Going Native: Interlude #2 (ch.27) (Patreon)

I awoke in a healing pod like so many times before, only this time it wasn’t easing out of my mind, caught between consciousness and sleep, waiting for someone else to tip the balance to the former. I awoke with a jolt, my eyes snapping, a hand going to the mask on my face, then to my side, feeling flesh underneath my fingers. I was naked. In a healing pod? That...that was good, right?

Wanting to find out, I hit the draining button, getting out -- it was impossible to tell how long I’ve been in there, but I didn’t feel any lingering pains...but, when my gaze landed on my reflection in a mirror, I noticed that my body was hardly fully healed. The most eye catching of my scars was the one that slashed across my stomach, about two fingers wide, the flesh had a reddish hue to it from near my sternum down to my hip in a straight slash. 

The second was the one on my shoulder. It was narrower, the healing pod making it smaller as well, but…

“If it was another inch lower...I would have had a really cool scar…” I muttered, eyeing the scar. There was already a slash from the scout class scarab back on Rockoroad that pierced my heart before slashing down at an angle. A few inches lower, and the scars would have intersected, forming a small x. I mean, I probably would have died if the attack was any lower, but if I didn’t, then I would have had an awesome scar. 

Testing the range of motion in my arm and side, I saw that the damage only seemed to be cosmetic. Satisfied, I turned my attention to my surroundings -- a medical room, but now that I was looking at it, the healing pod itself looked rather rough. Not slapped together rough, but it was hardly the polished, neat, appearance that I was used to seeing. 

As if to answer my questions, the door to the room that I found myself in slid open, revealing Tora. He blinked at me, his eyebrows rising, “I think this is the first time you’ve woken up on your own,” he commented, sporting an easygoing grin that was refreshing to see. It meant that we were safe, wherever we were. 

I don’t think he was wrong, either. “I woke up on my own back when I was fighting saibamen,” I defended myself. “But what’s the situation? Are we on the ship? Are we out of Reach space?”

The easygoing grin remained in place as he nodded, a reassuring sign. “We’re on the ship in Frieza-force controlled space. We sent out an SOS and got a ping back. Now we’re being escorted back to Queen Teach’s fleet. The wink-drive worked like a charm, from what I understood. I gave the order to build the bomb that you got the materials for and before we made our exit, we sent it at Skrew. Blew up the planet, now Rench is useless for the next couple of years.” 

I blinked, “so we accomplished our mission?” I asked myself more than him, though Tora nodded all the same. “Good thinking. I completely gave up on the mission,” I admitted, surprised that we managed to pull that off and now my mind raced over the implications. 

Without Rench, this entire front was going to suffer from lack of supplies. It won’t be instant, and they could always get supplies from other factory worlds, but there was going to be a lull that we could take advantage of. With Queen Teach…actually, there were more important things I should be thinking about. 

“Is the team alright? Everything got hazy at the end, but did I see Borgos get his arm cut off?” I asked, making Tora’s easygoing grin slip a fraction as he nodded. 

“Yeah, down at the elbow. That tech alien said it can flash clone him a new one when we reach the fleet. Not sure if Borgos will go with it, though. Doesn't like the idea of it,” Tora explained, “other than that, though, no major injuries. Besides you, that is.” 

“I’ll make sure that he gets a new arm,” I decided, resolved to stick the arm on him myself if I had to. 

There was a beat of silence as we neared a topic neither of us wanted to speak about. In the end, I was the one that broke the silence, glancing at the new scars on my body. 

“I killed Leek,” I stated bluntly, my hands clenched into fists. Tora let out a small sigh as he nodded his head. 

“You did...but it was for the best. There’s no way to take a scarab off, and he would have died rather than live with that thing on him any longer. You did the only thing you could do for him. At the very least, he got a warrior’s death,” Tora told me, his words a small comfort. Still, it didn’t change the fact that I had killed a teammate.

Me and Leek were hardly close, but we had fought together for years. And...while he was captured by the Reach, a scarab attached to his back against his will, I had been sleeping. When I heard that he was likely dead, I barely gave it any thought. I-

A fist lightly thumped me on the top of the head, something Bardock used to do. “Don’t overthink it. Leek died how he wanted to die -- in battle. Regretting it won’t change a thing,” Tora stated, getting a sigh from me. He waited for my nod to gesture to a stack of clothes and armor. “Frieza wanted to talk to you as soon as you woke up.” My eyes widened a fraction before I gave a hasty nod. 

“I’ll go there right now. Just let me get dressed,” I said, shrugging on some clothes as my stomach clenched uncomfortably. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to get chewed out by Frieza for the losses we had suffered from a hair brain scheme that we barely managed to pull off. 

Once I was dressed, I stepped out of the medical room. I hadn’t spent a lot of time on Reach ships, but, just walking in the hallway was enough to convince me that this was a Reach designed ship. It had that same feel to it, even if the details were erased. Tora was waiting for me, walking beside me as I flew through the air, not to slow us down. I seriously couldn’t wait for my first growth spurt. Being knee height with everyone got old fast four years ago. 

“Are we doing good on food?” I asked, and, surprisingly at that Tora grimaced. 

“...Yeah, but that paste stuff is beyond gross. I’d rather not eat at all than take another bite of it,” Tora admitted, and I think I might have underestimated just how nasty it must be if a saiyan of all people was refusing to eat it. “And we lucked out -- there was an astroid where we teleported with a bunch of water. So, we’re good on that end.” 

There was a knot tension still between my shoulder blades, but a weight was lifted off my shoulders. We were off Rench. We had food and water. We were going to be picked up by friendlies. “Casualties?” I asked, clenching my jaw to brace myself for the number. Coming out of the exit we hadn’t made was a nice trick, but there's also where the Reach’s defenses were at their strongest. 

“We lost most of the saiyans, but the ones that managed to control their oozaru form managed to make it out,” Tora answered with a frown. So, in the end...they did end up being meat shields, hadn’t they? “And another five hundred soldiers, so the 501st is down to just under four thousand. Counting those that are in any condition to fight, they’re closer to three thousand.” 

Out of the fifteen thousand that had landed on Rench, only four thousand made it back. 

That would explain why the halls were so empty, letting us reach the command deck without seeing anyone. The doors slid open, revealing a handful of aliens, including-

I jerked when the room exploded into noise. The aliens started clapping their hands, a great big cheer echoing down the halls, filling the room as aliens stood out of their chairs, turning to face me and Tora as they continued to cheer. I looked around, feeling lost -- what were they cheering about? Did something good happen?

“Glad to see you’ve recovered, sir,” the black and white alien said, an easy smile on his face that showed off impossibly white teeth. “From what the other said, we thought it’d be months before you left the healing pod.” Then he stuck out a hand as he approached, I shook it after a moment of hesitation, “I actually don’t think I ever introduced myself. Captain Avery of the 501st.”

...I think he knew that I didn’t know his name…

“Tarble, planetary elite squad,” I returned, shaking his hand, careful not to break his hand or anything. The alien captain back on Rockoroad taught me that I had to be careful when dealing with other aliens. And I was a lot stronger than I was back on Rockoroad. 

“I’m speaking for all of us when I say thank you for getting us off that rock,” Avery said, giving me a firm nod. I tried not to shift uncomfortably at the praise, I had to stop being so weird when it came to people doing it, but I felt it was going to be a long time before I got used to praise. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you all off,” I returned. Avery blinked slowly, his face set as he nodded. He stepped out of my way, accepting my apology and fell in line next to Tora. With that, I turned to the command center, and one of the aliens sent the call out to Lord Frieza. I didn’t have so much as a second to prepare myself before a hologram of Lord Frieza appeared on the screen.

“Tarble…,” Lord Frieza began, looking down at me. In response, I lowered myself to the ground and fell into a bow, hoping that whatever disappointment- “You’ve outdone yourself. You’ve exceeded every expectation that I could have imagined...well done, Prince Tarble.” Lord Frieza said, a note of amusement in his voice that made it hard to tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic. 

I looked up, my surprise must have shown on my face because Lord Frieza continued, “It is unfortunate that Rench will be out of production for a few years, but the fact of the matter is that it is ours now. Not only that, the data you stole from the Reach is invaluable.” Judging from the stress that Lord Frieza placed on the word, I don’t think he said it very often. 

“Above all else, you even managed to secure a highly valuable prisoner,” Lord Frieza continued, his smile growing a fraction and it was sharp enough to cut. “I will be taking him into my care personally.” I think that the Reach alien would probably have preferred that I killed it back on Rench if it knew what fate awaited it. 

“Well done Prince Tarble,” Lord Frieza said and that knot of tension vanished with those four words. “Though...I do have to ask, is it true that your ring activated and that you told the Guardians to...fuck off?” He asked, sounding amused at the thought while my heart dropped to my feet. 

Did that happen? 

“I don’t recall that happening, things got pretty hazy during the fight...but if you have to ask, then it’s likely…” I admitted, feeling warmth crawl up my cheeks. Then I grew worried. “I would never use the ring, of course, and I’m very sorry if I caused you any trouble with my language-” 

“Such modesty,” Lord Frieza commented, his tone teasing rather than mocking, or so it sounded. “I found it simply hilarious when I heard, so you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I find myself envious. I have been telling them much the same, but I doubt they ever heard any of my messages. No, if anything, I’m thankful for what you said.” There was some context there that I felt that I was missing, but I didn’t have time to think on it because Lord Frieza continued.

“But, I can’t let such deeds go unrewarded. You seem to take after Bardock more than I would have thought...the 501st is now under your direct control. Outfit them how you see fit...and I’ll grant your unit some measure of autonomy while I’m at it.”

I was being given the 501st? That was...shocking. 

Lord Frieza raised an eyebrow as if sensing my apprehension. “Do you not like my gift?” He questioned, a sharp edge hidden in his tone. 

“It’s not that,” I hastily explained, trying to find the words. “I...don’t think I’m ready for such a responsibility right now. I don’t want to throw lives away because of my inexperience...I’ve only gotten used to commanding my team of five-”

“Ahhhh, you’re so very earnest, prince Tarble. I rather like that about you. Very well, I understand your apprehension. In that case, you will be given time. For now, the 501st will stay whatever size it is now, and in two years' time, it will be reinforced to full strength. Does that sound better?” Lord Frieza asked, earning a firm nod and a relieved smile from me. 

“Thank you Lord Frieza,” I said honestly, earning another chuckle from him. 

“Oh, no, thank you Prince Tarble. You have more than proved me right about you,” Lord Frieza waved my thanks off. “And I’m sure your parents are very proud of you as well for what you have accomplished.”

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure if I should correct him or not. “I’m sorry, Lord Frieza, but I’m not part of the royal family yet. My power level will have to exceed ten thousand for me to be acknowledged by King Vegeta.” I decided to tell him, even though he likely didn’t care-

My thoughts were cut off when Lord Frieza began to laugh that odd laugh of his. I gaped at him in confusion, wondering if he was laughing at me, but that didn’t seem to be the case. “No one has told you yet? Excellent, I’m glad I get to give you some good news in return for the good news you have brought me.” 

Wait...I glanced over at Tora, confused on what the hell he was talking about. Tora responded by tossing me his scouter, a lopsided grin on his face. I caught it, attaching it to the side of my face and doing a self-scan...the number kept going up. And up. And up. And up until it settled on a number far beyond what I ever expected to reach. 

13,550. 

My power level jumped over nearly five thousand points. 

“I’m sure Queen Teach will like to do it herself, but you have been welcomed into the saiyan royal family. Congratulations Prince Tarble,” Lord Frieza said as a numb sensation traveled through my body. 

I did it. Against every odd, I did it. I was a member of the elite-class. 

I was part of the royal family. I could call Vegeta my brother. I could call Teach my mother. I could call King Vegeta my father.

I did it.

As I marveled at the revelation that I achieved a long sought after goal, Lord Frieza continued, but, despite myself, I barely heard him. 

“I’ll have to increase my expectations of you Prince Tarble. Though, I know you won’t disappoint.”

…

He really was so very earnest, it was honestly hilarious, Frieza thought to himself, still smiling as he ended the call. Rench was merely the first machine world that his force would be claiming, and while it was such a shame it would take a few years to get it up and running again, it was better than the fate he had inflicted on Sereall. 

It truly was a shame that he had to destroy the planet to make his debut on the galactic stage. He needed every single world to make his grand plan for this company to take its natural next steps. Oh, father had kicked up quite a fuss with him about starting a war with the Reach, but had quieted down once he explained his plan. Even Cooler, the sourpuss, stopped snipping at him. Or that was because Frieza stopped reading his messages. Either or. 

They made a tidy profit from selling planets to the Reach, only it paled in comparison on the value that the planets now held after thousands of years of the Reach developing them. Trillions upon quintillions of credits spent on building infrastructure, developing land, and so on. Not only was that money that the Trade Organization didn’t have to spend developing those worlds to be worth their new price tag, but they stood to gain hundreds of times the price that they originally sold them for. 

Reselling the planets would pay for this war a million times over, but not only that, it offered the Trade Organizations options. Once this world was concluded, they would be sitting on the golden egg. The Reach’s greatest strength was their production -- they could out produce any empire three times over with a civilian economy. Now that they were in a full on war economy, that number sky rocketed. 

The Trade Organization would seize their machine worlds, their centers of production, and use them. Only tanks and guns wouldn’t be the only thing that they used them for. The Trade Organization would use their worlds to become the single greatest producer for all kinds of merchandise! Ships, tvs, toys, weapons, kitchen appliances! If it could be sold, then the Trade Organization would create it with a great big logo slapped on it. 

They would completely undercut the competition with their low prices, driving them out of business, before jacking their prices as high as they felt like. Frieza would see to it that the Trade Organization became not only the greatest company in the galaxy, but the only major company in the galaxy. 

And when he became the economy in this galaxy, when every spec of wealth was his, even if it was in the pocket of another, he would set his sights to the galaxies beyond…

Ahh...was a lovely dream that it was...but that day was some time away. 

“Hmmm...what an interesting child,” Frieza commented as his ship sailed towards an unassuming planet to step on some toes. Out of curiosity, he had read the mission report -- it could best be described as bold and unorthodox. Two words that were the key to Bardock’s success, the reasons why he was the employee of the year, year after year. 

In truth, Frieza hadn’t expected him to be much of a leader. He didn’t care if one of the others took the reigns, so long as Tarble was the face of the team, then he would get the credit, which would in turn grant his PR team more to work with. If anything, Tarble’s PR team was going to be overworked if his first mission was anything to go by. 

“You’re plotting something again,” Blueberry commented, floating by his throne. Frieza simply chuckled in response, knowing better than to try to hide it. 

“Just some fun to entertain myself with. Tarble would make a rather nice king, don’t you think?” He asked, smiling at the thought. It was so much fun playing with succession politics -- the lesser races eagerly vied for his favor, showering him with gifts and compliments as they scurried about, and the saiyans were proving especially amusing. 

“Hm. King Vegeta’s plotting worked in our favor, though I suppose you hardly care for that,” the alien that had raised him commented, knowing him too well. Frieza’s face twisted at the mention of that monkey. Oh, it was all too obvious that he was desperately trying to find a way to lift his foot off the saiyan races neck. 

When Frieza lifted the saiyans population cap four years ago, he had been expecting a gradual increase in saiyans. Only King Vegeta had taken it upon himself to build several million of those tanks before being asked. Now their population had jumped from a mere three thousand to over three million. It had worked out in their favor, but Frieza didn’t like it one bit.

“He’s trying to slip out of my grip,” Frieza deduced easily, if only by virtue of that's what most races sought after he enslaved them. He said that the children would need a few years on Planet Vegeta to ensure their fighting strength, and Frieza allowed it simply because it didn’t cost him anything to say no. If anything, it would eat into his profits because of how much three million monkeys could eat. However, it was awfully suspicious that King Vegeta also chose to stay behind instead of fighting for glory like the rest of his race. 

It was hardly the most subtle preparations for a rebellion Frieza had witnessed, but the saiyans were hardly very bright. 

Which brought him to his amusement. Bardock was planning his own rebellion for quite some time now. He did whatever it took to earn his favor, and he had it simply because Frieza didn’t care for King Vegeta much. A planet, a prince and a king were too many things to share a name. Even better, Bardock understood the basic concept of ‘Apes strong together’ so he had more use for him. 

“But now a third player has thrown his hat into the race,” Fireza mused. Not only did Tarble not continue that horrid naming scheme, but he seemed to stretch that concept of ‘Apes Strong Together’ beyond its limits, transforming it to ‘Aliens are funny looking apes.’ Even better, he was becoming rather powerful by his race's standards, and saiyans followed strength, and since Tarble was loyal, he might avoid a rebellion altogether. 

Though, that would raise an issue with the current heir, wouldn’t it? Actually, speaking of Prince Vegeta…

“Vegeta, you won’t imagine the good news I have for you!” Frieza throw on a painfully faked excited voice, watching Vegeta through a camera to see that he flinched at his sudden announcement. “Tarble’s power level has jumped again, and not he’s a member of your elite-class! It’s thirteen thousand and five hundred and fifty!” Frieza’s smile grew when he saw that Vegeta went very, very, very still at that. 

Because now, the little brother had surpassed the elder brother. 

“Your parents have acknowledged him already, so you should send your best wishes. Especially after the incredible success that his last mission was. It’s a bit early, but Tarble is shaping up to be the employee of the year. Oh, Ginyu is going to be so mad,” Frieza realized, letting out a genuine laugh at the thought. Ginyu was so certain that the prize would be his once again after Bardock kept it out of his hands for a decade. 

“I will, thank you for informing me,” Vegeta said through gritted teeth. Oh, Frieza could practically taste the jealousy. He acquired a taste for it after humiliating his own older brother over the years. “And I humbly request the most challenging task when we arrive on the next planet, Lord Frieza.”

Oh, this simply was too much fun. Just like Cooler, Vegeta was dead set on showing his little brother up to prove himself now. A wedge had been put between them that would only grow as Tarble continued to succeed. 

“Of course, Vegeta,” Frieza agreed, ending the call before cackling to himself, ignoring Blueberry’s disapproving huff. 

It simply was too good. Brother against brother competing for the throne. Even better, it would be mentor against student when Bardock tried to claim the throne for his own ends. A team and a family divided over a chair that had little value. 

The saiyan race really was so much fun. Frieza couldn’t wait for it to blow up spectacularly. 

But, for now, he would wait. Let the resentment simmer, give the doubts time to breathe...it would be years before this little rebellion came to be, but, until then, he would nudge it in the direction he wanted for a truly explosive finish. 

However, that was years away. For now, he had more work. 

As if to agree with him, the doors to his command room slid open, revealing an alien that simmered with volatile rage. He wore skin-tight black undersuit, while his armor that covered bits of his torso were a deep red, almost the same color as his face. His mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth, his eyes burning with red hot rage as if he was one second away from committing a murder. 

What was most eye-catching about him was the symbol on his chest...and the ring on his finger. 

“Ah, Atrocitus. What do I owe the pleasure?”

…

Reach politics was an ancient intricate web of old favors and grudges that spanned for tens of thousands of years. From back-scratching to sudden betrayals, to daring rescues, to biting remarks, to a compliment, to snubbing, to ignorant insults and childhood crushes. All of it was remembered, down to the last detail, and cataloged all the way back until your first ancestor. 

You were what your family name was.

For his entire life, Koter Ve’sk hated that. The backstabbing and scratching he could swallow. The constant vigilance over his actions, weighing every word to ensure that he wouldn’t spark a feud that would result in his hundred times great-grandchildren being assassinated...if anything, he enjoyed it. What he couldn’t stand was that his actions didn’t matter. That he didn’t matter. He was simply another Ve’sk in a long line of Ve’sks, and come a thousand years, he would be reduced to a footnote to be referenced for why one family allied with the Ve’sks of that generation and why another plotted revenge. 

Now, standing before the Grand Admiral, he realized he might have to reflect on that hatred. 

“The Sheh’shk family has long since been able to count on the support of the Ve’sk family, and I see no reason why such a minor defeat is reason enough not to keep faith,” Ava Sheh’shk spoke, her fingers interlocking. Her deep gray faceplates twitched upwards into a smile that could be mistaken as kind. 

He was going to get away with that blunder that should by all rights have cost him his admiralship. All because he inherited a favor from an ancestor. It was incredibly convenient. If only he hadn’t inherited their grudges too. 

“The Ve’sk family is glad to count the Sheh’shk amongst our closest allies, especially in such trying times,” Koter spoke, his voice dripping with false sweetness, his own deep blue faceplates twitching upwards in a smile that was just as fake. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head arched in a gesture of submission. With the fickle pride of his species, even not showing enough gratitude could be considered an insult.

“Of course -- our families have been the pillars that the entire Reach Empire depends upon,” Shen’shk spoke the same lies that every Reach family thought about themselves. In truth, Koter wondered if the Reach Empire would even notice if every single member of their species disappeared. “Such a close bond cannot be severed by the loss of one meager planet.”

Ahhh...now the fangs came out, Koter thought, his smile becoming more genuine by a fraction. “It pleases us that you think so, but it would reflect poorly on the Ve’sk family to let such generosity to go unanswered.” He started, gazing the old matriarch of the Shen’shk family in her black and gold eyes. “A marriage would be the least we could do to repay your support.”

Shen’shk’s didn’t so much as twitch, “A generous offer. Many of the Reach families covet your gene mods.” She commented lightly, seeing what he was really offering. Koter figured she wouldn’t have lived to a ripe old age if she couldn’t read between the lines but, in the end, her old age worked against her as well. From where she sat, he must look like a child that just barely molted into a man thinking that he couldn’t be defeated. 

In a sense, she wasn’t wrong, but now Koter had his first taste of defeat in the hundred years of life he’s lived. 

“A gesture of goodwill to show our enemies that the Ve’sk and Shen’shk families shall stand together now, and always.” Or until there became a convenient enough excuse to betray one another. Whichever came first. “As the current heir to the family, I humbly offer myself to be wed to your granddaughter --  two main branch families joining together.” 

Shen’shk saw the trap that he was weaving around her, but she couldn’t see why he was offering such a generous marriage. That was her problem -- always looking so far into the future that she couldn’t see what was in front of her. Still, he already had her. If she refused, it would be a slight and their families were anything but equals. 

The Ve’sk was one of the three families that still remained from the founders of the Reach Empire when they first expanded beyond their home planet. One of the three that never slipped from prominence to be torn to shreds by those that wished to climb higher. The Shen’shk family was just as ancient as his own family, but they started as a vassal family and their rise to prominence was slow. Now, they could be considered the eleventh most powerful family in the Reach Empire, but that gap between the eleventh and tenth was vast. 

“It would bring the Shen’shk great joy to bind our houses together,” she said with cautious resignment that was masked by eagerness and joy. “Such a marriage was beyond our wildest imagination. The Shen’shk family humbly accepts your offer,” she said, bowing her head in submission. Not that she had a choice to refuse it, but that was hardly important. 

“Excellent. The ink may yet still be wet, but I suppose now that our fates are truly bound as one, we should look into expanding our influence. In truth, this recent defeat has left a rather sour taste in my mouth that can only be washed away with a victory,” Koter said, raising his head in a position, the time of false submissions was over. “However, given the scale of my blunder, only a greater victory can manage such a thing…”

Shen’shks’ eyes narrowed in suspicion despite herself, knowing exactly what he had asked for. And, yet, she was still searching for the hidden cost he was assigning to granting them such a beneficial marriage. With access to the Ve’sk gene mods, her family can rise to tenth place by the next generation. Perhaps she thought they could even climb higher with future generations. 

If only she understood that the next generation of the Shen’shk family would likely be the last. A marriage like that would attract the Ve’sk’s enemies to swat them down. And as they plummeted from grace, the other lesser families would each take their pound of flesh. The only one that would survive the plummet down would be the woman that he married.

It was a fault with their species, Koter reflected. They plotted and schemed, looking so far into the future, into the next generation, that they only realized that they tripped themselves when they fell face-first into the dirt. A lesson that he was guilty of as well, only to have tasted dirt rather recently in such a fashion that it made him keenly aware of the fault. 

“As Grand Admiral of this sector, I will authorize whatever resources it takes to expunge that foul taste from your mouth,” Shen’shk offered with a barely concealed grimace. Not at the cost that she had just paid, but at the cost that she thought he would demand in the future. 

It was fun, Koter thought. Shen’shk thought that she would be repaying a favor, then getting owed one in return by sweeping his blunder under the rug. And now it was she that owed him a major favor instead. Even better, if he did think of a favor down the line, she would be bound to agree to it.

And now, with a marriage that would be short-lived and favors that will never be returned, he now had a fleet of ships that was closer to the fleets of Grand Admirals. Over a hundred ships to be used at his disposal, the remnants of the fleet that had fled Sereall. 

With a few empty platitudes, Koter left the room significantly more powerful than when he went in it.

He hated the power that his name gave him, but he wasn’t so foolish enough not to abuse it when it suited him. Especially when a fatal flaw in his species outlook had been exposed with the destruction of Sereall. 

Frieza. It was impossible to best him in battle, so they were left trying to assassinate him, yet none had managed. From exotic weapons to custom made diseases, to poison to anything that the Reach Empire thought would stick. And that was when Frieza played a passive role in the war -- with the destruction of Sereall, it proved just how destructive he could be if he chose to play an active role. At the moment, they had no counter to the Frost Demon. 

Yet, the game hadn’t changed in the Reach Empire. They looked far into the future, still kindling hope that they could possibly return to the previous business relationship, and this war would become a slight that wouldn’t be brought up for another ten thousand years. 

If things continued as they were...the Reach Empire might not see another ten. 

But, unfortunately, he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it yet. He was the heir, not the head of the family, and his family had too many powerful rivals to move freely. If the Reach was to have a long term future, then he would have to look to short term advantages that his family would one day pay for hundreds of years down the line. The fleet was a good start, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more power, both hard and soft, to do what needed to be done to win this war. 

It was a thrilling feeling, Koter thought. If he had known that the taste of defeat would inspire this in him, then he would have lost ages ago. Now everything felt so urgent like there wasn’t enough time to do anything and given that his life expectancy was measured in centuries, for his entire life it felt like he had nothing but time. Frieza had proved him wrong by destroying Sereall, and now this Tarble had bested him when he thought he was mopping up remnants beneath his notice.

He had been content to wait them out. Once he learned that there were saiyans down there, he thought it was only a matter of time before they ate the rest of the remnants, then turned on each other with frightening quickness to indulge in cannibalism. Koter intended to use that week to make connections, to leverage his position, and instead the rug was swept from underneath him. 

“That was fun,” Koter mused as he walked down the halls, which were thankfully empty of attendants while his bodyguard fell in step behind him. An Elite scarab augmented with a support scarab. Being defeated had been fun after a lifetime of victories. Even better, he wasn’t just defeated because of his own failings, but because of the quality of his enemy. 

The saiyans were a barbaric race by any standard, but Tarble had been cunning. Misdirection, anticipating his movements, leading him by the faceplates...that barbaric race that seemed both unable and unwilling to use technology used it to orchestrate their escape. Tarble had turned an unwinnable scenario into a total victory -- they made Rench uninhabitable for years, ceasing its production, they stole incredibly valuable data, and they escaped with their lives and the heir to the Tesk family, one of the other three founding families. Who Koter had hoped was eaten before that fool made a mess of anything. 

For what felt like the first time in decades, Koter smiled. 

“Give me everything that we have on Bardock and Tarble,” he ordered the scarab. Tarble’s strategies were reminiscent of Bardock’s, a rather famous tactician. If he discovered how to defeat Bardock, he would find a way to defeat Tarble. 

Koter found that he couldn’t wait to clash against the Sayian again, and next time he would prove victorious.