AN: Since I can't reply directly to guests, I'm going to just point out that Koga is the name that funimation used for the English release, since that Gokua from the original Japanese sounded too close to Goku. If it is a significant point of confusion, I'll edit it to Koga.
The ship was still in its night cycle and Zangya was going over their navigation route again. The screen illuminating her azure skin in the darkened interior of their ship. The soft taps of her keystrokes one of the only sounds to break the quiet, besides the constant low humming of the ship in FTL.
Bojack had been relentless in his pursuit of them. Necessitating them having to stop only long enough to perform basic maintenance, and allow the engines to cool down. Pushing the ship too hard could be disastrous were Bojack to catch wind of their location, or sense their ki when they were stranded. He was fiendishly good at that. Something that had once been an asset and was now one massive headache.
Still, it had been two months since their bid for freedom and mad dash from Bojack. Even Bojack's rage could not sustain him indefinitely. Not to say that he would forget about their betrayal. Far from it, he would hunt them for as long as they, or he lived. Though, he would grow bored of the hunt and lack of plunder or carnage. He would find other, more readily accessible prey. Such was Bojack's temperament. Were he to catch wind of their location, he'd come to them in a flash, but he would no longer be fixated on them like a bloodhound otherwise.
Satisfied, she leaned back and rested her head on Gokua's chest. The swordsman idly playing with her hair, which she found oddly relaxing. She was sitting on his lap, the two of them having taken turns picking points in the galaxy to jump to, trying to have two minds be more unpredictable than one in plotting their course.
The ship Bujin had picked and stashed away was indeed fast, and with good endurance. They had crisscrossed the North Galaxy in an attempt to throw Bojack off of their trail and it seemed to be working. Especially since its warp drive worked by way of weaving through the space between space, rather than simply accelerating the ship as was common. Bojack couldn't track what wasn't in the same plane of existence of him after all.
Zangya supposed that they were lucky. This kind of technology back in her time had been so unreliable, so dangerous, that it had been relegated to drawing boards and theory exercises. It didn't matter ones power level, when you were trapped in a plane of existence with no escape.
They had tried to come up with a name for the ship, and at first had thought of maybe naming it Mutiny, but first and foremost they were sailors and pirates. To give a ship that name was to invite bad luck, or possibly more of the same, and Zangya didn't want her tenure as captain to be so short lived.
After some back and forth, they had decided on naming the ship Nightmare, since that Dream was a little too soft for the name of a pirate vessel. At least in their estimation anyways. It was fitting too. It had been a nightmare that had brought them all together in their rebellion. Zangya often wondered if they had acted too rashly in their betrayal of Bojack. Putting too much stock in a dream, odd as it was that they all shared it. What convinced her that they had make the correct choice every time she considered it, was how Bojack had nearly snapped her neck for voicing the very idea of him being defeated.
A derisive laugh at the possibility, a rebuke for putting too much faith into dreams could have been expected and accepted. To grab her and threaten her life over it though? Zangya was sure that her life had been balanced on a razors edge at that moment.
"When we go to the research station, we have to use our own power as little as possible," said Zangya, mindlessly clicking through schematics, trying to put such thoughts as her own near death experience out of her mind.
"That's what makes this next part so dangerous," added Gokua, staring at the massive space station in the database, and Zangya couldn't agree more.
It was called 'Buffet.' One of, if not the largest outlaw space station in the North Galaxy. An entire moon hollowed out and reinforced with exotic materials and shielding so strong, that even someone of the late Zarbon's power would be hard pressed to damage it in battle. That being said, had they felt the need, every Galaxy Soldier could reduce it to space dust in no time at all. The only problem being, is that they would have to raise their ki to do so. Raise their ki that Bojack was searching the galaxy for.
"The exotic make up of the rock and metal that forms the shell of the station is excellent at hiding energy readings, especially ki," said Zangya. "They made it that way so that outlaws and smugglers could use it to hide from the Galactic Patrol. Once we're inside, unless we punch a hole out of the station, there's no way that Bojack can track us."
"Do you think we're putting too much stock into Bojack's ability to track us?" queried the Heran Swordsman.
"Maybe," conceded Zangya. "But Bojack only has to catch us once for all of this to be over."
"Fair enough," admitted Gokua. "We can't take the whole station. Not without someone outside to keep ships from escaping and letting out a lot of ki to do it. Not to mention any survivors who would let everyone know that they saw Herans at Buffet."
"It would be like ringing a dinner bell," agreed Zangya, tapping a finger on her chin. Then, suddenly tapping at the image of the station to rotate it.
"What about this? What's this port here?" asked Zangya, zooming in on a rather isolated portion of the station.
"That is...I'm not sure," admitted Gokua. "The ships have a marking that I'm not familiar with. It looks private, or at least reserved."
"It does look private, all the ships have the same symbol. I don't recognize it though. There's a lot that we're not familiar with now it would seem," huffed Zangya.
"Bujin will know what it means," offered Gokua.
"Yes, he is our font of knowledge, thank the Kais," said Zangya, yawning and stretching expansively. Trying to blink the fatigue away, but finding that it was there to stay.
"Thanking the Kais? Are you sure about that?" joked Gokua.
"Maybe not," admitted Zangya with a snort of laughter. After all, it had been the Kais who had trapped them within that star for so long. She supposed that should have been a sign that Bojack was causing too much carnage, but such had her faith been in him that she had brushed off any concerns for what he, and they had done.
"Do you want to go over the research station schematics again? Or at least what we have of them?" asked Gokua.
"No. There's a few more hours before the day cycle starts, lets leave the autopilot on and go back to bed. We'll leave all of this this till morning," said the Heran beauty, holding out her hand for Gokua to take as she rose to her feet.
"I dislike that we're going to need to rely on mercenaries and cutthroats with such puny power levels for the next part of our plan," said Gokua.
"I do too, but they won't draw Bojack's attention. Compared to the rest of the galaxy, they're incredibly strong."
"To us though, they're mere ants."
"Of course they are. Which is why they will serve us, or die," said Zangya smiling cruelly.
Xxx
The freighter was old, decrepit, and had no business docking at a Freiza Force berth. Even if the organization was a shadow of its former self since the death of Lord Freiza and King Cold, it was still large enough, and feared enough that even the most ignorant should have known not to ignore them. The ship had ignored corrections from the local ship traffic controller, after having been told to dock at a bay further down on the station.
The transponder on the freighter had switched to a code which meant communication failure, but it had still ignored visual signals given by control. Buffet was a notorious den of outlaws and cutthroats, but nobody wanted a collision in space. Coming into or leaving the station was still very much an orderly, professional affair. Once onboard though? Well, the freighter crew were going to find out how big of a mistake they had just made.
Nektar strode down the gangway, a quartet of Frieza Force enforcers armed with blasters following in his wake. He was tall, large, and muscular, necessitating most other Frieza Force members to squeeze against the wall as he passed, since he walked down the centre of the corridor.
He had yellow, scaly skin with a head resembling a cobra, complete with the hood and fangs that contained a potent neurotoxin. His fingers ended in wicked claws that had ended more than one fight in a gruesome fashion. Not that many could stand against him with a power level approaching over five thousand.
The sight of the freighter outside the viewing port filled him with a burning anger. When Lord Frieza had been alive, people would rather drift endlessly and die in the void rather than to dare approach The Frieza Force. Much less dock at one of their stations without permission. The disrespect was almost too much to bear, and Nektar was going to make an example of these fools.
When they neared the airlock, Nektar saw that the computer readout showed them already in the decontamination chamber, which was odd. You needed Frieza Force codes to even make the outer door open. Unless the techs had failed to install the proper software after replacing the outer doors. If that was the case, Nektar would have more than these mongrel's hides by the end of the day.
"Open it," hissed Nektar, a forked tongue snaking out of his mouth after he said it. Predatory instincts subconsciously taking over as Nektar tasted the air as he prepared for a fight. Seeing in his infrared vision as the pulse of his men quickened, tasting a cocktail of alien pheromones and adrenal equivalents. He suppressed a shudder of excitement.
There was a beep as the Frieza Force member finished inputting the code and then stood back from the airlock. A whine of blasters charging as they readied themselves for combat. Nektar didn't carry a blaster, he didn't need the crutch. His own strikes were far stronger. With a hiss of pressurized air equalizing, the internal airlock opened with a soft whoosh.
The first through the door was a petite humanoid in a dark blue full body spacesuit. Female, or at least appearing so, though it was hard to tell under the layers of the suit and the face that was hidden behind a dark mirroed visor. Hiding what species the interloper belonged to.
A second, even shorter humanoid exited the airlock dressed much the same, followed by a third was was actually quite tall and seemed well built with a sword strapped to his back.
Besides the sword, all three were unarmed and tapping his scouter Nektar laughed aloud when it showed their power levels. All reading a paltry five. How beings so weak even managed to survive in the galaxy never ceased to amaze Nektar.
"You came to the wrong dock, now the only question is who gets to live," said Nektar cracking his knuckles and then flexing his claws. His men still snickering over how weak the three before them were.
"That is an excellent question," said the now confirmed female through her helmet's speaker, far too confidently for Nektar's liking. She obviously didn't understand the gravity of her situation.
"So what made you think that you could dock at a Frieza Force Station?" demanded Nektar.
"Oh? Well, that's simple. You were going to take us to the one in charge," said the female, and then the shortest member of the trio stepped forwards. He held his hands outstretched, and Nektar felt something scrape against his psyche, scratching like claws against stone, but failing to find purchase and sliding off. So that had been their plan. Nektar let out a twisted, serpentine grin.
"Sorry, psychic tricks don't work on Serpentes, or any of my men," said Nektar smugly.
"How unfortunate," said the woman, sounding more annoyed than anything. Then blood and body parts exploded in front of Nektar, as his four enforcers were eviscerated so fast that even though he was watching he didn't see it happen.
Too stunned to do anything, Nektar saw thin, shining strands glittering dangerously in the air in front of him. He saw that the strands were extending from the woman's fingers, before fading into nothingness.
"You aren't quite as weak as these ones were," said the woman, stepping over the carnage she had created, careful not to step in the blood or offal she had spilled. Shrill beeping coming from Nektar's scouter as the number began to rapidly rise, flying past one hundred thousand, before it overloaded and exploded. Nektar was frozen in fear, hardly able to breathe when the woman stopped at his side, looking at him from behind her polarized faceplate.
"What is your name?"
"N-Nektar," he stuttered.
"Are you useful, Nektar?" asked the woman.
"Y-yes. Yes, I am," stammered Nektar, finding his voice again.
"Good. Then be useful, and take us to whoever is in charge here. I have a proposition for them."
"Right away," said Nektar obediently, turning on his heel and heading back the way he had come. Body tense, and hood folded inwards in submission. The footsteps of the three intruders in spacesuits sounding on the metal decking behind him. Expecting at any moment to be cut down from behind, fighting the urge to try to run and merely keep walking without his body freezing in fear.
As they walked through the other docking bays, they got more than one confused look from the other Frieza Force members, but nobody dared to stop or question them. Nektar had a reputation for being aggressive and had partially gotten his rank by keeping the others in line with his physical might and brutality. So as concerned as some of the other members might be, they didn't try to interpose or interfere with them. So long as nobody else saw the decapitated remains of his squad, there would be no alarm. With every airlock and bulkhead between them and the massacre, Nektar hoped that it would take longer for the discovery to be made.
The next airlock that took them from the cargo and docking bays lead into the junior members mess. It had two guards out front, but neither tried to stop Nektar or his three guests.
Pounding music assaulted them as soon as the doors opened, revealing members of the Frieza Force within enjoying drink, food, and dancing to the pounding beat. Lights strobed and flashed in a multitude of colours within, turning the mirrored visor of the three intruders into kaleidoscopes as colours danced across the reflective surface.
"Hey, have a drink with me," said a drunken voice, and Nektar's cold blood almost froze when he saw a rather large, and drunk Frieza Force member put his arm around the female intruder who had murdered all four of his men in an instant. He tried to pull her towards him, but was confused when she stayed planted, despite how much force he used.
Her mirrored faceplate turned towards the man slowly, like the turret of a battleship acquiring a new target, and then purposefully, but gently removed the man's hand from her shoulder.
"Order me a glass of wine, I'll be right back. I promise," said the woman, with how she said 'I promise' making Nektar wish that there was a dark hold he could burrow into and hide.
"You heard the lady, get a glass of wine!" said the drunk happily, turning back to the bar and pounding on the counter. Ignorant of the subtle threat. Nektar letting out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding as they continued on without incident. They exited the mess and up several flights of stairs until they came to a hallway lined with pictures of Frieza and the commanding officers of the Frieza Force. Or rather, those who were left.
There were a pair of guards bearing the crest of Frieza's elite at the door with the most intricate designs and lettering on it. They became alert as Nektar and his 'guests' approached.
"Halt. Who are they, Nektar?" demanded the toad-like guard.
"They have an appointment with the Commandant," said Nektar, trying to project some measure of confidence.
"An appointment? There is no one scheduled for today, and he gave express orders not to be disturbed," said the second guard. Resembling something like a bird of prey, with a hooked beak that in eons past would have been used to tear the flesh of his prey. Maybe it still was?
"I'll check with the Commandant, and if you're wrong, or were stupid enough to be tricked Nektar, there will be consequences for you."
"That won't be necessary," said the female intruder and the short one at her side stepped forwards once more, making gestures with his hands. The two elite guards stiffened, and then blank empty-eyed expressions filled their face. The toad looking guard punched in a code into the door and they entered the office to an expletive laden rant.
"I said no visitors!" said the 'Commandant,' when he had started saying complete sentences and not unintelligible insults. He wasn't wearing the standard armour of the Frieza Force, even the ornate version reserved for officers. Instead, he wore some sort of formal wear and seemed half undressed.
His purple body with yellow spots was sweaty, making his elongated cranium appear as though it was coated in some sort of oil. On his desk was a rather substantial pile of unidentified narcotic powder. Awards and titles adorned the walls, as well as a picture of the Commandant smiling widely with a very bored looking Frieza.
The decorations and desk that filled the office looked far more expensive than one of the Commandant's position should have been able to afford. Likely meaning that he was skimming quite heavily off of his funds for personal use. It was more or less an open secret that Nektar and everyone else who paid even the slightest attention ignored. Commandant Huckleberry could make anyone who got too nosy or asked to many questions disappear.
In the corner of the office, looking much more alert and concerned about what was transpiring was an older member of the Frieza Force. A red skinned humanoid with white hair and an impressive moustache. He watched the interlopers with rapt interest, pressing a button on the side of his scouter to gauge their power levels. Seeming unconvinced when it came back with such a low number.
Not deigning to answer, the female instead took a seat in the chair opposite the desk, resting her feet on the expensive wood.
"I have a proposition for you," she said calmly.
"I don't deal with smugglers or pirates, you're supposed to deal with Mohka. Who the hell let you in here? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"So it seems," said the woman nonplussed.
"S-sir, I think it would be best to hear them out," said Nektar, tensing for a bloodbath.
"Who asked you slither brain? Now get out of my office, all of you!"
"My proposition has the potential to make all of us very wealthy," said the female, calmly.
The Commandant turned his bloodshot eyes to the expressionless faceplate of the woman sitting opposite him. A sneer coming across his face.
"What? Do you have buried treasure? A salvage operation? You'll give me whatever is in your 'proposition' and be lucky if I don't throw you out of an airlock for the trouble."
"You aren't proving very useful to me," said the woman, sounding displeased.
"Useful to you? I don't need some dumb whore-" started Huckleberry, trying to scream in pain, but only managing to aggressively gurgle as the sword wielding member of the trio was suddenly holding Huckleberry's tongue and a good portion of the his throat, neither of which were still attached to the Commandant.
The Commandant clutched at the gaping hole in his neck, blood flooding out of his mouth and neck as he thrashed around, spilling the powder off of the desk and sending data pads flying. Nektar watched his Commandant thrash around until he became weaker and weaker, until he stopped moving at all. A quiet gurgle his last gasp of life.
"Thank you for that," said the woman to her sword wielding companion, who tossed the tongue and piece of throat he had torn free into the garbage basket next to the desk.
"It was my pleasure," he said, and Nektar could tell from his tone that he had indeed enjoyed doing it.
"You haven't said anything," said the woman through her helmet's speakers, looking to the attendant in the corner of the room.
"It was not my place to," said the man simply, seeming rather well composed for having just seen his superior murdered in front of him.
"Do you hold a sufficiently high rank here?" asked the woman.
"Third in command. Second now," said the man, looking at the still warm corpse of his superior.
"Then I think we can have an amicable discussion," said the woman pleasantly, gesturing towards the now vacant seat. "What is your name, exactly?"
"Boysen, ma'am," said the man respectfully. Taking the cue, the Frieza Force Officer took the vacant seat at the desk, taking care not to touch the blood or spilled powder.
"Your superior, would he be open to leaving the Frieza Force and following my commands?" asked the woman, reflective visor giving away nothing.
"He would not," said the officer after a moment's consideration.
"Where is he at the moment?" asked the woman, being met by several long moments of silence.
"Fifth floor, room 82N," said the man finally, his expression unreadable. The woman seated opposite him looked over her shoulder at the shortest of the trio, giving him a nod, which he returned and then quickly departed the office. The doors shutting with a soft whoosh behind him.
"Would you be?" she asked, the threat hanging heavy in the air.
"That would depend."
"Really?" asked the woman, sounding surprised, but cocking her head in interest. "Depend on what, exactly?"
"I want to know what sort of discipline my men and women would be subject to, the level of care given to their well-being, and what sort of punishment they could expect for infractions. As well as my role in your venture, and compensation for such efforts of course."
Without saying a word, the woman swung her legs off of the desk and made her way to a cabinet at the far side of the office. Opening the ornate doors, it revealed a liquor cabinet stocked with various spirits of good, and expensive origin. Studying the containers intently, she finally chose a bottle of wine of good vintage and two glasses.
She stepped over the corpse of Huckleberry, and stood next to Boysen, setting the glass on the desk in a clear spot and pouring him a drink. The liquid splashing into the glass clearly audible in the deathly quiet office. Then she returned to her side of the desk, setting down the bottle and glass. The sword wielding member of her party politely pouring her a drink.
Reaching up to her helmet, fingers pressed release catches, letting out a hiss of pressurized air and then the reflective mask was replaced by delicate azure features and piercing blue eyes. Long orange hair pulled free of its confines and allowed to extend to its full, surprising length.
"I like you, see that you stay in my good graces," said Zangya.
"Now that I have seen your face, I believe any other outcome would result in me being less than useful, Lady Zangya," said Boysen, receiving a smile from the Hera.
"So you've heard of me then?"
"Yes. There was one, a Bojack, who issued a proclamation sometime back that if anyone were to find you or your most erstwhile compatriots, that they were hand you over to him immediately. With no promise of reward mind you. Not even terribly sure where he is at the moment, didn't exactly leave a mailing address."
"No reward? Really? He truly has gone mad, but enough about him. We have business to discuss, though if you know about Bojack, then your concerns make much more sense. I am not a monster, I am not unnecessarily cruel, and I do only as much as I must to get what I want. That I left his service should tell you that we differed on how to approach our goals. Now, let us start our discussions with a toast. Shall we?" asked Zangya, holding out her glass. With a muted tink, Boysen toasted with her.
"My discipline is harsh, but fair. For petty squabbles and disorderly conduct, you may deal with as you see fit. So long as you maintain good discipline, I don't care how you do it. Now, when not on duty, things will be much more relaxed. We're pirates, not soldiers after all. I don't overly care for uniform standards or the like, but I want them clean and hygienic. What I will not tolerate however, is disrespect, or mutinous behaviour towards me, or my fellow Hera. That punishment will always be death. I want the same respect shown to the officers you choose as well. You seem surprised at that?" asked Zangya.
"I had not expected leadership positions for other Frieza Force members," admitted Boysen.
"There aren't enough of us to manage you all directly, especially when we want to enlist you for the degree of separation you afford us. You will choose them, but their competency will reflect on you as well. I want quality, not," said Zangya, looking down to the deceased Huckleberry.
"I understand," said Boysen.
"Good. My orders are absolute and I demand obedience. I am open to suggestions, but not challenges. Those injured in service to me will receive care and will not be abandoned, but those who refuse to serve will die. Cowardice will be," began Zangya, voice faltering as the image of Bojack murdering her for refusing to attack the golden haired alien resurfaced in her mind. "Looked at on a case by case basis," she said after clearing her throat, voice cracking ever so slightly. "It's as simple as that."
"That sounds reasonable and allays a great number of my fears," said Boysen, giving no indication he had noticed her composure crack at the mention of cowardice. "However, there is still the matter of compensation."
"We'll make a pirate out of you yet," said Zangya smiling. "A quarter of all booty will serve as a ship restocking fee for whatever vessel took it. After that, well, I don't think I need to break down every job and rating payout right now, but suffice to say that your share will be comparable to ours, as you will receive a fifth share of whatever plunder you manage to acquire. If you want other benefits, I'm sure we could kidnap a dentist or two," said Zangya, chuckling as she sipped her wine. "It that acceptable?"
"Yes, but I can't guarantee widespread acceptance among the members here. Even with other officers backing me."
"Oh don't worry, leave that to us," said Zangya smiling sweetly.
Xxx
The confusion of the Frieza Force members gathered in the Junior mess as to why they had all been ordered to assemble there was shattered as the head of Huckleberry was thrown unceremoniously into the centre of the dance floor. The head bounced once, twice, three times, before coming to a stop. Leaving a greasy smear of blood in its wake. Dead silence filled the room, before the rest of the Commandant was tossed after his head. Bisected down the front, organs and offal spilled out as the remainder of the body hit the floor with a wet splat. Soon joined by his second in command, stripped naked and flayed by Bujin's terrifying psychic powers. The body flopping like a filleted fish as it struck the ground. The macabre scene eliciting more than one scream.
"Greetings and Salutations," said Zangya loudly, her voice projected by her helmet speakers to all four corners of the Junior Mess. Flanked by Bujin and Bido as they descended from the ceiling like gods, hovering above the carnage they had created.
"I am here to offer you the same deal that I offered to your most erstwhile commanders. As you can see, they rudely refused my offer, and instead chose instead to defy me."
Silence greeted Zangya from the shocked Frieza Force members. In her estimation, they were soft. At most used to bullying those unwilling to pay protection to the PTO, or perhaps just used to cracking heads. Not used to this, to this level of brutality. Stationed in a support role so far out in the fringes of the galaxy, they had maybe never expected to have to fight. Well, there was a few who looked hardened, but they would be of no concern. To be honest, she preferred those who would be more easily convinced to follow her. Courage would come later, or fear of her would keep them in line.
"If you join me, I promise you riches, conquest, and glory beyond your wildest dreams. The universe will learn to fear you, just as they will learn to fear me. I offer you the chance to leave your leaderless, directionless, and dying organization in the past where it belongs. I offer you purpose. I offer you a future, but more importantly, I offer you your lives back. As I see it, they are already mine. Whether I choose to take them is up to you," said Zangya, putting every last ounce of menace she could into her voice.
Zangya knew that there would be resistance. The initial display was to keep the meek from acting, and to keep the majority from acting with any cohesion. The ones who did act would serve as another example to the others. A more in person example.
There. Zangya saw some spring into action. Some of the larger ones, and some who looked like they'd seen battle before. She smiled cruelly as they charged towards her. With their pathetic level of power, they looked to be swimming through molasses in slow motion.
The first few, the ones staying back to fire ki blasts, appeared to almost explode from within as Bujin unleashed his psychic wrath upon them. Bursting like overinflated balloons, yet their armour staying intact. It seemed remarkably stretchy.
The ones coming at them from behind separated into chunks of armour and flesh as glittering wires of ki danced around them. The so called Psycho wire. On a stronger opponent, they would bind and trap the target. Draining them of energy until they passed out or died. Usually both. On weaker opponents, the technique acted more like razor wire. Zangya unleashing them with the barest flick of her fingers as that they danced around the Hera in a beautiful display of deadly power.
Gokua unsheathed his blade so quickly it was like it had always been in his hands, and sprang into action. Cutting down the remainder so quickly, and with so little effort, that no one besides the Galaxy Soldiers saw him move. Yet, he left one.
He was a large one, battle scarred and with more power than the others. Still, he was nothing more than an ant to them. More importantly now though, he would serve as an example.
So quickly had the massacre of his fellows occurred, that the PTO Soldier didn't realize it had happened, until Zangya had slipped his punch and trapped his arm. He stared into her impassive mirrored visor, seeing his own reflection for a heartbeat. Then Zangya broke his arm.
He howled in pain, attempting to strike with his other fist, only to howl more shrilly as that arm was trapped and broken in turn. Next to follow where his legs. Then, his ribs.
Zangya systematically broke the man's bones and tore pieces free from his body as though he was an insect caught in the grip of a particularly sadistic, and bored child. His screams fading as his voice went hoarse, then an airy whisper as his strength began to leave him. Lastly, just as life was going to leave him, Zangya tore his head free and tossed it lazily into the crowd of Frieza Force members. Top terrified to do anything.
Then, Zangya walked slowly, but purposefully towards a large group of survivors. To a man and a woman they shrank away from her. She cornered one, a pink skinned woman with purple hair against the wall. Eyes pinpricks of fear and breathing short and shallow. That she was still conscious was a miracle in of itself.
"Will you serve? Or will you die?" asked Zangya, voice deathly quiet.
"I-I-I," stammered the woman.
"Serve, or die?" asked Zangya again, mirrored visor nearly touching her face.
"S-s-serve! I-I will serve!" stammered the woman, sinking to her knees as her legs finally gave out. Confusion on her face as Zangya extended her hand towards her, a ring now adorning a finger. A flash of understanding crossed her face and she kissed the proffered ring.
Turning to the PTO soldier next to her, Zangya once more proffered her hand with the ring.
"I will serve."
"I will serve."
"I will serve."
One by one the Frieza Force joined Zangya, swearing fealty and kissing the ring. Pledging themselves to her and her growing pirate armada. When all were kneeling to her, Zangya floated to the centre of the room to address them.
"Frieza ruled by virtue of his strength, and I will do the same. I will not be cruel to you, unless you make me need to act cruel. Serve me faithfully, and I will be faithful to you. Remember these words, because they are all the warning I will give you. Officer Boysen and those like him possessing sense have pledged themselves to me already. They will inform you of your new duties," said Zangya gesturing to the seasoned officer standing near one of the doors. His armour stripped of any symbol or marking that would have showed loyalty to Frieza. Nekta stood next to him, having stripped his armour of any identifying marks as well.
"To you, I will be Captain, and only Captain. For now, that is all you need to know. This is my First Mate, and this is my Second Mate," said Zangya, gesturing to Gokua and Bujin. "You will obey them as you would obey me, because they speak for me. Go to your officers who were smart enough to join me, and get your orders. Pack your belongings and prepare for your next mission," said Zangya.
As she was leaving, she stopped at the counter of the bar. The drunk who had tried to accost her earlier now stone cold sober, and looking as if her might wet himself.
"You said you would have a glass of wine for me. Did you not?" asked Zangya, cocking her head ever so slightly.
"Ah, y-yes Captain," said the man, scooping up a glass from the bar and sinking to a knee, holding it like a chalice towards her.
Taking it, Zangya opened the visor of her helmet ever so slightly with a hiss of pressurized air, while still hiding her face, and took a sip from the glass. She pursed her lips ever so subtly, and set it back down on the bar, resealing her helmet.
"A little dry for my tastes," said Zangya idly. The drunk quivering in fear.
"It was a kind gesture, though. How much do I owe you for the drink?"
"O-owe? N-n-nothing, Captain. I-it's a gift. A gift," repeated the man in almost a mania.
"That's very sweet of you, thank you," said Zangya.
"N-no problem at all Captain," said the drunk, a nervous smile on his face.
"I'm glad. One more thing though," said Zangya, bending over so her mirrored visor was almost touching his face. "Don't you dare ever touch me again without my express permission. Do you understand?"
Whimpers were all that came from the man, and then he did piss himself.
"I think you understand," said Zangya, and turned on her heel to leave.
Xxx
The stateroom on her new flagship was quite large, luxurious even. One that Zangya found a massive upgrade from her previous quarters, though she had enjoyed her quarters on the Nightmare. They had been cozy, private, and intimate.
It was a relief to be out of her full body spacesuit. A necessary, but uncomfortable necessity to ensure her identity's continued secrecy. The time Zangya had spent brushing her hair to get the knots out that had formed still irritated her. She had taken special care to carefully stuff it into her suit, but the drawback to having such long hair was the maintenance it required.
Zangya had taken a risk by revealing herself to Boysen, but she needed at least one trusted aid who wasn't a Hera. He was also a good find, vital almost. Seasoned, intelligent, and possessing a backbone that still allowed him to bend to her will. She really did hope that he never gave her a reason to kill him.
The plan had gone better than Zangya could have ever hoped. No one outside of the Frieza Force soldiers who had joined them knew of what had transpired at Buffet. The rest of the station blissfully ignorant of what had transpired, or who had perpetrated it. It couldn't have gone better if she had tried. Even needing to butcher a few of them had been perfect. Stories like that would keep any new recruits in line when they heard of what betrayal and disloyalty would bring.
A pair of mother ships and a dozen smaller ships made up Zangya's pirate armada. With a sizable contingent of serviceable buccaneers to carry out her whims. On her own for less than three months and already she was a pirate queen. She knew that as time went on she would attract more and more cutthroats who wanted a share of her glory. With them would come ever greater capability and prestige. She'd need to give Bujin and Gokua their own commands too, but all of that would have to wait. At present, they had a very important mission to complete.
She looked forward to the day when her reputation and name would mean that she wouldn't have to put on such barbaric displays that she had needed to at Buffet. It would make things so much cleaner, and so much more polite when people knew to fear her.
Still, that level of respect and fear needed to be learned, which meant that there would need to be many such more examples until people got the message. The wine from Huckleberry's private reserve had been a good find though. Even now as she lounged against Gokua, she was enjoying a glass of it as she went over reports detailing stores and personnel that were now hers.
Hers. Captain Zangya. The Pirate Queen of the North Galaxy. Pirate Queen of the whole of Universe Seven. Pirate Queen of the Demon Realm, even? Such thoughts and titles filled Zangya with heady warmth, aided in no small part by the wine. She had only ever thought that she would have served at Bojack's side. One of his Galaxy Soldiers, his mistress and loyal warrior. The idea that it would all be hers though? Well, that helped ease the bitterness of his betrayal. Of how little regard he had for her life. Now?
Zangya was in her very own capital ship, lounging in silk sheets with her lover who was ever so gently rubbing her ears, nearly mesmerizing her as she tried to read over reports. This was a much better fate than dying at the hands of Bojack, or that demon with gold hair. She would avoid that planet at all costs, find another with dragonballs to make her wish a reality.
The idea of being the saviour of the Heran Race and retiring to a planet filled with riches filled her thoughts, and make reading the reports in front of her all but impossible. So she put it down, and allowed herself to daydream.
She couldn't rule like Bojack did, didn't want to. Her power wasn't absolute, and she ruled as Captain with the express consent of her fellow Hera. So long as she gave them no cause to doubt her, she had nothing to fear from them. They'd share the spoils equally, and she would make sure that any concerns they had would be dealt with as best as she could.
A new daydream filled her thoughts, one that seldom had. One of her with children of her own. The thought of it, of daughters and sons of her own, filled her with a kind of peace that was new to her. It quieted her mind, and soothed her soul. Battering aside her jealousy and hatred that was a near constant since Bojack's betrayal. Setting aside her glass, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep with that daydream, hoping to find it in her dreams again.
AN: I like the idea of Zangya being cruel, but only insomuch as to get what she wants. A practical evil, rather than arbitrary.