Vanil crept quietly through the barracks, carefully placing each footstep as to make as little noise as possible. It was late, too late, well past midnight when he came crawling back in from the city. This planet was alien to him, with a name he could not pronounce, though it went by the designation 'Sno-87'. But damn if it didn't have all the pleasures he could want. The young Saiyan halfblood's head throbbed with the pleasures and vices of the night, his vision blurring before him. He needed sleep, and plenty of it. Of course, sleep was hard to come by these days. He'd be rising bright and early tomorrow, or rather this, morning. Such was life for a member of the Saiyan Division of the Planet Trade Organization.
It was times like these, he did not know why he had joined. Well, he did. Simply put, he was in it for the fighting, the glory. And it was in his blood. His Saiyan mother and his Zarbonian* father had both been a part of the Planet Trade Organization's army. Well, they'd served under one of their many armies together. Vanil had grown up around the military, he'd grown up fighting and training. It was like breathing to him. What else was a young man, the product of two warrior races mingling, supposed to do? Take up knitting? Hardly.
But damn if he did not question his choice at times. As he reached his bunk, the lower half of a double tiered bed he shared with another soldier, he tiredly pulled off his armor and scouter, setting them beneath his bunk, stashing them until morning came. With a muffled groan, he hopped into bed and drew the curtain shut. They were afforded little privacy and he had no doubt the curtain would do little to stop the upper ranks spying and tab keeping, but he was not concerned. He was not doing anything wrong, so he had nothing to hide.
He tossed and turned in bed, but sleep would not come yet. With a sigh, he moved his prehensile tail about, reaching for the personal lighting device he kept in his bunk. The furry, Saiyan tail found it and wrapped around it tight, flicking it on in one swift motion as it was deposited into his hand. He held it above him and flinched as the light burned at his eyes. Gingerly, the halfblood felt around for a mirror that he also kept in his bunk. Come to think of it, he kept a lot of things in his bunk, but that was just how he had to make due. They were not given much personal space for belongings. And some might criticize him for using some of his space for a mirror. Vanil would ignore such people; It was only a small mirror, and Vanil liked to keep tabs on his appearance. Call him vain, and he would admit to it. He took pride in his appearance, along with his strength. Truly, his mixed blood gave way to pride often.
Through squinted eyes, he gazed into the mirror. The black eyes of a Saiyan stared back, but if one searched his face, those were the only Saiyan features that would pop out, aside from the light, peachy skin tone. Instead, he'd taken much after his father: strong facial features that some might describe as princely, and long hair that ran ruby red in color. Of course, his features were marred by the exhaustion of a night out on the town.
"Damn," Vanil whispered, "I look awful". He'd probably regret the night out come morning, but he did not care. He was living for the moment. He'd been given leave for a single night, and he had made the most of it. It would likely be the last chance the young soldier got for a long time: new orders were being given tomorrow morning, and he expected the worse. He always got the worse. With his luck, he'd be sent to some backwater planet with the intent of 'peacekeeping' on one of their Frost Demon** overlord's personal planets.
It was that or scouting, two of the most boring jobs imaginable. He'd signed up for fighting, not to look at the horizon and run back to base to tell other people who and how they should be fighting. But that was likely what he was going to get. Vanil sighed. Another boring assignment. At least it was not a planetary extermination.
That was something he would be less than thrilled about. Planetary extermination. Now that was a ghastly business. Or so he'd been told. Vanil had never actually been on one yet, but he'd heard of them. Essentially, a force of soldiers with land on some planet and conquer it in the name of their leader, the native population all but killed, certainly suppressed. If they were lucky, they'd join the Planet Trade as soldiers. If not, well, the universe would be short one more race.
Vanil did not mind fighting. He reveled in it. But the thought of exterminating an entire civilization, well, that was less palpable to him. Of course, the Frost Demons did not care. Why should they? They claimed to be the strongest race in the universe, and one would be hard pressed to prove them wrong. Their greatest enemies were themselves. The race was divided up into various clans, the powerful clans having their own personal armies and planet collections. Vanil served in one such army, under the command of a Frost Demon called Lord Sno.
And he was not special. Ever since the Saiyans were conquered by the Planet Trade Organization, they'd been integrated into so many armies, Frost Demon lords buying and selling conscription rights and soldiering rights for the Saiyans like candy. Just last month, a childhood friend of his had been recruited into the army of a Frost Demon half a system a way.
And that is how it was for all the races the Frost Demons conquered and kept around. The Frost Demons were playing chess with the world, and they were just pawns. The masters of the universe, he thought, how droll. He suspected the only reason they did not control everything is because they were too busy fighting amongst themselves for money, honor, fame, and whatever else they squabbled about. Vanil did not care. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep and fight. He'd get those things, be satisfied, and he'd either die or live long enough to feasibly retire from service. Not a bad life by any means, though he knew a great many people were not happy being used like tools. And to that, Vanil shrugged it off. So long as his needs were met, why should he care?
Vanil just hoped for a little excitement. And he'd not have to wait much longer, for he felt sleep finally creeping onto him, clouding his eyes and mind, carrying him down into dreams…
(*Zarbonian: The name this work gives to Zarbon's unnamed race.)
(**Frost Demon: The name this work gives to Frieza's unnamed race.)