Pride and Punishment

by Turles 9/1/2012, 11:23 pm

No Reprieve – Pride's Punishment

His boots plodded along the tiled flooring as he approached the Commander's office, his face twisted in a dark scowl. He knew what he was here for. He'd started a scuffle in the middle of the mess hall, and this was his punishment for it. He was probably going to be set upon some trivial task in order to complete his sentence; he merely hoped it wasn't Saiba clean up. If he had to spend his days frying the corpses of a variety of Saibamen training units, he didn't think he'd be able to continue living within the confines of the station.

There was nothing more trivial than to be set upon such a task. The only reason the position was even needed was because some of the weaker, less competent warriors were unable to finish the job on weakened Saibamen. They were hardly above twelve-hundred power level, and yet it seemed that more and more of them had started to survive some training sessions. He could only imagine the type of filth that would spare such lowly creatures. Probably some of the children, or the weaker warriors. Maybe those with doubts to their cause? Who knew?

He entered the office and stood against the wall, eyes on the various medals and awards that filled the room. Commander Cobb was a first class Saiyan, and through his travels he had acquired a fair collection of accomplishments. He could see several landing force pins, a myriad of victory medals and an entire case filled with individual challenge awards. The only way to rank up in the Saiyan Army, officially, was to murder or kill your commandant. Promotions in the field were only ever awarded in the event that the man who previously occupied your place had come down with a case of death.

As it so happened, many of Turles' squad leaders had come down with a sudden case of the deadlies. Sometimes, they were accidents. Other times, they were accidents, caused by Turles himself. Of course, he'd never take credit for such orchestration, but the personal satisfaction was reward enough. Besides, if anyone even somewhat intelligent learned of his true mentality, they would probably try to kill him. While he loved a good scrape just as much as any Saiyan aboard the station, he wasn't in the mood to field murder attempts every other day.

His boots crossed at the ankles as the Commander came in, a few seconds behind him. Judging by the burn marks on his hand, he had administered a fair amount of punishment to Letaus'. The thought of that smug bastard brought a grin to Turles' face. Something about another man's suffering had forced a brief bout of glee within his heart, stirring an emotion most Saiyans had lost, unless they were in the heat of battle.

Was he a sadist? Oh, most definitely. Did that bother him? Not in the slightest. He didn't care about the thoughts of someone less important than himself. Coincidentally, the universe was full of them. Turles' eyes followed his Commander as he stepped into the room, striding to the area just behind his desk to examine some of the medals Turles had been inspecting mere seconds ago. It wasn't hard to imagine this man in the middle of battle, consumed by a vicious blood lust. He looked savage.

Facial hair lined his jaw, while the hair on his head stood to every end. He was muscular, having worked hard for his physique from years of battle and training. Scars littered his arms and armor, which was proof of his position. On the left side of his chest, over his heart, was a massive dent. It was not easy to dent flexweave, and as Turles' eyes lingered on the mark on his commander's armor, he wondered what could have possibly caused it.

Whatever, it didn't matter. Not to him anyway. He wasn't planning to go toe to toe with the commander any time soon. Doing such a thing would be equivalent to suicide, as far as he was concerned. While he would love to have a scrape, he loved inhabiting the world of the living more than he did battle. His dark eyes flickered to the man's gruff face as he turned to stare directly at Turles, his piercing gaze powerful enough to glare through a tank's armor. Now, as that gaze was leveled at him directly, the lesser ranked warrior crossed his arms.

”You called for me?”, Turles' voice was a low growl, as he questioned the man who was glaring so intently in his direction. What exactly did he expect he was doing? Did he think he was frightening Turles? If so, he would probably be disappointed to know the truth. Turles was rarely actually frightened, especially by a man so foolish as the one before him. While it was true that the commander was very powerful, Turles' doubted he was very intelligent. Something about the way he carried himself proved that to him.

“Yeah, but after that stunt in the mess, I've got a different plan in mind for you. At first I was going to ask you what happened on Trexia with your squad, but now we're going to give a bit more. After you tell me what went down, we're doing some... personal training in my private room. We'll see if you need any extra punishment after that.” , the statement itself was worrisome enough. However, the prospect of actually doing battle with his commander was a bit dangerous. He knew the man was fairly likely to murder him and label it a training accident.

”Training, you said?”, his words were wary, and rightfully so. That type of thing happened a lot. You'd hear of a particularly rough training sessions and then mysterious disappearances, or maybe you'd just never hear of their training partner ever again. Admittedly, Turles' too was guilty of perpetuating this phenomenon. He'd ended a small handful of lives in the training chamber, beneath the force of his boot. That was part of the reason he didn't trust this 'invitation' to train with Commander Cobb. He'd heard of a lot of mysterious deaths.

“Yeah, training. But for now, we're going to get down to business. What happened on Trexia with your squad? They shouldn't have known you guys were coming, considering they've got some sub par satellite technology, and virtually no warning system.”, something in that stern tone revealed the truth to Turles. This was going to be an interesting training session indeed. For what seemed like an eternity, Cobb examined Turles' expression for any and all signs of betrayal. Turles' could tell that he was wondering how weak little Turles had managed to survive such a vicious encounter. Much more how he'd gotten onto the flag ship.

Then he'd managed to fight off Space Pirates and prevent a nuclear detonation. The briefest impulse took over Turles' mind, one of insanity and a sign of his recent love for danger. He'd been in some pretty sticky situations, and yet all of them merely excited him. They forced his heart and mind to race to an unknown finish line. He never knew how long the sensation would last, but he was becoming increasingly enamored with it. It was exhilarating, but he knew he had to preserve himself before anything else. He was the single most important thing in his life.

”I put this in the Report. We entered the atmosphere and did the usual check. None of their satellites or defense forces had anything on any frequency, and we were undetected. But, when we got into the sky, something went wrong. The area I landed in was cordoned off, like they were waiting on me. My pod broke through the street I landed, which was directly where I was scheduled to, and I ended up in some underground mall thing. I heard screams over the CB, and I assumed that was the rest of the squad...”, and now he paused. This next part was going to require a bit of acting.

He was going to need to convince this man that Bulluce had been the traitor. Normally, sure, it'd be easy. But Bulluce had been a second class Saiyan, one that was actually pretty loyal to the empire. It wouldn't be simple convincing Cobb, who was a fan of Turles' deceased squad mates, that Bulluce had set them up. It was actually going to be pretty complex and difficult, considering he wasn't exactly the world's best actor. Face measuring evenly, the Saiyan weighed his words carefully. If he fucked up, he'd get fucked up even worse in that training session.

”The only one who didn't report anything was Bulluce. I've got no idea where the hell his ass was at, but I ended up running in to him later on, after I managed to work my way to the flag ship. When I was flying toward the interception crew, no idea what unit, I saw him flying up from the woodlands with his armor all screwed. Then he attacked me and I dealt with him, before moving back to the ship. Not much else to tell, I guess. He wasn't much of a match for me, but then again, traitors can rarely fight as well as loyal fighters can.”

“Are you saying you think he was the traitor? That he'd sell out your squad?”, Cobb's eyes narrowed as he placed both hands on his desk. The man leaned forward, obviously displeased with what he was hearing. Turles couldn't tell if it was because he hadn't seen this coming, or if it was because he distrusted the younger Saiyan's words. Admittedly, he was a pretty shady guy. He had very few allies on the station, and a majority of his squad members seemed to end up dead on combat missions. He adjusted his position, uncrossing his arms and gesturing as if he were unsure, shrugging noncommittally.

”You tell me. Why would he attack me if he was happy to see me? I know I was damn happy to see a squad mate of mine alive. If he hadn't attacked me, I'd have just went with him to the flag ship.”

The story itself was sound. Because Turles hadn't worn a scouter going in, they couldn't check his story with video logs. He'd managed to destroy Bulluce's as well, so they couldn't check his. Up until the point where they were all wiped out, there was nothing incriminating. Turles, during his descent, had inquired about how the Trexians could have known they were coming. Back there he'd played his part well. All he had to do now was play it equally well here. If he managed to do that, there'd be no trouble and he'd get off, for the most part, scott free. He was too smart to get caught by the Saiyans.

”That's about it. Did you really need to know anything else?”

“No. That's all I need to hear. When are you set to leave the station next?”, the man's question sounded innocent enough. However, Turles couldn't help but feel that there was something underlying the calm demeanor in which he had asked it. It was as if he were setting him up for some sort of trap. Was it possible that this man was intending to kill him in their training session? As he searched his brain for the exact date, he wondered. Death was not exactly something he was seeking. It'd be best if the Commander thought that he was leaving soon, and would be missed.

”Boots hit the ground on the third”, he could probably earn himself a forward deployment within that date. Especially if the Commander had a particularly brutal training session with him. Injuries were more or less requisition forms home. Then again, how many people really wanted to return to Planet Vegeta? It was filled with bars and brothels, which served the majority of it's people and a few outsiders. While the Saiyan economy wasn't exactly thriving, the planet was still host to hundreds of thousands of visitors. Most of them were aliens or Tuffle stragglers, which the King refused to acknowledge.

Anyone who even remotely looked like a Tuffle was, however, quickly dealt with. If the Saiyan Defense Force discovered them, they were immediately killed. It was for that reason that any survivors of the original war remained hidden away in the deserts of Planet Vegeta. Sometimes they'd send some patrols into the night, but rarely if ever did anyone actually search for them. Still, Turles didn't resemble any Tuffles he knew of. For that reason, he cared very little about such a threat or occurrence. As Cobb stared him down for another moment, he wondered when the hell they were actually going to train.

”Let's go do this, then. Shall we?”

WC: 2,154