After a long day, the captain's chair always felt that much better. The upholstery was a masterfully designed fabric, contorting to the very figure that inhabited it. Apparently, it was known to the people of Earth as "leather." Ner released a sound of derision as he leaned back into its accepting arms. Like the arms of a female...

Boy, that would be nice right about now. It had been awhile since they had made any kind of stops of pleasure; business had been in high demand as of late. With the new surgence of KI...

The reminder prompted him to reach within his vest, dropping the small sidearm on the crystal table next to his beverage. He took a quick sip of it, tasting the alcohol laced within. It burned his throat. His senses seemed to enhance when he was under the influence. There was a time of clarity of thought, followed by intense relaxation. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Though the ship's computers were off for the night, their mechanisms were just beginning to cool down, sending off dozens of slow whining sounds, succeeded by clicks here and there. It was to him almost like the gentle ticking of a clock. Or perhaps the beating heart of a woman...

Goten.Ner sat up abruptly, causing a crisp cry of complaint from the scrunched leather beneath him. The smuggler put his face in his hands, feeling the fleshy folds of skin bunch under calloused palms. After running a not-so-thin-hand through his now thinning hair, he swore out loud.

It was very apparent to him that he only thought about the touch of a female when he was upset or burdened. The Bawnii began to extend his compact arm towards his drink once more, but clenched his fist together half way there.

Drinking was another habit of his burdened soul.

With a muffled grunt of frustration, he cleared the table with a sweep of his hand, throwing the glass and bottle with a shattering impact to the floor. The tiny shards bouncing off of the metal surface echoed in his mind like the drumming of rain against the hull of a ship...

Curse that saiyajin...

Though he knew the implications that his words would have on Ner, he continued anyway. "Whether you like it or not, you're about to get involved..." is what he had said. But would he really? Was there no avoiding it? The smuggler rose and began to pace quietly, crunching the sparkling debris underneath his boot. The distinctive stench of alcohol had pervaded the room now. It made him sick. It made him sick because it made him think about his troubles.

"You have to make your choice before it happens. Before it's too late..."

Goten sincerely believed that. Ner had conversed with him enough throughout the years to tell when he was just saying something to evoke an emotion, and when he really had his guts behind it. And now, he did. He believed in this "revolution", and he wanted Ner to. Why the change of heart?

Ner frowned. He was in too deep to change his ways. He could never become clean; washing his hands of a mess this enormous required the kinds of resources that even he did not have access to. The alien paused in his roaming.

"I'm always going to be a smuggler." He spoke the words aloud to quiet down Goten's voice in his ringing ears, and the crackle of glass.

"...Before it's too late..."

The Bawnii felt his shoulders droop with the weight that those words had heaved upon him. Sooner or later, it would be too late. And where would he be when that happened? If he made a decision either way- would he regret it? If he made a choice not to choose- would he regret that, as well? Where would he be when it was too late? Or would he be nowhere at all?

The smuggler settled his tired bones in the warmth of the leather captain's chair. He was expecting to hear from the Galactics any day, now. Hopefully, he could keep both them and Goten at bay. Both sides were going to be hitting him hard if either of them found out about...

The footsteps caught him off guard. Without looking, he knew that it was Raland. The thundering presence of a Larn was not easily mistaken as something else.

"Everything is fine, Raland," Ner assured him without looking up, rubbing his forehead back and forth between his thumb and ring finger. He closed his eyes yet again and took another deep breath. There was the fragrance of alcohol again.

"I was just making sure," the enormous creature spoke quietly in the echoing low-ceiling room. That made things easier. A headache was starting to set in. "I still think that we should have finished the tracer job."

Of course he did. "Goten is no threat to us right now," the other replied. He wiped his hand over his face, and sat up straight. "Hell, we ought to be more worried about what the Galactics are going to say."

"I think the rebellion is foolish."

"I know what you think." Ner wanted a drink. And a woman. "We have to wait this out, Raland. Trust me. When things start getting fishy, we'll blow stuff up and get the hell out."

Raland seemed only slightly at ease. "Are you going to tell them about Marndol?"

It was a fair question. "Tell who? Goten or the Galactics?"

"Either. Take your pick."

"I'm not going to give out information like that until I'm certain that we've chosen a side. If- and that's one huge 'if'- we even do choose one."

The Larn seemed to think that was funny. "It seems to me that your mind is already made up."

And with that, Ner reached for the control pad next to his chair. He thumbed off the lights, and the presence of darkness flooded him with its reassuring black tinge.

"I want to go to sleep now."

After a moment or two of silence, the Larn chuckled, sighed, and left. Once he was gone, Silence entered. Ner wished he hadn't thrown the bottle of alcohol on the floor.

-------

The lack of sleep seemed to be a common occurrence throughout the universe.

Piccolo sauntered through the knee-high grass of a small clearing on the forest planet of Ferna. In the light of the three moons, his skin seemed to take on a new tint of green color. It was a constant reminder of what he was. The Demon King of old.

He was a few hundred meters out from the Dissenter now. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake the kids. A small malfunction in one of the lifts had left them to set down on Ferna only a few hours previous. The ride had been filled with much silence on the Namek's part. His soul was not at ease this evening. It was a mystery to him...

Actually, it wasn't. He didn't belong in smuggling meetings with Goten and Kale. The aforementioned saiyajin still hadn't forgiven him. That was fine by Piccolo, he hadn't forgiven him either. Or himself, for that matter...

What had he been thinking? This was out of his league. And not just the smugglers, but everything else on top of that. He brought his eyes to shut tight, and let his ears touch out the area around him. A cricket sounded. The wind was coming over the hill on his left. A bird was chirping as it set off from a tree nearby. And his heart was anxious.

He had grown used to the feeling of helplessness throughout the years. But this was different. Before, he had always known that patience would bring him through, to the time where hope could be reborn. That time was now, and yet... he felt nothing. Helplessness was a wet garment clinging to his back.

"I'm no leader."

Things had been easier in the past. Everything was Goku's doing. The rest of them had looked up to him for their guidance, for their strength, for their perseverance. They merely emulated what they saw in him. Piccolo didn't have anything like that to offer. He was no Goku. He was the Demon King. He was Ma Junior. He was in the shadow of the saiyajins, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did. What had happened? In the past, he was a force to be reckoned with. Did his training mean nothing? Did everything mean nothing?

"No." The words echoed loudly within his own ears. He hadn't realized that his eyes were still closed. Pollen was heavy in the air now. The wind tickled his nostrils.

The memories of his first encounter with Cell quickly rushed to the forefront of his mind. Piccolo smiled at the recollection, remembering the sensation and knowledge that had come when he recognized that he was the strongest of them- even Goku. He had faced the new threat of Cell with confidence and cunning. The memory brought a tiny frown to his face. He wanted that glory back.... He wanted to belong.

"Then you will."

His ears did not hear those last words. With a speed that surprised even him, he split in two, the separate halves leaping away from one another. Piccolo smiled at his counterpart, who returned the favor.

The Namek huffed, and lowered his body into an attack stance. "No ki."

At once, the alien entities came together in an exchange of punches and kicks. Piccolo stepped in and out of the other's attacks, spun, and threw a fist into its back. Wasting no time, he was on the offensive, lashing out against his turned opponent with renewed vigor. His twin whipped around at the last second, and met his assault with a defensive forearm of his own. Their faces were only centimeters apart...

The copy bounded away then, airborn into the grove of trees. Piccolo closed his eyes and followed, feeling him out without his vision to corrupt what he knew to be true. He pursued the various snippets of sound- a small twig snapping to his right, a rush of warm air below. Thrusting out his leg, he connected with the other in a powerful kick. The attack launched its body sideways, cracking the trunks of the mighty Ferna trees that stood at heights of over one hundred meters. They came down with a loud crash, kicking up dirt and debris as they smashed into the surrounding forest. Through the gap that the colossal plantlife left behind, a beam of moonlight was thrown upon the area, it's blue-white glow casting odd shadows about the community of arborial life.

Piccolo listened for a moment, and then pushed out his right arm to block the sudden surprise at his side. His other was pressing against him now, throwing blow after blow towards him. The Namek let his senses dull, and focused on the energy around him. Time became almost a standstill of perception for him, and he began to match the fighter. He ducked underneath a kick from his twin, and performed a handspring to vault his body backwards. Before his feet hit the ground, he kicked himself over his opponent with the aid of a tree for a kickoff. While still in the air, he used his clawed palm to backhand the other several meters away into the clearing. Piccolo smiled. He was alive again.

-------

"Wow," Vegeta whispered from the open door of the Dissenter. The yellow light from within flooded the immediate proximity in a cone of its own color, illuminating the grass below. Kale hadn't even noticed that the kids had come out.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be sleeping?" He asked, eying the three saiyajin boys. Pana and Goten must still be inside.

The oldest, Gokan, tip-toed out quietly. "We wanted to watch Piccolo." Kale liked this one. He was the quietest, and least annoying. And whenever he did have something to say, it was sweet and to the point.

"He's incredible." Boxers was looking past the pilot and out into the forest, where the two super-warriors were at battle.

Kale beamed with delight, though he didn't like it. These kids cracked him up. "You can see them?" The three nodded in sync, but probably didn't realize it. The Briefs children were next to one another, their similar features taking on a new light as they stared in bewilderment at Piccolo training with himself. The human furrowed his brow. They could see it? What little the Namek had taught him about ki, watching two of its users fight was one that had taken him a bit of time to get a hold of. For awhile, it had only appeared as random smashing noises, and kicked up dirt. After a few weeks of practice, he was finally able to watch Piccolo train, without straining himself. These kids could already do it...

"Woah!" Vegeta half-shouted, half-whispered. He was the most like the freelancer out of all of them- which is probably why he couldn't stand the kid. He was sometimes haughty, and his speech reflected that. Kale turned to see what the commotion was about. Then he saw. Piccolo and Piccolo were engaged in a huge battle skyward, flying towards one another rapidly. Their fists connected, and the two were sent wildly flipping away. Their feet hit the ground at the same time, and then they roared back into the air to meet again. Each time, they would impact, and flip away. Finally, one of them faked a move to the air, but darted towards the ground, and pulled off an aerial over his twin. He finished with a bone-crunching elbow that brought the other to the tall grass face-first.

Something told Kale that that had been the original who came out on top. He smiled at his newfound friend, proud that he was back in his element again. This is where Piccolo shined. The pilot had felt the alien's obvious discomfort around Goten for the past few days- there was something under the surface that neither of them could let go of. But here, during these moments, nothing could touch the fighter. All distractions became background fuzz, and the only thing that mattered was the glory of combat. His face gleamed like that of a god.

Kale was relieved. It was about time.

-------

Piccolo leaped backwards, narrowly dodging the other's kick. As soon as he felt the toes of his feet meet the grass, he was forward again, launching his arm at neck-height. He clotheslined the look-alike, who skimmed over and landed on his feet, having quickly regained his senses. Before Piccolo could avoid it, the counterpart latched onto his head, and slammed his cranium into the earth. It shook violently, breaking up beneath them.

The Namek bounced back to his stance in an instant, punching his opponent in the stomach so violently that it made an indention through his back. He stumbled a few steps rearward, and halted. They breathed in syncopation, listening to the heartbeats of one another as the sweat beaded across their foreheads. Even the wind had stopped. The grass stood still.

"Ki."

As soon as he had spoken the word, Piccolo took to the sky, barely dodging the blast of hot yellow energy that had come roaring his away. While in the air, he lowered his arm to aim below.

"Makekansappo!"

The spiraled beam of orange ki met the invisible barrier that the other erected just in time, detonating brilliantly around him. He flew upwards through the smoke , meeting the original in a firefight. They released countless firings upon one another, darting this way and that, the sky ablaze with their blasts. Piccolo threw his hands outward, and clenched them into tight fists. A surge of blue power erupted forth from his body that ripped into the ground just before his twin, kicking up a vicious explosion that twirled him away. Pressing his advantage, he formed a ball of ki in his hand, and met the sailing combatant by using the zanzoken to appear behind him. He never knew what hit him.

Even as the smoke cleared, Piccolo knew that it was over. Usually, he was dead even with himself. But something was different tonight... He felt like he could do anything, stop any kind of threat that would come his way. He felt worthy to follow in Goku's footsteps. His muscles relaxed, and flooded with the lactic acid as always; the result of the burn of an intense workout.

The green-skinned fighter walked through the haze, and met his counterpart, who was breathing heavily. They gave each other a nod to say "well done", and then merged back together as one. He turned his vision back towards the Dissenter just in time to see the saiyajins and Kale duck back inside. He knew they had been watching. It was probably better that way. The next day, they would be arriving, and the training would begin.

He stood in the clearing, admiring the beautiful towering trees once more. Pillars of strength. Like Goku. Piccolo hoped that he could live a legacy like that some day... Right now, though, he needed sleep.

Tomorrow, he would start planting the seeds.