Suiz watched with growing apprehension. This was not going as planned…not at all. It was vital that Jeice feel some attachment, some…obligation to Cheada, or the whole plan was for naught. Now Cheada had managed to simultaneously subjugate and alienate his son; had he forgotten every kamidamned thing he'd been told? He seemed to be bent on undermining the plan.

It wasn't going to work. Jeice would either find out too soon or the damned Resistance would arrive before he'd had a chance to carry out his purpose. It had seemed so easy, it had all seemed so simple. Now time was running out and not one of them was ready for it. Suiz swore softly under his breath, cutting off in a sharp hiss as a hand fell heavily on the nape of his neck.

"They arrive any day now," Mojak growled. "What the hell is going on?" Suiz sighed.

"Apparently Cheada has decided to change the plan."" Mojak gave a derisive snort.

"Cheada never plans; he gets pissed and acts without thinking. That's all the fool's ever done."

"Well, he's at it again; what are you going to do about it?" Suiz trembled slightly at his father's bleak look.

"I'll kill him. It's all I can do now. He has…outlived his usefulness."

"But…but Jeice…"

"Jeice will have to be persuaded through…other means. That," Mojak murmured with a lethal grin, "is why I keep you around, boy."

"Father, please…" A swift reprimanding glance stopped him cold.

"Listen to me, Suiz. The Resistance is coming and if they find Dalwen on the throne we're as good as dead. This had to be done." Suiz grimaced.

"I know. But our own king…"

"There's no other way to patch relations. You know that. Without him deposed, they won't join, and if that happens, you may as well count yourself part of Cold's army." The youth stiffened.

"I'll die first." Mojak sighed bitterly.

"No true warrior fears death, boy…but the good ones learn to avoid it."

With that, he turned and left Suiz to his duty.

* * * * *

"Ghud," Camber hissed, leaning toward the slumbering figure. "Ghud!" Ghud stirred groggily.

"Unh…hm?" Camber cast an anxious glance over his shoulder and, confident that the guard was still absent(though why Mojak would abandon his post was unclear), turned back to Ghud, shaking him roughly.

"Wake up! I need to talk to you." Ghud smacked his lips, still quite drowsy.

"Mph. Fine. Talk."

"Not here. Come, follow me."

"But the guard…"

"Look for yourself, baka, he's not there. Now come on." Camber squirmed from his blankets and edged along the wall, silent. He grimaced and gestured sharply to Ghud, plainly impatient. Ghud groaned and dragged himself off his pallet, stumbling over to join Camber.

"This had better be good," he grumbled, his usual cheerful demeanor severely dampened by the late hour. Camber said nothing, leading Ghud around a corner and through the door into one of the storage rooms Shutting the door carefully behind them, he cast a tiny ki sphere above their heads, the light playing harshly across his face. Ghud blinked, staring in spite of himself.

'He looks older. So much older…how long has it been?' Vivid memories of times past rushed through his mind. 'Good kami, how many years have we spent here?!' A hard hand at his throat brought Ghud instantly and unpleasantly back to reality.

"I'll come straight to the point," Camber growled, shoving Ghud up against the wall. "Something's going on here and I want to know what." Ghud choked, eyes wide.

"What do you mean?"

"Cheada left with Jeice, Suiz never came to bed and Mojak managed to disappear sometime during the night. Something big is happening, or going to happen, and I get the strong impression that you," he tightened his grip on Ghud's neck, "are somehow involved. Now spill."

"I don't…know what you're talking about," Ghud gasped, squirming.

"Don't be an idiot. I've seen you talking with Suiz." Camber's face tightened. "Look," he said, voice dropping, "I know about Jeice. I think we both know about that, but what's going to come of it? For the love of hell, he doesn't even know!" Ghud sighed.

"Honestly, Camber, I don't know what's going on any more than you do. It's something to do with Jeice, I'm sure, but…it's been so long since we've seen the outside world it's impossible to tell what's going on up there; and I think it's something up there that's to blame." He shook his head wearily.

"I think…" He paused and looked back up at Camber. "I think it's time we got out of here." Camber nearly laughed out loud.

"As if we had a choice, Ghud," he muttered bitterly, at last releasing his hold and letting Ghud drop to the ground. Ghud fingered his bruised neck and glared.

"That's a fine attitude."

"Just being realistic. How would we escape? Where would we go?"

"Anywhere but here," Ghud murmured. "I hardly think it matters. Even if and when they let us out of here themselves, we'll be transferred to unfamiliar territory. There's no going back to the way we used to be, not ever."

"You sound like you want to."

"You think that's what I want? What any of us wants? I'll tell you what I'm after. Once, just once, Camber, I would like to be in charge of my own damned pathetic excuse for a life!" He hushed suddenly and looked away. Camber placed an almost-comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It won't happen, Ghud," he said softly. "No man controls his own destiny. You won't find purpose somewhere else any more than you would here." Camber glanced up at his ki sphere, still glowing weakly; at the worn and dirty armor heaped in corners and hung on the wall. "A warrior's fate is always death. We were brought here as bloody sacrifices. The closest we'll ever come to controlling our lives is to determine our own deaths." He stared thoughtfully at Ghud for a long moment, then sighed. "Ah, what the hell. Fine. Let's go get ourselves killed. At least when the final blow comes we'll be able to say we saw it coming." Ghud's eyes narrowed.

"We take Jeice with us."

"As a partner or a hostage?" Ghud smiled, but somehow it didn't hold his old humor.

"Whichever proves more useful. We'll plan later; let's get back before Mojak returns and finds us gone."

* * * * *

Patience was, among other things, a virtue. Gomen knew that. He lived by it when he could.

There were times, however, when it would have been singularly satisfying to smash in the nearest skull. It could only prove beneficial, he was sure. Certainly there were more than a few empty heads around that could use a good bashing; his own, he thought ruefully, probably one of them.

He had no particular reason to be in this bad a mood, he mused, pacing up and down the ship's halls. All was going as planned, in fact they were ahead of schedule. That posed a potential problem for their next mission, but Rennet was an insignificant enough planet to be counted as no great loss should they have to abandon or purge it. Still, Mojak had promised a capable fighting force, and gods knew the Resistance needed all they could get.

Unfortunately, most races were too shit-scared of King Cold to even take a feeble stand against him. He was, admittedly, an imposing figure, to the point that he no longer needed to make appearances for his presence to be felt. Besides, he could always send Coola out to clear any planets that gave him trouble. Of course, technically, Coola wasn't his only son, was he?

Word had it that Cold had finally chosen to recognize his bastard child, Freiza. Somehow this move came as a great surprise to the rest of that race. Why one as powerful as King Cold would care what his people thought of his was beyond Gomen, but he'd long since given up trying to understand the Retsujin and their twisted politics.

Turning a corner, Gomen nearly ran head-on into one of the newer recruits, one of his own race, a young Changeling. Gomen couldn't help but crack a smile at the startled squeak and sudden gracious bow he received.

"Terribly sorry, sir, I didn't see you coming." Gomen chuckled.

"Relax, boy, if I decide to bite someone's head off, it won't be yours." The young warrior sighed in apparent relief.

"Glad to hear it, sir." He stood easily at attention. Well-trained.

"So what has you out on the rounds?" Zarbon gave a graceful shrug.

"A little antsy, I suppose. There's not much to do around here. Nobody else cares to spar; something about being too close to Rennet."

"That we are. You'd do well to conserve your energies, yourself. We may have to fight." Long golden eyes lit up at that.

"I hope so," Zarbon murmured. "Will they let me fight this time?" Gomen sighed.

"If you're that set on it, I'll see what I can arrange." Zarbon bowed his head.

"Thank you, sir," he said respectfully, "I'll not disappoint you." Gomen watched him with an odd expression on his face.

"No, I daresay you won't," he muttered. "Go polish your armor, if you're looking for something to do."

The two exchanged a brief smile at the private joke. Their race never wore solid armor.

"It's pretty clean," Zarbon countered, still smiling, "but I suppose I'd better polish it again, just to be sure. Good day to you, sir." Another bow and he strode briskly by, headed for his quarters.

Gomen's smile faded as he set out to get the young fighter a position in the upcoming battle. He didn't have the heart to tell Zarbon that he'd purposely kept him from active duty until now. Gomen hated to see a mind like that consigned to a warrior's fate, but desperate times…he sighed, shoulders slumping. At least now he had plenty of reasons to be moody.