Turles sat upright in his seat, listening to reports from his adjutant Ogg and the three squadron commanders below. They covered everything in detail, from troop deployments at the base to the output of resource planets, leaving nothing out.
Turles kept that pleasant smile on his face the whole time, but the more he smiled, the less certain Ogg and the others felt.
A new boss always shook things up. That was an unshakable truth throughout the universe.
Their new commander seemed friendly enough, but who knew what he was planning?
After listening to it all, Turles was actually a little surprised.
Before coming here, he had prepared himself to put considerable effort into setting things in order.
He had assumed a remote base like this, far from the eyes of authority, had to have at least a few unsavory secrets.
Skimming military supplies, selling off materials on the side, or falsifying combat achievements, for instance.
That sort of thing was an unspoken rule in any large organization, hardly anything out of the ordinary.
But afterward, he had Reiz and the Lakasei brothers access the base's systems and go through the accounts and supply inventories with a fine-tooth comb.
They found nothing.
From the officers to the ordinary soldiers, everyone here followed the rules to an excessive degree.
There was no greed for money, only a desire to advance.
Perhaps that was also because the Frieza Force treated its members generously. As long as you were willing to risk your life, you would be rewarded accordingly.
By the same token, the punishments were exceptionally harsh.
Playing underhanded games on Frieza's turf, especially with money and supplies-what was that if not courting death?
No one dared risk their life testing King Frieza's limits.
Turles, on the other hand, found that it saved him a great deal of trouble.
All in all, there was not much scheming and infighting.
With his combat power, Turles had won the recognition and admiration of all the officers and soldiers with ease.
That saved him some trouble.
Three days were enough for Turles to leave his own mark on this metal fortress.
Once everything was running smoothly, Turles wasted no time. He prepared to set out for Planet Namek immediately.
"Lord Turles!"
Seeing that Turles was about to leave, Amond could not help coming over.
"Do you really not need us to go with you? You're going alone..."
Before he could finish, Turles cut him off.
"What's wrong with me going alone?"
Turles turned his head, and his calm response made Amond swallow the rest of his words.
"This is a private trip. Too many people would only draw attention."
Turles patted Amond on the shoulder.
"You still have a task here. Using the criteria I gave you, find as many planets that meet the requirements as you can and keep a record of them until I give you new instructions."
He paused, then added, "Besides, I'm not going alone."
Turles tilted his head toward the two people standing nearby.
"I'm taking Cacao and Tights."
Cacao stood there like a silent red iron tower, his optical units flashing with a cold light.
Tights, on the other hand, bristled all over when she heard her name.
"Huh? Why am I involved again?!"
Her eyes widened, her face full of protest.
They had finally reached a permanent base, and she had thought she could have a few peaceful days at last, without having to live in fear aboard that little broken-down ship.
But they had barely landed, and now she had to go gallivanting off with this Saiyan again?
Turles turned around and looked at her with a hint of a smile.
"You don't want to go?"
"I don't!"
Tights shook her head like a rattle without even thinking.
"All right, then."
Turles shrugged, unexpectedly agreeable.
"I don't like forcing people."
Tights had just breathed a sigh of relief when he changed tack.
"If you want to stay here, that's fine too."
Turles folded his arms across his chest and spoke leisurely.
"But to ensure the base's security and prevent certain unnecessary misunderstandings, you may have to accept a certain degree of restriction."
"After all, you still have some misunderstandings about us. I'm sure you can understand, right?"
Tights's face fell instantly.
After weighing the pros and cons, Tights hung her head. She did not want to be locked in a dark little room.
She wore a miserable expression.
"I... I'll go with you..."
Before leaving, Turles took off the standard-issue advanced Frieza Force scouter on his wrist, its design exquisite and distinctly high-tech, and casually tossed it to Amond.
Then he took an old scouter with a green lens, its edges even somewhat worn, from a pocket he had prepared and put it back on his ear.
It was an old model they had used back when they were still part of the Destroyer Army.
"Lord Turles, what are you doing?" Amond asked, holding the advanced scouter with a baffled expression.
Whether in detection accuracy, data processing capacity, or communication range, this thing was more than a full grade above the old model.
What's the boss doing? Feeling nostalgic?
Turles did not explain. He merely adjusted the old scouter on his ear.
"For the time being, we'll use this to communicate."
The good thing about this old device was that it did not connect to the Frieza Force's channels when used for communication.
When going out to take care of a few private "little matters," it was only natural that some information might turn up that was better not spread around.
It never hurt to be prepared.
Better safe than sorry.
Turles, Cacao, and Tights, who looked utterly resigned to her fate, boarded a small, compact high-speed ship with a dark gray hull in the base's dock.
The ship was equipped with the force's latest stealth system, enough to evade scans from the vast majority of conventional radars.
Its engine gave an almost inaudible hum as the ship slipped silently out of the base, becoming an inconspicuous streak of light that vanished beyond the ocher planet's atmosphere, heading straight for Planet Namek.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the distant starry expanse.
On a desolate low-level planet, a massacre was underway.
Expressionless, Vegeta reached out and easily drove his hand through the chest of a native warrior, splashing warm blood onto his battle suit.
He withdrew his hand and let the body fall limply to the ground.
For him, clearing out a low-level planet like this was like crushing an ant. It posed no challenge and earned him no combat achievements worth mentioning.
This inefficient accumulation made his desire for power increasingly twisted and urgent.
He wanted to catch up with Turles!
That was the only thing that mattered to him right now!
Raditz, meanwhile, had already parted ways with them.
He was following the route Vegeta had planned for him.
As he cleared out mission targets within his capabilities, he was making his way toward Earth.
Raditz was on edge too.
Kakarot...
You'd better be of some use!
Otherwise, if Vegeta finds out you're just a piece of trash, that anger he has nowhere to vent will come down on me sooner or later!