Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Consacra ❯ Connate 1 - Contradictions ( Chapter 3 )

CONNATE

 

Chapter 1: Contradictions

 

Dende was waiting for Piccolo as he landed wordlessly on the tiled floor of the lookout. The night air was cold and brisk against his face. The young guardian read his expression quite easily.

 

“He wouldn't talk, huh,” he said quietly, his gentle voice tinged with worry. “I guess we should have expected it.”

 

“I never expected he would talk, especially not about a defeat. But I couldn't even goad him into giving me a hint of what happened,” Piccolo said gruffly. “His arrogance is going to get him killed. But I guess that's not unexpected for Vegeta either.”

 

Dende sighed. “Well, whatever the thing was, it's out of Earth's atmosphere. Maybe we don't have to worry about it.”

 

“No,” Piccolo frowned. He walked past Dende toward the palace. “Something that strong shouldn't have been able to slip under our radar. We don't know its motivation for coming here; we can't assume it was merely interested in Vegeta. For all we know, it could be luring Earth's most powerful warrior away from the planet so it or others of its kind can return at their leisure and take over with ease.”

 

“We have Gohan,” Dende pointed out as they walked down the carpeted halls of the palace.

 

Piccolo shook his head. “Vegeta has always been the superior fighter. He's been bred to kill and has a lifetime of experience in battle and cold calculation. Going by mere power level, Gohan may be stronger than all of us, but he lacks experience. And he is not a killer.”

 

Dende nodded slowly in agreement. “What do you plan to do then?”

 

“We need another information source,” Piccolo said, turning to face the younger Namek. “The gods must have sensed something. Earth has been a perpetual cause of trouble for them; they are always watching.”

 

Dende smiled wryly. “Looks like they can't blame this one on Goku.”

 

Piccolo brushed aside the image of Gohan's nameless gi and his mother's cold gaze as she told him exactly how much Goku was to blame.

 

But this was unrelated. Goku was not involved in this, though if he were alive, perhaps he would be able to solve this problem as he had solved everything that had come their way before.

 

He placed a hand on the younger Namek's back. The link to the other world was already open; since he had taken on the role of Earth's guardian, Dende had learned this particular ability quite well.

 

Well, well, look who it is! Or should I say hear…can't exactly see you right now… a bubbly voice sounded.

 

Dende laughed. “King Kai, my respects, sir. How have you b—”

 

“Let's cut the small talk,” Piccolo said brusquely. “There is an important matter at hand that requires your assistance.”

 

Ho ho, if that isn't the jolly Green Giant. How can I appease you? Get it? A-peas? Hahaha…

 

Piccolo ignored King Kai's perpetual stream of pathetic humor. “Save it. Several hours ago we sensed a powerful presence on Earth. It overpowered Vegeta but didn't kill him, and then it vanished into space. I can't get a clear reading of where it is because it can travel between planes. You can see the past as well as the present; you can see the moment Vegeta ran across this alien. I need you to tell me what exactly it is and its current location.”

 

Just like you, Piccolo, to throw around demands like that. Sometimes I wonder how you young'uns get away with disrespecting us gods…

 

“Can you tell me or not?” Piccolo cut in again. He could feel Dende cringe at his complete lack of courtesy.

 

Okay, sheesh…hmm, let's see. Something confronted Vegeta, you say? Where is the feisty lad now?

 

“He left Earth alone to track down the alien.”

 

He didn't tell you where he was going?

 

“No.” Piccolo frowned. “Why does that matter? Through you we can find out directly where the alien is.”

 

All right, all right. Be a little patient, will ya? The god lapsed into silence.

 

“Galactic search engine processing,” Dende joked. “Hope he's feeling lucky…”

 

“Well?” Piccolo said after several more seconds. “Find anything?”

 

Hold on… The god's voice sounded more subdued.

 

“Piccolo, let him concentrate,” Dende said.

 

Piccolo was about to retort but decided against it. He had little patience with deities; he had never had much to begin with, but the fact that he had personally surpassed the gods in strength had further lowered his respect for them.

 

Hmm...I can't find anything.

 

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. “Check again. There's no way something like that could go unnoticed by you and all your buddies in Heaven.”

 

I'm sorry, Piccolo, the search has come up empty. No results…

 

The scowl on his face deepened. The little respect he had for the bug-shaped god diminished further still. “Either you're incompetent, or we're facing an entity that's more dangerous than anything in either of our realms. I certainly hope it's the former. I'd rather deal with an afterlife full of idiots than an enemy that can take down a Super Saiyan and shield itself from a god's eyes.”

 

“Piccolo…” Dende said, his disapproval clearly evident.

 

Hmph. It seems you don't need me after all then. Goodbye—

 

“Wait,” Piccolo growled. “Tell me what happened while the alien was on Earth. What happened with Vegeta?”

 

Dende sighed, muttering. “You'll be lucky if he tells you anything…”

 

King Kai seemed to pause and consider the request. Why should I?

 

Piccolo was a bit unnerved by the god's forceful reply, devoid of humor and amiability. He had openly insulted and mocked King Kai before, for the whole time he had been training in the afterlife in fact, but never had the god sounded so edgy.

 

“I'm sorry,” Piccolo said in a more conciliatory tone. “I'm impatient, but it's only because I'm concerned about this as a threat.”

 

Yeah, yeah, that's the excuse all you pompous warriors use.

 

“Can you tell me what happened to Vegeta?”

 

…no.

 

Dende cut in before Piccolo could say anything more. “Please, King Kai. You know the Earth might be in danger. We don't have Goku anymore to defend it, and Vegeta just left. We really need your help…please help us!”

 

The god didn't budge. Piccolo couldn't believe it. “Do you want the Earth to perish? Or the universe, for that mat—”

 

He stopped abruptly. There was a third possibility he had not considered earlier. It might not be that King Kai was incompetent, or that the mysterious entity was capable of eluding his senses…it might just be that the god was lying.

 

Indeed, the tone of his answers was not of a man firmly convicted by his knowledge or lack thereof, but of a man who was uncertain. A man with something to hide. Piccolo replayed their conversation in his head. Yes, the tone and nature of his answers had been uncanny at times, out of character.

 

“I don't know why you're not willing to give us any information,” he said slowly. Dende passed him a confused look. “Perhaps this entity is something truly dangerous, enough to scare the gods into silence. Or perhaps this is all some conspiracy among you other-worlders. Keep it to yourself, then, if you think you can handle it. Just don't come crawling to us mortals when some alien shows up in your plane and starts wreaking havoc again.”

 

The confusion on Dende's face had turned to disbelief. “King Kai…you wouldn't…”

 

Piccolo continued as the god still gave no reply. “But tell me one thing, if nothing else. What did it say to Vegeta? I can eventually find that out anyway if it takes Gohan and me both to beat it out of him. But for the sake of time and convenience, I'm asking you.”

 

The rare silence stretched on. It was uncanny to hear nothing from a god who normally never shut up.

 

“What did Vegeta hear, King Kai? Was it a challenge? A threat?”

 

He waited with barely contained frustration. Dende could sense it but wisely refrained from saying anything.

 

…it gave him directions.

 

Piccolo exchanged glances with Dende. The guardian didn't miss a beat. “Directions to where?”

 

I can't tell you.

 

“Tell me what Vegeta heard,” Piccolo demanded. “Where was he told to go?”

 

Silence.

 

“Sir, don't go!” Dende pleaded, sensing the connection was about to be broken from the other end. “Please. Help us.”

Piccolo persisted. “Where did it tell him to go?”

 

He thought he heard an ethereal sigh, confirming the god was indeed worried, perhaps more worried than they were.

 

…A man with questions inevitably goes to their place of origin.

 

Piccolo paused. “That's it?”

 

“Wait!” Dende said, raising one hand as if he could physically stop the link from breaking. Piccolo let his hand fall from the young guardian's back. The ensuing silence was permanent this time.

 

*****

 

He felt the tenuous link hum to life with an inner sound almost audible to his ears. It was eerie to feel this bond, still very much alive inside him, when he was no longer the keeper or sustainer of the Dragonballs. Perhaps the magical orbs could never be completely severed from their original creator.

 

The clouds disappeared into the utter blackness of the sky, and the air around them reverberated with a low rumble that was not thunder. From the golden aura of the seven shining orbs, a dragon's vast body uncoiled slowly and gracefully, eyes aglow as its regal head bowed toward them.

 

WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME FROM MY SLUMBER? The booming words shook the air and seemed to resound within their heads as well, sweeping aside peripheral thoughts as it filled their minds.

 

It had taken a day for him to find and gather the Dragonballs, and he had used the time to think carefully about the best way to use the two allotted wishes. He needed to reserve the second one for obtaining a means to travel through space, a ship faster and more advanced than any Capsule Corporation model Bulma could provide. He had to choose his first wish wisely. He could not ask to know what Vegeta knew about the alien since that wish required the Saiyan's consent. Asking Shenlong what or who the alien was would not give him information about its whereabouts. Asking where it was, on the other hand, was also useless, since the alien could move great distances during the time Piccolo traveled toward its current location.

 

“We have a problem,” Piccolo said grimly, looking upward into the dragon's unblinking scarlet eyes. “An entity capable of overpowering a Super Saiyan visited this planet two days ago. It left Earth the instant after it subdued Vegeta. I wish for a device that will allow me to track its whereabouts.”

 

Dende watched quietly and expectantly, his eyes tinged with fear. The younger Namek had disagreed with his plan to go after the alien alone. But Piccolo was never swayed by the opinions of others once he made up his mind.

 

The translucent eyes of the dragon glowed as it silently began channeling the words of the wish into reality. The bright aura surrounding its long coils intensified, and then dimmed just as quickly.

 

THIS WISH CANNOT BE GRANTED.

 

A look of disappointment washed over Dende's face. He glanced at Piccolo, questioning what he would do next.

 

He folded his arms, having expected this as a possible outcome. “Why not?”

 

THE BEING OF WHICH YOU SPEAK IS NOT IN THE PHYSICAL PLANE. CHOOSE ANOTHER WISH.

 

He was silent for a moment, carefully reviewing his second option in his mind before speaking again. “The alien told Vegeta of a certain `place of origin.' I wish to know where this is.”

 

The dragon's eyes glowed once more, its head bowing lower in seeming concentration. Piccolo half-expected this wish to fail as the previous one had.

 

NAMEK.

 

Piccolo met Dende's bewildered expression with a contemplative look. For a second they had both thought the dragon was addressing them by the name of their race.

 

“The planet Namek. Our homeworld.” He wanted to be sure of Shenlong's meaning.

 

YES. NOW STATE YOUR SECOND WISH. I GROW TIRED OF THE MORTAL PLANE.

 

“Grant me a spacefaring ship that has all the specs of the most advanced Capsule Corporation spacecraft, but it must be able to accept ki as a power source, cloak itself from both sensors and the naked eye, and conceal my life force while I am inside it.”

 

The dragon seemed to pause and consider the rather lengthy request.

 

“Might be pushing it with all the details, Piccolo…” Dende said under his breath.

 

YOUR WISH…IS GRANTED!

 

Several meters to their right, the air shimmered and flashed as the sleek shape of a spacecraft materialized, looking almost identical to the one Vegeta had taken.

 

“Goodbye, Shenlong! Thank you!” Dende called as the dragon's glowing form faded and vanished. The Dragonballs scattered in seven directions, streaking across a sky that was slowly reverting back to its normal cerulean hue.

 

“Interesting,” Piccolo mused. The first wish had not been rejected. The cryptic directions were known only to the alien, Vegeta, and presumably the gods. The latter two obviously would not share the secret, and Shenlong could not disclose what they knew without their consent. That left the alien as the only potential source of information. Unlike the others, it apparently did not consider the information a secret.

 

A chilling thought flitted across his mind. Did the alien know he had made the wish? Was the disclosure of information an active decision on its part? Could it be watching him at this very moment, from wherever it was in the non-physical plane?

 

This could be a trap. He still didn't know why the alien had directed Vegeta to Namek of all places, but from the way things looked, it was not a benign situation.

 

“Dende,” Piccolo snapped. “Open a connection with Moori.”

 

Dende caught the sudden worry in his voice and closed his eyes, concentrating. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he focused hard, seeking out the elder's life force.

 

His eyes shot open, bright and happy. “Moori. Moori, it's you!”

 

Piccolo grabbed the younger guardian's shoulder and caught the end of what the Namekian elder was saying. -been a long time, child.

“Moori. Is everything on Namek all right?” Piccolo asked quickly.

 

Piccolo? Yes, everything is fine here. Does something concern you?

 

Dende breathed a sigh of relief as Piccolo continued. “There's been some trouble here. Some alien showed up here that's more powerful than a Super Saiyan and has somehow scared the gods into silence; I can't get any information about what or where it is. It apparently told Vegeta to find some `place of origin' and then vanished from this planet; Vegeta's somewhere in space now trying to track it down. I just used the Dragonballs to find out what his supposed destination is. The alien meant Namek, Moori. I need you to alert your people and be on guard for any foreign presence. Hide the Dragonballs. We don't know what we're dealing with.”

 

An approaching streak of ki flashed through his senses. He growled. Not now, Gohan.

 

The Dragonballs are safe. We keep them well-hidden with magic when there is no need to use them. But I will alert our people of the threat, Moori's old, solemn voice sounded. Some part of Piccolo stirred in vague memory, reminded that he was indeed one of Moori and Dende's kin.

 

“Good,” Piccolo said gruffly. “I'll be arriving there soon.”

 

We look forward to your return, brother. The faint sense of a kindly smile, and the link faded.

 

“Piccolo?” the boy said quietly, standing a few feet away.

 

“Gohan,” he said grimly.

 

“What's going on?” His dark blue gi bore a recently mended tear across the middle of his chest. “Are you going somewhere?”

 

“Yes,” he answered, not softening his gaze. “But you're not.”

 

Gohan frowned, looking very much like his mother when crossed. “At least tell me what happened. Why are you leaving?”

 

Piccolo reiterated the story, growing tired of the same frustrating mysteries and unknown variables passing through his lips. The boy deserved to know everything he knew, though. He was needed here on Earth.

 

“I'll come with you, then,” Gohan said quickly, taking a step forward. He looked over at the new spacecraft. “I'm guessing that's the ship you're taking?”

 

“I said you're staying here,” Piccolo stated firmly. He folded his arms and returned the boy's half-sullen, half-desperate glare with an unmoving stare. “You understand that if both of us leave and the alien comes back, there'll be no one here to defend the Earth?”

 

“If it could put Vegeta down in a few seconds, I wouldn't be much use if it came back here anyway,” Gohan snapped back. “At least the two of us together—”

 

“Don't talk back to me, Gohan,” Piccolo said impatiently, but instantly regretted it. The kid was insecure and needed reassurance. Instead of helping Gohan see reason, the reprimand had only made him sound like the boy's tyrant of a mother. The hurt showed on his pupil's face, quickly followed by a mask of bitter anger.

 

“So you're going to Namek. What will you do if the alien finds you first? How are you going to fight it?” Gohan's voice was suddenly hard as ice.

 

“I can handle myself,” Piccolo said curtly. But he realized just how poorly he was handling the boy's transition into teen years. He let out a sigh before speaking again in a more even tone. “The issue here isn't the threat posed by the alien. It's about whether you trust me.”

 

Gohan was silent, clearly scouring his mind for some example, some instance from the past where his teacher had broken his trust. They both knew what the result of his search would be.

 

“I…just don't want you to die,” he said.

 

“I don't plan to,” Piccolo said.

 

Gohan understood the unspoken message through the pointed silence. Piccolo couldn't afford to divide his attention between the enemy and watching out for Gohan's safety. You remember how I died the first time.

 

“I would never do something if I weren't convicted that it's the best choice. You know that by now,” Piccolo said calmly. He hesitated before adding, “You know me better than anyone.”

 

The rare admittance of his esteem for his only student helped a little in cracking Gohan's hard glare. “I still don't…I don't get it.”

 

Dende had been watching respectfully from the side. His soft-spoken manner was a sharp contrast to Piccolo's roughness. “Don't get what, Gohan?”

 

The boy looked at the floor, the unruly spikes of his hair falling across his forehead. “I don't understand why we have to face yet another insanely powerful enemy. Why Earth seems to be God's favorite shithole in the universe. Hasn't it been enough?!”

 

The young guardian laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, only to jerk away at the sudden flare in Gohan's ki. The boy raised his face to the sky in challenge to someone other than his teacher and friend. “Son Goku is dead! My father stayed dead so that all this crap wouldn't have to happen anymore! But it still does! Why?!”

 

Piccolo powered up steadily and grabbed both of his shoulders. “Gohan, listen to me,” he said firmly. “Calm down. Get a hold of yourself.”

 

Gohan's tears were sizzling against his aura. He had never seen the boy so unstable. It was like facing a five year-old child with uncontrollable surges of power, again.

 

“Gohan, if you keep this up, you're going to shake this place apart. You'll probably kill Dende,” Piccolo said levelly. “Power down, now.”

 

The boy took in a shuddering gasp of air and gritted his teeth. The realization of how close he had come to killing a friend had struck a nerve. “I'm sorry,” he said shakily as his aura retreated. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”

 

“Don't apologize,” Piccolo cut in. “You have a right to be angry. But you have to accept that it's not your fault. You didn't choose for your father to die, and you didn't choose to draw this new threat to Earth.”

 

“I never chose this power, either,” Gohan said brokenly. “I never chose to have to fight. I never wanted to be anything but a normal person.”

 

“Bitterness will do nothing for you, kid,” he said simply. “You either accept what you can't change, or it changes you into something ugly.”

 

“You're right,” he said. His fiery will to argue had completely evaporated. He bit his lip. “I was being selfish, wanting to go with you. I'd leave Earth defenseless, and my mom and my brother…”

 

“It's not selfish,” Piccolo said, his tone as close to kind as it could be. “You're just being a normal person.”

 

“Hey, you guys!” a female voice called from afar. Bulma had landed her hoverjet a distance away and was running toward them. “I saw the dragon—what happened? I was planning to wish for something myself—”

 

Her eyes widened as she saw the ship Shenlong had conjured. “How the hell did one of my ships end up here? But—it doesn't have our logo…”

 

“I'm leaving to find the alien Vegeta encountered,” Piccolo stated matter-of-factly.

 

She paused and stared at the three of them. Piccolo had never paid much attention to her appearance, but the difference was obvious. She looked like she hadn't rested in days.

 

“I'd been planning to gather the Dragonballs myself so that I could find Vegeta,” she said blankly. “He ran across an alien? Is that what made him leave so suddenly?”

 

“Yes,” Piccolo said impatiently. He'd be damned if he had to repeat the story a fifth time.

 

Dende stepped in for him. “We don't really know much about this alien, just that it managed to overpower Vegeta and then winked out of here without a trace. We don't know why it was here or where it went. Piccolo's going into space to try to find it.”

 

“Figures, Vegeta never could put up with losing.” She ran a hand through her disheveled hair as she contemplated the situation for another second. “Piccolo, can I come with you?”

 

“No,” he said. He held up a hand at the sight of the stubborn look on her face. “No one is coming with me, not even Gohan. My business is with this alien, not Vegeta, and having anyone with me will only slow me down.”

 

“Do you know where Vegeta is, at least?” she said.

 

“You shouldn't try to go after him, Bulma,” Piccolo said warningly. “And no, I don't know where he is.”

 

He could sense Dende was about to speak and silenced the guardian with a glare. Don't tell her anything. She's another liability.

 

“Sorry, I'll be making my own decisions,” she said huffily. “But if you don't want to help me, that's fine.”

 

She looked toward Gohan. Piccolo repeated himself for emphasis. “Gohan's not leaving. He's staying to guard the planet.”

 

The woman shot an irritated glare in his direction. “He's not a kid anymore. He can decide for himself.” She smiled sadly at Gohan. “I'm bringing Trunks with me. We both want Vegeta back. He needs his daddy.”

 

Her insufferable stubbornness had been getting on his nerves, but this outright manipulation was too much for him to stomach. He could see Gohan faltering, doubting his decision to stay, doubting his trust in his teacher's authority. Sympathizing with a woman and child who had been abandoned just as he had…

 

“I'd like to help you, Bulma, but—” he began hesitatingly.

 

“But he can't,” Piccolo said brusquely. “He's staying here.”

 

Her blue eyes flashed angrily at him. He met her acidic gaze without flinching. Human women were such maddening creatures.

 

“Where do you get off telling him what he can and can't do?” she challenged. “He saved the world while you stood on the sidelines. You need to stop treating him like a child and let him make his own choices. It's not that you need him to protect the Earth. You just want to keep coddling him like he's a baby.”

 

“You need to see beyond your own selfishness and feel a little shame over how damn manipulative you are, and realize you're putting yourself and Trunks in reckless danger by running after Vegeta,” he growled. “What are you thinking? Taking a toddler into space? Are you mad?”

 

The indecisiveness on Gohan's face faded as Piccolo shut her down with his logic. She set her mouth in a thin line, glaring daggers at him.

 

“Fine. I guess it's impossible for an asexual alien to understand. I'm fighting to have my family back, and I'm not going to lie down and give up,” she said, looking at all of them with fierce determination. “Love is selfish. It means being willing to do anything for that one person you love. Not for the Earth, not for humanity or some heroic bullshit like that. Love is personal.”

 

Piccolo opened his mouth to retort that she knew jack shit about self-sacrifice, that between the two of them, he was the one who had actually given up his life for someone else.

 

Gohan beat him to the punch, but with an unexpected question. “So what does that make my dad, Bulma?” he said quietly. “I guess he didn't really love us.”

 

Piccolo cursed inwardly at the twinge of painful jealousy he felt as Gohan thought of his father's death instead of his own—the death that had been so much more difficult than anything a cookie-cutter hero like Son Goku had ever had to do. He had sacrificed all he had been, the very calling of his blood for revenge and destruction, and killed his old self inside the moment before Nappa's ki blast had hit him full-force and taken away his physical life.

 

“Gohan, I didn't mean—” Bulma began.

 

Piccolo cut her off abruptly. “Look, you all can stand around and argue about love and ideals as much as you want, but that doesn't change the fact that we're all under threat from an enemy we don't even know. Bulma, deal with your fucked-up marital life on your own, and leave Gohan out of it.”

 

He turned briskly toward his student. “She's right in that you aren't a child anymore. I'd say you stopped being one long before the day you killed Cell. You can make your own choices, but I'll be damned if I let anyone manipulate you into a reckless course of action. Think with your head, Gohan, and tell me if the decisions I've made aren't the best we can do given the situation.”

 

The tense silence was rife with unspoken challenges and threats between Piccolo and the woman as Gohan thought over his mentor's words. Finally, he looked sadly at Bulma and told her he was sorry.

 

Given her state of desperation, Piccolo had to give her credit for taking his refusal with a certain amount of grace and hugging the boy before she sped off in her hovercraft. Whatever she did now was none of his concern.

 

“How will you survive without food?” Dende asked quietly, having wisely refrained from taking part in the argument.

 

“Ice is plentiful in space,” he replied simply. “The ship can draw great quantities of water from it.”

 

“Good luck, sensei,” Gohan said. Before Piccolo could move, the boy had wrapped his arms around him in a crushing hug. His next words were quiet and fearful. “Promise that you'll come back.”

 

He looked down at his student's unruly black hair, about to offer a cynical retort about useless promises. Gohan had called him teacher. In reality, whether he had initially wanted it or not, he had taken on the role of a father. It was frightening to think about how much responsibility lay across his shoulders, for the boy's happiness, for his self-confidence, for his desperate fight against loneliness and depression. He found he did not want to go, that he would rather stay and watch over Gohan and his infant brother, and even their ungrateful shrew of a mother.

 

Soft. I've gone soft. He wondered, not for the first time, what his own father would think if he could see him now.

 

“You have my word, Gohan.”

 

*****

 

He had called the Earth his home since birth. But it had never welcomed him. He had tasted its hostility in his first breath of air, the moment a cold wind had blown through the crack he had made in the shell encasing him. Opening his eyes for the first time to color and form and sound, he had seen around him a world he was born to hate, to crush under his power and burn into the image of the immemorial curse in his blood.

 

On the day of his death, he had been told that the world he had been destined to conquer and ruin was not his home at all. That he was truly an anomaly, that there was a reason the Earth and all living beings on it had always abhorred and feared him. That despite the seal of blood vengeance binding him to the planet, the blood that flowed in his veins was never meant to spill on its soil. How fitting that the messengers who had set to burn all his conceptions of who he was had also been the ones to open his veins…and how fitting that he had willingly allowed it, for the sake of the one life on that hated world that saw him as something other than a monster.

 

The one life that called him friend. Teacher. And though the boy had never spoken it aloud…Father.

 

It was strange to leave the Earth now, the place that had never truly been his home, because he was leaving behind more than just earth and air. And he did not know if he would ever return. He only knew he had given his word.

 

He reached his destination sooner than he expected. The ship Shenlong had crafted at his bidding was indeed useful.

 

He stepped outside into a world very similar to that which had been his real home, a planet that had been destroyed several years earlier. He adjusted his power level to withstand the heavier gravity, changed his breathing to match the denser composition of the air, and turned his face toward the perpetually nightless sky.

 

Home. The sigh came from within deep threads of his consciousness that were not originally his own. An unbidden smile curved his lips, a remnant of the dying warrior he had absorbed.

 

Laughter echoed lightly through the valley below. Several streaks of ki were racing through the air toward him, and he realized they were not slowing as they neared. With a confused look, he stepped out of the path of one of the figures and caught it by the leg just as it rocketed past. He stared in bewilderment at the giggling Namekian child hanging upside down from his hand.

 

He almost dropped the boy as another streak of ki barreled into his right leg and clung to it tightly.

 

“Gotcha! Uncle Moori told us you were coming! Welcome back, Nail!” the second boy exclaimed, grinning up from Piccolo's knee.

 

“We were sent to get you, Mister! Could you please let me down now?” the child dangling at his side giggled.

 

“Hey, not fair! You guys cheated!” A smaller child landed in front of him, his expression drawn into a pout. He was trying to breathe evenly to show that the race hadn't worn him out. A slow smile spread across Piccolo's face at the realization that his people were thriving here, that they were able to raise their young in peace once more.

 

“Mister Nail! Did you bring anything cool with you from outer space? Did you?” The boy let go of his leg and hopped around expectantly.

 

“I'm afraid the only thing I brought is me,” he said with a poorly hidden smirk. “And this…”

 

He pressed a button on the side of the ship and it vanished in a cloud of smoke. He tucked the miniscule capsule that now contained it in the folds of his belt.

 

“Whoa…”

 

“Awesome!”

 

They were just like Gohan had been all those years ago. Perhaps children were the same on every world.

 

“Well, let's go back to the village. The elders are waiting!” he said, tugging at Piccolo's free hand.

 

He set the first child on the ground rather gently. The boy jumped up immediately and flew a circle above them.

 

“All right, let's see how fast you can fly, Nail!”

 

“We gotta be polite, he's a guest! Call him Mister!”

 

“Mister, can I call you Nail?”

 

He paused, looking at their expectant faces. “You can call me Piccolo.”

 

“Whoa, that's a cool name!”

 

“Come on, Mister Piccolo, let's go!”

 

The elders were waiting at the center of the village, standing strong and proud in the midst of the new life they had begun on this planet. Most of them Piccolo recognized from the months they had spent on Earth before they had found a suitable new homeworld. It was apparent that all recognized him, or their brother who was now a part of him.

 

“Welcome back,” Moori said, a warm smile creasing his face. “We are glad to have you among us again, however short your stay may be.”

 

“It is good to see you, elder,” Piccolo said. The feeling of déjà vu grew stronger, that sense of familiarity that felt old and new at the same time. “But unfortunately I'm here to deal with a problem and have to involve all of you in it.”

 

“We understand,” Moori said, and several others nodded. “We will do our best to assist you.”

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since we last spoke?” Piccolo asked.

 

“Nothing to our knowledge,” the elder said. His voice grew somber. “Perhaps it is not surprising that the entity you seek told Vegeta to come here. We have been seeing more visitors as of late.”

 

“Visitors?” Piccolo said. His face darkened. “Because of the Dragonballs.”

 

Moori sighed. He looked at the children who had been respectfully quiet for the past minute. “Run along, little ones. We have important things to discuss with our guest.”

 

“Bye, Mister Piccolo!”

“Come play with us later!”

 

Moori watched them fly off with a fond, wistful smile. “Never thought you'd see children running around here, did you? They are the joy of our lives, if one disregards the trouble they tend to get into all the time.”

 

The other elders dispersed as Piccolo followed Moori into his simple earthen dwelling. He sat down on the large mat in the middle of the circular room and motioned for Piccolo to sit as well.

 

“Tell me more about this mysterious visitor.”

 

“I don't know much more than what I've already told you,” Piccolo said. “I was meditating when I felt a distinct presence in the city, its power level rising quickly alongside Vegeta's. Vegeta's ki shrank suddenly, and then the alien presence just vanished. I could still sense it somewhere in space, but it was moving between planes. To be able to do that…it either knows instant transmission, or it is not mortal.”

 

Moori slowly nodded, digesting all this with patience. “You mentioned it `scared the gods into silence?'”

 

“Apparently this subject is taboo among them. King Kai wouldn't tell me anything except that the alien directed Vegeta to a certain `place of origin.' His exact words were, `A man with questions inevitably goes to their place of origin.'”

 

“And Earth's dragon revealed that that place was Namek.”

 

“Yes,” Piccolo said. “At the moment I have no idea what the hell all this means…why the alien came to Earth, what kind of being it is in the first place, why it went for Vegeta…”

 

“Vegeta has not been here,” Moori said. “I am certain of that.”

 

“Then…” Piccolo frowned. “Dragons don't lie. The alien truly meant for Vegeta to come to Namek. The Saiyan might have misunderstood the message and gone somewhere else.”

 

“Or he might have been delayed somewhere in space, and is still making his way here.”

 

“Maybe you don't know Vegeta well enough. Not that that's a bad thing; the man's royally insufferable,” Piccolo said. “But he wouldn't let anything get in his way. He's simply too powerful to be hindered by anything.”

 

“Hmm. I find the words of the message quite curious,” Moori said thoughtfully. “A man with questions…inevitably goes to their place of origin? What questions could Vegeta have had?”

 

“He's not a deep thinker; more the burn-kill-destroy type. I can't imagine Vegeta itching to know anything from anyone.”

 

“Still, there must be something he wanted to know, and the origin of his questions is supposedly here.”

 

“I've been thinking about this, Moori,” Piccolo said. “About what `place of origin' means. It could be a couple of things. Vegeta died on old Namek by Frieza's hand. He was enslaved by that tyrant for most of his life; perhaps his own death, or Frieza's death for that matter, symbolized some new start, a new `origin' for him. But that explanation is too poetic and patronizing for either Vegeta or me to take seriously. The only other possibility is that it has something to do with the Dragonballs—the only reason the universe has ever taken an interest in Namek. Speaking of which, you said you've been having visitors.”

 

Moori sighed. “Ah, the visitors. We turn them away as nicely as we can. One of our warriors is quite talented in the psychological arts and has been able to erase the intruders' knowledge of the Dragonballs and memories of coming here. But no matter how many we send away in this manner, more keep arriving. Some are paid handsomely for the task. We've seen emissaries from governments, cartels, even warlords.”

 

“How did they find out about this place?” Piccolo asked, disturbed by the implications of what he was hearing.

 

“All people need is a rumor, Piccolo.” Moori smiled wryly. “Eyewitnesses are even better. When Frieza came, he brought many soldiers with him. Not all of them were killed. Some escaped before the planet's demise and lived to tell about what they had seen.”

 

“They will stop at nothing for the Dragonballs' power,” Piccolo said softly. “It is the same across all the universe.”

 

“Yes,” Moori said. He stood and walked to the circular window behind them, looking outside with a wistful expression. “Where there is life, there is the desire for power.”

 

“Except for your people,” Piccolo said. “Our people.”

 

The elder smiled sadly. “We are no exception.”

 

Piccolo watched the old man's eyes, flickering subtly with some hidden knowledge. Questions returned to him, thoughts from the day he had sensed the alien's presence. Strange that he had never asked these questions before.

 

“Moori. Why were the Dragonballs made?”

 

The elder turned toward him slowly. “Ah, the question every child of our tribe inevitably asks when he is old enough to realize he does not understand the world.”

 

Piccolo bristled, about to retort that he was not a child, but knew from the older Namek's calm expression that it was not meant to be an insult.

 

“Piccolo, you created Dragonballs at one point yourself, did you not?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Can you tell me why you did?”

 

He was silent for several seconds as his mind sifted through old memories, half-forgotten, half-formed from a self that was not entirely his. “No,” he said. “I don't know why. It just seemed to…happen. Like a natural process.”

 

Moori nodded slowly, knowingly. “That is how it was, Piccolo, siulahne, exile. Your sire left this planet before the old ways came to an end. Today it is different.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“How much do you know of your own origin, brother?” Moori asked gently. “Do you know the reason you left your people and ended up on Earth, far away from the land of your birth?”

 

Piccolo opened his mouth to speak without an answer. He surprised himself with this thoughtless action. He did not have an answer; there was nothing to say.

 

Moori's aged eyes twinkled. “I will tell you what my father, Guru as he was known, told me before his passing, what very few of even our own people know. Because the threat of this new power is very great, perhaps greater than you currently imagine. And because it is time for you, my brother who once was lost and now is found, to know.”