Conscience Of A Soldier Ch. 00

"Welcome, Princess Fasha. We shall begin with the language of the new world."

Looking out of the solitary glass opening, Fasha could see the universe race past her. She pressed her face to the glass to get a better view. Stars glowed brightly, emitting massive amounts of energy. They would one day die out to nothing. Everything dies.

Except Saiyans. They have to be killed.

Arcosians were not killers. They were inventors. They were healers.

They stood no chance when the Saiyans came. It was a vicious end to a peaceful species who existed at harmony among themselves.

King Razak decided to underline the victory by subjecting the Queen Healer to a brutal rape. Her screams resonated around the palace and below, bringing a smile to every Saiyan face nearby. If they king was in a good enough mood, he might even share the spoils of war.

Something surprising followed. The rare mating of Saiyan and Arcosian blood led to a birth under an hour. The mix was potent enough to form a foetus and develop it into a complete child. The Queen Healer could not take the strain on her already ravaged sex and died even as the child was taken out of her.

It was a girl. Covered in her mother's crystal clear blood and life essence. It cried, each cry louder than the last. The child was whisked away by the servants, to be cleaned.

He could not believe his eyes when her power level was measured.

"Impossible! Check it again."

The servant obliged, and once more he saw the infant having powers surpassing most of his soldiers. He held her in his arms, his mind spinning at the sheer incredulity of it.

"It makes no sense," he mouthed, not taking his eyes off the girl. Her tiny lungs had grown tired of the yelling. She passed into slumber, blissfully unaware of the titanic potential she held as a warrior.

Razak knew he had fathered one who would one day make the universe shiver at her mere mention. His mind already made plans for her warrior training and how she could be an invaluable asset for the Saiyans to strike fear in the hearts of others.

The thoughts drifted from her mind. She was raised Saiyan, the Arcosian part buried under years of warrior's indoctrination. She grew at an unheard-of rate, the building genes of Arcosia at work. She reached adulthood in less than half the time it took any other Saiyan.

King Razak wanted to emphasize to her what her destiny as a warrior was. She had to be strong like the others. Her first mission was exactly that.

To exterminate a remnant Arcosian colony.

The white skinned male scurried for cover. The others tried diving into their improvised burrows. They had sensed a gargantuan source of power approaching. It could only be Saiyan. They looked on fearfully from their vantage points.

The white star of Endoor hung low in the sky. They saw it cast a bright light over her. She was tall and slender. Her attire showed her to be of high rank, but her build was hardly imposing. She had a blank look, her eyes surveying the rocky wasteland.

Fasha had been made aware of her connection to her victims, but her duty as a Saiyan was paramount. She had been trained to carry out her orders unquestioningly. This one was simple – leave no survivors.

As she stepped into the shadow of a knoll, the Arcosian behind a rock peered out. There was something different about this Saiyan. Her skin tone was lighter, not as light as an Arcosian but more so than a Saiyan.

Her sharp eyes spotted a movement. It was a child, unaware of the danger. The adult male looked on in horror, his feet rooted to the spot. A wicked Saiyan smile spread across her face. He scrambled out and ran to save the child.

Fasha raised her hand and fired a pulse of energy in their direction. The adult threw himself in front of the child, screaming in agony as the pulse charred his flesh. He writhed on the ground, his wretched life coming to an excruciating end.

The remaining adults fearfully peered out of their burrows. Fasha moved closer to the child, her eyes fixed on his tiny form. She raised her ready to bring down his fate, but she stopped. When she looked into his innocent eyes, she felt an unusual feeling. It was not a feeling she had ever felt before. Her Saiyan training had not told her of this. She looked closer, the child paralysed with fear and shock.

The feeling came again. It tugged at her, trying to stop her doing her duty. It felt surreal. She closed her eyes to block out the sight and quickly put the child out of his fear. All that remained was scorched bits of clothing on the ground.

For a strange reason, the feeling stayed. It morphed into a heaviness inside her, weighing her down. It was inexplicable.

She distracted herself by raining down fire on the burrows, burning everyone hiding within. The feeling still refused to leave her, at odds with her Saiyan pride and the satisfaction of lives taken.

"Get over it, Fasha," she reprimanded herself. "You have a duty to perform."

She was right. In front of her was a city the few Arcosians had built as refuge. A collection of shabby dwellings and decrepit buildings, a far cry from the majestic cities they had. It would not besmirch the face of the universe much longer.

Her first mission and the first time she had felt that feeling. It had returned from time to time. A wallowing pull, trying to stop her from taking lives.

Saiyans were incapable of such emotions. They took pride in the carnage they left behind. What is this strange feeling she had inherited from her Arcosian mother?

The Saiyans had no word for it, but the system teaching her the language for her mission apparently did. She said it once to herself.

"Compassion."

The concept of it seemed absurd. Her training and indoctrination had no scope for something like this.

"Compassion," she repeated.

The race she was visiting had such a word. That made them weak.

But what did it make her?

The city lay in ruins, burning from every corner. All the Arcosians were dead or dying. She looked at her handiwork with a sense of Saiyan pride. The blaze engulfed most of the houses. The screaming gradually stopped, indicating her work was complete.

Not quite.

Once more, she saw a child, a spitting image of the earlier one. This one was crying incessantly in the middle of the burning chaos.

The feeling returned, overwhelming the warm satisfaction she got from the slaughter. Her mind struggled to come to grips with it. Fasha raised a hand to do what was needed, but this nameless feeling would not let her. It was like an entity, holding her back.

She turned away, trying to force this being away from her mind. Her warrior's pride was wounded, she could not do what other Saiyans did with ease.

A sickening thud made her turn. A chunk of a building had fallen from above, doing her job for her.

All at once, the feeling disappeared, to be replaced by another. This one brought her to her knees and forced some unusual wetness from her eyes. Once more, she was at a loss at explaining her reactions. The Saiyan academy never mentioned these other feelings.

At least, the mission was over, and a success.

"Compassion," she said yet again. "What a curious word?"

The space pod blazed past planets towards its destination.

The journey was long. It was further out than any Saiyan had ever ventured. Her personal pod being the fastest vehicle in the entire fleet was chosen to be the advance party. Fasha rested her sore neck in headrest, her legs sore from the confined space.

The on-board system continued teaching her. She was fairly well versed in their language. There were several more words and ideas than what she had known. It took some time to imbibe them. Her weary mind needed a rest.

Outer space was so large and empty. All known species could be squashed into one-hundredth of the vast void surrounding her. So much more efficient than having to jet across the universe to get somewhere.

"What's the point?" she mused. "We'd all end up killing one another anyway."

Something caught her attention again. It was a comet, streaking across the inky abyss. It glowed blue and carried the promise of destruction in its slipstream. Her eyes followed its path, racing past distant stars who were fixed on the invisible black fabric.

Fasha's keen eyes spotted something else. There was a large red sphere in its path. It blocked the graceful trajectory of the cosmic traveller. In a short while, their would be a collision of epic proportions. The sheer speed of the comet would knock the planet out of shape and possibly out of orbit.

Any life on that planet was doomed.

"Do they know it?" she wondered.

Maybe they knew of their impending fate and had prepared for it. Going underground might delay the inevitable, but it was unlikely to stop it. Even if the inhabitants survived the impact, the momentum would throw them away from their designated orbit. They would either spiral into their parent star and be incinerated, or they would drift off aimlessly into space and the planet would become too cold to sustain life.

Fasha pictured all the men and women huddled together, watching a dark pall of gloom fall over their planet. She had seen that sight before - entire civilizations looking on in abject terror, knowing fully well of their impending fate.

"At least I'm not the only killer out there."

Her joke sounded hollow, even to herself.

Sighing, she raised her fingers and concentrated. It would hardly make a difference. For all she knew, that planet was barren.

The energy gathered from within her was ready. With one quick, practised swish of her hand, the comet vaporised. Not a fragment remained to be seen. The dust was blown away by galactic winds far away from their intended site.

Fasha liked being all powerful. It gave her a sense of control over everything. She might have just saved an entire species from sure doom.

"Imagine how they must feel."

From anticipating death one instant, to the exultant joy of another chance at life the next. The realization would be slowly trickling into them now. Some higher power had decided to intervene and save them.

Could the saving of one planet possibly balance the destruction of an uncountable number? No.

There was still a lot of blood to wash off her hands.

These Arcosian feelings always weighed her down. For some reason, now they made her feel something else. She had possibly saved instead of killing for once. This new feeling was warm. It filled her slowly, spreading a pleasantness to all parts of her body.

Was this that "compassion" at play? Or was it the other strange word her system had told her about - "kindness"?

The feeling made her want to lie down. Fasha decided not to strain her mind too much and relaxed into the soft padding. The inside of her craft was dimly lit, only letting her see the silhouette of her body.

"The only light is darkness."

Wise words.

The pale star was nearing the end of its cycle, ready to sink beneath the horizon to herald another night, until their second star rose. The undulating rocky landscape of the planet was tinted blue in its dying light. Some of the rock formations shone in the light, creating a kaleidoscope of colours over the rugged terrain.

The peaceful people of Jarin went about their routine lives. The capital city spread out over a vast area, surrounded by a milling population in the outlying villages. Jarin was strategically placed at the entrance to a system of galaxies and served as a trading port.

Mighty buildings adorned the capital. They were completely white and glowed an eerie blue in the light of the setting star. Each building had its own purpose in the overall scheme. The smaller ones were dwellings for the Jarinians.

Past the throng at the market, and the families on the smooth steppes, the royal palace stood. It was large enough to be seen from outside. It began with a few small structures, gradually building into a massive pyramid shape. The king's residence was perched atop, under a dome. To an outsider, it seemed magical.

King Mufti lay in his lavish bedchamber. His dark blue skin contrasting against the pristine white walls. The bed was made with the most soft and lush fabric in his kingdom. His eyes were monochromatic red, signifying his royal lineage. His pointed ears stuck outwards from his face, every sense lost in the tranquil sensuality of the moment.

On top of his supine form lay the exquisite nudity of Fasha. Her clothes lay discarded on the floor. They kissed, her tongue playing with his. She was taken aback at the sensations cascading through her body. All from a simple entwining of her tongue with another.

In that moment, her enormous power seemed utterly trivial. Her movements were in perfect sync with his. She could not even think that the mighty excess of strength would hurt him. In that bed, she seemed incapable of hurting anything.

He pushed her back against the fabric, exposing her crotch. She looked down and was surprised by the sight between her legs. The outer lips were inflamed with a burning sensation and shining with wetness. She had never felt this before. Nor had any female Saiyan, to the best of her knowledge. Sex was always painful and brutal, a reproductive necessity.

Then how could she explain the multitude of desires welling up inside her? It was almost as if she wanted him inside her.

Fasha was surprised then, when he brought his regal smile down between her legs. Her mind was

unable to explain what he was going to do, but her body refused to deny him. Mufti stuck out his tongue and the tip barely grazed her. The contact of his tongue with her sensitive lower lips made her shudder.

It felt like a spark inside her, igniting a part of her she did not know existed. His mottled tongue traced her slit from the top to the bottom, penetrating her a bit. The tip pierced her and made her pulse race. Her chest heaved with every passing breath.

His tongue swirled inside her, exploring her drenched vulva. He pressed his thick lips against her and pushed his tongue in as far as it would go. Regions of her which lay untouched sparked to life and trembled with a hungry desire. She needed to be sated in ways she had not even considered.

He continued rubbing his tongue in her, flicking it in and out deftly. One of his fingers had found their way beside his tongue and spurred her to an even higher crest of unabashed sensuality.

When he withdrew his face and sat back, she looked at him for a long while. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts. Her body was still catching up to the revelations that acutely tingled in every flared sensory receptor inside her.

Fasha looked forward and saw his pulsing erection. Her body craved it inside her in ways no Saiyan woman did. Mufti seemed to read her thoughts and crawled between her legs. He parted them and gently placed the head at her opening.

"Gently please," her mind made her say, defying every fibre in her body.

He did not say anything, his smile spoke for him. The first inch disappeared inside her, making her gasp at the unknown feeling. A powerful charge radiated from inside her and spread over her being. The urge overwhelmed her.

Suddenly, he found himself thrust forward until his entire length was inside her. Fasha's powerful telekinesis had acted on its own. Mufti seemed surprised, but gradually got the idea. He drew back slowly, sliding his entire length into her with one smooth thrust.

He held her up in the crook of one arm and ploughed even deeper into her virgin depths. Fasha suddenly felt so safe and protected, an absurd thought considering her potency as a warrior, but one etched into her mind. She threw her pale face back and the long black hair was strewn all over.

Never breaking eye contact, the king of Jarin built a languid pace with his hips, plunging in and out of her with an easy rhythm. She saw colours building up in her vision. An incandescent flare of pleasure burnt through her being, heating her up.

A crest of pleasure built up inside her, rising with every passing breath. Her body was taut, bursting to the seams with this new and wonderful feeling. Her mind gradually slipped away into the dark as the climax hit her.

It was nothing like she knew. It was nothing like any female Saiyan knew. She had powers few could fathom, yet when she was with him, she did not think herself capable of any force. Her powers waned, her body surrendering to his actions.

How did it get to this? Fasha was not sure. When she first lay eyes on the king sitting on his throne, something nameless stirred within her. She knew what she had come to do, but those wretched Arcosian feelings manifested themselves as a need she could not resist. Apparently he felt similar feelings, leading them to the present.

Silently, Fasha slipped out of bed and into her clothes. Her heart pleaded with her not to do what her mind knew she must. She had come for a very specific reason.

"I must meet your people," said a velvet voice behind her. "We could form a beneficial alliance."

She did not reply. Her face was turned away from him. She slowly walked to the edge of the room and peered out of the window at the majestic sight. The star had slipped below the horizon and another was rising from the other side. The tint of blue cast an endearing hue over the majestic edifices surrounding her.

Jarinians laughed and walked in the streets. Children played. People sang and danced. The still of the scene stayed in her memory. An entire race went about their lives, unaware of what was about to happen.

That strange wetness appeared in her eyes again, along with all those inexplicable feelings. This time they were much stronger. It gripped her like a beast, unwilling to let go and let her do what she had to.

"Is something wrong?"

Fasha turned, her blurry vision showing a markedly worried king. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. There was no words for this situation that she knew of. After a still silence, a solitary word escaped her throat.

"Sorry."

It even took her aback. Saiyans apologized only when they failed, that too more out of hope they might escape the consequences. Apologies for destruction were ludicrous. Killing was something to be proud of, not to be 'sorry' about.

She could not bear the hurt any longer. She could not postpone the inevitable. Even as the king was thinking of a response, it happened.

A momentary flash of white light engulfed the whole city. In that moment, any onlooker would have been blinded by the sheer dazzling intensity of the dome of energy that formed. It subsided as fast as it formed, leaving a void. A large crater formed where the proud city once stood, too deep to see the bottom.

A single, thin column of rock rose from the centre of the crater. Atop it, sat the forlorn figure of Fasha, feeling as empty as the hole she just created. She sat on her hips and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping them tightly with her arms. That strange wetness persisted in her eyes and some of it trickled down her face and dripped off her chin. Her mind was in a numb haze at what she had done.

The only consolation was that no one felt any pain. The children would have been thinking about the next move in their game, the adults about what to say next and the king about his unsaid question.

"Sorry," she said again.

Slowly, she stood up and flew off. The feelings stayed.

Fasha woke up and sat upright. This memory made her pulse race erratically. It had sprung into her mind on its own and made her recall that choice in agonizing detail. The image of the king's eyes the moment before they flash was burnt into her mind.