Chapter Seventeen

One would have thought that after long years of perceived hardship, Freiza would be slightly less demanding than one in his position who'd been born to that power. Freiza, however, seemed determined to make up for lost time; every soldier under his command doubled as an attendant at a moment's notice, though he himself directed remarkably few. The art of delegation was one he mastered early, though a few initial squabbles resulted from his choices of officers. That was the last time he made the mistake of personal judgment calls in such cases; thereafter class was determined purely by power level, and position by competition. It was a simple enough procedure to be self-sustaining among the ranks, and gave Freiza the freedom to concentrate on more important things, like uniforms and what sort of wine he liked and what worlds he could conquer that would have the greatest psychological impact on the few planets yet foolish enough to oppose him.

Abeter looked to be an ideal prospect.

"Fair amounts of the usual resources, somewhat excessive emphasis on mining, but anything the don't have they can either import or simply take," Dalwen reported, holding his superior's gaze only because Freiza had very casually threatened to kill him if he dropped his eyes again. While he couldn't be certain of the Retsujin's intent, he dared not doubt the lizard's ability. Freiza, thus far, had gone through three "personal advisors," and while no reasons were proffered for the dismissals (read: executions), rumor had it that the infractions were not high crimes; failure to maintain eye contact was likely reason enough to fall from favor when there were thousands to take your place.

"I don't yet know the specifics of the nature of their transformation, but from what I could find they have a limited ability to mimic other species with uncanny accuracy."

"Useful as spies, then," Freiza mused. "Excellent. You will accompany me on my visit to their leader."

Dalwen was nominally surprised not to have squeaked at the comment. "With you, my lord?"

"You're young to be hard of hearing, Dalwen."

"My apologies, sir...but would I not better serve you as an informant rather than a body guard?"

Freiza threw back his head and laughed...for what seemed to Dalwen to be an inordinately long time. Stiff, he waited for his sovereign to recover from his terrible mirth, noting uncomfortably that when Freiza looked at him again, the lizard's tail was twitching in the manner of an anticipatory feline.

"Bodyguard? Most amusing, Dalwen. Are you suggesting I bring someone even stronger than I?"

Dalwen feigned careful thought, stalling; there was no safe answer to that question.

"Perhaps a compromise," Freiza continued, uninterested in a response. "Someone of higher power level than you, at least, yes?" Red eyes flickered, fixed on Dalwen's face.

Dalwen swallowed. "If that is what you wish, Lord Freiza..."

"Ah. Wise man." Freiza smiled, and turned to inspection of his nails, keeping half an eye on Dalwen. "I think...I think I shall bring someone with a power level equal to...hmm, Dodoria, do you think that would impress them enough?"

Dalwen's eyes widened; no, he didn't much care for scouters and no, he was not in the habit of tracking the so-called 'power levels' of every soldier under Freiza's command. That said, he'd heard sufficient about Dodoria to be wary, if less-than-genuinely respectful.

"You don't wish Dodoria himself to accompany you, my lord?" Dalwen asked after a suitably uncomfortable pause.

Freiza wrinkled his nose distastefully. "He is barely physically imposing, and not at all diplomatic, have you noticed?"

"Ah, of course, sir." That was putting it lightly; Dalwen had found Dodoria to be generally rude, blustery, socially clumsy and generally unpleasant. The furtive repetition of those words (set loose at an unguarded moment in the main cafeteria) had insured that Dodoria's disposition--toward Dalwen, at least--had, if anything, soured.

"Are there any other that can match him for power, then?" Freiza murmured, tail sliding in lazy patterns across the floor.

"Ah...perhaps one of Ginyu's two..."

"Ugh."

"...perhaps not..."

"And Ginyu himself...?"

"You sent him on a recruiting mission, sire. If you wish to delay your visit to Abeter, we--"

"No."

Dalwen paused; flat refusal was not a good sign. "What would you prefer to do, Lord Freiza?"

"There is no one on this ship to suit my needs," the overlord mused. "I suppose a suitable individual will have to be...acquired."

"Yes, sir," Dalwen muttered guardedly, already disliking the tone of his ruler's voice.

"See to it. You have four days."

Dalwen froze; his mouth flapped soundlessly for a few moments before he could choke "Sir?"

"Dismissed, Dalwen. I expect to see you back in four days with what I need."

"Sir, are you certain that--"

"Dismissed, Dalwen," Freiza hissed, and Dalwen fell back a step: time to go.

"Of course, Lord Freiza," he murmured tightly, bowed, and scuttled away as quickly as decorum would allow. Leave it to a kamidamned lizard to demolish the best-laid plans...ugh. Glaring at all who passed (with the exception of Kui, for reasons and rumors best left unmentioned), Dalwen set about securing a private line to Ginyu.

* * * * *

"You need supplies--so you land on a dead planet? You know, maybe you shouldn't be at the controls..."

"It's not dead, it's abandoned, and we can't afford to land in a populated area," Zarbon muttered distractedly, angling the pod for entry. "We've been over this before."

"What does it matter if anyone sees us, baka? Maybe they'd have information about your non-existent mothership, hmm?"

"Four out of five planets in this sector have either sworn allegiance to Cold, or are planning to. I don't know this area and neither do you; I am not taking such risks."

"What makes you so sure I don't know the area?" Jeice huffed.

"Because I had to explain the concept of freeze-dried rations to you," Zarbon retorted dryly. "You never left your little yellow dirtball of a world, did you?"

"Yellow?"

Zarbon turned from the controls enough to arch one eyebrow at Jeice. "So you've never seen your planet from space, either; and you wonder how I knew not to ask you anything important?"

"No, that's because you're my enemy and I'd never tell you what I know," Jeice bristled, irritated with himself. This blue-green snot of a soldier was better than Cheada at making him feel insignificant, some days...

"Ah, yes, there is always that," Zarbon said, rolling his eyes and turning back to the controls. "And here I'd gotten my hopes up that you'd forgotten to rant about it. It's been almost a whole day without your usual bellow; I'd rather enjoyed the quiet."

"Shut up."

"I suppose that's an alternate method for assuring silence, hmm?" Zarbon murmured.

"Except that you never shut your damned mouth."

"Well, I don't really have to unless I want the conversation to end--since you're so determined to get in the last word I can keep you talking merely by continuing to speak. Interesting, ne?"

Stubborn silence.

Zarbon smiled. "Method number two for quieting a fuming Jeice..."

"Do you practice being this annoying or its it a natural talent?" Jeice snapped.

"No practice," Zarbon returned lightly. "You're making it too easy. You do realize I was able to anticipate your last four responses, do you not?"

Jeice snorted. "What, am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Five."

"Stop that."

"Six..."

"Savor the moment, pretty boy," Jeice snarled. "Just you wait until I don't have to worry about damaging the ship--"

Zarbon opened his mouth to speak again.

"DON'T say it!"

"Say what?"

Another sullen silence. Bedamned if Jeice were going to fall for that again...

Zarbon chuckled softly as the ship began to shiver with the force of entry. "...oh, and with regards to your evident plan for my destruction, Jeice, do bear in mind that this planet hardly suits the needs of a lonely explorer--and you do not know how to operate this pod. So," he smiled, "you'd best be nice, or at least civil. I'm your ticket out of oblivion."