Author's note: Chapter 52 is in the works, and will hopefully be out next week. For now, enjoy this glimpse into Turles' past.

Written by: SparkerLightning

Edited by: StevenBodner

Chapter 51.5

Misery

Ducking and diving, Turles tried to avoid incoming fire. He wasn't succeeding, but he was doing as he was told.

He and his crew were currently on the second of many planets in their current roster. The Skittermanders, a technologically advanced race, had spread from their home world. With their energy resistant metals and high-powered weapons they had no issue overrunning undefended planets, planets that Lord Frieza had wanted for himself, for his trade.

As Turles drew their attention, his team moved in. Each glancing blow burnt. Each blocked attack lowered his energy. Each dodged blast put him in front of another. But he was part of a team, a tool to be used, and he was doing as he was told.

On the ground, his team moved forward. A trio of low-class Saiyans lead by a mid-class soldier. As they entered the military installation, their power vanished from Turles' detection.

The first time that happened, Turles panicked. He watched his team enter the structure, and he saw their powers immediately vanish. Whoever took them out, whoever they woke up, would have no issue doing the same to him.

But now, after observing it multiple times, he knew what was happening. It was horrible. Their scouters were useless. There could be one unarmed Skittermander, or a dozen bots. Every door was a risk. Every structure was a hazard. Every planet would be a mystery. This campaign was shaping up to be the worst yet.

As they blasted the structures apart, and the walls and ceilings were reduced to dust, they reappeared. No casualties, and by the look of it, no injuries either. This was going well.

As they moved, Turles' job became easier. Less and less weapons focused on him, and he was able to start returning fire. As the last gun station burst into flames, he rushed in to join in the combat.

Two of his equals were in the air, picking off the defenseless six-armed freaks as they fled. Their commander was off by himself, likely trying to salvage any of the computer systems that he could.

His third teammate, his first teammate, a well-proven warrior named Suika, was nowhere to be seen. The last time, Turles had noticed her, she was storming a warehouse, and that is where he went. She always got into the best fights, and as such always had plenty of foes to go around.

Entering the large building, she reappeared on his scouter, as well as a half dozen other ki signatures. They were weak, not worth noting, but if they were in one of the combat suits, then she would need help. Preparing an energy ball in each hand, he charged forward. He was too slow though.

A large blast came through the ceiling from above. It was powerful, too powerful to be from his own team. For a moment, a high power appeared on his scouter, before vanishing, as the talented defender was dealt with. Now, he only detected three energy signatures, and none were on the ground with him.

Hours later, after the last life forms were hunted down, four pods left where five pods had landed.

Hopelessness

Days later, Turles and the other three landed on yet another Skittermander planet. Where the previous colonies had been hunkered down, secure, defensive, these ones were attacking from the start.

In teams of two to four, they piloted mechanized warriors. Blow for blow they matched the Saiyans both in offensive power and durability. For weeks they met on the battlefield. Enemies would be destroyed, but when one fell, two more would rise up. They were being exhausted, they would eventually run out of supplies, but it was slow going.

On the night of the full moon, the flow of battle changed. The Oozaru rose, and the Oozaru attacked.

The Saiyans had split up. Their targets were spread out, but all on the same section of the planet. They approached their targets on foot, slowly. They encased their bodies in mud to avoid being detected by body heat. They stayed near rivers, to quickly submerge themselves if the guards' animals detected their scents. They waited in the dark, in the cold, isolated from their brethren, until the Blutz Waves were available.

As the Oozaru howls filled the night air, so too did sirens. Turles charged into the complex. Mounted weaponry shot high powered blasts into him, which fizzled out against his armor or washed over his fur. With each swing of his arm, he took out another gun, he crushed another swarm of rodents, he moved one step closer to victory.

The quick response team was slow. They weren't ready. They didn't know of the beast that hid inside the invaders. When the battlers got into the air, they were no match for Turles. He grabbed one out of the air, and crushed it into a ball. Using it as a projectile, he took out a second. The resulting explosion gave him cover to leap and drag down a third.

He didn't count his victories, but he knew they were plentiful. The enemy stopped their waves of attacks, deciding to go for one last attempt. A swarm of Skittermanders rose into the air around the compound, evading as they closed in. When they were in arms reach, they latched on. Several on each limb, several around his core, and more importantly, two on his tail.

Turles stopped fighting. He stopped resisting, as he was brought to the ground. A coded signal was sent from somewhere underground, and reached the Skittermanders synchronized clocks nearly instantaneously.

At the top of the fifth second from when the signal was sent, the battlefield was lit up like day. The enemies were no more. Their base was no more. Turles' goal was accomplished. He, however, was in not much better condition than they were.

When the sun rose, his eyes finally opened. Crusted blood replaced the mud he had previously been covered in. Twitching his fingers, he saw them move, although he didn't feel them.

In his armor, he heard voices.

Trying to pull his scouter free, he failed. Without being able to see in his pockets, he instead chose to empty them. After several swipes, he finally came out with something, the remote to his pod. Pressing the call button, he waited.

He was the last Saiyan to touch down, and the first to take off. He wouldn't have much time to recover, and he would need every minute he could get.

Longing

Weeks later, after recovering, they were handling a simple mission. A new planet came onto their radar. It was near the center of their previous few raids, a hub world, although not the home world. It wasn't militarized, but instead it appeared to be a developed civilization. There would be defenses, especially with the chaos they'd been causing, but not nearly as much as on their last target.

The pods targeted the densest population first. As such, they crashed through multiple large structures before resting in the center of a large city.

As the doors opened, the Saiyans leaped free. Immediately locking on to the largest powers in each of their quadrants. Simultaneously, four barrages of ki bullets shot out in all directions. Buildings fell, and powers vanished.

With the door thoroughly knocked on, the group split up once more. Their goal? Kill as many Skittermanders as possible before the reinforcements arrive. Twelve minutes later, the city was flattened, and the first wave, only wave, of defenders arrived.

The mechanized warriors were in a triple V formation. As they neared the ruins, they split up, surrounding the four Saiyans. They went unacknowledged, as their leader drew all Saiyan attention.

Turles' jaw dropped and he began to speak, before remembering his place.

The commanding officer, Yamuimo, narrowed his eyes. "Suika?"

"Leave." She spoke through gritted teeth. The Saiyan stayed in formation, a guard on either side.

"You're alive?" He tilted his head. "Great, you can help us exterminate these pests, then you and I can celebrate like we used to."

Suika choked back a gag.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She spat on the fire below them. "Now, you've done enough damage. Leave, now. No one else needs to die."

Yamuimo chuckled. "That would mean not finishing our mission, and you know we don't stop until we're done."

Suika shrank back a half-step. "We can avoid detection. No one would need to know..."

"Why do you care?" He interrupted. "These, these things, are inferior. They were born to die."

"They saved me!" Suika sank into her battle stance. "When you left me to die, they nursed me back to health."

She thought back to the dark, to the cold. To the hours, days, she waited. To the light that shined on her when the subterranean community began to rebuild on the surface, and found her...

"These are good people, and they pose no threat to Vegeta or Frieza."

Turles' eyes widened at that. Not a threat? He knew they were powerful, he learned that firsthand when even as an Oozaru he was taken down. He knew they were advanced, both because they could jam scouters from detecting powers and their machines could compete on his, on Saiyan, levels. But not a threat? That that didn't make sense. But here was Suika, alive, healed. He knew they were making the first move, but, but it was to stop them from rising up against Frieza…but would they?

"You… had to be saved by them?" Yamuimo gestured at the fighters around him. "You accept their help?" Anger filled his voice.

"You're no better than they are." His fist burst through Suika's stomach, and the battle began.

An hour later, when the dust had settled and the invaders were ready to leave, Turles waved the rest off.

"I'll be right behind you." He told Yamuimo. 'I need to take a leak."

As three pods took off, he double checked his scouter before throwing it into his ship. He wouldn't want any record of the treason he was about to commit.

He planned to bury her corpse. She was a traitor, but she was an ally first. She earned that honor. Reaching her body, he knelt beside her. She was still, although her wound was cauterized. Scars and old wounds were prevalent, but aside from Yamuimo's wound, nothing recent.

He stayed there for a moment, taking in her face. A small dribble of blood had dried on her chin. Her hair was blown around her in all directions. It was loose during her life, and spread like a puddle in death. Her eyes flickered for a moment, and Turles recoiled in surprise. No energy was detected, she was dead ...

"You're alive?" He exclaimed.

Suika's body tensed, before going still.

He shot to his feet, putting his boot under her back.

"Don't fake it." He kicked her into the air, and watched as she limply fell back to the ground, in a twisted heap.

Surprised by the result, he slowly approached. Ready to defend himself, he hesitantly knelt beside her once again. Her eyes were open, and her lips were slightly parted.

She wasn't a threat. Slowly, gently, he rolled her onto her back. He laid her legs straight, and folded her arms on her chest. He would never embrace someone, but if he would, it would be her. But this was close enough for a Saiyan. Let her feel some warmth, even if just her own, before death.

"You're alive." He repeated in astonishment.

Her eyes were out of focus, barely registering Turles' presence. She felt her body being moved, and didn't have the energy to resist or assist.

"I was." She meekly spoke. Her lips barely moved, not quite ever touching. "Not long."

"You're in your sixties." He said with a faint smile. "We'd all be lucky to live as long as you, these days."

"Weeks." She shut her eyes. "I am sixty-eight years old, and only lived a few weeks."

A rusty tear ran down her cheek as Turles shook his head. "Leave me with my people."

He took a deep breath.

"I was going to bury you." His voice was low. "You've saved my life more times than I care to admit, whether you meant to or not. I owe you that much."

"If you're going to repay me." Her muscles relaxed as her arms slipped slightly down her sides, and her head settled to its side. "Let me rot with those who respected me."

Minutes passed in silence. "The scouters didn't detect a power level from you. How are you still alive?"

No response.

Terror

Several dozen Saiyans were assembled in formation. Commanding officers were at the front of the group, kneeling. Their subordinates were lined up behind them, in rows of three to six. While the commanders knelt, the lesser beings were made to bow, touching their foreheads to the polished floor of their mobile base.

"A Saiyan." A cold voice spoke over the faint puttering of a hovering chair. "A dead Saiyan, at that."

The voice slowly floated down the line of commanders. "Was found alive."

Upon reaching the center of the row, the senior most commander, the drone of the chair stopped. "Tell me, why was a Saiyan reported dead, when she was still alive?"

"It was an error, Sir! I apologize for not catching it myself." The elite Saiyan sharply barked his response.

The room was silent aside from the beating of everyone's hearts, the throne of the emperor, and a slow, loud, sip from a crystal glass.

"Saiyans, tell me, do we tolerate errors?"

"Sir, no, Sir!" The group spoke as one.

"What squad was she in?" Frieza continued to address the elite.

He lifted his eyes slightly, just high enough to spot the leader in question.

"Yamuimo's, Sir!" He nodded at the Saiyan in question.

Slowly, Turles heard the seat of power approach. Stopping just a few yards in front of him, it turned to face his commanding officer.

"Who was she?" Frieza asked dryly.

"Suika, Sir!" Yamuimo responded.

"Who was she, to you?" Frieza's voice had a fresh chill to it.

"My subordinate." Yamuimo's voice wavered slightly.

"Zarbon." Frieza kept his eyes on Turles' commander. "Remind me. What did you tell me about the female's… condition?"

Turles heard several heavy footsteps.

"Yes, Lord Frieza." A grin was audible in the voice. "Her most recent visit to the medical bay, indicated that she was with child..."

Yamuimo's eyes shot up as he sucked in a breath. He looked at Frieza's face. He looked at Zarbon's face. He quickly looked away.

"Dodoria." Frieza glared down at the commanding officer. "How many reasons do we have to execute this Saiyan?"

"At least three, Lord Frieza" Dodoria answered promptly.

"List them." Frieza lifted a finger to the kneeling Yamuimo.

"He did not address you properly when claiming she was only a subordinate, Sir." Dodoria stressed the last word as a beam shot through the Saiyan's right shoulder. He clutched it and Dodoria continued.

"He lied about his relations with the subordinate in question, Lord Frieza." A beam cut through his stomach, into the head of the bowing Saiyan behind him. The second Saiyan's body hit the floor as Yamuimo struggled to stay upright.

"And, I could be mistaken, but I believe he broke formation when he looked at you and Zarbon." Dodoria committed a mortal sin himself, however Frieza did not care about such petty insubordination from his lieutenants, not when making a point. A third beam penetrated Yamuimo, through the skull, and into the head of the third Saiyan in line.

Turles kept his forehead and nose glued to the floor. His entire squad, gone, just like that. Without a moment of hesitation... without any consideration for their work with the Skittermanders… without any effort, his team was gone, and, by the grace of some superior being, he was still here, still alive… as long as he didn't draw attention.

The chair's noise grew louder as it floated over the corpses of his three companions. "Monkey."

Turles' body froze. A wave of panic rushed through him, and his sweat immediately hit the floor. His mouth was dry, and speech would be difficult. Remembering his training, remembering the rules beaten into his head, he lifted his face. He looked at the bottom of Frieza's chair, and not an inch higher. He saw Zarbon's feet, and Dodoria's knees, as they stood behind Lord Frieza. "Yes, Lord Frieza."

"Congratulations, you just got a promotion." He responded. "Assemble a team, and get back to work."

Frieza lifted his gaze, addressing all present. "When you're done with this pest problem, I want you, and all Saiyans, to return to Planet Vegeta. I have an announcement to make, and I shall only do so once, in person."

Reflexively, awkwardly, Turles shifted to take a knee. Commander's didn't bow, not unless the situation called for it. He still kept his eyes low though, he wasn't proven, he wouldn't dare look at Lord Frieza. "Yes, Lord Frieza. Thank you, Sir."

Triumphant

Six Attack Balls searched out, and found, the largest concentration of power on the last known Skittermander planet, their home-world.

"You know the plan." Turles said. "Two teams of three, and focus fire."

As they touched down, their doors opened, and the Saiyans burst out.

They were expected, and they were nearly alone. A field of beacons surrounded them. A massive number of poles were stuck into the ground, with a large sphere atop each, in a variety of colors.

"It's a trap!" One of Turles' teammates shouted as their scouters began to screech at them. The spheres were powering up, and this was going to be ugly.

The group took to the air as the ki-powered bombs detonated. In no time, their controlled ascent was turned into a ride on a wave of pain into the atmosphere. Their armor held, their bodies held, and while they were drained and well tenderized, they were still able to function. The same could not be said for their pods.

In the clouds, they reunited, and decided to continue pushing the attack. If they didn't, they'd be executed. If they did, and somehow survived, well, there you go. Turles picked the two strongest warriors under his command, and left the other three for dead.

Hours later, Turles and his men found what they were looking for. A small city, clear of any visible defenses, lay in front of them. Slowly, under the cover of night, they made their way forward. As they approached, they received updates from their allies on the far side of the continent. Their battle was going about as well as the landing did, and soon, none were responsive.

Once inside the city limits, Turles through caution to the wind. Quickly drawing out his energy, he shot a pair of Calamity Blasters down through the tallest building he could find. The power levels inside it quickly vanished, as the building did so as well.

Minutes later, as their rampage was in full swing, the mechanized warriors appeared. They were strong, but Turles had been beaten down too many times lately, and he was able to hold his own. Unfortunately for him and his men though, the landing trap had impacted him, and his energy reserves were a lot lower than he'd admit.

As fists kept smashing into him, as his energy kept being drained, he slowly grew tired. Not just of the battle, of the Skittermanders, but of the war as a whole, of the empire, as a whole.

Distantly, Turles became aware of a new group of strangers joining the brawl. He didn't recognize them, but they were fighting the Skittermanders as well, so he didn't make a move towards them. Their leader, a black-haired, red-skinned, brute was treating these bots like they were toys.

When an axe drop sent him smashing through the streets, into an underground facility, he felt like staying down. When the enemy did not pursue him further, the urge to retire grew stronger. When he heard his allies cursing him, cursing his weakness, his death, his decision was made.

He didn't know what it was that covered him, but it was beautiful. It hid his teammates as they moved on the first planet. It hid Suika as she was buried under it. And now it hid him. Suika stayed, she was found. He wouldn't be. Once he could leave, he would. Once he could escape, he would. Once he could leave this war, this empire, as a memory, he would. He knew he'd be executed, that he would die at the hands of the Frieza Force, but if he didn't take the opportunity to live when it presented himself, well, it didn't matter.

For the next several minutes he laid still. He heard his teammates slowing down. He heard them dying. He heard the broadcasts reaching out into the cosmos, freeing him.

Anguish

The cage door slammed, and Turles tried to pry the bars open, he couldn't. It had been too long, he was too hungry, and he just didn't have it in him. And he felt, that even if he did have his full power, it wouldn't be enough. He hadn't made it off the planet, he tried, but he failed. The others, the group that joined him, continued the battle, and won. When they put down the resistance in the city, they didn't continue though. No, they dropped a seed in the ground, and began to feed it ki.

Days later, Turles was captured while sneaking onto the invaders ship. The tree had already grown to massive proportions.

Turles sat in the cage, on the floor, barely able to move at this point, let alone escape.

Amond stood over his captive, with a bowl of fruit under one arm. As he studied his new pet, he picked the largest fruit from the bowl, and took a bite. Juices ran down his chin as his teeth sank into the orange flesh, and he was quick to lick it up. As he came across seeds, he spat them into the cage. Only one seed could grow a new tree, and these unfertilized ones were just a less delightful part of the reward.

Turles watched the seeds bounce off the floor, and land beside him.

After swallowing a particularly large chunk whole, Amond crushed the remainder over his open mouth, drinking the juice. Throwing the shriveled core over the seeds, he turned to distribute the rest of the prize to his crew. "Eat while you can. If you waste food, you don't eat. If you don't eat, you're eaten."

Desperation

Turles' cage sat on the rocky ground outside of their ship. He levitated inside it, legs crossed, slowly spinning. He watched the battles around him, as his masters defeated the defenders of this latest planet.

He didn't understand why they even bothered. The fruit would absorb their energy, alive or dead. Why not just plant the tree somewhere remote, let it work its magic, and harvest the fruit? As a Saiyan, he would benefit from the battles, but these other species, all they gained was damage.

Minutes later, the battle was concluded, and once again, to nobodies surprise, the Crusher Corps was victorious.

Hours later, the tree was massive.

Days later, the fruit was harvested. Yet another slow, underwhelming, harvest. The more powerful a planet, the more energy would be consumed. The more energy consumed, the quicker the tree would grow, and the better the fruit would be.

Amond collected the fruit from his underlings, and per tradition, sat atop Turles' cage to eat it. His men stood around him, arms crossed, waiting for their share.

As Amond ate, he spat the seeds down, where Turles caught them, washed them in the small basin of water he was allowed, and ate them. Patiently, he waited for the core.

As Amond drained every last drop of pure energy from the fruit, a blast ripped through him from behind. Daiz was there, catching the bowl before it could shatter on the ground.

Wordlessly distributing the fruit, his place as the new leader went completely undisputed. After the team consumed their shares, after their energy was replenished and grew, there was one fruit left. With a moment of consideration, Daiz dropped the fruit into the cage.

Turles caught it before it could hit the floor. It was heavy in his hands. He would need to be careful. This one fruit was hundreds of times larger than anything he had eaten in weeks, months, years… he lost track of time, as the cycle of land, kill, plant, consume, abandon, repeated time and time again.

How many dozens of fruit had Amond eaten… how many times did he waist that energy beating down his men… how much potential was wasted…

Slowly, carefully, Turles lifted the fruit to his face. He smelled it. It was sweet, mouthwatering. He opened his mouth, and pressed his teeth into it.

It burst as Daiz's energy beam shot through it.

Turles sat back on his feet. Once more, defeated.

Author's note: A long story in a short chapter.