The Changeling planet—if it even had a name, Takira cared little—was singularly unimpressive to look at. King Cold's all-encompassing empire was at last reduced to these refugees on a tiny dirtball of a planet stolen from another race. Idly, Takira wondered why they hadn't spread out in an attempt to broaden their boundaries. The Roc, at least, were weak enough to be targets. Then again, if Denatu's plan to invade Geo had been known to them, it would make sense for the Changelings to steer clear. The shape-shifters were a race not to be trifled with.

Drawing her weapons, Takira moved in a short kata, cutting the air; imagining, with a grim bloodthirsty smile, the feel of cutting through something more substantial. Perhaps such obsessive revenge was unhealthy, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. There was an old debt of blood to settle.

Kabu stirred drowsily on the heap of blankets in which she'd lain him, looking at her with painfully familiar sapphire-blue eyes. Takira winced; Kabu looked and acted like any full-blooded Saiyajin baby, but there was no mistaking his parentage, much as she sometimes found herself wanting to deny it.

'Forget. It doesn't matter…you're not going back.' Somehow she couldn't figure out she felt about that. Her solace lay in the strength of her resolution not to return to Earth; it was easier to set an ultimatum on practical grounds than to sort through such weak muddled emotions.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were thinking." Takira froze and glared at the Agent, standing nonchalant in the doorway. Apparently unaffected by her look, he nodded to her swords.

"Hitch in your routine there," he murmured. "You're losing concentration. Focus. We land soon and you'll be utterly useless if you fight like that." Takira snorted and resheathed her swords, eyes narrowed.

"Never fear, I fully intend to kill at least my share when we arrive, Baka." The Agent frowned slightly and cocked his head to the side.

"I sense a personal vendetta."

"And why is this your business?" He shrugged.

"Not my business…just an observation. You didn't look half so eager when you thought you were going to kill me."

"So sorry, did you feel left out?" she chuckled dryly. "If you're so envious, I can kill you, too, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster."

"Please. Spare me," he grunted, glancing at Kabu. "What's the plan for the brat? Just lock him in the ship?"

"How secure is this thing?"

"As secure as these pods ever get. I can set it to keypad entry, or voice-activated, whichever you prefer."

"Voice-activated, why not? What's the password, anyhow?" The Agent sighed briefly.

"The secondary identification number of the vessel, in this case, 17."

"Juunana. How original."

"Juunanagou," he corrected. "Much as I could appreciate the irony if you got it wrong, I somehow doubt you'd share the amusement."

"Good guess." Takira glanced anxiously at Kabu. "Where are we landing?"

"Wherever we drop. We'll clear out the area around the ship first, then go demolish the palace. Then," his eyes lit up, voice softer, "we'll have a little fun." Takira nodded silently, lost in thought. "We're set for re-entry in a few minutes…secure the brat where you wish and return to the bridge." A thin chuckle came from Takira she turned to Kabu, gently touching his face.

"I'll return to…to the bridge in a moment. Go ahead." With a faint snort and a half-hearted shrug, the Agent turned and strode out of the room…

…peeking back in time to see Takira hunched protectively over Kabu, expression tortured, blood from her hand dripping on the baby as he gurgled and squirmed. She murmured something breathy, only two words….no, names…clear; one familiar to the Agent, one foreign.

With a shudder he returned to the ship's bridge, taking a seat and trying to figure out what either had to do with Takira's blood.

* * * * *

"Stay back from him," Trunks murmured. "For all we know, he'll kill you."

Krillin gave Trunks a mildly disgusted look at receiving such obvious directions; Trunks, coolly watching the quivering Namek, did not seem to notice, his brow just slightly furrowed, one hand reaching up absently to touch the hilt of his sword. Restless blue eyes darted over the surrounding area; he seemed to be looking for something. Pausing a moment, he glanced quickly at Krillin, eyes just a touch softer.

"Your wife is down there, Krillin. I'd not keep her waiting." Krillin inhaled sharply, following Trunks' casual gesture with his now-wide eyes.

"Juu…Juuhachi…" Before Trunks could blink, Krillin was gone, all but teleporting to the ground and flying into his wife's arms.

High above, Trunks watched dispassionately as Krillin clutched a ragged-looking Juuhachigou to him, holding her so tightly she actually winced. Trunks sighed and looked away. It was beautiful and heartwarming…and he felt very much an intruder, watching them. Not his realm, never his…besides, he reminded himself stiffly, there was still Piccolo to deal with.

The Namek's body shuddered, floating spread-eagled in the air. His breath hissed through tightly-clenched fangs, sweat trailing over his writhing face and off his antennae. His turban and cape were gone, his clothing grimy. Clenching his fists tightly, he grunted, twitching, his own claws drawing violet blood from half-healed wounds on his palms. Against what would normally have been his better instincts, Trunks drew his sword and drifted closer, steeling himself against the waves of ki and pain coming from Piccolo. A sudden bout of thrashing sent Trunks back a bit, and abruptly Piccolo froze, face twisted in pain; one eye slowly opened, staring.

Trunks felt too late the sudden shift in ki, and in the space of an instant found himself face-to-face with the imposing Namek, his sword kicked aside and both wrists clamped firmly in Piccolo's clawed and bleeding hands. Trunks' struggles were quickly stilled by the look in Piccolo's eyes: still pained, still fighting, but…for the moment, at least, in some semblance of control.

"Listen…carefully," he rasped, jaw quivering. "You must…find Gohan. If this…is happening to him…" He stiffened with a strangled growl. Whatever tormented him was gaining the upper hand. "Go," he hissed, shoving Trunks away, hands clenching in frantic spasms. Trunks nodded wordlessly, flying down to retrieve his sword. Krillin, Juuhachigou in hand, met him there.

"I'm sorry, Trunks, but I have to take her back. She's in no condition for this." Trunks murmured a quiet affirmative, replacing his sword in its scabbard. Sparing a last expressionless glance for Juuhachigou, he took off without another word.

* * * * *

When Vegeta arrived, rigid with fury at his rather abrupt summons, Kaio could tell he had his work more than cut out for him. He'd been pressing his luck with the volatile Saiyan as it was; this new plan might do in all the tense negotiations he'd managed so far. If it was right, though…the few scattered remnants Goten had managed to pull together from his dream were certainly suggestive. Vegeta would surely see that, though convincing him of the meaning was not going to be the hard part.

Convincing him to take the logical course of action was likely to be the true problem.

"Goten, I would like you, Bubbles and Gregory to wait inside. Vegeta and I must speak privately." Ignoring a rude, questioning glance from the prince, Kaio shooed the three away, though by and large they needed little encouragement. When they were safely tucked away in the igloo-like house, Kaio sighed and turned back to his dead-silent guest.

"You have not found Goku." It was a statement, not a question. If anything, Vegeta's posture stiffened even further.

"Not yet," he growled softly. Kaio nodded, plainly unsurprised. Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding, god?"

"So suspicious?"

"I told you I'd get back to you when I found him, not earlier. I should certainly hope you have a reason for dragging me out here…and it had better be good." He crossed his arms and gave Kaio the benefit of his best intimidation skills, earning himself a depreciative snort.

"Real, cute, Vegeta, what'll you do, kill me? Idiot. I'm already dead." Vegeta inhaled sharply, bristling; had time not been so critical, Kaio might have leaped at the challenge of a verbal skirmish. In this case, however, he decided not to antagonize the prince any further than he was already likely to.

"The reason I called you," Kaio sighed, "is that I have apparently overlooked a rather important factor in Goku's disappearance. We…oh, fine, you…have been looking through heaven and hell for him, but there is another world to which he could have," he looked a touch uncertain, "could have gone."

Vegeta said nothing, expression unchanged, but something in those black eyes hardened…if anything, became more icy. That thought almost sent Kaio into a Freiza joke, but given his audience, he decided against it. Vegeta had yet to develop a real sense of humor about Freiza.

"I don't know if you've ever heard of Rabadoth, Vegeta, but…"

"I'm not going."

"What?"

"Find some other fool to do it for you. I'll not cross that bitch again."

"Moreviv?" A derisive snort.

"How many other demons live there?"

"She's not a…"

"I know what she is," Vegeta spat. Kaio squinted at him from behind dark glasses.

"You've met her?" At that, the Saiyan closed up completely.

"I'm not going. If Goku is there, well…" just a touch of distress crossed his face, "…I'm sure he's very happy…and he's sure as hell not coming back. Therefore," he pronounced, "there is no point in me running off and getting eaten too."

"Eaten? Where in the world did you…"

"Enough! I don't want to hear your stupid babbling. You want a sacrificial lamb, sent that idiot Goten after his father. I will have no part in this."

"But why…"

"BECAUSE!" he bellowed, shaking all over, a rather disturbing effect in Kaio's eyes. When was the last time he'd seen Vegeta this upset about anything…

"Vegeta, please," he murmured. "Hear me out. This isn't idle speculation on my part. Goten had a dream, involving two women who…"

"You think I need to hear about that pathetic half-breed's wet dreams? Stop wasting my time, you overstuffed catfish." Kaio tolerated the rude outburst, expression bland. He'd found a rather distinct correlation between Vegeta's emotional involvement in a situation and the number and strength of insults and expletives peppering his speech.

"These were, ah, a rather specific pair of women, Vegeta. One was Moreviv." He paused, pinning the Saiyan prince with a severe look. "The other was Takira. That, at least, might concern you."

"Takira? But why the hell would…don't tell me she's involved in this, too…"

"She already was. Need I remind you of Kakarot?"

"I know, I know," Vegeta snapped. "Perfect. Stupid little halfwit bitch is trouncing around Twilight, is she? Well, that's just fucking wonderful."

"If you're quite finished, Vegeta…"

"I'm not," he growled. "But I'll save the rest to tell to her face when the baka gets herself killed."

"Assuming," Kaio pointed out quietly, "that she even gets to Enma-daio. From the sounds of things, her soul may end up in Rabadoth, in which case you wouldn't see her again. Unless of course," he said his hard-sell tone of voice, "you reconsider this mental block you have against going there."

For a long moment, Vegeta said nothing, his glare becoming steadily more dangerous. Kaio waited it out; when dealing with Vegeta, patience was beyond essential. A certain degree of guts certainly didn't hurt.

"And if," Vegeta hissed, voice coldly brittle, "I did something so moronic as what you're undoubtedly about to ask…and if I even made it to Rabadoth…" He paused, then heaved a tense sigh. "No. This cannot…will not…be done."

"Vegeta, what is the problem?" A very odd, deeply unsettling expression crept over the warrior's normally unmovable face.

"You could not possibly understand," he said softly. "After all, what would a woman such as Moreviv want with the likes of you?"

"What do you…"

"There is nothing more to say here," he interrupted, stabbing an accusatory finger at Kaio. "You want to go blithely trotting into Rabadoth after that demon, then fine; but you find someone else to do it. My soul's not so damned that I'm willing to give it up completely."

Before Kaio could reply, Vegeta was gone in a burst of ki and anger…Kaio left behind with more questions than he'd started. He sighed, frowning pensively at the ground.

Even gods had their bad days.