Behind him, Armond and the others also noticed the strange, scrutinizing gazes.
Armond subconsciously stepped half a pace closer to Dalles, his shoulders tense.
Dalles caught them in his peripheral vision and gave a slight shake of his head.
At the end of the corridor, a figure was already waiting.
Sarbo.
Emerald skin, golden ornaments, and a delicate scouter resting on the bridge of his nose.
A high-ranking staff officer of the Frieza Force, whose overall strength ranked above Dodoria’s.
In terms of appearance alone, among the bizarre and grotesque members of the Frieza Force, Sarbo was definitely one of the more pleasing to the eye.
“Mr.
Dalles.”
Regardless of what Sarbo actually thought of Dalles, he maintained a polite demeanor in his address here.
“Please follow me.”
Sarbo turned around, his pace steady and his mannerisms elegant.
Dalles and his crew followed.
As they walked deeper into the headquarters along the corridor, neatly trimmed low shrubs lined both sides.
Every few dozen meters stood a guard post, manned by soldiers of various races.
Sarbo kept his gaze fixed forward.
“I will explain the basic rules of the headquarters on our way.”
He raised the data terminal in his hand.
“Lord Frieza’s army enforces a strict hierarchy.
Ranks are comprehensively evaluated based on power levels and contributions.”
“Currently, you have been assigned to the Class B division.”
“Class B?” Dalles chimed in.
Sarbo did not stop walking.
“The headquarters’ divisions are split into five tiers: S, A, B, C, and D.
Class B grants you independent barracks, an exclusive training ground, and a certain quota for supply requisitions.”
“With Mr.
Dalles’s power level, you could have been directly placed into Class A alongside me, but military regulations dictate otherwise.”
“To be promoted to Class A, your file must record at least one military merit personally approved by Lord Frieza.”
“However, I believe that with Mr.
Dalles’s abilities, it is only a matter of time.”
“Mr.
Sarbo,” Dalles suddenly spoke up.
Sarbo’s footsteps paused for a beat.
It was brief, but enough to speak volumes.
“…Yes?”
“You have deep seniority within the army, Mr.
Sarbo.
I hope to rely on your guidance in the future.”
Although Dalles took the initiative to show goodwill, he did not overstep his bounds.
It was the perfectly measured courtesy of a newcomer toward a veteran.
The coldness in his bones had not faded.
Because in a place like this, strength reigned supreme after all.
His power level was higher than Sarbo’s; if he had instead put on a fawning, sycophantic display, it would have been far more suspicious.
Sarbo’s footsteps noticeably faltered, but he did not stop.
He merely gave a slight nod and continued walking forward.
The buildings on both sides of the corridor grew denser.
Disk-shaped individual structures sat side by side, separated by neatly trimmed green belts.
Small transport crafts occasionally swept overhead, their engines leaving behind brief hums.
“The Class B barracks are in the mid-level sector,” Sarbo finally spoke again, his back perfectly straight.
“The mid-level sector is equipped with independent training grounds, maintenance bays, and small supply stations.
You and your subordinates will not need to share facilities with other divisions.”
Dalles nodded.
…
After settling Dalles and his crew, Sarbo returned to Frieza’s side.
When Sarbo stepped into the command room, Frieza was sitting upright in his hoverchair.
A holographic projection spread across an entire wall in front of him.
Real-time surveillance feeds from various sectors of the headquarters were sliced into dozens of squares.
In the footage, patrols marched and transport crafts took off and landed, everything in perfect order.
Frieza’s gaze wandered among those squares, the tip of his tail resting on the armrest, tapping lightly and rhythmically.
“Lord Frieza.”
Sarbo came to a halt on the right side of the hoverchair.
“Dalles and his crew have been fully accommodated.
Their barracks, training grounds, and supplies are all in place.
Their identification numbers and access rights have been entered into the system.”
Frieza did not nod.
“Mhm.”
Then, Frieza spoke again.
“Did they make any unnecessary moves?”
“Everything is normal.”
Sarbo pushed up his scouter.
“In fact, on the way there, he even took the initiative to show me goodwill.”
“Oh?”
Frieza seemed somewhat surprised by this, the light from the holographic projection flickering across his face.
A sneer came from the side.
“That monkey sure knows how to put on an act.”
Dodoria leaned against the bulkhead of the command room, his thick arms crossed over his chest.
Sarbo turned his head and shot Dodoria a glance.
He felt that Dodoria’s words held some truth.
Frieza ignored Dodoria’s crudeness.
He swiped a finger lightly across the armrest, and the holographic projection switched.
The screen locked onto the mid-level sector.
Around the Class B barracks where Dalles was stationed, several people were moving supplies.
Armond carried an entire crate of provisions on his shoulder, his braided hair swaying behind his back.
Cacao stood at the entrance of the barracks, the optical units on his metallic torso scanning left and right, seemingly surveying the surrounding environment.
Dalles himself leaned against the exterior wall of the barracks, arms crossed, speaking in low tones with Daiz.
Frieza stared at the surveillance footage, his thoughts unreadable.
The tip of his tail lifted from the armrest, hovering in midair.
“Mr.
Sarbo, Mr.
Dodoria.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think of this Dalles?” Frieza paused, his gaze still fixed on the figure leaning against the wall in the hologram.
“What kind of person is he?”
Sarbo took a small step forward and bowed slightly.
“Lord Frieza, in my opinion…”
His phrasing was as precise as ever, carrying the characteristic caution of a high-ranking staff officer.
“This Dalles is vastly different from the Saiyans we know.”
The command room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of static as the holographic projection switched feeds.
“His demeanor and behavior are far more proper than an average Saiyan, and he is even…
better at reading the room than Vegeta.”
This assessment drew a disdainful snort from Dodoria.
Sarbo paused, then offered his conclusion.
“This point is very…
‘un-Saiyan’.”
“Because of this, this subordinate believes that we actually need to keep a closer eye on him.”
“Oh?
And what brilliant insight does Mr.
Dodoria have?”
After listening to Sarbo’s analysis, Frieza did not immediately express his stance, turning instead to Dodoria.
“I wouldn’t call it brilliant insight, Lord Frieza.”
“Hmph, to put it bluntly, isn’t he just a wild monkey playing smart?”
“You just overthink things, Sarbo!”
“What ‘reading the room’, what ‘knowing his place’?
I say he’s just a guy who’s been wandering out there so long he knows how to cling to a powerful patron!”
Dodoria’s assessment was crude and direct, perfectly matching his own image.
“Relying on eating some rotten fruit to boost his power level a bit, he came running here to latch onto us.”
“Ohohoho…”
That signature laughter rang out once more.
“You two really do hate Saiyans as much as ever.”
“However, our Frieza Force is highly inclusive.
As long as they are capable talents, they shouldn’t go to waste.
Don’t you agree?”
With Frieza putting it that way, Sarbo and Dodoria naturally didn’t dare to openly disagree.
They both nodded in agreement.
Frieza’s voice sounded again.
“By the way, has Vegeta returned yet?”