Nasch was annoyingly perceptive.

Null had hoped the topic of his own strength would not arise. In truth, he should not be much stronger than Nasch.

But Null had subjected himself to far more than the typical training. Most Saiyans, especially soldiers, trained and fought together and in turn, they grew stronger. There was no motivating force like protecting a brother.

It was the reason he wanted to form the Remnant. They were more than a political group, more than another wet-nosed terrorist organization. They were two men who were scarred by their pasts. They were outcasts, vagabonds, drifters with no real home.

Null aimed to change that.

He grew quiet for a moment, allowing the hum of the ship's thrusters and raucous babble of the men's laughter to roll over him in silence. He didn't want to reveal his training with a demon. That wouldn't settle well with Saiyans. The very source of their strength was their pride in their ability to grow stronger, by their own merit.

"Screw pride..." He muttered it under his breath, meeting Nasch's gaze. "Screw pride. Screw our egos. Screw all of it."

He slammed a balled fist onto the table between them, punctuating his terse words.

"I refuse to remain weak because I'm afraid of what others think. You want to know how I've gotten so strong? I shed the stubborn ways of our brethren and sought a power a Saiyan could never obtain on his own. If that makes me an outcast, well..."

A grin touched his lips. "Let the Remnant rise, I say."

---

Nasch | word count: 3,190

Do not forget.

His words rang with the crystal clarity of bells, chiming in Null's mind and heart.

Had he forgotten? Would he forget? It was impossible to imagine so. Null had grown stronger through the trials and adversity of his life. His parents were dead. He was not loved and nurtured.

The Dominion had fallen. He no longer had a purpose.

The Saiyan queen, the strongest member of their race, was gone. He'd lost his symbol of power, hope, and pride.

Would he dare lose himself, his very Saiyan identity, in his lust for power? Power, even, the shape the very destiny of his people? Nasch's hand on his shoulder as a firm anchor to the reality of their world. They were brothers, comrades, and friends. There was strength and safety in numbers, and before the eyes of his brethren, Null would not stray far from the course.

"I understand your request."

He met Nasch's gaze.

"I will not forget our mission, our cause, or the plight of our people."

This much was true, and in it could be found no falsehood. But in his heart there stirred a hint of malice... a malice that would be sated. And Null knew just the right person.

He clapped Nasch on the shoulder in response.

"I am going to retire to my room. We've got a long flight ahead of us. Don't forget... Raiven. You owe it to yourself."

Without another word, Null left the common area of the ship, heading toward the private chambers of the officers and crew. He, along with Nasch, had both been given separate rooms as guests aboard the transport.

Once inside, Null sat sullen silence, staring into the darkness.

There were some depths one must descend to in order to possess the power necessary to evoke change.

Perhaps that was something Nasch could never understand.

---

Nasch | word count: 3,520