were a lot weaker a few hours ago!' Tien yelled back.

'Because of that latent power whatsit Nail talked about?'

'Yes- but we should be about ten minutes away from the nearest village, Tien informed them, his words mixing with the whipping, droning sound of wind rushing past them. 'Just a bit longer-'

A lancing sensation roared through Tien's mind- in an instant, he dropped Bulma from his arms. Before she could even begin to scream in terror, Tien's form just above her was slammed away by a white-booted kick to his chin, rocketing him off into the horizon.

Yamcha was caught half-extended in the air, forced to halt his forward momentum abruptly, and rolled in the air. He saw two things; a dropping, flailing Bulma, was steadily accelerating into an uncontrolled free-fall to the distant ground below them- and, a purple alien, one leg fully lengthened, the other cocked, turned their head to him, showcasing their rounded head and the two ear-like openings that rested on the sides of their forehead. They looked eminently pleased.

'And where exactly are you three running off to, huh?'


A/N: Next chapter is going to have a lot of battling. Prepare ya self.

And here's something different: What fics am I reading right now?... because, usually, their style shows up in the latest chapter I write. So:

Hermit by Lionheart261

You know that sense of anticipation you get in your gut for a fic when you get an interesting idea, a strong opening, and a talented author all in the same place? This is that.

Rhyme & Reason by TC9078

C'mon dude, I know you're out there- give me that sweet, sweet conclusion to the tournament! Lock yourself in a cabin like G. R. R. Martin and slay the beast!

The Catalyst by Drakthul

I first read this story a long, long time ago, so recently I decided to re-read it from the beginning. Aside from some grammatical quibbling in the story's early going, I really don't have any meaningful commentary to add to a story with over 1,000 reviews. It's really good. Check it out.

The Undying Fire by Boogum

My true inspiration for clear, cogent writing and unambiguously cool OC material. Also the one fanfic I read outside of the DBZ purview to keep me in the know about the different writing styles of other fandoms and communities.

Reviews:

TrentBttl: Thank you for the lovely review! The stakes are assuredly getting higher on Namek.

SomeCallItKye: Tien really isn't much of a diplomat. C'mon Bulma, isolate that boy!

I tried to channel in Moori the vibe of "grown-up adult who is overly protective of an ailing/failing parent in a kid-like way". And as for the wishes, well, keep an eye out...

LWexe: Ah… Yamcha is a wayward soul. Sometimes his gut leads him right, sometimes not.

Anonymous: Thank you! Definitely the 100k words from 300k to 400k were the hardest yet, but that just makes it all the more rewarding!

1 million words would be a lot… but that's definitely a possible future for this fic. It really depends if my long-term writing style trends toward brevity or verbosity.

Thank you! No character should be boring or one-dimensional- if they are, make sure to tell me! As for Bez… well, we'll see. As for Rayne and Chi-Chi… people will have, or have had, their chances to shine. Ugh, I want to splurge what I have planned so bad…

Sure looks like Katas is evil considering he's in hell, huh! I wonder... ;).