New chapter time!
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Chapter 25: Orders
Sporting a new set of armor and failing to completely conceal a limp, Vegeta reported, as ordered, to his purging mission two days later. He was far from fit for duty. His ribs shifted painfully with every step, and the loss of his tail hindered his balance. But when Frieza gives an order, you obey. Especially now. One misstep, and Bulma would die an agonizingly slow death at the hands of the galaxy's most sadistic tyrant. Her life was not something he wanted to gamble with, so he reported to the launch bay despite the pain and despite his trepidation at picking up where he left off, purging planets by murdering their inhabitants. And if he was honest with himself, the thought of purging a planet of civilians sickened him. But if he wanted to survive, and more importantly keep his friends alive, he would have to comply.
En route to the mission launch bay, Vegeta noticed Cui, gossiping with a group of low-level soldiers. The chattering ceased suddenly as he passed. No doubt they were talking about his beating at the hands of their leader. Vegeta whirled around, challenging them directly. "Do you have something to say?"
"Vegeta, how are you? Is that a limp?" asked Cui antagonistically. The other soldiers enthusiastically waited for Vegeta's response.
Vegeta calculated the risk of engaging. He wanted to. But killing Cui would earn another beating and run the risk of revealing his higher power level to the crew, a sure-fire way to get himself, Goku, and Bulma killed. And harming any of the low-level soldiers without permission would result in a loss of cafeteria privileges. Not as risky, but his body needed food to recover. "I've never been better," Vegeta growled.
But one brave (or very stupid) fighter gawked at his tail-less waist with interest. "It's really gone then?"
"Don't worry, Vegeta. It's an improvement." Cui laughed.
Vegeta bit his tongue and held back a retort. Not worth the punishment of making it a fight, he reminded himself.
But then the same soldier joined in. "Yeah, the monkey tail was a tacky look."
Worth it, Vegeta decided impulsively and fired a kill shot into the low-level soldier's head. "Anyone else have anything to say?" Vegeta spat as the body dropped.
Silence greeted his question. Even Cui didn't dare respond.
"Good." Vegeta turned and stalked towards the launch bay, the spark of adrenaline from the encounter fading as quickly as it grew.
The mission launch bay occupied a large part of the west wing of Frieza's ship. A dozen launching stations encircled a central computerized navigational hub. Vegeta checked his upcoming mission on the purge logs.
Frieza Planet 52
Population: 12 million.
Main Export: Diamonds grown in the planet's carbon-rich mantle.
Average Inhabitant Power Level: 15
Diplomatic Strategy: Total purge
Estimated Mission Duration: 1.2 days.
A slaughter. That's what he was about to perform. Vegeta bit the edge of his lip and closed the display. He strode mechanically to his assigned launching station and entered the prepared pod. With a few clicks, the door to the pod closed, and he was on his way to Frieza Planet 52to kill every man, woman, and child on the planet.
Frieza Planet 52shared the same star as Planet Cold, so Vegeta's journey only took a few hours. He'd heard of the planet before, and up until recently, it had been under the "protection" of the Cold Empire. But the inhabitants must have rebelled… or not met their quota. Vegeta wondered if the people of the planet even knew he was coming. Many of his purges growing up had been to planets where the inhabitants had no clue why he was killing them.
His pod landed, leaving a crater on the planet's blackened surface. The door to the small ship opened, and Vegeta exited the craft. He attached his scouter to his ear and took a deep breath. The charcoal-rich dirt caused the air to smell pleasantly like a campfire. Vegeta wondered if the ground would burn.
Vegeta sought out the closest power concentration and used the scouter to get a better read of the number of inhabitants close by. 10,000 individuals a short distance to his west. With one last glance his mission parameters, Vegeta steeled his will, pushing all thoughts of what Bulma would think about what he was about to do as far down as he could. He stretched his injured muscles as much as he dared. Then, he began.
The children screamed the loudest, Vegeta thought as he mechanically made his way through population center after population center. Killing the littlest ones first was the most effective. It always was. The parents came running, driven by the futile desire to save their young. But they ran directly into a kill zone. Piles of bodies multiplied.
Vegeta hated himself. It used to be so easy. When he was a child, he learned to kill without consideration. Now with every death, Vegeta felt a bit of the soul he'd regained during his time on Earth slip away, replaced by a disturbingly familiar darkness.
Finally, there were no more energy signatures. As he returned to Frieza's ship, Vegeta's own shallow breathing filling the cabin was the only sound. His hands shook from exerting so much energy before he had fully healed. He balled them into fists and tried not to notice the blood that covered his gloves up to the wrists.
"An excellent purge, Prince Vegeta." Vegeta turned as he exited the pod to see the diplomacy director, Mulburry, an ancient man with sagging blue skin and wispy white hair. "A pleasure to have you back."
"When is my next mission?" asked Vegeta, not wishing to engage in any conversation more than what was necessary.
Mulburry quickly tapped his fingers across the display of a small tablet. "My goodness. It looks like you're scheduled for another departure tomorrow morning," he said.
"What time?" asked Vegeta impatiently. He'd always gotten at least a thirty-six hour rest period between missions in the past.
"0700," answered Mulburry. "Forgive me. That's quite the turnaround."
That was barely twelve hours. Vegeta growled, feeling the fatigue from the mission and his injuries from Frieza's beating threaten to overwhelm him. With a curt nod, Vegeta turned to return to his barracks.
"Oh, and Prince Vegeta," Mulburry stopped him.
Vegeta looked back over his shoulder.
"I've been asked to remind you that your cafeteria privileges have been revoked until you return from your next mission. The soldier you killed…"
"I understand," said Vegeta. He left the launch bay, hungry and exhausted and irritated with himself for not exercising better self-control.
Vegeta found his barracks empty. Bulma was most likely still in the labs, and Goku was stationed on night guard duty at the other end of the ship. After the door shut, Vegeta allowed himself to sag onto the bed. He ripped off his bloodstained gloves and threw them on the floor; desperate to separate himself from the carnage he'd created. He removed his boots and stripped off his armor and under suit, leaving him in his boxers. He piled the clothes in the floor like he'd piled the bodies. Vegeta shook as he rolled over to face the wall. He needed to eat and take a shower, but he lacked the energy to do the latter, and a trip to the ship cafeteria was forbidden to him until he returned from his next mission. His stomach rumbled in protest, so he gazed blankly at the wall until his eyes slid shut.
Pressure on Vegeta's shoulder jolted him awake, and he whirled around, ready to annihilate the threat. In the dim light, Bulma shushed him like a child.
"I waited for you in the cafeteria," she said, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.
With a grunt, Vegeta rolled back to face the wall. "Not allowed," he said.
"Is this another punishment?" Bulma asked. She checked the wounds under the few remaining bandages on the back of his exposed torso. They looked better, but he wasn't healing as fast as he had on Earth.
"Go away," he murmured.
She didn't leave. "I brought you some food. Have you eaten since you left?"
His stomach answered for him. Vegeta sighed and sat haltingly, every movement jarring his stiff body.
Bulma reached under her cloak and produced three packets of pilfered food, each wrapped in a napkin. "And water too." She handed him a bottle.
He tore into the meager meal. It was less than he'd normally eat after expending so much energy, but it was better than nothing. "How'd you steal all this?" he asked through a mouthful of boiled meat.
"I spent four years in high school. You think I don't know how to sneak food from a cafeteria?"
Bulma continued to surprise him.
"You break rules?" he asked.
"The auto mechanics garage doesn't have a vending machine."
Vegeta laughed in spite of himself.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment while Vegeta finished eating. But Bulma's eyes wandered the room, falling upon the pile of bloodied garments.
"Vegeta," she whispered.
"Don't," he warned. Vegeta rose unsteadily from the bed and crossed to the heap. He gathered the garments and shoved them in a sanitizing compartment mounted to the wall. They would be clean by the morning. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"A purge is a… battle?" she asked.
"Something like that." He sat back down. She couldn't know about his bargain with Frieza. It wouldn't do her any good anyway. Why put her in constant fear for her life? "You should go."
Bulma checked her watch. "Curfew isn't for twenty minutes. I can… okay," she surrendered. He wasn't going to talk. "Are you going out again tomorrow?"
He nodded.
She stood and kissed his forehead. "I'm so sorry. About all of this."
"Me too."
Bulma left, and Vegeta set an alarm for the following morning. Her visit had cost him precious recovery time, even if she had brought food. He curled on his side and prepared for the slaughter from the day to follow him into his nightmares.
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Reviews are love. I really want to finish this story this summer. Keep on me to update, guys! Tell me what you think of this chapter.