Broken Off From the Glacier
By C.Ensign ChibiXelloss@Aol.com
Prologue
It was snowing outside, a beautiful, yet common sight on the planet. The sky was dark and bleak, indicating the coldest of the seasons to be upon them. The living spaces consisted of one to two story large domes made from material unique to that planet only. There were no animals present; it was perfectly silent. Inside one of the few houses of the area it wasn't silent, but anyone passing by would be unable to hear, the atmosphere was like that.
A medium sized Ice-jin, ranging closer to the six foot height than the fifth, was sitting across the room from another, smaller, Ice-jin. They looked somewhat alike, the smaller one with a crown of spikes on his head, and the larger one sharing twin purple stripes under his eyes. They were siblings, a younger brother and an older. The room was somewhat disturbed, with the television unit broken. The older one, the larger one, was yelling at the younger brother, his voice marked with anger and annoyance.
"You thought you could just come in here and destroy my television?" Anartic, the older one, yelled. He had his fists tightened together, except for one finger, his index finger, which was pointing at his younger sibling during his sentence.
The younger one, Frore, stared at his brother with an unusual hatred that most other brothers would not have, and with a glare that most parents would cry over their children giving to one another. He was sitting calmly on the chair across from his brother, seemingly relaxed. In fact, he was considering things in his mind more than letting himself think about posture. He hated his brother, he always had. Finally, after seconds of the grueling stare, he spoke, his voice low and slightly raspy, "You're always up too late watching it. It seems like I'm the only one around here with the ability to hear things, since you obviously keep the sound at the maximum level."
That response sparked more anger in Anartic, enough anger to move across the room and strike his brother against the face. Frore did not catch the blow, though he could have as it took a few moments in Anartic's stride against the room, and thus his decision caused his head to turn and his body to move with it a bit. Following the strike was the immediate burning of pain, as well as a light throbbing and fresh blood making its way to show on the wound. Frore looked up at his brother again, this time with a slight smile on his face, a smile with a slight trail of blood hinting at the very edge of his mouth.
"What the hell are you grinning at?" Anartic spat, ready to hit his brother another time.
Frore let out a chuckle, one that would easily count as a sign that he was lacking sanity. Then, suddenly, he reverted back to being inert of emotion, and let down the smile. "You're not as strong as you think you are, brother."
Another spark of anger, Anartic backhands Frore across the face again, causing the mark already there to only gain more throbbing and red color to it, as well as to turn Frore again. "You're an idiot! I could have killed you whenever I wanted!" Indeed, Anartic's words were true; Frore was the weaker brother in many ways, including fighting.
"You're under appreciative of the things I do for you." Was Frore's first reply as he moved into his previous sitting position, making no effort to hide the fact that he was still quite relaxed. The only indication that he may have been disturbed was the slight twitching at the very corner of his mouth where a small sanguine river flowed in strands. His second reply, coming moments later, was spoken in a hesitant, yet forced tone; "You are also the lesser of us. Were the universe ruled the way I wished it to be, you would be a spec among millions."
Frore's plan was not working, he had thought that the display of no fear in his elder brother would result in hesitation from all Anartic's actions, but this was not holding true. This realization, an obvious realization, was beginning to wear down on Frore's feigned ego to his older sibling. However, he had no plan to back down if a fight was initiated, he would lose more pride in backing down than defeat itself; even if he and his brother were the only ones with the knowledge of the battle. That wouldn't be so, either, Anartic often left the housing compound to more populated areas of their planet, as well as other planets.
Anartic raised his hand again to hit Frore once more, but stopped, turned his back to the younger Ice-jin, and balled up both his fists. "You're not even worth it!" He yelled back at Frore, his tail swinging in obvious frustration.
That statement doomed the two to fight, the insult to Frore's worth, his brother's cowardice, Frore did not even consider himself weaker anymore, which is why the aspect of battle seemed logical to him at that moment, and so at that moment he acted. He stood up, brought his hand into a fist, and backhanded his brother in the back of the head. Had Anartic gotten the genetic makeup characteristic of their father, he would have had the same spine-like spikes like those of Frore, which would have easily added pain into the attack against his head, nearly equal to that being put onto him from the blow. He didn't have those spine-like spikes which made it impossible to sleep on any feathered pillow if one had a tendency to roll around in ones sleep.
Anartic grunted and stammered forward a bit from the strike, then spun around quickly, and pointed a shaky finger at his brother. "Y-you! How could you dare hit me?" His voice made it sound like an abomination to even be touched by anyone else. There wasn't going to be a bruise where Frore had hit him, but perhaps a red welt would appear soon and give indication that he wasn't defeated without harming his brother in any aspect.
He still had the chance to back down, but such a thing would be like a suicidal youth slitting their wrists and moments later deciding it wasn't such a good idea; Hopeless. They were too close for Frore to formulate the proper stance, he preferred to have time to see his opponent attacking rather than needing to rely on the luck to perform the proper block. His training in his personal stance did not help him add any resistance to the painful uppercut delivered to his midsection, he barely even saw it, let alone had time to react. He felt his insides move back from the hit, as well as cause his sight to blur for a fraction of a second. Frore didn't let himself fall to the welcoming darkness that such a hit beckoned to bring, but instead forced himself up to let loose a two handed ki beam into his brother. The beam did not cover Anartic hardly, only his chest and stomach areas, but the glow of it provided a moment of blinding light to the both of them, making everything else in the room seem darker than before after the energy had been released. It had gone through the ceiling, caused the house a moment of disruption, and only succeeded in providing Anartic with a few scratch marks and perhaps a bruise later. It also angered the older Ice-jin that his brother had openly attacked him again, he was too proud of himself to let anything lesser to him even dare defy his will.
Frore let out a slight gasp and shown a look of surprised, and soon after regretted it when his brother openly acknowledged the unknown expression by saying; "Heh... surprised? You shouldn't be. You've never been a match for me." Anartic's skin was still letting off fumes of smoke from the attack, and although a few blisters began to show, the attack had clearly done nothing more than annoy him. Frore moved in to elbow Anartic in the chest with the hopes of breaking the older Ice-jin's ribs. As he neared in but a split second he felt hard bone slamming against the side of his face, and then falling back into the chair that he had been sitting in before the conflict.
His vision blurred and his head spun, but Anartic wasn't nice enough to let him recover and stand back onto his feet. The elder brother grabbed onto Frore's arm, placed his three toed foot onto his chest, then proceeded to twist his arm out of socket and turn it until snaps were heard and Frore started to yell in protest. His entire arm felt like an inferno, pure heat and pain, making him hurt all over yet in a single spot. Frore cringed and quickly tried to move forward to strike at his brother, but was being held in place by the strong limb pressed against his chest.
"Do you think I'm going to let you off that easy? You bother me!" Anartic grabbed Frore by two of the spikes on his head, and exerted enough pressure on them to cut his own hands, yet the grip made it easier to bash his brother's face into his knee repeatedly without stopping. Once he was sure that Frore was too dazed to further anymore attack, he had his fill of kicking him in the ribs and several other areas until bones were well broken, as well as snapping a few more limbs that he felt needed attention... then he left.
He left Frore lying on the floor of the bedroom, not in any pain, as he had taken the liberty to pass out when the pain became overwhelming earlier. He was not bleeding very much on his body except for his face, which had been smashed in, and his mouth, which indicated internal bleeding, internal bleeding from several damaged organs. Anartic planned on yelling at his brother later about the "mess" he had made in his room by bleeding so much.
Later, he awoke, his head was throbbing, his limbs ached, and he could safely say that he hurt all over. Frore grunted as he tried to move into an upward position, pushing his arms weakly under him for support and trying to push himself up, all attempts were in vain. He felt like he was dying, perhaps he was, he felt his head spin every time he moved, even the slightest bit. Even through the whirl of dizziness thoughts of being a failure plagued his mind, his thoughts on what had happened, playing the event over and over like a broken recording. He was weak, far weaker than that of his brother, though in the past he had tried to be stronger. To him, he had lost everything, so he gave up, stopped struggling, closed his eyes, and let the darkness take him.
Days had passed and eventually he had been moved. Anartic told his mother what had happened (In his own perspective of giving more of the blame to Frore's incompetence) and she had moved Frore into his own room.
Frore's room was moderately small, the single bed in it taking up all the length across the room and 1/5 of it wide. It had nothing else in it besides a single closet, which held a single suit of turquoise, and black armor that had a turquoise cape attached to it. The walls were damaged from his training, with pings and chips here and there, though they may have been from neglect.
In the bed now rested Frore, who had been tucked in and a pillow placed under his head. The blood had been cleaned off him, but the bruises still shown on his pale, gray flesh. From the care given to him, it was obvious that a sort of medical being had seen him and applied proper casts to the more wounded of his limbs, and likely prescribed some treatment of their patient.
When he awoke next he was dizzy, although not as bad as before. As he tried to move into a sitting position, his movements were hindered greatly by the casts around his limbs and torso. He gritted his teeth at the waves of pain that filled him as he moved even the slightest bit to achieve his goal of simply sitting up. He would simply endure the pain, he concluded. To him, he deserved every bit of the punishment; it was his reward for failure. Each step he took after leaving the bed was pain-filled, like stepping on burning coals. Eventually, seemingly forever with each pained step, he reached his closet, which he slowly wretched open with his menial level of strength remaining. He nearly fell as he grabbed the armor, supporting himself for a moment on the rack it was hanging on, and then he tugged it back and begin to painfully pull it onto himself. The thick outer shell of the armor should be able to support his torso to the proper level it needed, so he overestimated his next step and received more striking pain. Half-limping, he left his room and begin to make his way down the hallway. As he went, he seen no one as he looked, even as he barely made his way down to the first floor, treating the stairs as some hellish obstacle that could have threatened his awareness even more.
Cold wind bit against his face and body as he took the first step outside into the frozen climate of his home planet. It was night, yet the ground was still illuminated by the vibrant, white snow. Frore's cloak did little to ward off the cold wind and ended up being blown back eventually to flap behind him as he struggled to further himself in the shin deep snow. He had little conception as to where he was going, though the thought that it would be comforting to just fall down and sleep once more plagued him frequently. His steps seemed to weaken by each moment, becoming more and more of a struggle with each passing step.
Bright lights shone ahead on the snow, reflecting in a distance that made the new location seem closer than it actually was. The lights were being shone by the largest of the city-like colony area, where most Ice-jin of the area frequented. By the time Frore reached the illuminated area, he was far more tired and had begun to cough up blood once more as his wounds reminded him of their existence even more. His hand was dripping in half frozen blood from catching the blood as he coughed it up.
There were other Ice-Jin moving about, their colors that varied between white and purple, and their heights that varied between 3 feet and 8 feet. Three toed footprints adorned the snow in trails going off into many directions. The bright lights were that of domed buildings, marking supply depots, shuttle services, and other such places and shops.
Frore was half blinded by all the light as he went, and eventually tripped over a large lump of snow that he had failed to notice in his staggering. The cold snow brushing against his face was far more cold than the winds that were biting on it moments ago. He growled at his stupidity in falling, and before he could push himself up he heard a soft female voice speaking to him.
"Are you alright, Frore?" He looked up, bringing his gaze to focus on the 5'0" female Ice-Jin before him. She was wearing a full covering cloak of sorts, though her magenta hair could be seen clearly from beneath the hood, as well as her pale face and cheery smile. She was always uncharacteristically friendly, unlike some of their race, and, of course, Frore knew her. Icicle was her name, he had known her from the earlier days of his youth when he received the level of schooling that the planet had set and decreed.
Frore merely grunted again and pushed himself up, which gave Icicle a moment of time to fully take a grasp at the sight of all his wounds. She went to help him, but he glared at her to hold her at bay, not wishing to be seen weak by anyone else.
"What happened? Were you training too hard again? You know that you don't have to impress anyone." She was saying this because in the days of schooling with Frore, she had noticed him finding competition among all the other classmen, viewing them as rivals at any opportunity and working hard to outdo them.
"It was a sort of training, but nothing that concerns you." He then decided to change the conversation, not wishing to discuss with anyone about his failure. "What are you doing out? The weather isn't as good as it usually is."
Icicle's look of concern faded a bit and she smiled wider and opened her cloak slightly to bring out a bag that was being held up by her nimble fingers. "I needed some more supplies so went out to get them. I didn't want to forget them and not get them later when I might really need them."
To Frore, this sounded completely trivial, to have things around when you don't need them. But he wasn't too good at understanding others, and since it didn't really affect him, he wasn't going to bring himself into caring.
"What are you doing out here? Like you said, it's not the best of weather. Is it some type of training for you to brave the colds while injured? You should know by now that it doesn't help to train while injured already... it only makes the injuries worse!" Icicle placed the bag full of supplies back into her cloak and smile again, though she was speaking in concern for the general health of Frore.
Frore replied, his voice getting taken slightly by a gust of wind that brought more snow onto one side of the area than the other, "I'm getting supplies." He lied, it was an excuse to humor Icicle and to make her go away. He never wanted to hold anyone else in any regard, so always tried to dismiss others as quickly as possible.
Icicle seemed interested, and raised a brow, "Oh, really? What is it that you were getting?"
Caught, blasted. He would have to think of another excuse or face the torture of going into a more detailed conversation with the female Ice-Jin. His limbs were hurting more than ever from standing in the same spot for so long, but it didn't seem like Icicle wanted to leave. He hadn't been around for a few days, or so he thought, what could he be out to get? "I decided to return to hear the reports on the news."
She actually seemed disappointed that Frore had found an excuse, but decided to peruse being around him a bit longer. "Well, that really doesn't count as supplies... but okay. There's been a few things going on lately. The tyrant Freeza was near us lately and dominated another planet for sale... isn't that horrible?"
Frore remained indifferent, to him, it wouldn't had mattered if they would have taken over his own planet... it would have proved them weaker and his forces stronger, there should be no pity in fair play. "That's not much. At least it proves that one of us stupid lizards can make profit in this universe."
Her face reflected shock and she looked at Frore with an even more concerned look, "That's a horrible thing to say! People are killed in that sort of thing. How would you feel if Freeza decided that he didn't like his own home planet and took us over for sale?"
"He would've earned the right if he won the battles."
Icicle's good disposition was fading, as she became more concerned for Frore's mental condition on certain standings, "You actually want him to win?"
"If he's earned the right to win the battle, then yes. I wouldn't want any weaklings taking down an empire when they do not justly deserve it. I've been losing far too much lately, perhaps because I've never joined the winning side."
"Are you saying that you wouldn't mind joining Freeza's empire?" She nearly shouted at him.
His reply was calm, unlike hers, "I wouldn't. They're obviously more organized than this frozen rock." His legs were beginning to lose feeling which also meant the pain was going down, but he was beginning to get too comfortable with where he was physically. Mentally, he couldn't stand the conversation anymore, which led him to leave without even bidding Icicle farewell. She yelled after him, but surprisingly didn't follow, "You've changed a lot! I thought you always were going to be a veterinarian!" He scoffed at the idea and continued walking, actually tossing around the idea of finding a way into Freeza's empire in his head. Perhaps he would.
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Chapter 1
Breaking Off From the Glacier
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Would they accept him the way he is? Battered and beaten, yet still determined to prove his worth to those who demand it? Frore shook his head, ignoring the questions that were arising. He now believed that his worth was directly limited to his recent defeat, and if he ever made it as far as to make it into the forces of Freeza, that he would be a footsoldier at best. When the thought came that he would attempt to join the empire came, he neglected to bring his thoughts on just how he would find Freeza and just how he would manage to join. It wasn't like Freeza had a sign up booth at every corner of the galaxy to get troops, was it? The empire was nearby at least, so if he could get to them he did have a partial chance of finding someone who would likely want him to join.
Freeza had been outlawed from his planet for being unjust and cruel to others, as well as his Father King Cold who had declared himself a king after dominating so many areas amongst the galaxy. Finding anything relating to Freeza on the planet was unlikely then, unless it was news of his goings. What Frore was planning on doing would be consider horrible amongst most Ice-Jin, though he hardly cared since most of his race was either annoying or self-centered.
Not far from the area he was at, he knew, was a shuttle service that should rent him a shuttle shortly that he would likely never return. His brother was the only one in the family that he knew of owning their own ship, but he hardly expected Anartic to lend him it after what happened earlier, nor would he swallow anymore pride to ask him for such a thing. He began to make his way towards the dome-shaped building, trying to appear as unharmed as he could, though he had a noticeable stagger and limp from the cast's inability to move correctly on his leg, as well as the lack of balance it gave him with it. He almost wished that his armor didn't have the cape attached to it, for whenever the wind shifted in a different direction he'd nearly trip.
Eventually, far longer than an uninjured Ice-Jin would take for the short travel, he reached the shuttle building. It was larger than most buildings, as it contained far more than the other did, with ships with sizes that varied from one passenger to as many as 50. Such large ships to hold 50 beings were hardly used, due to the general lack of population of the planet. Frore pressed the more uninjured of his hands against the palm pad at the side of the door, which caused it to light up and slide open to allow entry. Along with him when he walked in came a gust of snow, which didn't even phase the 5'6" purple Ice-jin at the counter. He didn't even take notice to Frore's injuries, or care for much other than getting his business over and perhaps sleeping soon since the closing time was but hours away.
Frore moved up to the counter and rested his arms over the edge of it for support, then glared the other alien in the face, as if he had done something wrong, though Frore was just trying to make it appear he wasn't weak to anyone else. "I would like to rent a shuttle." He stated, though his voice came out far less demanding than he wanted, with it being slightly raspy and weak from his rib injuries.
The façade of being demanding didn't work too well on the shuttle-renting alien, he merely nodded a bit and held out his purple hand to Frore. "Your identification will be needed for the transaction."
Frore grunted and reached into his armor slowly, feeling the ache of his bones more than ever as he pulled out a single card with a black bar, his photo, and a bunch of information on it and sat it on the desk. "For one person, just myself."
The other Ice-jin nodded and ran the card into a terminal nearby, which gave him information on Frore's past record. Frore had been in a surprising number of accidents dealing with shuttles, though he had taken care so the minimal amount would be recorded. "You've hit an old lady with a ship before?" He looked up to Frore, his brow raised slightly.
Some incidents outshone others, Frore had guessed. It wasn't his fault that the hag had been too old to properly dodge with his bad driving abilities, but he wouldn't let that answer be told to someone who is supposed to let him try and drive again. "There was a thick patch of snow and I didn't see her." Good excuse, though it could lead to different conclusions. He wasn't senile; he intentionally liked to hurt other people. "I wish to take the shuttle into space to visit my uncle, who lives off planet."
"Considering your record, the charges will be 15% of the total shuttle worth."
15%, An obvious rip off, Frore's brow twitched a bit. Perhaps the price had been concluded after viewing the entire extent of his record, including the one about previously renting a shuttle just to crash it into one of his rival's homes. Either that or it was some holiday season that Frore didn't care about that was rising the prices. Whatever the cause, he didn't care since he didn't plan on paying off any debts for quite some time. "Fine. When is it due back?"
The Ice-Jin ignored his questions, and merely went on with giving him information on the costs, which caused Frore to close his eyes in annoyance for a few seconds, "You will also be charged for insurance, as well as a guarantee of return, a safety refund, and for fuel. This will total to 25,000, without tax."
That would be the equivalent of saying that you're buying a shuttle that you have to return in a few days, and paying interest. Frore waved his tail around, a clear sign of annoyance once more, "Whatever. I want to leave immediately."
"It will be due back in two weeks. Hopefully you won't lose track of time with your uncle from another planet, all late days fees shall be doubled and so forth."
From his way of speaking, if you're a weak late you will never be out of debt and this guy won't have to work again. Frore was hoping that he'd just be quiet and let him go, standing was beginning to hurt more and more, and he was also beginning to feel dizzy again.
Finally the entrepreneur spoke again, "It will be in dock 72b. It's at very end of the building, enjoy your walk." He handed Frore back his card, as well as another one to activate the shuttle.
At least someone had a sadistic side besides him, though Frore didn't appreciate it much at the time. He nods to the other alien and goes into the hall, where there is a long trail of rooms with numbers on them, starting from 1a, and ending, sadly, at 72b. Each way of the journey was what Frore would think of hell as being like, including the burning flames. It was even worse when he began to realize that he was walking in a circle, and that by turning right on the hall that started going left, he would have been immediately directed to 72b. He almost started laughing at himself when he reached 72b and looked over 10 feet and saw 1a.
Inside the room was sparse, with a pad that had a single circular shaped pod in it, and a set of doors on the ceiling that would open before launch. Frore felt truly joyful that he would have to squeeze into a pod that was made for someone who could move their limbs, especially as he opened the hatch and sat in. He was quite cramped, especially because the cast on his leg refused to bend in away to allow a comfortable ride.
He inserted the card for the shuttle, and read the display. It wished to know his destination, which was an interesting question indeed. Frore's mind had only gotten him to the point that he needs to leave the planet, not where he needs to go after leaving it. It would've helped if Icicle had told him exactly what planets Freeza had recently taken over. It clicked in his mind suddenly, about Planets and Freeza, since he had remembered awhile-ago hearing about Planet Freeza, the headquarters of the entire empire. He could just go there and demand from the source. Lucky for Frore, who had no concept of the exact numerical locations of the galaxy, he was able to simply type into the keypad what area he wished to go to and it gave out the numbers needed if the location was in its files. Lucky for Frore again, Planet Freeza was among the databases.
Once the information was set, the room's large ceiling doors opened and the pod blasted off into the air, providing minor turbulence to Frore. After secure with knowing that he was headed in the correct direction, Frore gave into his tiredness and drifted off to sleep to rest his wounds.
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Comments: I can't write too well, sorry... it's under my grade level (10th), but oh, well. Writing is fun. I think I'll have fun writing more of this story in the near future. It's.. just.. I'm not an ultra genius novelist.. ; ; I try, though. Please leave feedback if you liked the fanfic so I can continue writing on it with pride, or else I'd give up and just weep myself to sleep each night. ^_^