"What does it say?" Piccolo hunched over Kale's shoulder, trying to make something out of the information that was flickering across the screen. Right now, the system's debugs were scanning the datacard, extracting its memory, and then looping it back on itself in order to fullproof and verify that there were no tracers, viruses, or the like hidden within its code. According to Kale, the Dissenter was running state-of-the-art material, matched only by the Galactics' scanners themselves... The Namek didn't know if he believed that or not.
"Hard to say, it's still running its scan," Kale chewed absent-mindedly on the side of his mouth, reminding Piccolo of a cow. It was something that the pilot did every now and then, a result of his lack of patience. From behind them, Goten entered.
"How are the kids?"
"Sleeping," the saiyajin answered. "Can't blame them. It's midnight on Earth. Any luck?"
"Not... just... yet," Kale said each word with a hesitation, as the machine began to finish its procedures. With a few consecutive blips and beeps, they had what they needed.
"Well," he whistled. "They bought it."
He didn't sound so sure. Piccolo gave him a suspicious glance. "You don't seem to believe that."
"Neither do I," Goten peered at the screen. " 'Nightfall, Alernin SpacePort, Pad 6. We will make our offers there for the precious goods.' " He read the monitor aloud. "He obviously suspects something. No immediate offer, no specifications."
"So what do we do?" Piccolo asked.
"Well, we don't have much of a choice," Goten replied. "I mean, this is what we were going to have to do, regardless. But, if he's on to us..."
Kale stirred. "Somehow I feel that he guards his back, regardless. What else can he do? We gave him an anonymous tip on an unmarked frequency at random. Of course he's going to watch himself."
"This is true."
The green-skinned warrior looked back and forth between the two smugglers in his midst. From the way they talked, they could have known each other for years. Perhaps that was the common bond of the lives of the freelancers. That sense of comradery that comes and goes with risking your wellbeing time and time again. Like warriors... Kale certainly knew how to take care of himself, and proved to Goten that he also knew a thing or two about the business. They could make a powerful duo...
In silence, the three of them eased back, trying to absorb their plight, and then move forward. But how?
"Well," Kale broke the hush. "I think we have the advantage. He probably thinks he's dealing with some amateurs."
"Right," Goten rested his chin on his fist. "I don't know what we're sitting here trying to decide. We have to go. If we want a leg up on the Galactics, this is what has to be done."
Piccolo grinned. "I thought you didn't want to help us."
"I'm not doing this for you," he shot him a glare as cold as ice. "Drop it."
"Hey, guys, take the ki stuff outside," Kale interrupted with a laugh. "I like my ship to stay in one piece." Piccolo and Goten maintained eye contact for a moment longer, and then retreated. The tension lingered for a second or two, but left as quickly as it had arrived.
"Now," the pilot breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Are we going, or not?"
-------
At the height of its prosperity, Yardstae had clued in that expansion was needed on their already flourishing spaceport, Alernin. Since it was constantly shuffling intergalactic traders in and out of its belly, the system officials started a campaign to nearly double its sheer size and height. Its immediate effects had proved somewhat deficient to its buzz of tourists and businessmen alike, since construction on the upper levels had somewhat inhibited the outer pads from being used, creating quite a stream of air traffic in the higher altitudes. The result was an overabundance of pirating scams. Various fringe dealers who had electronics experts on their crew figured that they would bypass the backup of pad lottings by hacking into the O.A. (Order of Arrival) list, and moving their freighters up to the very top, completely confusing the chain of ships that were waiting patiently (and not so patiently) for their turn at docking. And, of course, the reciprocations for this kind of activity usually invovled something similar to mass chaos.
Right now was one of those times.
"Meg at 'il ak un!!" a fera shouted angrily towards a humanoid figure climbing out of his ship. The humanoid wore an eye patch, and smoked on something similar to a cigar on Earth. Goten smirked, recalling the faint scent of tobacco and sweetness rolled into the tight alien inhalant. That sure brought back memories...
"Oh, I'm in your place?" The humanoid inquired sarcastically. He drew a firearm, and the fera shouted his angry warning cry of vengeance. Within an instant, all hell was breaking loose on the pad between their crews.
This was a common occurrence between dock pirates, one that the saiyajin had seen far too often in his private rendezvous. After a few seconds of brisk walking, he was past the scuffle. A sign overhead told him that he had just surpassed bay 10, and that 6 was to the left. The area smelled of fuel cells. Goten could recognize that burning sensation in his nostrils like it was a second nature.
It had been Piccolo's idea to travel together across the spaceport, though the saiyajin had been adamantly opposed to this. They were obviously going to stick out like sore thumbs. That Namek just didn't know when to back down...
"They know we're coming," Piccolo huffed silently.
"I knew those ears weren't just for decoration," Kale stated, quite amused with himself. "So let's have it."
"Someone spotted us over in the tower."
Goten knew from the corner of his eye. He was speaking of one of the various nightguard towers that were constantly running communications between the air traffic, and O.A. crew, sorting the importance of certain vehicles in relation to the others. It was just like Ner to have someone watching in the wings... In his mind, he wondered if this was in addition to the three distracters that had dropped the package in the Yardstae square, or one of them.... They were about to find out.
"Alright," the smuggler spoke. "Since you guys are coming along, we're doing this my way. Kale, you know how these things go. Piccolo, for Kami's sake, keep your mouth shut." The other grunted his disapproval from beside him. "Yeah, it's no fun, but the last thing we want is some heat from an unfriendly group of bodyguards. I'd even venture to say that that little spectacle we witnessed back there was part of Ner's operation, providing us with a bit of background noise. Let me do the talking, and everyone will get out of this just fine."
As he finished, they rounded the corner, stepping directly into the dimly lit area of pad 6. On either side of the trio, there stood a pile of crates and shafts alike, barred with construction signs designating that they should be avoided. The night sky seemed to stretch on endlessly above them. If one looked hard enough, he could make out the drive trails of several orbitting vehicles. Across the docking bay, an obviously high-class ship was sitting pretty, on display for anyone with an appetite for a good flyer. It was a Cernian class R10 Hopper, complete with its own modifications to the dorsal and exterior thrusters, as well as an extended set of turrets over head. From the looks of it, Goten judged that it could comfortably man about fifteen individuals, including equipment. It most likely needed three people to operate at maximum capability, which was usually the case with the Cernian aircraft. Two for the cockpit, one for the system's drive computers. Ner's quarters were probably in the rear of the ship, with his crew spread out through the levels... There appeared to be three of them.
"Nice wings," Kale commented.
"I'm glad you like it," a rough but firm voice called out to them. Ner. Even in the darkness, Goten could make out his unmistakable figure.
Ner had to be about the stockiest character the saiyajin had ever run in to, short and broad, which gave most the first impression that he packed some power within his compact arms. His skin was a light gray, and his eyes were a dull yellow surrounded by hazel. As he moved into the light, Goten could see that he had obviously aged with the stress that smuggling had become these days. His white hair was almost nonexistent, and his face was unshaven. The metal tipped boots he wore clanged noisily on the pad. Kale shifted slightly, his leather jacket making a kind of rubbing sound that seemed amplified in the quiet.
"Ah, Goten..." Ner was only a few meters away now. He pulled out a small white cloth and batted his sweaty face with it. "When I first received the message, I thought: Now, only an idiot could expect me to fall for this. And then I wondered if it was true..." Goten made no movements, allowing his face to be unreadable. Any emotion would give Ner the edge he wanted. The Bwanii smuggler snorted. "And then I heard that you were no longer running dealings... That you had abandoned your home and run away in fear. I knew, Goten, I knew..." He spoke with exaggerated movements of his bulky arms. "You didn't bring me out hear to deal... So what do you want?" Ner's eyes constricted to tiny slits. He was quietly judging them.
"We want to deal," Goten said calmly. That seemed to surprise the other. "But not like this. I don't like having guns pointed at me." Ner rubbed his teeth back and forth. It made something of a grinding sound; a movement he performed when he was cornered.
"Well," he grunted. "I suppose there's no point in keeping up a charade. Come out!" He spoke the last outwards into the shadows. Within a few seconds, the noise of shuffling feet, weaponry, and general movement were coming from all around them. After a minute, everything was fully visible. Behind Ner now were the red-skinned alien and the Larn, providing a sharp visual contrast when standing side by side. To their left, a humanoid being was standing atop a crate, his KI sidearm holstered. And on the right, much to no one's surprise, was the Renian magician who had provided quite a distraction for the audiences in the market. He was out of his street attire, and into some combat gear. He wore no weapon... ki user?
Piccolo emmitted a low groan. "And the last one." Ner gave him a sharp look, full of shock and anger at the same time.
"Ooh, he's angry," Goten smiled. "You don't want to see him riled up, do you?" Ner muttered something profane in his own tongue, and then called out to the last goon. From within the hatch of the ship, came a staut green alien, with four eyes...
"Get the hell back in that ship!" Piccolo suddenly shouted at it. He raised his forearm towards it, drawing a quick aim from Ner's crew. Goten gave him an angry look. What had him so spooked? The saiyajin gave the alien another quick once-over. Four eyes... it reminded him of the stories that Gohan had told him about the Ginyu Force; the one that could manipulate time by holding his breath... No wonder it made Piccolo so jumpy.
"Goten," Ner spoke soothingly. "Tell your brute to calm himself, and he won't have to suffer the consequences."
"Piccolo..."
"Cool it, Namek," Kale commanded along with Goten.
"He doesn't stay," Piccolo ignored them and turned his vision straight to Ner, who seemed to be trying to hide a secret. After a moment of tense hesitation, he lowerd his aim at the four-eyed alien. "Tell him to breathe with his mouth open."
Ner gave a hearty chuckle at this, and shook his head.
"You think I'm joking?" With that, the laughter stopped, halted in its tracks by Piccolo's absolute determination. "And if he thinks he can hold his breath, he's fooling himself. If I hear it falter or even slow down for an instant, I'll kill him. Make sure he understands that." The gray skinned Bawnii relayed this to the bas-jin, who rolled all four of his eyes, and then did as he was ordered.
"I'm impressed," Goten said. "Quite a crew here. The time manipulator makes sense, now. I knew there was no way that the Larn could have had that datacard rigged up that quickly. So what did he throw in there, a surveyor? So you could see our faces?" Ner was making the grinding motion with his teeth again. "Yeah, that's what it was. A pretty handy shipmate, I must say. Where did you find him?"
"Deal!" The Larn growled, stomping forwards quickly. "You waste our time."
"No small talk, then? Ner, I'm hurt. It's been so long..."
"Get to your point, Goten. I know you don't have the cloakers." Ner was batting his face again with the not-so-white cloth.
"And you presume correctly," the saiyajin answered. "No, we don't have anything like that. However, I hear that they are in the works... Anyhow, that's not what I came to talk to you about... I'm sure you've most likely heard about the uprising against the Galactics?"
"You mean that joke of a rebellion? Who hasn't?"
"Good, then we're on the same page. What do you know about saiyajin?"
Ner paused. "I know that there are supposed to be none left. Or at least, that was the story. Rumor has it that three of them were brought out of Earth... some kids that had quite some power."
"Yes, it's true. Them and their captors are on all kinds of 'wanted' lists."
The smuggler grinned."So your friends here kidnapped the saiyajins. What does it have to do with me?" So he knew more than he let on.
"Everything, Ner," Goten let his voice grow more serious. "Where do you think the Galctics are going to look first?"
"And when they come around, what's to stop me from telling them about you?" He took a step towards them. "I mean, why don't we just capture you now, and take the bounty?"
The saiyajin figured he would play that card. It didn't really matter. "And you have no bounty on your own head?"
"I'm sure they would gladly clean the slate for the prize I would have for them."
"But would they?" Goten asked, giving a sly grin. "You and I both know that as long as the Galactics are around, there is no kind of security. Would you really turn in the only hope against them?"
"It's not my battle, saiyajin." Ner had a few tricks left, it seemed. He smirked. "That's right. Saiyajin. The Larn can smell one from a mile away, or so he says. He's never really liked them..."
"Your battle or not," Kale spoke up. "You're about to get drawn into it. The Galactics are going to get whoever they can to become their puppets. And he'll probably start at the top of the chain. Namely- you."
"I am no one's puppet," the dealer snapped. "Not yours, not anyone's."
"Oh, but you will be," Kale continued. Goten had to admit that he was impressed at how the human handled himself, surrounded by a crew that could incinerate him at a moment's notice. "They'll see to that. Are you going to sit by while they uproot your whole organization right out from under you? Everything you've worked so hard for? They'll assure you that it's for the 'Greater Good of the Empire'. Do you want that?"
"It won't happen," Ner said. "Not without a fight."
"So it's a deal, then?" Goten interrupted.
The other shook his head in frustration. "I'm not going to help your rebellion."
"Then you're helping them," Piccolo decided to throw in his two cents. "They'll be sure to tap into your resources, and your business to search out any opposers. You will be a part of them. And if you refuse, they'll kill you. That's the way they work."
"Whether you like it or not, you're about to get involved," Goten quoted his encounter with Piccolo at his home. "You have to make your choice before it happens. Before it's too late. With your connections, we would more than have what we need to crush the Galactics, and you know it."
Ner sighed. "Look... I'll think about it. No promises."
Kale stepped forward. "And when the Galactics visit you?"
"I'll tell them the truth, that I don't know where you all are going," he replied. "I owe Goten that much. I give you my word." Kale started to say something, but Goten quieted him with a firm hand.
"Whenever you're ready," the saiyajin urged him. He turned then, beckoning Piccolo and Kale to follow him. Ner wouldn't shoot them in the back. A smuggler he may be, but his word was good. "Be ready to hear from them soon!" He called over his shoulder as they exited the bay.
"So what, we leave just like that?" Kale asked.
"He needs time to think," Goten answered. "This is a touchy thing. Trust me, I've been there."
"Well, let's hope he doesn't tell the Galactics what he knows," Piccolo muttered.
"He won't. I'm sure of it."
"I sure hope so," the Namek trailed off. "Or this whole thing will be over before it starts."