Kings, Tyrants, and Demons

Woo! Look at those hits! *Is soo happy* Thank you Lee, Mehla Seraphim, Dania (my muse ;) ), Vashta, Jenna, Airtos, Schwarzwald, and Bob for your kind words on the last couple of chappies! Hope you enjoy. :)


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Chapter Eight: Journey to the Fatherland


Space travel was invariably a dull past time. He had never liked it. Flying in a tin can in the vastness of space made him feel too confined. After three days, he longed for the green valleys and forests of Earth.

Too late now.

Piccolo knew he had made the right decision but it was not a painless choice. Of course leaving behind everything you’ve ever known never is. Luckily for him, his destination was only two more days away.

The Capsule ship was a newer model than the previous he had flown, thus much faster. More to the point, New Namek was closer to Earth than its predecessor was. For this, the tall warrior was eternally thankful. He did not think he could stomach any more time in the spacecraft, especially given his current state.

Piccolo leaned back in his seat mulling for the hundredth time what life on Namek would be like. All appearances aside, he was an Earthling, born and raised. He had never lived on another planet. The original being he descended from had, but all of the memories left to him from his ancestor were vague and the property of Kami who was no longer available to share them. The same with Nail, who could not be trusted with his opinions of Namek, due to his ethnocentric propensities and the perpetual habit of being full of shit. He had to admit that he missed the asshole; he missed them both.

Dende was his best source. On occasion, the young guardian told him what his home planet was like. Sure, Piccolo had been there, but the first time was on the old planet while fighting Frieza and the second to New Namek fighting Frieza’s older brother Cooler. Contending with the brotherly bastards did not leave much time for sightseeing or chatting with the locals. He had swapped a few words with the Elder Morie while the homeless Nameks stayed at Capsule Corporation awaiting the rejuvenation of the dragonballs but it was nothing more than pleasantries.

Piccolo recalled Dende’s first few days on the Lookout. The child was at first dazzled and then overwhelmed with his duties for such a diverse planet. Nightfall was a new phenomenon, as was the sheer variety of terrain Earth boasted. Planet Namek did not have deserts, forests, or an arctic. Instead, it consisted of islands that floated on green seas that reflected a green sky. Nearly everything was green: the people, the bluish green ground, the water. Yet, the deep, nearly black, shade of evergreen he was so fond of was not to be seen. Instead he would be greeted with a bright, almost glaring, sea-green. He supposed he would get used to it.

Namek did not have a wide range of species either. In fact, the diversity was microscopic when compared with Earth’s. A few hundred, including plant and insect life. Like Earth, there were giant lizards that roamed the terrain, fish that swam in the seas, and birds that flew through the air; just not many variations of them. The season—there was only one—stayed nearly constant throughout the year, rarely varying by more than a few degrees. Very rarely did natural disasters strike the land. Other than the ancient ‘Dark Wind’ that hit the old planet thousands upon thousands of years ago, Namek had enjoyed mild weather with only a few thunderstorms and dry seasons. But the most remarkable fact about Namek was that the flora and fauna— simplistic as it was—lived in the unbreakable harmony of birth, life, and death. The natrual cycle of preadator and prey was not upset by plagues, pollution, or war.

Piccolo sniffed; Namek sounded boring.

But that was exactly why he was going. Dende had told him that the sole occupation of most of the natives was farming and tending the odd trees that spotted Namek’s terrain. There were a few warriors, but they too knew how to wield a hoe and shovel. And then of course there was the ‘higher’ training, but that was reserved for an elect few. Piccolo was not interested in either and he highly doubted that he would ever settle into the peaceful hum of village life. However, perhaps he could provide training to those who showed talent. It would not hurt the Nameks to hone their powers, especially if they ever faced another outside enemy searching for the dragonballs. But that would come later. Now he yearned for a peaceful place to collect himself, but more so he wanted to speak with Morie.

He was not comfortable talking to Dende about the loss of Kami and Nail. For one, while he was fond of Dende and respected him as guardian, he viewed the smaller Namek as a kind of nephew. He wanted someone on the correct social par; someone with experience. It would be much too awkward talking to the younger man about such a personal subject. Secondly, as guardian of Earth and best friend of Gohan, Dende would probably be disinclined to help him after his last exploit on Earth.

He desperately hoped that the Elder Namek could ‘fix him’ as it were. The disjointed feeling was literally driving him insane. He did not understand what had happened to him…what was still happening to him. He did not know how Vegeta managed to take Kami and Nail away, but he succeeded with flying colors. Yet shockingly, he had kept his powers. His ki level did not falter, nor did his array of powers, a fair few of which he inherited from his uncle. Physically, he was fine. Mentally…

He knew what he did on Earth was wrong, he knew he should feel horribly guilty for it. Krillen and Eighteen were simply trying to protect Gohan. Gohan simply let his anger get the best of him and opened his mouth when he shouldn’t. Trunks and Goku had simply indulged in the age-old tale of Romeo and Juliet and fell in love with the wrong person. They never intended to hurt anyone.

Trunks and Goku could go fuck themselves and die a slow agonizing death! He seriously regretted not finishing Goku off. The Saiyan may have been right were Trunks was concerned; perhaps he would have pulled back at the last moment. But then again, perhaps he wouldn’t have. Fuck Krillen and Eighteen! They should not have interfered. He did warn them after all, so they most certainly deserved the sound beating they received. As for Gohan…

There was a sore spot where his pupil was concerned. That kid had meant the world to him. He was the first to treat him like a person; he would never forget that, no matter how angry he was. He watched the child grow from a mewling weakling, crying for his mother, to a thoughtful young man who could summon an unthinkable power to crush his enemies. To this day, he still felt a little sorry for Cell; beaten by an 11 year old. And even worse, have the world think that an utter moron like Mr. Satan was the one to defeat you. Ouch.

He shook the thought of old enemies from his mind and returned to more current ones.
Before he knew it, Gohan had become an adult; a husband and father with a blossoming career. His mother would have been proud of him. He had been proud of him, despite the fact that he had let his training go. Regardless of Vegeta’s opinions (and they were many), he was of the belief there were more important things in life than strength or power. Gohan had blossomed beyond anyone’s expectations. He could not have been more proud.

He felt so betrayed.

Part of him hated himself for what he did to Gohan, and yet the other ever-growing part screamed for retribution. He no longer knew where he stood on the subject of the demi-Saiyan he had long thought of as a son. He only he knew he wasn’t sorry. He may loath himself in part, but he could not bring himself to regret any of his actions. He was glad he let him live. But beating him into the ground had brought a satisfaction like no other. Krillen and Eighteen, too. He enjoyed hurting them; he took pleasure in the blood he drew. Even now just thinking about it threatened a small smile from his lips.

What was wrong with him?!

As for his mate… He had gotten to the point where he could think the prince’s name without flying into a chaotic mix of rage, hurt, and despair. But he was not yet prepared to handle the situation. He kept pushing it away; over and over he pushed, cramming it into the recesses of his mind. He needed to be fixed first.

He really… really wanted to kill Goku. The urge to turn the ship around had come more than once and it had not been easy to ignore. The last communication to pass between them repeated in his head like a broken record. A horribly scratched broken record. He was not a weakling and he should have been taken more seriously. How dare that brain-dead cripple talk down to him. His current feelings aside, he would always respect Vegeta for what he did to Goku; he only wished he had not interfered.

He had mused over it before, but at the time he had been too busy plotting revenge on others. But now it really hit him. What if he had stepped aside? Earth would have been destroyed with all of them on it. Okay…so what if he waited to step in until after his mate had killed Goku? Everything would be perfect.

“FUCK!” he yelled aloud, his anger now turned on himself.

Yes, Kami and Nail would still be gone, but he was sure they could work through that. Trunks would be a bit upset, but more importantly, he would be unbound. Well, at least for the most part. They had bound themselves, but it was not deep enough in to cause any lasting damage to Trunks should Goku meet his most deserved end. He, himself, would not have felt the need to beat the shit out of everyone, so he probably could have forgiven Gohan for his wagging tongue. And he’d still have his mate.

“Fuck,” he repeated more quietly, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the back of the chair.

His stupid moral sensibilities had to step in. What a nuisance. When did he become a good person? Gohan’s fault again; just another reason to be angry with the kid. He growled low in his throat but did not open his eyes. Why didn’t he wait just a few more seconds? Why couldn’t he have tripped on the way, slipped in the blood, anything to allow Vegeta time to deliver the deathblow without causing a distraction?

Damn.

At that moment, the person he wanted to kill more than anyone was…he wanted to say himself but it was still Goku. But he would have liked very much to kick the shit out of himself.