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Sovereign Survival

Summary:

You are a member of Frieza's species, pushed into what seems like an unending power struggle after the tyrant's death. Between the constant in-fighting, unsteady alliances, and schemes made in the shadows, you must remain vigilant at all times. Do not let your guard down, for victory doesn't come with a guarantee. Will you rise up the ranks or lie with the fallen?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter Text

One thing was for certain: Whatever would happen to the rapidly crumbling empire, someone had to stand at the top of the rubble.

It had been some years since Lord Frieza had been killed alongside his father and then soon after followed by his brother, Cooler. The once unstoppable Frieza Force had become a shell of itself. The emperor and his strongest soldiers were gone. The army had dwindled to a fraction of its former number. The combined losses ignited the flames of rebellion within nearly every star system in their domain.

Your footsteps echoed across one of the many alabaster passageways in the base. What you were told had once been a booming stronghold now seemed almost hauntingly empty. With so many soldiers spread out, there were only a few dozen left to manage it. The facility itself was also little more than a ghost of a once great power.

It was hard to know how to feel about it, seeing as you only came into existence when the empire was already in decline. It was a history that had both everything and nothing to do with you. Although you never played a part in those events, they were the sole reason you were brought into being. You existed to fill a void they created.

A pair of chattering soldiers turned into the passage from the opposite direction. Spotting you, they instantly quietened down. Recognition and fear shown in their gaze, but not for you specifically. It was for their former dictator. Well, there were so few of your kind in the universe and perhaps, from an outsider’s point of view, you all looked the same. In any case, you were used to this reaction.

They two slowed down to greet you with a small bow, which you answered with a nod and a flick of your tail. They immediately jumped to a brisk walk as soon as they passed you. Soon enough, you were alone with your thoughts once again.

You were one of several candidates pushed to preserve the empire and rise up its broken chain of command. It would be a miracle if anyone could match Frieza’s family in raw power, but if anyone was going to fill in for them, it needed to be someone from your clan. It would be beneath your people to bow to anyone of lesser worth.

Granted, despite the shallow number of clansmen, there was still a long list of strong candidates. There were those who formally served directly under King Cold and then Frieza, controlling different systems within the empire. Even those outside of the clan had risen in power—such as Sorbet, a former support staff member turned commander over the bulk of the army. Some genetic experimentation had also been researched, in an effort to create a fitting emperor if one could not be found.

One member of the clan, Tokaki, was a good candidate from the latter category. Built like a fortress, he barely had to draw out his ki to pummel through all who opposed him. You’d only seen him at a distance, but admittedly, there was a small part of you that wished to never face him in battle.

However, despite this pool of prospects, the throne nevertheless remained vacant. In some cases, while almost all members of your species shared the same pride in their strength and ability, that didn’t necessarily mean they thirsted for conquest. In truth, few possessed Frieza’s level of greed or cruelty. Many might fight amongst each other, but the rest of the galaxy was barely given a passing thought. It was like how a fierce predator might ignore a weak scavenger: Even if both were carnivores, there was no point in giving attention to creatures who could only pick up one’s scraps.

So, to many, the position of emperor would only be for the glory of the title alone. For a species that already believed itself to be the strongest in the universe, it didn’t mean as much as one would think. There was simply nothing to prove.

Again, Tokaki was a fine example of this mindset. He had, at one point, fought intensely to become the emperor. However, his drive evaporated after another member of his group vanished. Rumor was that they weren’t killed, they just… left. Now, their name couldn’t even be murmured around Tokaki without inviting his ire. He still trained with a terrifying ferocity, but he seemed to have another goal in mind. It was to the point that many wondered if he ever really cared about becoming the ruler to begin with.

Finally, although no one would say it, there was also a small fear of Frieza himself coming back for his title someday—what with the whispered talk of Sorbet hunting the universe for the Namekian dragon balls. If, by some chance, Frieza did return, whoever was the current monarch at the time would need to abdicate quick.

You weren’t sure, but you didn’t bet on Frieza’s revival either. The more time passed, the less of a possibility it seemed. The Namekians had disappeared. From what knowledge you had gathered, the only alternative was to go to a planet called Earth for its dragon balls. Unfortunately for Sorbet, the world was guarded by the very beings that killed Frieza, making it more of a gamble than bringing back the dictator already was.

Eventually, you reached the infirmary. Somehow, it was even more quiet than the rest of the base, the droning of machinery was all there was to break the still atmosphere at first. As you went further inside, a single medical officer was there to greet you with a clipboard in hand. As of the past few days, his elongated head; course, yellow skin; and pinkish sclera were familiar to you. Although he stood a little straighter—as straight as he could anyway—at your arrival, he didn’t show the same fear toward you as the soldiers earlier did.

“Apologies. You came earlier than expected,” he said.

“I want to make this quick,” came your short reply.

“Yes, yes. Sit down, please,” he motioned to a nearby exam table.

The feel of the cold metal beneath you leeched through your bio-suit. It was a very basic check-up, briefly looking at vitals and answering a few questions. They almost always ended the same: The officer pulling out a tiny syringe to inject a clear fluid in an artery in your neck. It was unpleasant, but not unbearable.

“How is your training coming along?”

“Have you noticed any physical difficulty?”

“Are your goals still the same?”

You answered each question as you always did. Training was fine. You were healthy, of course. Nothing had changed. The routine was more tiring that the check-up itself and you wanted nothing more than to go on with your day.

It was a wish that would, unfortunately, go unfulfilled. Hymal, another competitor for the throne, entered the infirmary just as you began to wrap things wrap. While standing at an average height, his broad shoulders, heavy armor, and stone-faced stare made him appear like an unmovable mountain. His overall navy coloration was almost as dark as a midnight sky.

The medical officer blinked at the other clansmen’s sudden appearance… “Forgive me for asking, but I don’t believe you’re scheduled for today, right?”

You felt your muscles tense as Hymal shook his head. His gaze fell in your direction. He was there for you.

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