Chapter Text
Flickering of the stars reflected in the wine glasses on the dining table. A huge illuminator in the Emperor’s chambers displayed the breathtaking view of the galaxy. Frieza ordered the lights to be dimmed for dinner, explaining it as an energy-saving measure, and chose artificial candles instead. Cooler knew that he couldn’t care less, even if the space base would have to run on the emergency backup reactor only. His brother simply liked to show off the exquisiteness of his taste whenever he could.
Cooler didn’t have to eat ever since his body went through numerous modifications. Still, he often dined with his brother whenever he wasn’t away for a mission, serving the Empire.
“I wonder if you can tell one taste from another,” Frieza pointed out. “Otherwise, it would be a waste of this unique wine. This bottle had been kept for at least half a century until we… obtained it. So each one tastes different. You ought to notice different undertones of flavour once you learn more about good drinks”.
The cyborg allowed him to blabber and listened calmly. The topic of his body modifications was the favourite one for Frieza to pester him. As if it was his fault that he had fallen in a battle, fighting for their Emperor, and Father granted him a cyborg body to save his life. Frieza couldn't be in his stead to learn that it was no matter to be jealous about. Cooler couldn’t say it in his face because he was the new Emperor.
“The wine is fine,” he replied dryly. “Thank you for inviting me”.
“You annoy me the least, brother mine,” Frieza admitted after he took another sip. “So if I were to dine in someone’s company, it would be you”.
It was his odd way of saying “thank you” back, Cooler thought. Without Father, his brother felt lonelier than he wanted to show.
“You summoned me to talk about the intelligence data in private, didn’t you?” he asked to put an end to awkward small talk.
“Exactly,” Frieza nodded. “I don’t need those fools to hear about our plans earlier than I want them to. How’s our little monkey planet doing?”
Even though they sat at opposite sides of the table, about two meters long, Cooler still could see a vicious smirk on Frieza’s face. His brother’s sick obsession with the planet Vegeta was hard to conceal, not that he ever tried to do it. Cooler understood the reason perfectly. He hated the apes too, and they deserved the worst for taking away the most precious for him and Frieza. This hate was probably the strongest bond that kept him and Frieza together.
“I believe they discovered agriculture,” Cooler informed him. “The king is sceptical about it, though”.
“A big cultural step after the wheel, for sure,” Frieza commented sarcastically, cutting a steak on his plate. “And little Vegeta was never an opportunist. Smart choices aren’t his strong suit”.
His glance sharpened whenever he talked about the current ape king. He would talk about him a lot. If Cooler hadn’t known Frieza for his whole life, he would’ve guessed that it was a sign of emotional attachment.
“Look, we can destroy that shithole of a planet like this,” Cooler flicked his fingers. “I want it as much as you do. Just give an order, and the squadron will be ready for takeoff in a few minutes”.
“Don’t… claim to know what I feel,” Frieza stabbed the steak with the knife, his table manners gone within a moment. “You know that saying that revenge is a dish best served cold? And I intend to live up to our family name”.
Cooler thought that it would be wisest to shut up. He couldn’t be killed, technically, but his brother’s anger issues had already brought many problems to the Frieza Force and him personally.
“We’ll attack when I say so,” Frieza seemed to calm down as quickly as his rage had sparked. “No air strikes, no siege, for he doesn't care much about his people. I aim to sting where it will hurt the worst”.
Frieza’s purple lips widened in a grin as the mental image of revenge obviously brought him joy. He sipped some more wine, and the purple got stained with deep red.
“So keep reporting to me, even about the minor details”, he added in a moment.
“Sure,” Cooler nodded. “Care to share your plan?”
“Patience, brother”.
They finished their meal in silence. Cooler wasn’t as talkative as Frieza, who could rant for as long as he could breathe. Fortunately for him, he had the biggest army in the universe that was catching every word whenever he gave a speech as the Emperor.
Having wished his brother goodnight, Cooler left his chambers and gave the usual regulatory orders to the guardians. His metal paws were making clinking noises in the tense silence of the space base with each step. The inability to walk quietly and lurk around unnoticed was definitely a downside of having a nearly indestructible body.
Everyone at the captain’s bridge turned to see him and saluted immediately. The sound of Cooler’s steps announced his arrival from afar. As the fleet commander, he had to check if everything was under control at the end of the day. They spent most of their lives in space, so it was hard to tell day from night. Such concepts didn’t bother him anymore, now that he didn’t have biorhythms.
“Cooler-sama, allow me to report,” the vice-captain asked.
“Please do”.
Their cyclop-like face moved constantly, making it difficult to tell if he was going to hear good or bad news. Cooler considered dismissing the current vice-captain and assigning someone of a humanoid race. They could be read like an open book.
“The area is clear. No threats on our radars at the moment,” the vice-captain informed him. “All engines are working normally, oxygen level is acceptable for all residing races. Shall we keep the base on standby or fly it to the nearby planet system of the Empire?”
“Standby for now,” Cooler ordered. “The Emperor didn’t give explicit orders. We don’t need to resupply either”.
“Roger”.
Cooler glanced at the huge front illuminator of the bridge. The location of their standby wasn’t random, and they had to stay there according to Frieza’s plan. He wasn’t going to inform the crew about the details of the plan before he fully understood it himself. He wasn’t only the Frieza Force commander but also the Emperor’s first advisor, so he should be very careful with sensitive information he got from private conversations. Frieza made the job nearly impossible because he rarely took any advice, especially from his older brother, out of spite. It was lucky for the Empire that Frieza was smart.
Once he was done with the reports, Cooler finally had some time for himself. He intended to go to his chambers, but an odd feeling irked him before he did. He felt the need to visit the heavily secured lab that used to belong to their late father, King Cold. Now his sons were the only ones who had access to it, but Cooler still felt uneasy and decided to check on it immediately.
He reached the armoured door and scanned the iris of his eye to unlock it. He didn’t have fingerprints anymore, so he had to redesign the obsolete verification system to match his body specifics. After all, it was the most important place to him across the whole space base.
“Ah, it’s you again,” Cooler sighed with relief once he saw Frieza inside the lab.
He sat on the floor next to one of the multiple preservation tanks, keeping a bottle of wine and a glass beside him. The scene was pathetic, but Cooler kept this thought to himself. Frieza would sneak into their father’s lab to drink alone, as if he couldn’t do it in his chambers. He must have liked the company of Cooler’s clones because they didn’t talk back to him while deactivated.
“How dare you talk to your Emperor like this?” Frieza snarled in a whiny voice.
“You’re my otouto first, then the Emperor,” Cooler objected and crossed his arms on his chest. “This is not your parlour. My spare bodies should be kept safely, with minimal contact with the outside environment. How can I be sure that you won’t do something to them?”
“I can execute you for lecturing me, you know,” Frieza said boredly, trifling with the glass in his hand.
“Go ahead. My personality will be resurrected in one of those right away”.
Cooler nodded at one of the lifeless clones. Those were the exact copies of his current body, originally created by their father. He multiplied and maintained them diligently, keeping them as a physical backup in case of the current body’s destruction. With Father’s technology, he could respawn in any of them.
Frieza’s pale face strained, and he winced as if he had eaten something very sour.
“Why did Papa bless you with the gift of immortality?” he asked bitterly.
“Because I died in the war, building your Empire!” Cooler raised his voice, angered by his brother’s childish behaviour. “While you were safe and sound in Papa’s lap, toying with your pet monkeys”.
Frieza tossed the glass in his direction, then attacked him with an energy blast while his attention was focused on the moving target. Cooler managed to cover one of the preservation tanks with his metal body and hissed when the blast hit his armour. His system alerted him about minor damage, but he could live with it as long as the clones were safe. The shattered glass clinked against his chest, and wine dripped down its surface, imitating the blood he no longer had.
“Well, you’re right, I should be angry with Vegeta, not you,” Frieza said after he took a deep breath. “He killed Papa, so he will pay the highest price for it”.
His mood swings were insufferable. Cooler huffed and wiped the wine stains off his armour.
“I shall go before I break something here,” his brother announced and held his large tail carefully so as not to cut it on the pieces of broken glass. “You spoiled my mood, nii-san. See you at the briefing on the morrow”.
Cooler didn’t bother to reply. He clutched his fists in order not to throw something at Frieza. The clones' lab was the worst imaginable location to fight.
The morning came in the blink of an eye for Cooler. He could hibernate instead of sleeping like a living creature and still restore his energy. On the contrary, Frieza snoozed through most of the briefing with the generals, having cosied himself on his throne with his paws tucked to his chest. As far as Cooler knew, he slept very little, which didn’t improve his constantly irritated mood.
He listened to the reports on Frieza's behalf because it was a part of his job. The regular briefings aimed to keep the Emperor and the Frieza Force commander informed about the state of things in the colonies. Those were the planets they conquered and made a part of the Empire. Some of the planets were used simply as resource hubs because they weren’t inhabited by any intelligent species. The rest could be used for physical labour or military recruitment.
Acts of resistance were rare because Frieza never spared the Empire’s resources to gain loyalty from the colonies. He would choose poorly developed cultures as their next target, stuff them with cutting-edge technology and resources they had no chance of obtaining anywhere else. This way, without a single blast, planets became fully dependent on the Emperor and his grace. Cooler must give it to him: it was a wiser doctrine than the one developed by their father. He used to take planets mostly by force, unwilling to spend effort and resources on convincing the inferior races to join the Empire. Enslaving planets saved time for sure, and it triggered countless wars when the population was able to resist. Sometimes, casualties were so numerous that there was no point in keeping the planet anymore, so the Empire kept them merely as military bases.
Despite taking Father’s politics further, Frieza could be merciless, and Cooler knew it better than anyone. He could exterminate a planet for a display of disobedience and ensure that the other colonies learned from its example. That was why he couldn’t figure out why Frieza hesitated with his revenge on the planet Vegeta. He used to eradicate whole races for less than what Vegeta did. The planet didn’t have any valuable resources that might convince them to keep its existence for profit. The Saiyans were mediocre warriors and even more useless workers.
Vegeta’s coup was inexcusable, and the murder of the Emperor was unforgivable. The planet V, as it was named in the digital archives, was the only one that managed to regain independence after being included in the Empire.
Frieza didn’t rush to share the details of his plan with him, so Cooler could only follow his order and gather more intelligence data. It would chill his bones to imagine what atrocities his brother was preparing for the monkeys if he still had bones instead of a metal carcass and exoskeleton.
The Emperor woke up unexpectedly during the report of lesser importance. It informed them about an unknown natural disaster that caused the decline of the crab population in the Crab colony. Crab meat was one of Frieza’s favourite dishes, which was why it was included in the agenda.
“That’s unfortunate,” Frieza commented dryly. “But we can live with this, I guess. Leave out the crabs for now. I’m more concerned with the spread of anti-imperialistic ideas in one of our developed colonies. Isn’t our recruitment program rewarding enough?”
So he did listen, Cooler thought. The Emperor stared at one of the generals assigned as the “curator” of the mentioned colony. Frieza made it the official position name because he disliked the term “dictatorship”. The curator, a bald humanoid with red skin, became pale at once, acquiring a pink shade. It always amused Cooler to witness the fear Frieza caused within his subordinates because he was probably the only living creature who wasn’t afraid of him.
“It is, Your Grace,” the general replied as he collected himself. “The propaganda department is working on the solution”.
“Ugh, such an unpleasant word,” Frieza winced. “Let’s rename it. The department of public relations it is now”.
“At once, Your Grace,” the other official said.
“Target the kids,” Frieza ordered and clicked his tongue. “Offer free education and training. Thus, we get the fresh generation of soldiers with the right mindset and the potential hostages if the parents tend to be… uncooperative”.
Cooler wrote it down on his touchpad. Combining the carrot and the stick was one of the strong sides of his brother’s mastermind. If he were in his place, he wouldn’t think of any other options other than imposing sanctions and cutting the supply.
“It’s not my job to generate ideas, by the way,” Frieza added and glanced at each attendee strictly. “You’re dismissed for now, everyone. I expect all of you next week”.
Cooler was glad that he ignored his presence this time. He still had business to attend: he had several meetings scheduled for that day, the next one being with the Ginyu Force.
It was an elite group of mercenaries whom he and Frieza had been gathering across the galaxy for many years after their father’s death. They specialised in blitzkrieg operations and intelligence whenever the Empire targeted a planet with its own army and more or less developed technology. The Ginyu Force could start a coup on any planet and establish a puppet government within hours, so they were kept idle until further notice. In reality, it meant that they were mostly drinking and gambling on duty. The Ginyu Force reported to the Emperor directly, but Frieza considered it beyond his dignity to talk to the rugrats, so it became Cooler’s responsibility.
Most of the group derived from inferior races, so they had little idea about subordination and high-end speech. Cooler paid it little mind as long as they did the job. After all, he allowed himself to talk to the Emperor rudely sometimes.
“Greetings, everyone. Report briefly, please,” Cooler ordered as he sat at the head of the table at the Ginyu Force’s headquarters.
Every member saluted him, and it looked clumsy. Cooler explicitly asked them not to perform their signature dance in front of him because it looked embarrassing.
Captain Ginyu checked his notes. The notes were on a messy piece of paper instead of a proper tablet. He was probably the only literate one in his division. No wonder that he was assigned to be the captain.
“So, no major changes since the last report,” he started reading. “No signs of rapid development or preparation for an attack. The planet is stagnating. There are attempts at growing plants every now and then, but no visible success so far”.
“As expected,” Cooler nodded. “They will hardly be able to grow anything without our technology. What about the overall mood among the common Saiyans?”
“Not much info about this, Cooler-sama,” Ginyu shrugged. “Our spy never leaves the king’s castle, so they can only talk to servants. They’re happy as long as they don’t starve”.
“Hmph,” Cooler huffed. “Care to tell me who’s the spy?”
“Uhm, we’re not sure,” Ginyu scratched the back of his head confusedly. “We just mustered them in through the radio. They seem to be a low-class Saiyan working in the castle”.
“So your intelligence data comes from a person you know nothing about?” Cooler frowned. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re even employed”.
“It’s not like we could send Zarbon to spy as usual!” Ginyu complained and pointed at his crew member.
Zarbon was a humanoid that could be easily confused with a busty, muscular female, which made him perfect for infiltration missions. Ironically, the planet V was the only one within the scope of the Empire’s interest where females couldn’t be used as bait.
“We’re working with what we have, boss,” Zarbon confirmed, keeping his long legs crossed on the tabletop.
“I heard they’re fucking their relatives,” Guldo said, totally out of place.
The other crew members shushed him, and it appeared rather insulting to Cooler. He knew what it meant, although the race of frost demons didn’t do it.
“I mean, why?” Guldo didn’t take the hint. “My momma laid eggs, and I hatched. I can lay eggs too. I ain’t need somebody”.
“My momma’s ugly, my old man’s ugly and also dead,” Recoome nodded. “I’m ugly too, so my best bet is Jeice”.
“I’d rather die,” Jeice spat on the floor in response.
Every briefing with the Ginyu Force was a nightmare. Cooler hit the table with his fist to make them shut up.
“Silence, you morons!” he yelled at them. “I’ll have y’all executed if you don’t bring me something valuable”.
The threat seemed to work, and the crew members went silent for a minute, considering the information they could share.
“I think I heard something when I was listening to the transmission,” Zarbon spoke first. “About Vegeta’s younger son”.
“Tell me more,” Cooler engaged eagerly. “Anything about his family”.
“He’s special somehow,” Zarbon elaborated. “Not only to Vegeta, but to all the monkeys. I’m not sure why. Must be something about his appearance or abilities. None of the low-class Saiyans are allowed to see him. They talk about him as if he’s half-god”.
“The monkey god, huh?” Cooler touched his chin, thinking about his words actively. “Those pagans. Vegeta may lie to his people, but I know that the likes of him can spawn no god”.
Frieza would love to hear about it, and it made Cooler’s heart core thrum with excitement.