Honor is Life
The Alien Warrior stared around the smoking ruins of that had once been Planet Cinnoma; giant craters blistered across the planet's surface, every city had been reduced to rubble, and every indigenous life form destroyed. Dust storms whirled and blew all over the dead planet, covering and submerging most of what was left behind;
'It's like the Planet's burying the dead' he thought, then gave a short, mirthless laugh and carried on walking through the ruins. As the winds got stronger, the warrior raised an arm to protect his eyes; he could feel each grain being thrown at his skin, his short black hair being blown about, even his long brown tail twitched; like an elephant swatting flies. The Saiyan warrior stared around, observing what was left of the surroundings; he was about average height, his body lean and trim, was at the peak of physical fitness, though it was covered in various scars and scratches, no doubt earned from previous missions. He was dressed in standard Saiyan armor, though it had had the lower half removed, leaving just the top shoulder guards which were grey and covered in mud and blood; which contrasted nicely against the main color of the amour, which was a dark, vibrant purple, with a unique stylized S carved into the breast-plate.
Sohok looked down at the blue, thin spotted arm he had ripped off of a Cinnoman, he mentally charged up a little of his ki, and then fired a beam from his free hand, cooking the arm's flesh, he then held it up, and began eating, enjoying the taste. As he walked through the ruins of what had been the capital, a large building suddenly gave way, crashing down on top of him. A few seconds later, there came a yell and a large explosion as Sohok blasted himself free. He stared down at his already cracked armor; most of it was missing, the center was cracked and now it was covered in dust as well as alien blood. He reached up to his short black hair, and ran his hands through it, before shaking it to get rid of the dirt. He sighed, and then tapped the button on his red scouter; it bleeped, and pointed towards the east; about half a kilometer away. He smiled a little, and after quickly powering up, rocketed up into the sky and shot off towards the rest of his group.
The others were sat in a circle around a roaring fire; each one had a piece of meat in their hands, which they ate into with great enjoyment. Atop the fire was a spit, which was holding the remains of a very dead and very well cooked Cinnoman. As they continued with their meal, Sohok landed gracefully by the fire. He walked over to a small rock close to the fire, and sat down on it, folding his arms across his chest.
"Not a bad mission eh Sohok? Pretty good by all accounts" Sohok looked over to his teammate; a fat, balding Saiyan whose tail was thin and scraggly. And while he did have a name, most people just called him Scruff. Sohok allowed himself a thin smile,
"Not all of us were trying to eat the enemy Scruff, most of us were using our heads, not our stomachs" this got a number of laughs and jeers from the other Saiyans present, who then threw their left over bones at Scruff for amusement. Sohok chuckled, and then went back to thinking. Unlike most Saiyans, he did that a lot, not that it made him weaker than any of the other Saiyans; he knew that great warriors weren't just the strongest, but were also great strategists, they could think for themselves, and the thought that ran through Sohok's head had been around a long time; it was one he kept coming back to.
He hated this job. Sure like all of his brethren he loved to fight and enjoyed being able to engage in combat with many foes... but he Sohok, a soldier who had fought many battles for a long time, had grown weary of the slaughter of innocents, of butchering civilians and soldiers alike, and of helping an evil soulless tyrant spread his stranglehold over the universe. He wasn't just another soldier who did what he was told and never wavered; he was a Warrior, he took pride in fighting those who were stronger than him, those who showed him no respect, he had Honor. But he had learned long ago to hide this part of himself, for he knew there was no place for it in Saiyan society. Sohok looked up at the sky, and sighed wearily, before turning his gaze back to the fire. He watched it crackle and burn, the orange-red glow was almost hypnotic. He blinked, and then decided that they'd had enough fun. He stood up,
"Alright you bums, you've stuffed your faces plenty, let's go home and report our success." No one gave any indication of unwillingness; they all knew better than to get on Sohok's bad side. They all powered up and blasted off into the sky, rocketing back to the attack pods which had brought them to Cinnoma. As they all got back into the pods, Sohok was the last, and taking one last look around him, he sat down in the pod's seat, and felt the well-known hum and rumble of the engines as the pod powered up, and, after a very brief pause, the pods took off into the sky and were soon in space. Since the journey back to Planet Vegeta would take a while, the team decided to enter hyper-sleep so that they weren't awake to be bored from the except Sohok; who sat silently thinking again about his Honor and Pride before finally closing his eyes to rest.
Though he knew he looked young and fit, Sohok was older than he seemed; he was only a bit younger than King Vegeta, and he was nearly in his fifties. It was through the virtue of his Saiyan DNA that Sohok knew he would retain his prime physique, youth and strength for far longer than most other races, allowing him to fight for many years still yet to come. Yet even now he felt his age; he had seen so much bloodshed and violence, most by his own hands, and if that wasn't enough, there was the pain of losing his own children. Sohok had had the great fortune of finding a mate who not only matched his skills and fighting prowess, but also his heart. She had bore him many children, each one he had cared for and praised above even the princes. But the Saiyans lord and master Frieza had taken them from him too; over the years he had lost 4 sons and 2 daughters, and only now did he have a new son, a strong child with courage and strength that would grow. Sohok had no intention of loosing another child for that freak, he knew there were others like him; others who also had Honor, and knew that what they were being forced to do was wrong, and that to Frieza, the Saiyan race; a race of Warriors, were scum, the lowest of the low; Monkeys. Sohok knew that he cared nothing for the Saiyan blood that was spilt for him, they were merely his soldiers; his slaves.
Sohok's rage burned inside of him, he longed for freedom; freedom from the servitude that his whole race seemed destined to stay chained to. He wished to leave and go build a true Saiyan race; a race of honorable warriors, who fought the strongest and the most powerful, who would not look down on the weaker and the innocent, but protected them, and helped them. That was Sohok's vision, his dream; and it was one that if everything went according to plan, he would be able to realize very soon.