Dragon Ball: The Cold Emperor Frieza — The Last Seven Days of Planet Vegeta - The Emperor's Decision — Seven Days in the Throne Room

The throne room was silent, the obsidian floor swallowing every footstep. Pale blue light spilled down from the ceiling, casting Freeza's white-and-purple body in a cold glow. He rested his cheek against the armrest, gazing at the enormous hologram floating before him. The hologram displayed a single planet. Reddish-brown earth, rocky mountains, and a royal castle. The footage, captured from above the capital city of Saddla, captured even the movements of the warriors on the ground in vivid detail. "...Don't you think it's a beautiful planet?" Freeza murmured to no one in particular. His crimson eyes caught the hologram's light and glittered ominously. The vertically slit pupils traced slowly across the planet's surface. "The Saiyan homeworld, Planet Vegeta. Population roughly ten thousand. Gravity ten times that of a standard planet. This harsh environment is what made them a warrior race." His fingertip jabbed at a single point on the hologram. The capital, Saddla. Population three thousand. King Vegeta's castle was built atop a rocky mountain two thousand meters above sea level. "King Vegeta. A truly proud man. Thirty years ago, he swore loyalty to me—yet his eyes always thought only of killing me." Freeza smiled thinly. What rose to his lips was neither delight nor contempt. It was something deeper—a calculated, glacial cruelty. He settled his small frame into the throne, his second antenna drooping to the floor. The obsidian of his shoulder guards and chest armor drank in the pale light and seemed to sink into darkness. The purple of his battle suit pulsed faintly with each breath. "...The Saiyans herd together. They herd, they multiply, and they grow stronger. Even a low-class warrior has a power level of a thousand. An elite exceeds five thousand. And there are ten thousand of them. Worse still, on the night of a full moon, they become Great Apes." He manipulated the hologram with his fingertip. The display shifted, and Saiyan combat data lined up in rows. Age, power level, deployment destination, battle results. Strings of numbers reflected in Freeza's crimson eyes. "They are my tools. Tools are convenient. But a tool may one day stab its owner. Has that thought ever crossed your mind?" Only Freeza's voice echoed through the empty throne room. "It has crossed mine. For a long time now, I have been thinking. About how the Saiyan race should be handled." He rose slowly to his feet. His small body was swallowed by the vast space of the throne room. His shadow stretched long across the floor in the pale light. "Killing them all would be simple. One flick of my finger, and I could obliterate this planet and everything on it. But that would leave nothing behind. Nothing at all." Freeza stood before the hologram and clasped his hands behind his back. "You see, I want to erase their souls. Not their bodies—their pride, their future, their hope. I want to wipe the very foundation of the Saiyan race from the history of the universe, completely." His crimson eyes narrowed. "To do that, I must choose the most cruel and the most beautiful method." He returned to the throne and sank deeply into it. His breathing grew deeper. Something cold swirled in the depths of his chest. The Cold Clan. A rare species born from the frigid regions of space. Freeza's kin—aside from himself—scarcely existed anymore. What came to mind was a time long past. There had been dozens of his kind. All of them strong. Too strong. They feared each other's power, doubted it, and killed one another. (I still dream of those days.) Freeza closed his eyes. His kin had been terrified of one another's strength. Someone other than themselves might surpass them. That fear drove them mad. They killed, they devoured, and the last one left standing was himself—still just a child. (I survived because I was weak. I was spared because I was not strong.) Freeza's lips twisted. (I survived. And I learned. The only thing in this universe truly worth fearing is someone other than yourself growing stronger.) He opened his eyes. Inside the hologram, Planet Vegeta rotated quietly. The Saiyans herd together. They herd, they elevate one another, and they grow stronger. To Freeza, that was the most abhorrent thing of all. "...I cannot allow them to live." Freeza cut the hologram's power. The throne room was instantly swallowed by darkness. "But a mere massacre would not be art. They must taste despair." He rose and left the throne room behind. The corridor was long and filled with white light. The insignia of the Freeza Force was carved into the walls, and his footsteps echoed. The mothership Coldron. Five kilometers in length, a crew of three thousand. It was Freeza's mobile command center—and a palace cruising through space. As he walked, Freeza gazed out the window. Stars streamed past. The Coldron Corridor. The mothership glided quietly along the primary route of the North Galaxy. (A few more days from here to Planet Vegeta.) He calculated. He assembled the details of his plan in his mind. (Seven days. Seven days is enough for a perfect performance.) Just then, footsteps sounded from the far end of the corridor. Freeza stopped. What appeared was a Saiyan man, long black hair disheveled, clad in a battle suit. He wore an old shoulder guard—the mark of a low-class warrior. The man recognized Freeza, went pale, and hurriedly prostrated himself. "...My apologies, Lord Freeza." The man's voice was trembling. Freeza looked down at the prostrate man with his crimson eyes. "Raise your head." "Y-yes." The man lifted his face fearfully. Sharp eyes, a rough jawline, and a tail wrapped around his waist. He was a man with the Saiyan features written plainly across him. "Your name." "I am called Raditz. I serve in the Freeza Force as a low-class warrior." "Raditz... Ah, so you're Bardock's son." At Freeza's words, Raditz's shoulder twitched. "You knew my father?" "Of course I did. He was quite an excellent warrior. He died on a mission recently, if I recall." Raditz bit his lip and hung his head. "...Yes. On a frontier planet. He fell into a trap set by rebels." "I see. A shame." Freeza smiled. His crimson eyes observed Raditz's expression carefully. Sorrow, anger, and fear. All of it mingled together on Raditz's face. (A fine expression. Saiyans wear expressions like that so well.) "By the way, Raditz. I hear you have a younger brother." Raditz flinched. "Y-yes. I have a brother named Kakarot. He was sent to a frontier planet recently. His power level was low—as a warrior, he was a failure, but..." "Ah. A frontier planet." Freeza narrowed his eyes. "Is that so. How painful it must be, for a family to be torn apart." "No—Saiyans have no family bonds. My brother is my brother, nothing more than a low-class warrior." Raditz spoke quickly. In his voice was a desperate attempt to deny something. (...Interesting. This man cares about his brother. An emotion most un-Saiyan.) Freeza took a step toward Raditz. "Don't concern yourself, Raditz." He spoke gently, almost affectionately. "Saiyans are tools, after all. Tools are simply used in different places. Wherever your brother is sent, you need not trouble yourself over it." Raditz's throat worked. "...Thank you, Lord Freeza." "You may go." "Yes, sir." Raditz bowed deeply and hurried away. Freeza watched his retreating figure with a blank expression. (Tools. Yes, you are all tools. But tools that multiply too much become a nuisance.) Freeza began walking again. (I will dispose of you Saiyans with my own hands. And when I do, your brother will be alive in some corner of the universe. How ironic.) A thin smile rose to his lips once more. (The brother will grow up never even knowing his planet is gone. That is my parting gift to you.) Freeza returned to his quarters and picked up the communicator. "Zarbon, Dodoria. Come to the throne room." "At once." Zarbon, his blue-skinned aide, replied briefly. Several minutes later, two figures appeared in the throne room. One was a handsome man with blue skin and long black hair tied up. Zarbon—the most intellectual of the Freeza Force. His refined features held a cold, calculating edge. The other was Dodoria, large and round-bodied. A savage face and a body like a mass of crude muscle. His eyes were those of a beast stalking prey. "You summoned us, Lord Freeza?" Zarbon knelt, and Dodoria followed suit. Freeza sat on the throne and looked down at the two of them. "It's decided." His voice was quiet. Yet that single phrase transformed the air in the throne room. "Planet Vegeta will be erased." Zarbon's eyes widened slightly. Dodoria's lips curled slowly. "...At last, then." Zarbon said quietly. "Yes. The time has come." Freeza rose and activated the hologram. The image of Planet Vegeta floated in the air once more. "But I will not simply erase it. What I am about to do is not the destruction of a planet." "Then what, if I may ask?" "The eradication of the Saiyan race's very soul." Freeza traced the hologram with his finger. "They have pride. As warriors, as a race. I will shatter that pride completely. I will cast their king into hell with my own hands. I will make Prince Vegeta witness that hell. And I will carve that memory into the hearts of the survivors for all eternity." Zarbon listened in silence. Dodoria laughed low. "Heh, excellent. I can already picture the Saiyans' tear-streaked faces." "Dodoria, you will have the role of drawing out their despair. Zarbon, you will assist with the plan." "At once." "At once." Freeza sat back on the throne and gazed at the hologram. "Seven days. Over seven days, I will orchestrate a perfect despair. This is not a massacre. It is art. The most cruel and the most beautiful work of art that I will create." His crimson eyes pierced through the hologram of Planet Vegeta. "King Vegeta. Let us see how long your pride holds out. I look forward to it." Freeza's voice was quiet, cold, and somehow ecstatic. The air in the throne room hung taut and frozen. Zarbon and Dodoria waited for their master's words. "You may go. I will relay the details of the plan in the morning." "At once." The two bowed deeply and withdrew. Alone now, Freeza deactivated the hologram. Darkness enveloped him. (...Perhaps I am afraid.) He murmured in his heart. (Of the Saiyans. Of the herd. Of something other than myself growing stronger.) It was a primal fear etched into the genes of the Cold Clan. A deep darkness known only to him—the one who had killed his own kind and become the last of his line. (But I am Freeza. Emperor of the universe. I can transform fear into beautiful despair.) Freeza looked out the window. Stars streamed past. The mothership glided quietly through the Coldron Corridor. (In seven days, Planet Vegeta will vanish. The Saiyans' pride, their future—everything.) He smiled. (And my perfect art will be carved into the universe.) Far away, something shone. It looked like the final gleam of a dying star. Freeza held that light in his crimson eyes and did not move. Somewhere in the universe, a single capsule flew quietly. Inside, a small baby slept. No one knew yet. That this baby would one day change the fate of the universe. Not even Freeza. Not yet.

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Name: Dragon Ball: The Cold Emperor Frieza — The Last Seven Days of Planet Vegeta
Author: Novelia

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