Dragonball: Universe
-------
The runner set down in the small clearing with relative ease, its inhabitants breathing a collective sigh of relief in correlation with the silencing jets. The door slid open with a hiss of air, and the few began to climb out, stretching sore muscles. Ubuu sighed, knowing that it was time for them to part ways.
"I know," Piccolo read his mind. "So short, with no time to catch up." He pat the younger warrior on the back then, walking towards a patch of slightly miscolored grass. The untrained eye would have never caught it, with the moon's glow bouncing radiantly from its surface. Piccolo crouched down, grasping a hold of the ground, and thrust the flap of material aside, revealing a metallic hiding place complete with spacecraft inside.
"Nice hole," 18 cooed from her place next to 17. They walked side by side from the runner. Ubuu smiled, nodding towards them. The androids had proved to be a much-needed asset to the cause of the Wayward, their unreadable power allowing for more opportunities than they had ever anticipated. It was hard to be covert and strong at the same time, but these two had it down cold.
"Thank you," Piccolo said, sporting a grin. "For everything. We couldn't have done this without you."
Not surprisingly, they feigned disinterest, each one shrugging in turn. Lately, Ubuu had finally learned to read through their subtle idiosyncrasies, catching small flickers of what they were really feeling through the monotonous facade they transmitted. Deep down, they appreciated being appreciated. They were more human than either of them knew.
Kale sauntered out of the Capsule Corp ship just behind them, raising his arms in a long, drawn out yawn. "Let's go!" he clapped his hands together.
Ubuu smirked. "Anxious?"
"The farther away from these Galactics we are, the better." He called over his shoulder as he waltzed towards the covered area where Piccolo was waiting.
"Good point."
"Oh, I love you," Kale overanimated his statement dryly as he gazed down at the spacecraft.
"Don't mention it," the Namek retorted.
"I was talking to the ship."
Behind Ubuu, the kids slowly made their way to the forefront of the group, rather timid amidst their newfound companions. He didn't blame them. It was a rather difficult thing to be uprooted from everything you knew, everything you held comfort in, and thrust into a new position in life. He had experienced the same thing upon the death of Goku and the others. All of a sudden, he was in charge, he was the leader of the resistance, and everything was immediately upon his shoulders. A quick tinge of sympathy rose in his being, as he watched their faces wander around in amazement. Their role would not truly hit them until later. And when it did, they would find their power.
He reached for Gokan's shoulder. "When I next see you guys, you had better be able to beat me into the dirt."
"You're not coming with us?" Vegeta asked, a look of strength, yet a quiet fear written in his eyes. Just like his grandfather.
"I have to stay here," he informed them. "Piccolo is a trusted friend, and mentor to me. He trained your father, Gokan."
"He did?" The boy's face brightened as he glanced up. Ubuu nodded in affirmation.
"Boxers..." Boxers suddenly spoke up thoughtfully. "What were my parents thinking? I mean, honestly... Boxers?"
"It'll take some getting used to, I know," Ubuu laughed. "But that is who you are. Don't ever forget that."
"Are we ready?" Piccolo asked as he stepped into the conversation.
"I'm up for anything," Vegeta countered. Ubuu and Piccolo's eyes met then, finding a small victory in the personalities of the saiyajins. All of their waiting was going to finally pay off, and their willingness was a testament to that.
"Good," the Namek confirmed.
"Are you going to get off the planet alright?" 18 asked.
"Or do you need us to play distracter?" 17 joined in.
"We're good to go," Kale answered as the hidden craft's door slid open. "Bought some old Galactic serials from a group of gun-runners. Old, but not out of date. This is the ship we came in on, so it'll clear."
"Where are you heading right now?" Ubuu questioned Piccolo.
"We'll meet up with the rest of the Waywards on Thorbos, after a brief stop in Sarn."
Ubuu met his comment with an odd stare. "Sarn? What on earth for?"
"I have some old business to take care of."
"Ah. Say no more." Ubuu understood. "You guys had better get going, then. It won't be too long before security is tight as a clamp around here. It'll take a few more hours before the planetary customs receive notice about tonight's 'incident'."
"You're right," Piccolo nodded. "Farewell, Ubuu. Keep the androids out of trouble."
"Fat chance," 17 snorted.
Ubuu exchanged a handshake with the old fighter, watching as he turned to join the kids and Kale. "Good luck!" He called after them.
"Welcome aboard the Dissenter," Kale's voice echoed within the craft as the metallic door slid shut abruptly. Within a few minutes, the jets had been fired up, the Dissenter took off, and began its departure from Earth. Watching its drive trails glow in the distance, Ubuu released a whimper of helplessness. He wanted more than anything to keep his watch over the saiyajin, to see them grow in maturity and stature, to witness them develop skills that would surpass his greatest expectations... That was part of being the leader of the Earth-seated resistance: missing out on what the rest of the universe was doing. Only time would tell. He sighed, turning back to face the two unusually hushed androids.
"Come on," he breathed after a moment's pause. "Let's get back home."
With uncharacteristic silence, the three took off in flight through the mountainous terrain beyond.
-------
J'erah stormed his way onto the Western City compound smugly, looking around as if to say "I told you so". He made his way slowly through the courtyard, scanning the outlying area carefully, noticing the small acts of carnage delivered upon the structure here and there. So the Wayward had shown up, indeed. Interesting. Across the way, his eyes came to rest upon General Lernam, who was directing soldiers angrily that were assisting in clean-up and recovery.
"Taking out your frustrations on the grunts, I see?" J'erah noted as he came to a stop behind the proud General. The elder paused in midsentence, turning to face his comrade with a not-so-welcoming gaze. J'erah gave the lesser soldiers a look that told them all they needed to know. They immediately scattered, setting about their various tasks.
"J'erah," Lernam grunted. "What a welcome surprise."
"Is it?" J'erah questioned, turning his cold yellow eyes to face the destroyed compound. "Tell me... To whom do we owe this travesty?"
"The Wayward showed up-"
"I don't think the blame necessarily falls on them," J'erah calmly interrupted. "We are superior. If something did not work, it is because one of us failed, not because we were hindered. There is always a way to overcome, General... You should know this more than anyone."
"I am not one to pass the blame," Lernam hissed. "You lost the children before we did, if you want to be technical about it."
J'erah felt the scar on the right side of his face twitch. He did have a point. Suddenly, a familiar ki registered... J'erah straightened his pose, smiling as he sensed Abgar's presence. "Who do we have here?"
"I don't want to hear it!" Abgar growled viciously as he walked towards them.
"Hear what?" the scarred figher asked. "The message from the Palace?"
"Listen, J'erah-"
The mighty Galactic promptly interrupted Abgar with a powerful strike to the nose, knocking him backwards as blood spewed from the gaping wound that appeared.
"No, you listen," he hissed, kneeling down in to Abgar's bloody face as he rolled with pain. "That was for doubting my ability in the first place. Don't ever let it happen again." The portly Counselman nodded deftly, still cursing as he held his broken nose.
J'erah paid him no heed, standing up to join the General once more.
"Finished?" the elder asked.
"Quite. So tell me firsthand what happened here."
"It's probably no different from what you've already heard," Lernam commented distantly, his frustration at his own failure apparent in his voice. "They were more organized than I could have ever imagined, and powerful to boot."
"Then let us not underestimate them the next time," J'erah answered thoughtfully.
"If there is a next time... They have the saiyajin children, and they are most likely off the planet by now, laughing at our folly the entire way."
"Trust me," J'erah grew serious. "There will be a next time."
"How can you be so certain?"
"We're going to ensure that it happens," he answered grimly. "And we're going to start by drawing out the resistance."
-------
The runner set down in the small clearing with relative ease, its inhabitants breathing a collective sigh of relief in correlation with the silencing jets. The door slid open with a hiss of air, and the few began to climb out, stretching sore muscles. Ubuu sighed, knowing that it was time for them to part ways.
"I know," Piccolo read his mind. "So short, with no time to catch up." He pat the younger warrior on the back then, walking towards a patch of slightly miscolored grass. The untrained eye would have never caught it, with the moon's glow bouncing radiantly from its surface. Piccolo crouched down, grasping a hold of the ground, and thrust the flap of material aside, revealing a metallic hiding place complete with spacecraft inside.
"Nice hole," 18 cooed from her place next to 17. They walked side by side from the runner. Ubuu smiled, nodding towards them. The androids had proved to be a much-needed asset to the cause of the Wayward, their unreadable power allowing for more opportunities than they had ever anticipated. It was hard to be covert and strong at the same time, but these two had it down cold.
"Thank you," Piccolo said, sporting a grin. "For everything. We couldn't have done this without you."
Not surprisingly, they feigned disinterest, each one shrugging in turn. Lately, Ubuu had finally learned to read through their subtle idiosyncrasies, catching small flickers of what they were really feeling through the monotonous facade they transmitted. Deep down, they appreciated being appreciated. They were more human than either of them knew.
Kale sauntered out of the Capsule Corp ship just behind them, raising his arms in a long, drawn out yawn. "Let's go!" he clapped his hands together.
Ubuu smirked. "Anxious?"
"The farther away from these Galactics we are, the better." He called over his shoulder as he waltzed towards the covered area where Piccolo was waiting.
"Good point."
"Oh, I love you," Kale overanimated his statement dryly as he gazed down at the spacecraft.
"Don't mention it," the Namek retorted.
"I was talking to the ship."
Behind Ubuu, the kids slowly made their way to the forefront of the group, rather timid amidst their newfound companions. He didn't blame them. It was a rather difficult thing to be uprooted from everything you knew, everything you held comfort in, and thrust into a new position in life. He had experienced the same thing upon the death of Goku and the others. All of a sudden, he was in charge, he was the leader of the resistance, and everything was immediately upon his shoulders. A quick tinge of sympathy rose in his being, as he watched their faces wander around in amazement. Their role would not truly hit them until later. And when it did, they would find their power.
He reached for Gokan's shoulder. "When I next see you guys, you had better be able to beat me into the dirt."
"You're not coming with us?" Vegeta asked, a look of strength, yet a quiet fear written in his eyes. Just like his grandfather.
"I have to stay here," he informed them. "Piccolo is a trusted friend, and mentor to me. He trained your father, Gokan."
"He did?" The boy's face brightened as he glanced up. Ubuu nodded in affirmation.
"Boxers..." Boxers suddenly spoke up thoughtfully. "What were my parents thinking? I mean, honestly... Boxers?"
"It'll take some getting used to, I know," Ubuu laughed. "But that is who you are. Don't ever forget that."
"Are we ready?" Piccolo asked as he stepped into the conversation.
"I'm up for anything," Vegeta countered. Ubuu and Piccolo's eyes met then, finding a small victory in the personalities of the saiyajins. All of their waiting was going to finally pay off, and their willingness was a testament to that.
"Good," the Namek confirmed.
"Are you going to get off the planet alright?" 18 asked.
"Or do you need us to play distracter?" 17 joined in.
"We're good to go," Kale answered as the hidden craft's door slid open. "Bought some old Galactic serials from a group of gun-runners. Old, but not out of date. This is the ship we came in on, so it'll clear."
"Where are you heading right now?" Ubuu questioned Piccolo.
"We'll meet up with the rest of the Waywards on Thorbos, after a brief stop in Sarn."
Ubuu met his comment with an odd stare. "Sarn? What on earth for?"
"I have some old business to take care of."
"Ah. Say no more." Ubuu understood. "You guys had better get going, then. It won't be too long before security is tight as a clamp around here. It'll take a few more hours before the planetary customs receive notice about tonight's 'incident'."
"You're right," Piccolo nodded. "Farewell, Ubuu. Keep the androids out of trouble."
"Fat chance," 17 snorted.
Ubuu exchanged a handshake with the old fighter, watching as he turned to join the kids and Kale. "Good luck!" He called after them.
"Welcome aboard the Dissenter," Kale's voice echoed within the craft as the metallic door slid shut abruptly. Within a few minutes, the jets had been fired up, the Dissenter took off, and began its departure from Earth. Watching its drive trails glow in the distance, Ubuu released a whimper of helplessness. He wanted more than anything to keep his watch over the saiyajin, to see them grow in maturity and stature, to witness them develop skills that would surpass his greatest expectations... That was part of being the leader of the Earth-seated resistance: missing out on what the rest of the universe was doing. Only time would tell. He sighed, turning back to face the two unusually hushed androids.
"Come on," he breathed after a moment's pause. "Let's get back home."
With uncharacteristic silence, the three took off in flight through the mountainous terrain beyond.
-------
J'erah stormed his way onto the Western City compound smugly, looking around as if to say "I told you so". He made his way slowly through the courtyard, scanning the outlying area carefully, noticing the small acts of carnage delivered upon the structure here and there. So the Wayward had shown up, indeed. Interesting. Across the way, his eyes came to rest upon General Lernam, who was directing soldiers angrily that were assisting in clean-up and recovery.
"Taking out your frustrations on the grunts, I see?" J'erah noted as he came to a stop behind the proud General. The elder paused in midsentence, turning to face his comrade with a not-so-welcoming gaze. J'erah gave the lesser soldiers a look that told them all they needed to know. They immediately scattered, setting about their various tasks.
"J'erah," Lernam grunted. "What a welcome surprise."
"Is it?" J'erah questioned, turning his cold yellow eyes to face the destroyed compound. "Tell me... To whom do we owe this travesty?"
"The Wayward showed up-"
"I don't think the blame necessarily falls on them," J'erah calmly interrupted. "We are superior. If something did not work, it is because one of us failed, not because we were hindered. There is always a way to overcome, General... You should know this more than anyone."
"I am not one to pass the blame," Lernam hissed. "You lost the children before we did, if you want to be technical about it."
J'erah felt the scar on the right side of his face twitch. He did have a point. Suddenly, a familiar ki registered... J'erah straightened his pose, smiling as he sensed Abgar's presence. "Who do we have here?"
"I don't want to hear it!" Abgar growled viciously as he walked towards them.
"Hear what?" the scarred figher asked. "The message from the Palace?"
"Listen, J'erah-"
The mighty Galactic promptly interrupted Abgar with a powerful strike to the nose, knocking him backwards as blood spewed from the gaping wound that appeared.
"No, you listen," he hissed, kneeling down in to Abgar's bloody face as he rolled with pain. "That was for doubting my ability in the first place. Don't ever let it happen again." The portly Counselman nodded deftly, still cursing as he held his broken nose.
J'erah paid him no heed, standing up to join the General once more.
"Finished?" the elder asked.
"Quite. So tell me firsthand what happened here."
"It's probably no different from what you've already heard," Lernam commented distantly, his frustration at his own failure apparent in his voice. "They were more organized than I could have ever imagined, and powerful to boot."
"Then let us not underestimate them the next time," J'erah answered thoughtfully.
"If there is a next time... They have the saiyajin children, and they are most likely off the planet by now, laughing at our folly the entire way."
"Trust me," J'erah grew serious. "There will be a next time."
"How can you be so certain?"
"We're going to ensure that it happens," he answered grimly. "And we're going to start by drawing out the resistance."