Chapter 83 – Frieza’s Bad Day

~ 3 Days Remaining Before Ginyu's Arrival ~

"I believe I had instructed you in explicit terms, Frieza, to avoid Code Black Anomalies. Explain yourself."

King Cold's voice sliced through the air like a blade of ice, its icy baritone echoing through the expansive, circular office. The Emperor sat regally upon his throne, shrouded in shadows that seemed to deepen his aura of authority. Despite being light years apart and appearing only as a hologram, King Cold's sheer presence still managed to noticeably chill the air within the office by a few degrees.

Frieza stood with arms behind his back, composed under his father's pressure.

"Father," Frieza began smoothly, his voice steady despite King Cold's disapproval. "The situation on Namek escalated unexpectedly. An unforeseen adversary disrupted our operations, necessitating my personal involvement to secure our interests. I have taken appropri—"

"Spare me your justifications," King Cold interrupted icily. "Answer the question."

A hint of tension crept into Frieza's posture as his father cut him off, abruptly interrupting his explanation. Irritation flickered in his eyes at the slight, but years of experience had taught him the futility of showing frustration to his father.

Ah, but it's not merely the interruption; this entire ordeal is intolerably vexing. Frieza does not know how his father had uncovered his covert operations on Namek, because while his activity must have had traces, Zarbon is not so incompetent as to leave behind blatant evidence. It's baffling.

However, in the grand scheme of things, he supposed the specifics of how his father had become aware were inconsequential. His father's fury was nothing new, and besides, this confrontation was merely a video call. No matter how furious his father might be, his father was not yet strong enough to 'whoop him' remotely, across the Universe. And once he secured what he sought on Namek, his father's disapproval would be utterly irrelevant.

"Father, it appears your information is outdated. No threats of our caliber were detected prior to our arrival, and my time here has only confirmed that. There are no threats on this planet, only weak trash that will soon be eradicated."

King Cold scoffed derisively, a dismissive sound tinged with a faint hint of disappointment.

"Ignorance. You know nothing of the powers at play on Namek, boy, so cease your incessant yapping like some common mutt."

Frieza's demeanor cracked imperceptibly at his father's sharp retort. He clenched his fists behind his back, his tail twitching in agitation. He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain his composure, but his father's words struck a nerve deeper than he cared to admit.

While he had faced similar admonishments from his father–admittedly not often, typically only when he had genuinely incurred his father's wrath –it still rankled to be chastised so sharply for such a trivial transgression.

However intense his anger, Frieza was still in his father's presence, so he composed himself rather admirably, masking his anger behind a facade of icy detachment, undetectable other than the faint clenching of his jaws.

"Father, as you know, I typically refrain from stooping to argue. However, in this instance, you're truly blowing the situation out of proportion. There is nothing on this godforsaken rock with a power level exceeding 50,000, and you should be well aware of my capabilities."

"When I give you an order, Frieza, you shut up and obey. It is not your place to question the validity of my decisions."

After delivering his statement, King Cold narrowed his eyes, the chilling intensity of his gaze piercing through the hologram.

"I will say this only once. Withdraw immediately."

"Oh, I will father, but only after I acquire what I came for," Frieza stood his ground defiantly, a rare moment of direct opposition to his father's commands.

In a burst of rage, King Cold's hand clenched around the armrest of his throne, pulverizing it effortlessly into dust. He cast aside the remnants of the armrest with a casual flick of his wrist. His glare at Frieza was enough to make lesser beings collapse to their knees.

"Fine. Have it your way, fool, but do not come crying to me. You alone are responsible for the consequences of your actions," King Cold reclined further into the shadows, his features fading deeper into obscurity, the darkness seemingly enveloping him like an ominous cloak.

Frieza's eyes flashed with anger at the insulting implication.

"I do not cry, father. I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe. Nothing on this insignificant backwater planet can pose a challenge to me."

King Cold did not seem to care for Frieza's words. He pinned Frieza down with an apathetic stare as his voice deepened, resonating like the snarl of a dreadful beast. "One day, Frieza, your arrogance will be your downfall."

The transmission ended abruptly, King Cold's imposing holographic projection flickering out of existence. As the screen dimmed, the walls of Frieza's office came into sharp focus, their metallic surfaces reflecting the soft ambient light. Almost immediately, the oppressive pressure that had filled the room during the conversation dissipated.

"And one day, Father," Frieza said, more to himself than to anyone else. "You will see that I am not to be underestimated."

Frieza was keenly aware of his prodigious talent, a fact his father had consistently acknowledged–that Frieza was the most gifted of their species throughout all history. Yet, Frieza resented how his father would subsequently constrain his actions with limits on what he could and couldn't do. As rulers of the Universe, a title they rightfully held, should they not reign supreme over all?

Frieza understood the rationale behind his restrictions: power. It all boils down to power. Power dictates who ascends as the almighty ruler and who languishes as a shackled slave. It was power that allowed ancient entities like Majin Buu or the Gods to maintain their supremacy.

And thus, confined by those wielding true power, Frieza found himself living like a wretched rat, caged within his father's shadow and the line in the sand drawn by the Gods beyond that. All his existence, he had been told not to toe it, knowing death awaits anyone who dares to step beyond.

His father is content staying within that line–content with subservience.

He is not.

But the Dragon Balls would change everything. Once he transcended mortality, Frieza knew it was only a matter of time before he ascended to the echelons of those monstrous beings. Then, he would wield absolute dominion over the universe, and no one—not even his father—could stand in his way.

Like that Saiyan monkey Vegeta, Frieza had his own vows.

One day, he would break free from those who shackled him.

One day, there would be no strings on him.

One day, he would bow to no one, not even to Beerus.

But that day wasn't today, not yet.

Frieza blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. "It appears my father has caught wind of our activities on Namek," he remarked, his tone cold and calculating.

Zarbon, who had stood silently by the door throughout the conversation, gave a noncommittal hum in reply. The effeminate man appeared unperturbed by King Cold's anger, or rather, he seemed preoccupied by the data scrolling across his tablet.

"Yes, my Lord. I have yet to determine the cause," Zarbon stated absentmindedly, attention still fully absorbed by something on his tablet.

Frieza leaned casually against the edge of his desk, watching Zarbon with mild curiosity as his loyal aide continued to tap away on his tablet with a slight frown. Zarbon's meticulousness and attentiveness in handling matters never failed to impress him; it was a trait he valued highly in his right-hand man. However, today it was evident even to a casual observer that Zarbon was distracted.

"You seem a bit distracted. Is something troubling you? Any updates you wish to share with me personally?" Frieza inquired casually. Anything that troubled Zarbon was likely to be of concern.

The tapping on the tablet ceased abruptly as the distracted Zarbon looked up with a rare expression of utter bafflement. He appeared unsure, and with a hint of embarrassment, he diverted his gaze away.

"Uhhh, I– um, well," Zarbon stuttered, his voice faltering as he scrambled for words, I, uh, suppose a member of the Frieza Force has caught my eye recently. I've been thinking about asking her out once our business here on Namek is concluded."

Frieza was stunned by the wholly unexpected response, his face twisted in comical disbelief. In this rare moment, the typically composed and unruffled emperor appeared genuinely caught off guard. He eventually averted his gaze towards the wall as well, muttering under his breath, "I thought you had no need for partners..."

Frieza hadn't intended for Zarbon to overhear his murmur, but given that they were the only two in the room, Zarbon inevitably caught it.

"Lord Frieza, did you believe that about me all this time? While I am hermaphroditic, I am not asexual! My range of potential partners may be a little more flexible than most, but I do still need a partner!"

Frieza cleared his throat, feeling somewhat awkward at the misunderstanding, but he pushed through, his expression returning to its usual cold indifference.

"I see. My apologies for the assumption, I was... unaware of your inclinations. However, you misunderstood my question. I had requested matters you'd like to update me on personally, not updates on personal matters," Frieza clarified, his earlier thoughts of his father long dismissed from his mind. "That being said, I've changed my mind. Please, do continue. This sounds far more intriguing. A girl, you say?"

Zarbon inclined his head in acknowledgment, his earlier embarrassment already replaced by professionalism.

"Hmm, my apologies for the confusion, Lord Frieza. But yes, her name is Cheelai. I find her rather cute and charming. However, I believe it prudent to confirm her age before making any advances. Despite being relatively young for my species, I am not comfortable with pursuing if she is too much younger than me."

"Cheelai, you say? I don't believe I am familiar with her. What position does she serve in our forces?" Frieza asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"She's a member of the reconnaissance team, Lord Frieza. About a year ago, she joined to evade pursuit by the Galactic Patrol after accidentally commandeering one of their ships. She gifted it to the Empire in exchange for asylum. She's fiery, competent, and adept at gathering valuable intelligence. Those qualities caught my attention, along with her... charm."

Frieza nodded, adopting an air of sagely wisdom. With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked every bit the wise elder dispensing advice.

"Hmm, excellent, but do verify her age first. As my right-hand man, I expect no allegations or grievances against you of that nature. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely, Lord Frieza. As you may recall, I had personally drafted that zero-tolerance harassment policy," Zarbon replied with a nod. Initially, he had deemed such a policy unnecessary, but the outrageous volume of complaints had made him reconsider. Now, there were none.

"Is she aware of your affection towards her?"

"I don't think so, my Lord. I highly suspect she even knows that I know who she is," Zarbon admitted.

Frieza paused, carefully weighing the situation. "…do you require my assistance?" His offer was tentatively given, as he was unsure of how to aid in matters of the heart. After all, his expertise was in conquest, torture, and genocide, not the art of being a proper wingman.

Zarbon paused briefly, then shook his head.

"No, my Lord. I appreciate the offer, but this is something I must handle on my own. It wouldn't be appropriate to involve you, as it'll likely intimidate her into complying, which defeats the purpose."

'You might intimidate her too,' Frieza thought to himself. However, outwardly he simply said, "Very well then, best of luck."

If Frieza sounded oddly relieved not to be involved, neither of them mentioned it.

"Thank you, sir."

The conversation concluded awkwardly, leaving Frieza and Zarbon staring at each other in painful silence.

"..."

"..."

"Tell me, that wasn't what you were originally distracted by, was it?" Frieza probed, his arms crossed. He knew Zarbon wouldn't be distracted by personal matters.

"Quite observant of you, sir."

Frieza sighed wearily at the confirmation in Zarbon's voice, mentally preparing for potentially troubling news. "Very well, out with it then. I'll control myself."

"Understood. Our scouts and sensors have detected Slug's mothership—more accurately, a fleet now—approaching Namek at phenomenal speed. Our analysts estimate they'll arrive within a day, possibly even sooner if they accelerate."

"SON OF A BITCH!!" Despite bracing himself for bad news, Frieza still slammed both fists onto the newly replaced desk, splintering it into small wood fragments. He began to pace.

"My Lord, that desk was crafted from a rare species of space Mahogany from Sector 19. It was not cheap."

Frieza completely ignored Zarbon's griping.

"How did this happen?! You told me he wasn't supposed to arrive for at least a week, did you not?!"

While Frieza had expected Slug's presence, the considerable delay on Namek and the sudden acceleration of Slug's arrival threatened to disrupt his carefully laid strategy. Instead of confronting Slug after obtaining his immortality, it now seemed increasingly likely that he would find himself contending with Slug while still pursuing immortality.

"Indeed, I did, sir. I still maintain that our previous estimate should have remained valid. We're certain of Slug's mothership's maximum speed. The timing and distance from the Galactic Prison Epsilon breakout were accurate as well. By order of elimination, Slug must have acquired considerably advanced propulsion technology to cut their travel time this drastically—potentially more advanced than even the Empire's current capabilities."

"It's the Heeters!"

Zarbon inwardly sighed, recognizing that his Lord, clouded by his anger, was hastily searching for a familiar target to blame.

"It's unlikely, my Lord," Zarbon interjected calmly, trying to steer Frieza away from jumping to immediate conclusions. "Their technology isn't that advanced. If it were, your father would have swiftly obliterated them for hiding such capabilities from the Empire."

"Then the game itself had changed! Someone must be backing this wretched slug because I refuse to entertain the notion that he could achieve all this on his own!" Frieza looked on the verge of spontaneously combusting from rage. Ever since his ill-fated visit to that accursed village, nothing seemed to go according to plan. Was he somehow cursed, or was the universe conspiring against him?

"That's not important right now, sir," Zarbon interjected calmly, his tone a stark contrast to Frieza's seething anger. If he wore glasses, he would have surely adjusted them on his face. "Our immediate concern should be our response."

Frieza stopped pacing, his fists clenched at his sides as he processed Zarbon's words. He turned to Zarbon, his chest heaving with the effort to rein in his emotions. Gradually, he began to calm himself, his silence inviting Zarbon to proceed.

"With Slug's imminent arrival, our forces will be further divided. Allowing him a home-field advantage on his mother planet would be extremely unwise. Therefore, we must prevent Slug's forces from making landfall while continuing our search for the Dragon Balls on the ground. Our ultimate objective, my Lord, is to secure immortality for you, not necessarily to defeat or kill Slug."

Zarbon's calm and logical explanation soothed Frieza significantly. The Galactic Emperor gradually regained his calm, his features settling into a mask of calculated ruthlessness. His confidence in Zarbon was not misplaced. He knew he could trust Zarbon to already have a plan prepared.

"What do you already have in mind, Zarbon? Spit it out quickly before I lose what little patience I have left." Frieza demanded sharply, keeping his voice under control.

Zarbon nodded respectfully.

"Understood, my Lord. Here's my proposal: We will allocate one-third of our forces to intercept Slug's fleet before they breach Namek's atmosphere. The objective is to engage them in space, disrupting their advance and buying us time. Simultaneously, a smaller secondary fleet will maintain a defensive perimeter around Namek to thwart any attempts by Slug's forces to sneak our defenses. Meanwhile, our ground teams will press on with the search for the Dragon Balls, capitalizing on any distractions caused by our engagement in space."

Frieza considered Zarbon's plan carefully. "And what about my role in this plan of yours?"

"Of course. Slug has brought prisoners from GP Prison Epsilon. While they may not be individually strong enough to pose a significant threat, they are still above average enough to have drawn attention from the Galactic Patrol. This makes them far stronger than the rank and file of our current forces. Additionally, Slug himself surpasses the maximum range of our best scouters, much like yourself Lord Frieza, so employing the Ginyu Force to confront him is possible but not advisable. You must take the field, my Lord."

Frieza listened attentively, stroking his chin. He understood where Zarbon was going with this; he wasn't stupid.

"So, you will oversee our ground forces then. Once the Ginyu Force arrives, they will assist you in expediting the search?" Frieza said.

"Exactly, my Lord. The search operation on the planet is systematic and requires minimal oversight. The only real threat currently is Vegeta, who has, irritatingly, been destroying some of our bases in recent days. However, I would be able to handle him, as a single Zenkai boost wouldn't catapult him above my capabilities. Once the Ginyu Force arrives, Vegeta's fate will be sealed."

Frieza stared at Zarbon as he mentally absorbed Zarbon's strategy. The plan presented by Zarbon was strategically sound—divide their forces to handle multiple threats efficiently. However, Frieza's thoughts remained focused on one thing: securing the Dragon Balls, the key to his ultimate goal of achieving immortality.

"The Dragon Balls," Frieza started. "I should take them with me."

Zarbon pursed his lips.

"My Lord, I understand your desire to personally oversee the acquisition of the Dragon Balls, but I have reservations about that course of action," Zarbon began diplomatically. "The presence of the Dragon Balls on Namek is a closely guarded secret. Involving them directly in conflict could attract unwanted attention or lead to their loss due to unforeseen circumstances."

Zarbon raised his fingers as if ticking off points.

"If the ship is destroyed, our goal and the Dragon Ball are lost. The same risk applies if it's lost in space. Bringing it into a battlefield is too risky unless it remains securely by your side. However, tucking so many under your arm is hardly ideal. Moreover, Slug may not even be aware that we're after the Dragon Balls, assuming instead that our aim is genocide. We also can't guarantee the Dragon Balls will retain their power if they leave the planet. Additionally—"

Frieza raised his hand, silencing Zarbon. His brow furrowed, a faint grimace of irritation crossing his features. He looked like he was on the verge of a headache.

"That's enough. I understand. No need to inundate me with logic," Frieza finally said, giving Zarbon a piercing look. "Then I shall entrust their safety to you. Sacrifice the entire army if necessary."

"Understood, sir."

"Not yourself, though," Frieza added sharply. "Don't be foolish."

"...understood, sir."

With that settled, Frieza and Zarbon set about their tasks. They had a war to plan.