Goddess of Darkness

by DualitysEdge92

Born the sole female among the mysterious Namekian people, Sanshiva struggles to come to terms with a dark power that threatens to consume her with each use. In this adventure tale, the young woman must embrace the duality within and strike a balance between her demons and her desire to explore her inner darkness to become all she was ever meant to be.

5. Dreams and Nightmares

It always started as a peaceful dream of a little girl cloaked in a shadow, eyes shining like dual-toned starlight. Bittersweet and wondrous; the scent of evening dew, the sound of laughter between father and daughter, the sight of the sky changing through its colors as the game of hide, seek, and spar continued by the mountainside. Hiding spots were found, evasive maneuvers were tested, defense and offense were accounted for, and the smiles on their faces remained steadfast. The girl showed off her ghostly form, merging with darkness and slinking unseen, the only harbinger of her presence a set of joyous glowing eyes that peeked out from within rocky nooks or between bushes and ferns. Chortles and swift quips of constructive criticism of her battle form turned to warnings of the time left before the eclipse.

Soon, like a curtain dropped over a stage once full of color and life, all that surrounded her was ineffable darkness. A sudden and heart-stopping transition into a grief-stricken nightmare. No matter where she ran off to, it stretched as far as the eye could see. She heard the Grand Elder's voice repeatedly, screaming for her just as she shrieked back for him, yet nothingness still reigned far and wide. Tears streamed from panicked eyes while nervous feet stumbled through nothingness. Breathy cries and a hot and heavy atmosphere swallowed her whole, as did the sudden silence after hours of weeping, lost and alone. Little eyes closed, blinking slowly through the last tears, and soon opened to the morning light.

The Grand Elder was beside her on the ground, barely recognizable amidst the tears in aged flesh and shreds of maroon and white cloth. Sunrise illuminated a set of wrinkled hands that dabbed at the man's skin with a rag soaked in a heady tincture of ajisa while wisps of pastel blue ki enmeshed to repair torn clothing; her uncle, tending to her father with a calm and steadfast expression. She reached up and stared at her shaking hands. There was gore beneath sharp, dark nails, blood caked upon jade skin, and a metallic taste awash upon her tongue. Her ears were ringing, all else drowned out by hurried breaths and pained cries, every one of them like a stab to the heart as she apologized profusely. She had ignored the Grand Elder's warning and pushed forward even when she, too, knew it was time to come back. Her want to go ever further into the depths of her power had led her straight to a hell of her own making. Fingers wound into the tangled mess of violet locks on either side of her head, and she pulled as hard as she could.

"Why didn't I just listen to him?!"

Her uncle said something she couldn't hear. It could have been forgiveness; it could have been admonishment.

"What is wrong with me?! Why couldn't I stop?!"

The girl's stomach began swirling as its contents began to push up through a chest aflame with anguish. Hair ripping away, eyes now clouded to nothing else but shame, fear, and a hatred for all she ever was or ever would be.

"I'm nothing but a freak… A demon…"

Handfuls of violet strands landed on the ground amidst rivulets of blood. A set of shaking elderly hands tried to pull the little one away from herself but to no avail.

"A monster," she wailed. "MONSTER!"

Sanshiva's eyes snapped open, and she sat up quickly on the bunk, stomach churning and heart pounding. She reached for the pail just below the nightstand, retching until her stomach ran dry. When the last of what remained dripped out, the young woman wiped her lips and sniffled.

"Urgh… damn it," she moaned.

Anticipating his sister's needs, Doji opened the door with a clean towel and a bottle of cold water. The little one took the pail and soon returned, placing the clean receptacle in its spot before sitting on the bunk and offering several tiny ginger drops wrapped in a delicate turquoise parchment.

"Same dream again?"

"Yeah. I hate it." Sanshiva groaned, wiping the sweat from her face with the towel and taking the candy.

"You know, Papa always told me the difference between a dream and a nightmare is how you look at it."

"Uh… Don't quote me on this, but I'm pretty sure a dream about being lost in the dark and suddenly hurting someone you love constitutes a nightmare."

"Well, yeah, but you keep having it."

"Because it's a memory, technically. And a fairly crappy one at that. Yay, trauma." Sanshiva muttered through a weak and defeated chuckle.

"Sanshiva," Doji whined. "Come on! Work with me here, would you? Papa used to say that if you keep having the same dream, it's not a dream. It's got to be a vision!"

The young woman raised her brow and unwrapped a ginger candy, tucking it between her cheek and gum. She and Doji had traveled in space for only a week, with an estimated one and a half months left before their arrival on Earth if all went well. For every day of rest, the same appalling and gruesome reverie returned. She didn't know how much longer she could stand the nightmares, now worsening in intensity the further they sped away from New Namek.

"Well, I'll try to keep that in mind," the adolescent offered in a slightly sour tone. "You know, somewhere in between all the screaming and the crying I usually do in that dream."

"Sorry, I… I didn't mean to—"

Recognizing her mistake, she interjected with, "N-no, I… I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help. I'll try to keep that in mind when it happens again."

"When?" Doji asked.

"It's never a question of 'if,'" Sanshiva sighed. "It's always… 'when.'"

They sat together quietly, not minding the pause between them. Doji then inhaled softly, thinking of offering something else to help his sister. He unwrapped a ginger candy and tucked it in his cheek, savoring the sweet and spicy flavor.

"Hey, Sis, can I tell you about a dream I had once?"

"Sure, Doji." She wrapped her arm around him in a half-hug.

The boy smiled and said, "I dreamt about this wrinkly old lady with really pale skin, a big black hat, and an even bigger crystal ball! She was chanting something I couldn't understand, and there was this little ghost thing with her that had a wide, pointy cap of his own and then some kind of big, black key in his hands. At first, it was scary because… I didn't know where I was, who the witch and her ghost friend were, or what kind of door the key opened. I didn't know why she was chanting or sitting on a big shiny ball… But when I had it two more times, Papa told me to keep looking for meanings instead of taking everything at first glance."

"But you don't call that a nightmare?"

He shook his head and replied, "Not anymore. Now... it's just a weird dream, and I want to figure out what it means."

"Well," Sanshiva began, "…witches wield magic, so they symbolize power and cunning. Ghosts are from another realm, representing hidden knowledge and a glimpse of the unknown. And keys… keys are self-explanatory, I guess."

"But it was black. Isn't black like a negative color?"

Sanshiva shook her head.

"Black is the color of the beginning and the end. Black is every color and none at the same time. Black is the void, and the void isn't inherently good or bad. The void is what you make of it."

"That's interesting. I'll remember that the next time I have that weird dream… Now, if only you could apply that idea to your power, you'd be in a much better frame of mind for this trip."

She laughed with him and nodded. As the little one meandered back into the main chamber to check on their trip's progress, she remained in the bunk room, lost in thought. Her companion had a point, though it was hard to think of her power as anything other than a nightmare made reality. In the years since she'd returned home from her self-imposed exile, Sanshiva had tentatively practiced only a few aspects of her abilities. Even then, the darkness within would protest when used in such a muted fashion as to create simple illusions, magic tricks, or basic weapons, as if aching to expand evermore. The power transfer between host and shadow was very much like an hourglass; when one end was bolstered, the other waned, and the loss of control in either state – be it shadow-cloaked or not – could manifest in destructive ways. Almost instinctively, she repeated her words to the boy in a soft whisper.

"The void… is what you make of it…"

Somehow, the entity thriving in her shadow had split in two the night they'd met, replicating and temporarily imprinting upon the boy in a dazzling display she couldn't explain. Doji had approached the encounter with the hope that they'd overcome the foe they chose to face by sharing her power; she had engaged only after much trepidation and, in the last moments before sunrise, had nearly lost herself in the depths yet again. He had eagerly questioned all she could do; Sanshiva had hesitantly answered, and it took a great deal of sweet commentary and encouragement for her to share what she had mastered thus far. Doji had made the best of a bad situation, turning the visceral pain of heartbreak into a wish for victory. In doing so, he'd become a living representative of their species' most coveted ability: the physical manifestation of dreams.

With the last of the ginger drop disappearing in her mouth, Sanshiva got up from the bunk and headed to the door. Doji was now spinning in the captain's chair while asking the ship's computer for information about their flight path. In a sterile tone and stiff cadence – like a robotic version of her father – the computer answered every query in full. With as much detail as the little one dared to ask for, it provided the statistics of every nearby spaceport, planet, and interstellar base along the way to Earth. Sanshiva held a hand to her mouth to stifle a fierce bout of giggles directed at the furious look now smothered across Doji's face. The computer kept advising that just about everything nearby was inhospitable; most planets had atmospheres full of noxious gases, reportedly hostile locals, or waters polluted beyond all hope of restoration, and nearly all spaceports had been taken over by pirates or rival gangs. Sanshiva had expected as much. The little one, apparently, had most certainly not, and the results of his generalized inquiries frustrated him evermore.

"Stupid… flippin' pirates," Doji grumbled. "Stupid poison planets! Stupid gangs and stupid war! Grrr…"

"Everything alright out here?" Sanshiva closed the door and walked over to him.

She couldn't help but snicker as the boy swiveled around, angry little eyes staring right at her.

"Why is it that everywhere is just… full of bad people and bad stuff?"

"Doji, that's just… how it is. You understand that by now, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but still! I should be able to travel through space and find somewhere to grab a snack and a few sketches, right?"

"This is not a field trip, Doji," Sanshiva laughed. "I told you that."

"So?! It shouldn't have to feel like a boring trip, either! Don't you wanna see what else is out there?!"

"I have somewhere to be, remember?"

His angry expression faltered as Doji whined, "I know, I know! But… I wanted to look around and add to my encyclopedia, and—"

Sanshiva raised a brow. "You can't wait 'til we land on Earth? Plenty of sightseeing and dorky cataloging to be done there, trust me. I hear it's like… three times bigger than our home world. Maybe even bigger than that."

"Hey!" The boy crossed his arms. "Nuh-uh! I don't wanna wait! I wish to explore and learn. Asoh'tana pikkoro!"

"You can wish in one hand and crap in the other. You'll find out which one fills up faster." Sanshiva took him up momentarily to sit in the captain's chair. He sat back on her lap and pouted.

"YOU TOO?! Motoki always said that to me! Just one stop, Sis, please?! Pretty please?!"

The combination of pleading eyes and quivering little lip only tugged at her chest, and she looked away in embarrassment, staring at a strange and cocky-cut object hurtling beside them.

"Doji, come on. I need to get to Piccolo…"

"You said it yourself, the Earth is a big place. I can explore while you're meeting with Piccolo, but… Wouldn't it be easier to find him if we had a map of the planet or – even better – someone who knew the place already?"

A long silence before a pleading whine. Sanshiva's heart felt ready to burst. Once again, he had a point; he had found yet another way to twist the pessimistic tendency that was somehow seared into the very fabric of her mind. It certainly made sense to at least try.

"Hmph. You're crazy, you know that?"

"The craziest," he added, grinning. "But I do make a good point, eh?"

The echo of Porunaga's coy tone lingered on the boy's lips, and Sanshiva giggled.

"…Fair enough," she said, pinching his cheek. "Computer, can you find the nearest fully operational spaceport with fuel and repair accommodations available for this ship?"

Doji blinked in confusion at how markedly pointed her question was. The console flickered with several LEDs, a blinking ellipse, while the computer performed yet another scan at the young woman's request. After a soft series of beeps and whirs, it finally gave her a reply.

"Galactic Patrol Spaceport C118-67… Jae-Ujani. Located three point eight seven light years from the current coordinates. The spaceport hosts fueling and repair services courtesy of the Galactic Patrol. There are also a variety of lodgings, forms of entertainment, and various arrays of open-air markets."

The boy's eyes widened. "WHAT?! Why didn't you just tell me about that one before?! Stupid, lousy—"

"To narrow your scan results, please ensure you specify the needed amenities or accommodations in future queries," the computer suggested, its tone increasingly staticky. Doji pretended to kick it and pouted.

"Well, excuse me," he growled. "Would be nice if you already figured a boy and his sister wouldn't wanna go to planets with boiling geysers of poison and spaceports full o' fishy pirates, you know."

"I will be sure to keep this preference at the forefront of future scans."

A series of mechanical chirps bounced about the vessel before the console flashed a floating hologram of a lone spaceport – a towering stack of weathered structures assembled in an almost haphazard fashion, resembling a tangled, rusted piece of coral floating in a starry sea. The image kept wavering as if the display struggled to keep up with the level of detail in the three-dimensional snapshot.

"Is that on the way to Earth," Sanshiva asked.

"Yes," it confirmed. "Jae-Ujani… lies directly within the current charted course, approximately three days' travel time… at the recommended speed of one point… nine seven light years per cycle."

"That place looks rough, but… Alright. Set the course."

"Con…firmed…"

Doji let out a series of hearty and hale chuckles, exclaiming, "Alright! Yes! Asoh'tana pikkoro! Asoh'tana pikkoro!"

"Ah, ah, ah," Sanshiva interrupted. "I still have rules for this trip."

"Rules?! But we're not home anymore, Sis! Come on!"

"My rules keep us safe because we're not home anymore. When we get there, stay close to me and do not speak to strangers. I don't care how nice they might be. We say 'no, thank you' to whatever they offer and move on."

"But… what if we find someone that knows something? Something that could help?"

"I doubt it. Sounds like a very long shot in the dark to me."

"Worth taking."

"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any chances. And neither should you. We explore a bit, see what there is, try to earn a bit of money to refuel the ship, and then, it's off to Earth. Are we clear?"

"Crystal!" The boy bounced excitedly in her lap and giggled.

Just over his shoulders, Sanshiva noticed a series of strangely shaped obscurities dancing among the stars in the distance. She squinted and lifted her gaze, seeing an even bigger structure – mountainous and foreboding – further out, spinning haltingly in the stone-speckled expanse before them. The console's lights began flicking, and the overhead lamps buzzed relentlessly. Something wasn't right; in the presence of any object that could compromise their safety, she knew the computer was designed to warn them to sit down, strap in, and hang tight. No such warning had been given, so she gave Doji her own while the computer struggled to speak up. Static bursts from the speakers pockmarked her every word.

"Doji, I'm… gonna need you to take your seat…"

"Huh? What's the matter?" He stopped and gave her a quizzical look.

The computer's sirens were reduced to nothing more than crackling pulses that made a weak whistling noise, and the Namekians grimaced. The sound still pained their ears.

"Error… Err—" The computer groaned. The ship began to shake. "W-W-Warning-ng-ng. C-c-collision im-im-imminent."

Sanshiva shouted, "HANG ON!"

She clung to him, and from the vessel's side came an impact unlike any had ever felt before, a jarring blow that caused them to fly from their shared seat and straight into the wall. They wailed in pain, and Doji scrambled on his hands and knees while the ship began to hurtle sideways. He clambered for a passenger chair, throwing himself atop the seat and tightening the strap as far as it would go while Sanshiva swiftly took her spot back at the helm. The space soon filled with an obnoxiously loud series of warning sirens – still coated in interference and every bit as agonizing to hear. Sanshiva pulled hard on the controls, righting their position.

"Computer! What is going on?!"

"Haz-Haz-Hazardous m-mineral… de-de-detected," the computer tried to reply. "Za-Za-Zari…ni..um… de-deposits… W-Warning… Warning…"

Another impact – this time, from the aft – rocked them in their seats. Doji coughed momentarily as the belt forced the air from his lungs. Sanshiva winced, cursing under her breath for the painful inconvenience of breasts beneath a thick safety harness. The lights were completely gone. Sanshiva's hair and eyes, as did Doji's violet sash, began to glow.

"Argh! Damn it! Stupid… overgrown chest!"

Caught entirely off guard by the comment, the boy let out a slight snicker, and Sanshiva frowned.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY, DOJI!"

"S-sorry," he squeaked. "You said it, not me…"

"Grrr… COME ON!" She banged on the console with one hand while piloting between enormous bits of matter that neither emitted nor reflected light of any kind.

Deft movements barely coached by the weak computer display brought them far too close to several more collisions than they'd ever care – or dare – to think of, and with every dip, curve, and sway, the feeling in their stomachs worsened. Sanshiva tried her hardest not to allow the fear to swallow her whole while the shadow at her feet began to pulse in response to the physical and emotional reaction to the trial now set out before her. She recognized the feeling in her gut, the sinking sensation that accompanied the deadly thoughts her mind wantonly entertained. After several deep breaths, the young woman began reciting the only thing strong enough to stave off the tide of woe, all while following the computer's still-shoddy guidance and her own skilled eye to pilot onward. Doji recognized the words from her lips. Frenzied breathing slowed, and panic abated at the sound of a steady, cadenced repetition of the same poem etched into his sash.

"For every tear of sadness is a smile full of laughter; for every moment of isolation, sweet camaraderie follows thereafter," Sanshiva uttered prayerfully. "For every dark and stormy night is a bright and golden day; for every moment spent lost, we come closer to finding the way."

The young woman did her best to keep them afloat and intact. The denser the field became, the less the computer responded, as if the interference had become so great it could only power the ship at a minimum speed.

"For every soul exists a match, hidden somewhere in the great beyond; for every person, two parts, forever joined in a fierce bond. For every light, there is a darkness, against every evil there will be good. Embrace the duality within, as always you should," Doji continued, shutting his eyes and holding tight to the sash.

Another sizeable impact caught the aft of the vessel, causing them both to wail in surprise. Sanshiva growled and pulled hard on the helm, forcing them into a sharp curve upwards that allowed them breathing room between evasions over more significant objects. She persevered.

"My humble gift to you, these solemn words spoken; you are warrior and wiseman, head held high and heart wide open. Yours is the power of dragons and of demons; of an emerald people fair and a tribe clever and battle-seasoned. Cloaked in deep shadows and armed with starlight, yours is the soul that illuminates the bleakest night. May you never surrender, never yield to the evil within, for you are the justice that stands above the lowliness of sin."

Suddenly, the second-to-last line caught Doji's attention.

"That's it! Sanshiva, make your shadow cloak the ship!"

"WHAT?!"

"'Cloaked in deep shadows and armed with starlight!'"

"Alright, so where the heck is the 'starlight' part, Doji?! And don't you remember what I told you happened the last time I used it to cloak myself?!"

"Sanshiva, it's me! I'm the 'starlight!' And you're not cloaking your body; you're cloaking what your body is traveling in!"

He aimed at the windshield and snapped his fingers. The glass pulsed as a bright flash of ki illuminated the path ahead, and the afterimage became a negative of the space before them. Sanshiva blinked in slight confusion before avoiding yet another asteroid that still made contact with the ship's side. The scrape of mineral against metal and the worsening hail forced a series of pained groans from the Namekians. Sanshiva forced them into a barrel roll in response to an oncoming cluster and huffed. The air in the cabin grew thicker, and every breath was now increasingly challenging to take. It was time; Doji took a great breath in, soon pleading for his companion to let go and allow the phantom in her shade to do whatever it may.

"Sis, please! You need to tr—"

"I know, I know!"

Sanshiva swerved left, up, down, and left again. She could hear Doji struggling between panicked breaths; she could feel her hands' clamminess against the steering wheel and the sweat forming on her brow. If sheathing them in shadow made things worse, so be it, for it felt as if they were doomed to die among the stars at that very moment. No longer wanting to be stuck between damned if she did and damned if she didn't, Sanshiva decided to finally release her conscious restriction on the dark energy within.

The shadow at her feet warped before again taking on the form of a phantom child as it rose from the floor. Blinking slowly, its dual-toned eyes stared at its host inquisitively, and its head tilted ever so slightly to the left. The young woman heard a quaint little sound that tickled her ears.

Laughter.

Sanshiva smiled back, heart pounding.

It waved at her and swayed eagerly on its feet, hands held behind its back as if awaiting permission for something.

"You ready to do this?"

There it was again: the echo of her younger self upon a ghostly giggle. She chuckled in return, as did Doji. The entity nodded eagerly back at her.

"Have at it, then. Shade the ship. Got it?"

It nodded, darting away from Sanshiva to press its dark face against the window. It sank into an inky puddle against the glass, momentarily shrouding their view. The entity continued to stretch, darkening the cabin before completely coating everything but the Namekians in total darkness. Soon, the ship's obscured interior gave way to a perfectly clear view of the space around them. The vessel and its mechanical workings – every window, door, control panel, and even their chairs – had disappeared entirely. Now ferried by the invisible craft, they looked to all the universe like two jade ghosts drifting amidst a field of stone and ice. They phased through a massive asteroid without so much as a sound or a sensation and loomed near the center of it all. Pellets and smaller shards of crystal whizzed straight through them, and Doji giggled and sniffled, hurriedly wiping his tears away.

"Wow," he whispered softly. "Sanshiva… look!"

He pointed towards a nearby boulder; the smooth surface showed the vaguest reflections of the two as they passed by, a group of violet lights that whizzed through the dark.

"Oh! Oh! Do the thing!" Sanshiva cried eagerly.

"Wh—Oh!"

He snapped his fingers again. Every shard and great piece of the asteroid field became a glittering star in its own right. Thick stray beams of mineral and crystalline shards flared with a wondrous glow before disappearing against a backdrop of colorful auras and glittering constellations. Even the ship's outline danced like a series of golden strings loosely woven together, creating a light show for the ages that neither Namekian wanted to end. Doji's breath slowed, and his sobs finally stopped. Sanshiva continued her swift movements while humming in time with her brother's finger snaps. Over and under, swirling through the wastes, the magical melody grew in volume and complexity while her navigations became more confident.

Doji's bright snaps lit the way forward. They soon found themselves in the towering structure's inner workings, passing through a snaking series of thickly coated passageways covered with what looked like miniature galaxies trapped within transparent minerals. Formations in stone aligned to create fantastic crystalline constellations. Sanshiva looked back, allowing them to coast momentarily through a straightaway while taking in the sight of the little one's eager eyes darting from the fore to port, starboard, and back.

"See?! See?! I called it!" Doji exclaimed gleefully. "I called it!"

Sanshiva chuckled and nodded, turning back. She could feel the pulse of thick miasma wrapped around them, invisible to the eye yet not to the soul, a cloud of dark ki that carried them through the caves. Suddenly, they stopped, floating at what looked to be a pole above a spinning core. She had an idea.

"Doji, save your energy."

"But what about you?" The little one asked, placing his hands gingerly on his lap.

"I'll be fine. Stay still for a second."

For what seemed like an age, the two basked in the silence and the blackness. Sanshiva could feel the shadow stretching to lap at the cold rock and in her hands, she could feel the bumps and dips upon the surface. She could smell the saltine and metallic elements surrounding them, nearly taste the iron and ice on her tongue, and closed her eyes. Eager visions of a system made of pockets in piled matter hardened around a hot and heavy igneous core that spun ever so slowly flashed behind her eyelids. A planet in the making, lost in space and time.

Feeling at one with the void of space itself, Sanshiva now had unfettered access to the inner makeup of the newborn planet. Like an x-ray of the caves, every time she closed her eyes to feel the way through, the steady outlines of pathways and inset chambers revealed themselves to her in rapid succession. Smiling, she guided them further, holding one hand upon the invisible helm and the other by her side, where an orb of soft violet ki flickered above her palm. A soft giggle escaped her, and Sanshiva decided it was time to reward Doji for his effort in guiding her away from her hesitation. With her new vision, she spotted something of interest deeper in the caverns – a round structure within a closed-off chamber.

"Cloaked in deep shadows… and armed with starlight, yours is the soul that illuminates the bleakest night," she uttered softly.

The ball of ki wandered away, slipping out in front of them before sinking into a nearby wall, where it spread from within. In mere seconds, the dark passageways became alight. Crystals began to glow as if a gushing flow of amethyst magma raged just beneath, spreading to meet around and across them. They flew down corridors and whooshed straight through walls in blissful silence. When they arrived at the young woman's intended location, Doji gasped and clapped eagerly. Sanshiva landed them softly, allowing the little one to soak in the vision of a massive glowing crystal formation that vaguely resembled a jagged black and purple dragon ball. A thick dip in the center had formed five points, looking precisely like a single star.

"Wow," the little one breathed. "Can… can we stay here for a bit?"

When Sanshiva nodded, Doji giggled and reached underneath the seat, feeling about the wire netting for the journal Porunaga had gifted him, nearly complete and stuffed with additional notes and pictures, pressed leaves, and dried flowers. A few tumbled out, but the little one simply waved a hand; the items lifted away from the floor as if pulled by strings, dancing right beside him while his gaze flitted from the page to his subject and back. The scritches of his pen filled the space while he committed the memory to paper. He could fit only so many new entries now; the spine was stretched, practically hanging onto its pages by mere threads.

Sanshiva drank in the sight. This was the second time Doji pushed her past the boundaries often created by negative trains of thought, a trait shared by the only other Elders she'd known. Moori and Porunaga had regularly encouraged her to push the blend of a light heart and a shadowy power. The further she went, the more lost she'd become, sinking into ego death while her body did whatever it did and took upon a life of its own. But here was a light, a new little companion, a guide through what Sanshiva had always called a valley of death. A child who ached for the uncharted waters of the heart, body, and soul every bit as much as she did, if not more.

If there was anything worth pushing the envelope for – anything worth ever becoming a monster for – it was undoubtedly Doji. Her breath hitched, and she smiled softly as the emotion swirled in her chest.

Finishing his notes, the boy waved a hand, and the flattened odds and ends that had spilled out settled in their designated spots amidst their pages before he tied the entire journal shut.

Doji gave his sister a thumbs up. "All set!"

"Parippatou, Doji," Sanshiva uttered sweetly. 'Thank you.'

"…For what?" He asked, tilting his head.

She offered a kind smile before turning back to the fore. A tear fell, and she wiped it away before nodding.

"For guiding me through the dark, silly."

The two stayed in the chamber for a long while as if to cherish the memory of their shared experience, and soon, they were off. Again, Sanshiva navigated the two through caverns to admire the gleaming stones upon the walls before they finally ventured out of the planetoid. Sanshiva began swerving skillfully and performing loop-de-loops the moment they exited into grander space while Doji did more of his little finger snaps and sang his own tune. When they'd finally cleared the expanse of debris, Sanshiva's shadow began to shrink back. Walls began to reappear, arches and doorjambs, the shapes of windows and adjacent fastenings crawling to meet one another to reform the colors and textures of their ride. The lights returned with a great clunk and buzz, and the ship's computer thrummed to life.

"Normal function restored," the computer chirped. "Hull integrity at forty-two percent. Oxygen levels stable."

"Awesome… " The two uttered simultaneously.

Though slightly worn from the expenditure of ki, Doji was rather happy and scurried out of his seat to press his face against the window in the same fashion Sanshiva's shadow had.

"Sis, that was… That was amazing!" The little one turned back to his sister and laughed heartily, bouncing atop his feet. "You did it! See?!"

"Th-thanks…"

The computer came back to life. "Zarinium deposits detected."

"No shit… jackass," she panted jokingly. "Would have been nice… if you'd warned us about it sooner."

"Language!" Doji chided.

"I reserve the right to curse after barely surviving an asteroid field. That was… fun, though."

"I'll let it slide, but just this once," Doji said, pouting. "Next time, I'm pinching you."

"Duly noted."

He turned and asked the computer, "Uh… What's zarinium?"

"Zarinium is a rare mineral that forms from the remnants of an unnamed planet. When clustered in great numbers, zarinium will emit dangerous electromagnetic pulses. These powerful EMPs can affect the operational elements within spacecraft and have been known to be fatal to most life forms.

"But then, how did we keep moving? And… and breathing?!"

"The extraneous shield the captain used seems to have provided the necessary energy to propel the ship forward and keep the oxygen flow working," the computer replied. "Log scans show total shutdown occurred over thirty minutes ago, with an extraneous energy source providing an estimated one hundred twelve point five kilowatts of energy into the ship."

Sanshiva closed her eyes, reeling from the dizziness, which was now slowly taking hold. Doji turned to stare at her, mouth agape.

"Sanshiva!"

"I don't feel so good," she murmured, hand upon her head. "I… need to lay down."

He hurried to her side, unbuckling and helping her to stand. She swayed while Doji did his best to keep her steady, floating at her height and guiding them back to the bunk room. When she collapsed atop one of the beds, the dizziness only worsened, and the young woman groaned.

"I'm sorry," Doji said, squeezing her hand. "I didn't mean for you to use so much energy."

"It's okay. It was worth it," Sanshiva panted. "So worth it."

"Hehe, yeah. You stay here and rest. I'll take over for a while."

She could only smile weakly and nod in response. Doji pulled a blanket over her, ensured the water bottle was nearby, and scurried back to the main chamber. Plopping himself in the captain's chair, he grabbed the helm and realigned it with the intended course. The computer flickered with a display of their statistics; the hull integrity was at a dangerous forty-two percent, the image showing that several pieces of zarinium were lodged in the vessel's sides and were still causing interference with the acceleration and ship-to-ship communication. He exhaled softly and set it to autopilot before leaning back to stare at the stars.

After witnessing what her power could do – how it manifested like a child, a never-aging companion let loose to play in starry fields – it was baffling to think anyone could be so averse to something so enchanting. It had giggled and extended itself to cloak them, borrowing from the wellspring of its host's ki to help protect them from harm. Doji frowned ever so slightly; Sanshiva regularly referred to this entity more as a demon than anything else, and the word buzzed around his head like an agitated wasp.

Demon.

The Namekian people were born with abilities that many other species simply called magic. Magic itself, as described by his father, was neither good nor bad, and its morality largely rested in the hands of those who used it. However, many a sentient creature tended to separate these things into such blatantly black-and-white categories, and the fair green folk of Namek were no exception. They, too, had divided amongst themselves. At one point in their history, Dragon and Demon Clan members utilized their powers on opposite ends of the range of sorcery – one for the good of all, the other for the good of themselves. Sanshiva ached to fulfill a similar role her father had – to guide and guard her people as any Dragon Clan member would – yet her powers and beginnings mirrored one of the greatest Demon Clansmen ever to exist: the great King Piccolo.

According to the stories Porunaga shared with him, a terrible drought nearly killed off their entire species a few hundred years prior. One of the remaining survivors, Katas, sent his son away to spare the child from the harsh conditions, hoping to retrieve him one day while the boy's brother, Guru, remained behind. The nameless child landed and lived on Planet Earth, splitting himself into two halves and producing the last known member of the dark race.

King Piccolo – a being made entirely of the selfishness, hatred, and greed that infected the Nameless Namekian's heart – fought tooth and nail against his divine half, Kami, in many a different way and with many a demon offspring in tow. Like an hourglass, the two functioned; when one half grew in strength, the other began to diminish, forced to wait its turn until fate decided the time was nigh to turn the other side. It took over two centuries for King Piccolo to be reborn through his son, develop a change of heart, and recombine with his other half to create the warrior Doji's brothers and uncles spoke of with reverence.

Like Piccolo, Sanshiva was born of all the dark things in her father's heart, led a life of solitude, and wielded a set of dark abilities thought long gone with the disappearance of the demonic Namekians. Like he, the young woman was constantly tearing herself apart in an effort to be something better and was only making things markedly worse for herself in doing so. But all of this also meant that, like Piccolo, all the female Namekian needed was to embrace both aspects of herself wholeheartedly to become all she was ever meant to be.

Piccolo was still in touch with his demonic nature – evident in the fighting techniques some had witnessed – and even then, he'd become a beacon of radiance and resilience among his people. So much so, in fact, that some of the Elders referred to Piccolo as the Dragon God, a man who was more than likely capable of wielding an ancient and long-sought power that lay dormant within a select few not seen since the time of Zalama. With the Namekian people's natural inclination to make tangible the balance within the very fabric of nature, it would stand to reason that the universe had created a mirror image of the warrior to balance out the scales. For his light, there was a darkness. Against every evil, Sanshiva would be the good.

A dragon of the void, a goddess of darkness.

With a firm little nod to himself, Doji resolved to see her in all her glory one day, cloaked in shadow and armed with starlight. Whole, happy, and free, just as she deserved to be.

---

One Hour Later…

From within the confines of a weathered and discus-shaped vessel, two aliens preoccupied themselves with scans of the zarinium field, frowns plastered upon their scaled faces.

The first – a slender, algae-hued male in a pointy-shouldered cuirass – sighed loudly. He tapped idly at the single silver anchor-shaped earring dangling from one of his finned ears while his beady black eyes darted across the computer display before him. The second – a burly, wide-eyed, grey-scaled young man sporting identical armor and a scouter upon one ear – huffed profoundly while he stared at the starboard and port cameras, wondering where the ship had gone. The two turned to each other from their respective consoles on either side of the bridge.

With a thick accent, the first spoke in a somber tone. "No dice, kompañerie. Whatever that was, it's gone now. I'm not seeing anything on the scanning range."

"Pinsha madore!" The second cursed, slamming his thick fist against the console. "I could have sworn that was a Namekian ship we saw! Damn thing came out of nowhere, y se vay! Just gone! Gone!"

"And? Didn't Frieza's goons kill all those guys already?"

"What if he missed a few, huh? What if those guys found a way to escape? Aren't you a little curious about that idea, Saba?"

Saba shrugged. "Not my garden, not my slugs, Makeru. We got a job to do. Get the dredge working."

"I would if this stupid zarinium shit wasn't messing with the controls!"

The lights flickered again, and he simmered, kicking the computer unit before him as it hissed with static pulses and refused to bring up the user interface.

"Ay, eztupido, do it manually. It's the big square button on the bottom of the panel."

"…Tch. Nerd."

"Yeah, you're welcome. At least one of us had to read the manual for this stupid ship, y tu noz kierez leyerre. Not that you can, anyways," the older brother teased.

"You shut the fuck up! It's not my fault they didn't think to add some touch writing! Ignorant, ableist, bullsh—"

"Language!" Saba chided. "So disgusting… uff."

"So is gutting a man like a whale, but you had no problem pulling that bat-shit crazy stunt a little while ago!" Makeru griped, pointing to the bloody corpse in the corner. "Now that is disgusting. Uff."

Laid across the ground near a full receptacle of aluminum cans was the brutally mutilated body of the ship's original captain. Dead eyes stared at the ceiling. A dry mouth leaked the last bit of blood coughed up from a chest flayed open. His heart and lungs were gone. The man's armor had contained most of what seeped out but was now stained with sizeable splotches of crimson upon the once-pristine material and matching white gloves. Saba harrumphed quietly and leaned against his chair, still trailing a finger along the bottom of his earring while he lost himself in thought.

Years after they'd left their home world, the two had found themselves confoundingly lost in the vastness of space and on the brink of starvation after a string of demanding missions and a narrow escape from elite officers of the Galactic Patrol. They'd been discovered nearly unconscious in their barely operational vessel by the same man now crumpled on the floor. Soon after the scaled brothers signed a contract to work for Frieza's forces and received food, water, and armor, they unleashed a wave of unbridled and fatal fury upon the men. The first mate was simply thrown out of the airlock after Makeru had beaten him half to death and fed upon several of his limbs, while the captain had been dealt with in gory fashion by Saba himself. A fitting end, the Mizunian thought, for men who would so dare to partake in the plague that was the Friezian Empire.

Once bright, boomingly populated, and covered from top to bottom in nothing but the clearest and cleanest sea waters, their home world of Planet Mizuni was beyond all hope of saving and all thanks to men like the captain and his crewman. By the thousands, Frieza's men came in ships just like the one the two scaled brothers had commandeered, emptying every septic tank, trash chute, and recycling receptacle straight into the ocean. Every ounce of refuse was poured onto and into their colorful, reef-coated homes by the metric ton. Enormous islands of plastic formed, blocking out the sun and killing their crops, laying waste to every aquatic variant of a plant they received from a neighboring planet hundreds of years prior: ajisa. A wave of hot and heavy darkness swallowed them all whole, and the following fermentation within dirtied waters spread disease among the children and elderly. Adolescents and those who'd just barely come into their adult forms – Saba and Makeru among them – developed a cannibalistic psychosis as a result of their time in poisoned seas.

Many others among their friends and family had succumbed to madness, morphing into what he and his younger brother called 'fantasmos,' or ghosts. Haunting and hungry, the tainted Mizunians soon became mindless wanderers who operated as animalistic husks of their former selves, seeking nothing but the next taste of warm flesh and fresh blood. Mizunians were now labeled as nothing more than a vile group of monsters no matter where they tried to seek shelter in the galaxy, and that was if any had the presence of mind to want anything other than the bloodbath and toxic pools they settled in. The two Mizunians, themselves, had barely escaped with their minds intact, and their bodies still bore the evidence of their time in cesspools of rot and whirling tides of trash.

Saba's scales were markedly paler than they used to be and were covered in sharp micro-cuts that never healed; every movement out of saline waters became ever more painful. Makeru was markedly worse for wear; his once-vivid azure scales were now grey, with several spots along his arms and legs bearing a black tinge where chemical material had burned through completely. Makeru's sclerae had almost blackened over entirely, with only vague slivers of sickly yellow that could be seen when he turned his eyes far to one side. Both Mizunians required regular feedings – feasting upon the odd poor soul here and there, preferably one with a price on their head – lest they be lost to the monster lurking deep within.

Saba grunted and stood up, grabbing the flask at his side and taking a long sip as he strode to Makeru.

"Hey."

"What?" Makeru droned, rubbing his eyes.

"You want anything off'a him?"

"…No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Saba passed the flask over and held up three fingers while his brother took a swig. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Makeru handed it back and replied, "Five."

"So, how'd you know it was a Namekian ship if you can't even count my fingers right?" The elder brother teased.

"Listen, smartass, I can zoom in on a camera feed. My eyes may be shit, but I know my shapes, and I know that was a Namekian ship. Mamá used to say they looked like spiky balloons."

The elder brother cackled. The younger grumbled. Both remained silent for another moment.

"It had to be them," Makeru whispered. "It had to be…"

"And what if it was?"

"What if they can heal us?"

"I doubt any of those little bugs would wanna come near us. Seems like a shot in the dark."

"…Worth taking, don't you think?"

"Maybe."

Makeru took another sip before handing back the flask and asked, "…Aren't you tired of it, Saba?"

"Tired of what?"

"Being scared of each other all the time? "

"I'm not scared of you, pezo p'keño," he said while playfully tugging the serrated fin on his brother's head. "I ain't scared of nobody."

"Quit it!" He swatted Saba's hand away and continued, "If we keep on like this, we'll both be nothing but mon—"

The older Mizunian's expression soured as he replied sternly, "Don't you say it. Don't you ever say it. I don't care if everybody else calls you that. I don't care if they call me that. But don't you ever talk about us like that, you hear me?! Ever!"

"DON'T ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY, I HEAR YOU CURSE YOURSELF ALL THE TIME, PENDEJ—"

Saba slapped his younger brother across the face with a furious open right hand, stifling the complete word. The silence between them was deafening, and the sounds of the ship itself seemed to stop as if awaiting the finality of the tense exchange with bated breath. Makeru held his face, angry tears threatening to come forth. He held them back and breathed heavily.

"I know we have worked too hard for you to talk es'a myerda," Saba finally cursed back. "Come hell or high water, we are finding a cure!"

"THEN INDULGE ME FOR A MINUTE, WOULD YOU?!" Makeru screamed. "WOULD IT KILL YOU TO LISTEN?!"

Saba moved to raise his hand again but soon froze.

"We've tried for the last five years," the younger brother said, rising from his seat, "Five years, Saba. We've tried starving ourselves and indulging ourselves, and nothing has worked. Nothing. And the more we go on like this, the worse it gets, and the more I just wish we would have stayed home and let the darkness take us."

"And why?! So we could take the easy way out?! Call it quits and hide in the dark forever?!"

"Yes! I was ten when we started tearing people apart to feel whole, Saba. Ten! Can you blame me any?! My hands smell like blood no matter how many times I wash them! My mouth tastes like death, and I can brush every tooth a thousand times, one by one, and it never goes away! I look at myself in the mirror every morning, and I see una mutasziòn, a monster with black eyes and pale skin komo un d'monio! I don't know how many more corpses I gotta throw through a fucking airlock to get you to understand that whatever we are now… Whatever we've become… Should not exist!"

The words stabbed his brother straight in the heart. Saba lowered his hand and stared at the floor in shame. Makeru had been the good little brother, following plans, taking jobs, and feeding to stave off the madness. But he had a point. It was, in fact, getting worse. And now, as Makeru turned sixteen and Saba eighteen, the feedings were needed far more than usual. So much so, in fact, that either man's emotional outbursts – even in this very moment – threatened to trigger a violent and predatory reaction. Saba backed away slowly and sat in his seat, trying his damnedest to still his breathing. The truth was excruciating.

"Sermannito, I—"

"You can go ahead and play pretend. Make believe you're still a good man because you punish the wicked. Eat you a hundred more of Frieza's zanganas y veveresz sangrezha zushia for all I care, but I am never doing that again. I had my last off of that other twiggy bastard, but I'm throwing this one out. If those people can't help us, then… Then maybe we can hope one of them is strong enough to put us out of our fucking misery."

With a swift turnabout, Makeru walked away. He grabbed the corpse by the leg and dragged it to the airlock down a neighboring hall, where it was hurriedly shoved inside. The iron and saltine stench of blood flooded his nose while the Mizunian contemplated feeding again, mouth now watering and hands shaking, like something deep within was ready to burst. But he shuddered and gulped, choosing instead to tap at a nearby control panel to send it hurtling amongst the flotsam just outside. His stomach growled as it was pinged between bits of rock and ice further away with every passing second.

"Goddamn it," Makeru whispered.

Five years they'd left, and five years nothing had worked. They tried everything, with no reputable cure for the madness taking any real effect. Some things were temporary tide-overs between feedings, while many more had devastating consequences and produced the opposite of the intended effect.

Makeru stared out the window with a melancholy look on his broad features. He'd wanted at some point to try something different, something better than another failed tincture or disgusting bingeing session upon yet another ill-fated, wanted man. During a fair number of the missions he'd embarked on alongside his brother, the bounty hunter had heard whispers among other mercenaries of a species whose power delved into the realm of the gods. A fair green folk whose skin smelled of morning dew, whose eyes shone like deep ebony gems set within different faces and into whose very skin was carved the lines of lengthy lives and hardy bodies, each one among them standing tall like a verdant tree of life. Men that could split and reform to be born anew, and boys who could heal the deepest of wounds and scrub the body clean of disease in mere seconds; wisemen and warriors, all made of the purest magic, the lot of them. And every story he heard mirrored the ones he'd been told as a child, though none in his family other than his mother remembered such a thing.

Makeru's brother had always dismissed the hearsay of the magic men as just that, for none of the Namekians' existence was etched into solid fact. There was no way to track them down. None of their history, language, or customs were written or dispersed anywhere someone would find them. Between their powers and stoic mysticism, every other word floating about from hushed lips only added to the theory that they'd all been plucked from another dimension entirely and left to roam in the darker spaces of the seventh universe. They wielded their power with purpose and a quiet and humble sort of pride, the kind he'd only wished he could have seen with better eyes if they were all alive. After all, Frieza's remaining forces boasted about their deaths. It was assumed the Namekians were gone, forever lost to space and time.

Yet still, he smirked.

In the haze of the camera's images, the tottering white vessel hadn't become noticeable until finally clearing the asteroid field. It wasn't their vessel's reportedly recognizable shape and color – the white spikes on its top or the thin set of legs beneath its ovular hull – that had caught his attention, but their life forces. The ki radiating from two distinct forms within the dark – one young and hearty, the other about his age and somewhat nervous – had instantly enraptured his attention. They sailed straight through the field and whirled about delightfully like glittering phantoms amidst cosmic waves, and the citrine and violet light show that followed the two left a searing imprint in his blurred vision. It had to be them: the people whose very existence spoke of healing.

Makeru resolved to find them as soon as possible, wanting to take the only other option he thought he'd have left. He'd ask the Namekians to heal them, to make him and his brother happy, whole, and free, just as they desperately wanted to be. And though it was, as his brother said, a shot in the dark, it was one he wanted to take.

With the zarinium deposits netted back into the ship's hull, it was safe to assume they'd have to coast back to the spaceport the long way. A three-day trek through emptiness. Utilizing the lightspeed function now would likely cause a fatal malfunction. He headed back to the bridge, trying to shake off the sudden wave of emotion that gripped his chest and poked up his two middle fingers. He held them up proud for Saba to see as he strutted back into the room.

"How many fingers," he teased, smiling.

"Two. Knucklehead," Saba chortled, holding up a middle finger right back. "Strap in. I'm turning the throttle all the way up. No jump this time, with that crap on board."

"Figured as much."

Makeru felt about for the cold belt buckle and fastened it tight as he sat down. He felt the engine vibration, and his finned ears twitched at the upward pitch that accompanied a push against his body. He grinned; rows of sharp, jagged teeth glistened under flickering cabin lights.

Speeding through the dark, Saba soon located a faint signal on the very edges of their scanning range, coasting slowly along an identical course of their own. With a quick series of taps at his keyboard, he set their steering to autopilot and leaned back in his chair.

"Oye, you really think they can heal us?" Saba asked, raising a brow. "You believe all them fairy tales Mamá told us?"

Makeru nodded slowly, staring at the fuzzy white, blue, and green lines through the window.

"At least… a few of them. Maybe they can do it, or maybe they know a guy who knows a guy. Heard they get kinda tight, you know? Mindreading and that psychic talking crap."

"And what if it's a couple ihos?"

"The hell they'd go and send out kids for? They're smarter than that… Aren't they?" Makeru blinked slowly and raised a thick brow as he turned his gaze.

"I dunno." Saba shrugged. "Heard there was one on some tiny little blue planet a long time ago, caused some misery of his own. Can't think of his name, but…"

"Oh, so you believe the bad shit but not the good shit."

"KALMATEYO!"

Saba threw his empty flask at Makeru, but he caught it and crushed it in his fingers before tossing it. With a quick kick and a low whistle, he pinged it off his boot and right where he wanted it: in the aluminum receptacle.

"I reserve the right to curse after surviving all this crap. No more flasks full of blood and booze, mi sermanno. No more medicine, no more hunting."

"But we gotta feed or—"

"Just eat a raw steak or something."

"At a spaceport? Are you crazy?!"

"The craziest," Makeru said, grinning. "I'll live. And so will you. If it doesn't work, we go… be Shiro's pet sharks or something. At least he feeds 'em the good stuff, eh?"

"Tch. We better get a bigger tank. That's what I know. Freakin'… weird pods… uff." Saba shuddered.

"Already got a preference in mind, huh? Should he get you one of those bubble treasure chests, too? Blub, blub, blub! Or wait, I know! We'll ask for a castle – a little hidey-hole for you when it's time to go night-night." Makeru teased.

Thoroughly incensed, Saba cussed, "Oh, fuck you!"

Makeru laughed and shook his head. "Fuck you, too, sermanno," he quipped.

---

Three Days Later…

From behind a glass partition at the entrance to the docking floor of Jae Ujani sat a limber alien with massive amber eyes affixed in a bored stare at the screen before him. With his sharp chin upon his palm and elbow pressed against a sturdy white desk, he rattled off the usual scripting for an inbound vessel and provided a digital map for each floor, a parking spot number, and an e-ticket. Sighing loudly, the slim man brushed a speck of dust from the bubbly shoulder pad attached to his bright white cuirass and glanced at the zig-zagging symbol upon his chest.

"This is not how I thought I'd spend this shift," he grumbled. "This is utterly ridiculous! I should be security on the main floor, not a glorified parking attendant! I'm a Galactic Patrol Officer!"

Another attendant behind him – a stout, elderly woman with curling black horns, crimson eyes, and speckled red and black skin – chuckled softly and waved off an outbound ship, depositing the payment received in a nearby safe. She swirled in her chair and gave him a weary, irritated look.

"Ya think I'm happy yer in here, Officer Jaco? " The old woman asked mockingly. "I ain't got the patience for a lil' shrimp like you, whining all day. Who you lookin' for anyways?"

Jaco pointed to his left, where a collection of wanted posters tacked messily against a grubby metal wall stared back at them. Most had red Xs, indicating they'd been arrested or killed already. But the newest posters that the officer pinned – black and white photos of two oddly aquatic-looking males with scowls across their large lips – bore no such mark. Yumena's eyes widened in shock, and she swiftly turned around, her heart aching and mind racing.

"Ya reckon these two will just… mosey on in the front door?" She asked softly.

"Well, we've caught plenty of others this way," Jaco replied, still irritated. "But I have to catch those two. I have to… It's my only shot at promotion!"

Yumena turned back to him and offered, "Ya know… if it gets you outta my horns, why don't you walk the beat? I won't say nothin' about you leaving—"

He needed no further encouragement. Jaco immediately ran from his seat, slamming the metal door behind him. His chair continued to spin in a circle, and Yumena chortled. She reached inside one of the drawers of the tatty desk and retrieved a scouter. Though the glass lens was broken off, the radio still worked. She'd tried for weeks to get a response to no avail, but the posters were proof that the two men she had tried to reach were still alive and well. She jammed the transceiver button several times, hoping she would hear her favorite word.

"…A'uelita!" Called a voice from the other end.

"Makeru!" She covered her mouth, tears welling her eyes.

"Io ziento, a'uelita," he apologized softly. "We meant to call, but—"

"What the hell did you two do?! Why are you on the radar?! What happened?!" Yumena hissed frantically into the mouthpiece.

"Shiro sent us out for some jobs, but… We got lost for a little while. Nearly died out there, a'uelita, but we're coming home."

"Take the back door," she advised lowly. "We got an officer right now posted on the docks. If you two show yer faces, yer as good as chum."

"Hasi, a'uelita. Hey, I have a question for you… You seen a Namekian ship come through yet? All weird and round, white and spiky?"

"…No. Why?"

"I think they're headed your way. We saw them in the zarinium fields."

"The zarinium fields?! What are you doing over there?! Get your tailfins home NOW!"

"Yes, a'uelita. Relax, okay?"

"Don't you tell me to relax, Makeru, or I'll smack ya harder than Saba ever could!" She could hear the older Mizunian cackling in the background and added, "And tell yer brother he ain't free o' my wrath, neither! He shoulda known better than to make you tag along for a job that could put y'all on the damn GP's radar!"

Saba groaned loudly. Yumena smirked.

"You crazy bastards, you," she murmured.

"The craziest," Makeru reiterated. "We missed you."

"Missed you, too. Remember, the back door. And do that invisibility thing or whatever. Don't need the camera's pickin' you two up."

With that, Yumena shoved the scouter back inside the drawer and turned around, noticing a newcomer slowly drifting toward the receiving window. She wheeled her chair over and turned on ship-to-ship communication, noticing a consistent buzzing pulse, likely due to the pieces of zarinium lodged in the vessel's sides. From beyond a sizeable round windshield, she saw a little boy, no more than five or six, sitting in the captain's chair. Maternal instinct kicked n again, and the usual scripting fell by the wayside as she addressed the little one.

"Wh… Where are your parents?! Why are you alone?! And what is it with you whippersnappers trying to cut through the zarinium fields?!"

The little one gave her a nervous chuckle and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm not alone," he said sweetly. "My sister's in the bunk room. She doesn't feel so good…"

Yumena squinted in moderate suspicion. "And what is she, like seven?!"

"Fifteen."

"…Oh. B-but still! How did… I mean, you… I… What is…" Bewildered, she shook her head and started over. "…I'm Yumena, the dock manager here at Jae-Ujani."

"I-I'm Doji!" The little one answered sweetly. "My sister is Sanshiva."

"Listen, uh, Doji… You know it costs money to park at a spaceport?"

"Uh-huh! My sister said we needed to find jobs when we landed."

"Good head on her shoulders, that one, if that was her first thought."

Yumena rubbed her chin and eyed the boy before glancing back at his ship. She smirked; it resembled a cephalopod with four thin legs poking out from beneath. The same one Makeru was looking for.

"Do me a favor, Doji. You park in the employee bay, all the way at the back there. I ain't got a ship, so you'll be parking in my spot, number twenty-two. I'll meet you down there, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am! Thank you!"

She chuckled and pressed a button for the blockade to move, and the boy swiftly piloted inside. She jumped from the seat and waddled to the door. One last look at the radar above her desk confirmed there wouldn't be another inbound ship for at least thirty minutes, so she headed out the door and straight into the bustling docking station beyond.

"Hm. Whaddya know… they really are still alive," she murmured. "I swear, that boy, he… He looked like somethin' straight out of a sweet dream…"

---

Doji smiled as the docking station opened up to him, spotting the tiny figures of people walking about the ample throughways. At the station's center stood a series of tall, thick tubes – glassy elevators worn and scratched all along their insides – that shook slightly every time the metal cars inside rose or descended, disappearing and reappearing from Jae-Ujani's first floor. He giggled excitedly, following the signs hung from the worn girders above toward the employee parking section. He found spot number 22 – empty, just as Yumena said it would be – and hovered the ship right over it before landing softly.

The little one immediately sprang up from his seat after starting the shutdown procedures. While the craft's lights began to dim and the engines faded, he darted to the bunkroom.

"Sanshiva! Look, we're here! We made it!"

"Yeah, yeah," she droned.

He frowned ever so slightly as their gaze met.

"What's… the matter?" He hesitantly stepped forward.

Sanshiva shook her head and grabbed her bag. "I'm fine. I just… I need to get off this freakin' tin can."

"O-okay. Um, the docking manager said she'd meet us here. We got free parking, thanks to her!"

The female Namekian raised a brow. Nothing ever came without a price.

"Hm… Any reason why she'd do that?"

The boy shrugged. Sanshiva soon got up from the bunk, not noticing that a small package had fallen out in her hurry to leave the room. Doji grabbed the dainty box, eyeing the silver ribbon at its top. But before he could call out to her, she'd already left; he could hear the command to lower the platform being uttered and the soft click and twang as it released from the body of the ship. He slung his backpack on and flew after her, pocketing the box.

The entire station was surrounded by a thick partition of crackling energy, the only barrier between the bustling walkways and the endless space beyond. The employee parking platform connected to a concrete central walkway that split like a spider's web in all directions, lined with towering beams that clung to the underbelly of Jae-Ujani's first floor. Around each pillar snaked a series of thick pipes that hissed steam and complex bundles of wires that seemed to vibrate with electricity. Sanshiva looked up and eyed the sizeable lamps on the ceiling; tucked in intervals between large metal girders, half of them had died out, and a good portion of the others flickered and buzzed as they struggled to release light. She watched as several aliens – different species, each with unique forms, markings, and clothing – made their way across the docks, exiting and entering their own oddly shaped spacecraft, eyes wide with wonder. Doji giggled again and began chanting, hands on her shoulders, shaking her excitedly as if trying to heighten her spirits. Jae-Ujani was as dreary inside as it was out, yet Doji resolved to make the experience as pleasing and exciting as possible for Sanshiva. They'd made it to safety, at the very least.

"Asoh'tana pikkoro!"

Sanshiva chuckled and snatched him up, resting him against her hip. "Yeah, yeah."

"Come on, Sis! This is something new and exciting!" He gave her a teasing look. "Or… are you too scared?"

"Can you blame me any? Look at this place…" She sighed and motioned to the central platform beyond. "I mean, I'd honestly rather be home. You know, where it doesn't look like half the population eats nails for breakfast and where it doesn't smell like sulfur and shit."

A firm pinch to the upper arm forced a loud squeal from her, and Sanshiva tossed the boy into the air. He laughed heartily while she angrily gave chase in circles about the ship, shrieking at him for the bruise she'd likely receive on the soft pink portion of her bicep.

"That hurt! Now I'm gonna—"

"I warned you!" He replied merrily, switching directions. "I said watch it, or I'd pinch you!"

Neither noticed the old horned woman watching from the nearby parking spot, a toothpick poking out between wrinkled lips curled into a smirk. At the same time, her odd, gooey-bodied companion quietly burbled in fascination beside her.

"Well, I'll be damned," the elderly alien chortled quietly. "It really is them…"

Even as angry as she was, the young woman looked like something from a pleasant reverie as she sinuously mirrored the boy's motions with minimal effort. Violet eyes and hair were slightly aglow in the dim lighting of the station, motions like snake strikes that nearly caught him. They were darting up and down, around and around, while Doji admonished the use of such foul words at her age – a tendency found more in folk Yumena's age than boy of some five or six years of age. The two of them radiated a brilliance on their own, though they hardly knew it. It wasn't until Doji made the mistake of landing within the ship's shadow that she gasped.

He was swallowed whole and disappeared into the ground, as if something had yanked him into another plane of existence entirely. Panicking, Yumena and the tittering creature ran forth, searching about the ground for a hole in the metal.

"What the…?! Bowa, did you see that?"

She turned and stared at her companion – an entity that resembled more of a sentient, amber puddle of goo with two eyes bobbing about in its bubbling form. Bowa shrugged, waving two tendrils about like thick arms, gesturing that he didn't know what could have happened. Not a moment later, the Namekians sprang up from within shadow, the two laughing relentlessly. The adolescent was now ahold of the little boy, one arm wrapped tight about his waist. She tickled, and he begged her to stop with a broad smile on his face.

"C-Come on! Alright, stop already!"

"Pinch me again, and I won't stop 'til I'm good and ready." She cackled and finished with, "Knucklehead."

"Even bigger knucklehead!" He answered, sticking out his tongue.

The two of them jumped at the sound of hearty laughter and applause. They turned to the sight of the docking manager and her companion. Doji recognized Yumena and flew straight over, unable to stop the urge to hug her in thanks for her generosity.

"Hi! Thank you for letting us park here!"

"Aww, lil' fella, ain't you just a button!" Yumena playfully pinched his nose before squeezing him tight. "Is that yer sister? She's awfully pretty."

Doji nodded, zooming back to his blushing sister's side. "This is Sanshiva! Sanshiva, this is Yumena. She let us have her spot so we could park today!"

The young woman bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Yumena. You have no idea how much that means to us. Doji said this was free, but… do you know anywhere we can get jobs to pay you b—"

"Ah, ah, ah, no need. This is gonna be on the house. Ain't that right, Bowa?"

Bowa burbled firmly, something that sounded ever so vaguely as 'yes, ma'am,' and saluted them, puffing out his gooey chest. His eyes jostled ever so slightly within his slimy body before settling in their usual spots.

"B-but you don't even know us! We couldn't possibly accept—"

"I ain't takin' 'no' for an answer. Doesn't matter how nicely you might try n' put it. 'Sides… ain't no way you're gonna be able to work off damage like that," she paused to point toward the pockmarked vessel, "…in less than a month. Between parkin' fees n' repairs, you'd be stuck here for a long, long while if I went n' added a dollar amount to all this."

Now, noticing the extent of the damage, the Namekians winced. Thick barbs and shards of zarinium were now buried all along the vessel's sides, evidence of their harrowing experience just before Sanshiva released the shadow to protect them. Had they lodged any further, it indeed would have spelled their end. A massive chunk stood out from the aft and another from the port, making the ship look like a disfigured creature with too many eyes and too few legs.

"Ooh, yeah…" Doji muttered. "That is bad…"

"Very bad," Sanshiva agreed, and nodded.

Bowa headed away, slithering about their craft in circles while Yumena eyed the two.

Sanshiva seemed a nervous yet hearty young woman, unique in form and with an endearing sort of awkwardness, as she toyed with the collar of her cloak and awaited further direction from Yumena. Doji was paying them no mind, now ruffling for an empty page in a ratty journal, hurriedly scribbling notes and sketching a few people idling outside other ships along the docks. Yumena smirked and began fishing in one of the pockets along her brimming utility belt for a satchel full of credits.

She tossed it to Sanshiva, who fumbled with it momentarily before finally catching it. The young woman gave her a curious look.

Yumena said, "I got a way you can earn that off, and it doesn't require some backbreakin' labor. I got a couple o' boys – one in particular, really – who've been dyin' to find people like you somethin' fierce."

"People like… us?" Sanshiva tilted her head.

Doji's ears perked up, and he looked away from the sketch he'd done of Bowa. "What do you mean?"

"We'll talk more later," Yumena drawled, heading back to the parking office. "Sapphire Cantina, first floor. See ya in a couple hours, kiddos!"

Bowa swiftly slunk after her, gurgling in his strange language as if to list the repairs they'd need for the Namekian vessel, and together they disappeared down the platform. Doji gave Sanshiva an excited look.

"She was real nice! I wonder what she means, though…"

Sanshiva nodded and looked towards the elevators.

"Could be anybody's guess." Eyeing the coins within the beaten leather satchel, she asked, "Do you… wanna explore a bit? See what there is to see?"

"Yeah!"

With urgent strides, the two left the employee docking platform and headed to the lifts that loomed over all like grubby, transparent vacuum tubes. She could see through the glass shaft as people stood inside what looked like canisters that disappeared into the ceiling. Just beside the elevators stood a massive screen, a console that flashed a steady list of available jobs on Jae-Ujani; everything from waiting tables and cleanup work to hunting down wanted men and reclaiming stolen property. The Namekians soon headed inside one of the lifts alongside a group of aliens, their eyes affixed to the web of metal and the gaggles of strange vehicles in designated parking spots. The doors closed with a weathered-sounding series of clanks and clunks, and the elevator car wobbled through a lazy ascent. After a short wait, they left the elevator, and their eyes met with a completely different world than the one just below them.

The first floor was bursting with masses of people crisscrossed between colossal, tented vending stalls and more extensive stretches of worn iron structures that stretched for a mile or more in all directions. Aged signs pointed here and there, everywhere and anything available at what seemed like a reasonable walking distance. There were separate throughways for foot traffic and supply transports, and small, boxy cabs that carried groups through the metal maze. The scents of food and drink were heavy in the air, and the pulse of life energy – heightened ki, as the collective of aliens flittered about between establishments – like a fervent heartbeat that spoke of a time free of restraint. Sanshiva drank it in. Here, in the crowd, the shadow at her feet had a million opportunities to partake of the essence of excitement and activity, to take in the vibrance and colors, the sounds and sensations, and not a soul none the wiser.

Doji chuckled and levitated off the ground, looking above the throngs of people to spot the Sapphire Cantina. In the distance, towards the northern end, a large blue arrow flickered weakly against the side of a wearied metal structure with a weathered blue door. He floated back down and clung to Sanshiva's hand. They wandered slowly through the crowds, eyeing the stalls full of wares of all kinds, past shops full of books and odds and ends, all the while keeping an eye out for one another. For an hour, the siblings continued this way, taking their time and stopping at a few places to eye the bits and baubles; Doji purchased a book written in a wavy, sinuous language he understood only bits and pieces of, though he loved the watercolor pictures. Sanshiva had stopped by a jewelry stall, eyeing the beads and charms to see if she could add one to her silver hoops, but soon decided against it.

The two continued this way for several hours until they finally arrived at the Sapphire Cantina. With a cautious step inside, Sanshiva and Doji closed the creaky blue door behind them and glanced about the establishment. They took note of the tattered bounty posters on the dark blue walls, utilitarian seating arrangements, and the dim yet comfortable azure and emerald lighting. As they sat in a booth at the far end of the space, they noticed an empty stage, devoid of entertainment; to the right stood a long bar, where several patrons clamored for more drinks. The barman – a wee, pudgy man with pointed horns and a countenance very similar to Yumena's – scurried back and forth while skillfully blending a few cocktails and pouring several sizeable pints of a drink so pungent the scent carried all the way to their seats. When all were attended to, he waddled over toward the newcomers with a pair of menus and a warm smile.

"Howdy, folks," the man greeted in a buttery drawl, "My name's Marimo, and welcome to my humble lil corner o' Jae-Ujani. Yous look like you could use a drink and a nice meal, eh?"

Sanshiva smiled back and said, "Just… something light, if possible."

"Sure! Sure! Why don'tcha take a look-see at what we got today and flag me down when yous are ready. Want anythin' to drink in the meantime?"

"Water, please!" they replied eagerly.

Marimo laughed. "Sure thing, kiddos. Sure thing."

---

Makeru's heart began to pound furiously. In the distance, he recognized the blotchy structure against the backdrop of stars: Jae-Ujani, just within reach. Just a few moments earlier, he'd received a message from Yumena, and he stared at the screen before him, equal parts overjoyed and horrifyingly nervous while he read it repeatedly.

'They're here,' it read. 'The Namekians are here.'

"Oye, where the hell is he, already?" Makeru asked, foot shaking rapidly.

"Relax, sermannito. He'll be here," Saba replied, swirling in his chair and toying with his earring. "Calm your fins."

The younger Mizunian cursed under his breath. He despised the bounty boardman, Commander Shiro. Shiro was considered a proxy member of the Galactic Patrol, an independent contractor responsible for managing every bounty and job posted at Jae-Ujani, from financial assets to task assignments, fugitive apprehension, and supply allocation. No paid errand went without his approval, and nearly no package or person went unnoticed. It would stand to reason that the commander was well aware of the price on their heads, and the sinking feeling in Makeru's gut continued to grow.

"I don't wanna be here for this. I hate that son of a—"

"Language. I don't like him either, but he pays good. 'Sides, he said he had something that might help those scars of yours, get your scales growing back."

"I don't care about that, Saba! He's gonna cash us in. Didn't you hear a'uelita? We're wanted now!"

"No, he won't do that. Chill, man, Shiro likes us too much. We make him too much money."

"I'm leaving. That guy gives me the fucking creeps."

The more Makeru thought of their employer, the further stomach curled.

Shiro was one of the few who had escaped alongside Saba and Makeru during the first migration of refugees. The middle-aged man was a ruthless and greedy soul, always hungry and never satiated. It was a regular occurrence to simply discard those Shiro called meek or 'dull-toothed' while he carved the path through business and local law enforcement through sheer malice and force of will. Saba and Makeru were going to meet with the Namekians and find a way to be cured of their crippling psychosis; Shiro would quickly lose interest in attempting to hire a pair of Mizunians who no longer desired to revel in gore the way he did. For the commander, the brutal dark side of their people's nature was something to be embraced and celebrated, overindulged if ever given the opportunity. Shiro's favorite claim was that their people belonged at the top of every food chain by any and every means necessary.

Shaking his head clear, Makeru rose from the seat, grabbed their bags, and gave his brother one last look.

"See you at Marimo's."

"…Yeah. Save some food for me." Saba smirked and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Sure! Ke kierez?"

"Not a raw steak."

Makeru cackled. "Okay. One slightly raw steak."

"Oye! If I die from food poisoning, I'm coming back to haunt you!" Saba yelled out as his brother disappeared through the door.

He headed into one of the orb-like pods sat within the cargo bay. Makeru sat atop the plush seat, tapped in a set of commands on the control panel to his right, and waited for the characteristic hiss and click of the pod door. As the pod jettied away from the main ship and began sailing straight for Jae-Ujani's service entrance, Makeru smirked.

"Theirs was the power of dragons and of demons," he uttered, "Of an emerald people fair, and a tribe clever and battle-seasoned…"

---

Author's Note:

My sincerest apologies for the prolonged wait on this chapter, dear readers, as it has taken me quite a few edits in order to mend the plot holes the last time I wrote this story. As you may have noticed, my Mizunian characters speak a language that is based on Spanish! If you're having trouble understanding, please refer to this handy list, alphabetized for your ease of navigation. Please leave a comment on the story thus far - your thoughts are valuable! - and stay tuned for the next chapter! The journey is far from over!

Mizunian Term or Phrase | Spanish Base Word | Definition

A'uelita | Abuelita | Grandma/Granny/Old Lady (Informal)

Eztupido | Estúpido | Idiot

Hasi | Si | Yes

Ihos | Hijos | Children

Io ziento | Lo siento | I'm sorry

Kalmateyo | Calmate | Calm down/Take it easy

Ke kieres | Que quieres | What do you want?

Komo un d'monio | Como un demonio | Like a demon

Kompañerie | Compañero | Companion/Buddy (Informal)

(Es'a) Myerda | (Esa) Mierda | (That) Shit

(Una) Mutasziòn | (Una) Mutacion | (A) Freak

(Y tu) Noz kierez leyerre | (Y tu) No quieres leer | (And you) don't want to read

Oye | - | Hey (Informal)

Pezo p'keño | Pez pequeño | Little fish

Pinsha madore | Pinche madre | Motherfucker (more or less)

(Y) Se Vay | (Y) Fueron | (And) They left

Sermanno/Sermannito | Hermano/Hermanito | Brother/Little Brother

Veveresz sangrezha zushia | Beber sangre sucia | Drink dirty blood

Zanganas | Sanganas | Morons