Going Native: Loss of an Enemy (ch. 80) (Patreon)

I ripped through the healing pod I found myself in, greenish fluid erupting from the pressurized pod before I forced my way through the opening. Tearing the mask off of my face, a hand went to my chest to where I felt the hole that had been punched through my chest filled with flesh and bone. A purple light filled my vision, and I saw empty containers filled with biogel.

"S-Supreme Commander! Please-" My head felt like it was filled with cotton, and my ears were filled with fluid. I blinked once, looking at an alien dressed in medical clothes, a datapad clutched in one of its many appendages. A squid lifeform of some kind?

"The battle, how-" I began, shaking my head to clear the fog.

"We lost," I heard another say, bringing my attention to Bardock, who leaned against the wall by the entrance. "After you were taken out, Frieza got wounded by that Hal guy, so he turned tail and ran. Atrocitus betrayed us, and Sinestro was defeated. So, all in all, we lost the battle."

Frieza had been wounded? "And the war?" I questioned, looking to Bardock as the squid alien handed me some clothes -- my typical outfit of a black full-body undersuit marked with lines of Nth metal and a deep red waistcloth. Bardock's expression was unreadable for a moment, making my mind race with possibilities and backup plans.

Then he smirked. "The Federation officially surrendered," he informed and it took the words a long second to register. The Federation had surrendered? That was half of the galaxy. The plan had worked. It had worked perfectly—while the Federation was distracted with the Vega System and committing so many resources to it, I had the bulk of the military push the front lines with the determination to breakthrough. It has been top secret, only a handful had known before getting the order, but… it worked. I needed to know the details, but it had worked.

I swallowed thickly, mulling it over as I dressed, the hole in my clothing repaired. "And unofficially?" I questioned, striding forward as I ignored the protests of the doctor. There was too much to be done for me to do a follow-up. I was already behind as it was.

Bardock fell in step behind me as we entered the halls. The Warworld reached out, touching my mind and granting me access to its systems. I had been out of it for three days, but two of those were in slip space. A day wasn't as bad comparatively, but it was a full day for the situation to change. For the Federation to feel embolden by our loss at the Vega System. For rumors to circulate that Frieza and I were dead. Bardock hinted as much.

"Pretty big chunks of various militaries are going rogue, probably with the Federation's approval under the table. They aren't a threat, but they're enough to be a serious annoyance, with the potential to become worse if they get the ball rolling. We haven't accepted the surrender yet, so there's still time to go headhunting," Bardock said, making me nearly miss a step.

"We haven't accepted the surrender? Why hasn't Frieza done so already?" Was he not satisfied with the surrender? Would he accept nothing less than total war? Damn. I wish Hal had better aim and did more than just wound Frieza. It would have made things vastly simpler.

Bardock shook his head, "Frieza's been out of commission. He's awake, unlike you, but…" he shrugged, trailing off. "He lost an arm and a tail, and he's killing his doctors. Killed a Saiyan too," he added. And that made little sense.

Unless… "There's an issue that he doesn't want getting out," I voiced as the two of us walked to the command center. Bardock nodded, supporting my theory. It was easy enough to guess if you had the pieces -- Frieza wanted a Saiyan to use a Medicine Ball on him to regrow his lost limbs. However, from the sound of it… it didn't work. For what reason, I couldn't be certain, but what I did understand was that Frieza had been crippled. Possibly permanently.

Not quite what I wanted, but it wasn't a bad consolation prize.

"Did he give any orders?" I questioned, keeping my tone even. I had to fight off a smirk upon hearing the news, and out of all my recent battles, it was perhaps my most challenging by far.

Frieza murdered thirty billion men. He murdered Avery and Technician. Losing an arm and a tail was the least he should suffer.

"Just to let you handle everything," Bardock replied, a smirk in his tone. So, Frieza had retreated into solitude to lick his wounds? It was surprising, but perhaps it shouldn't be. It was possible that this was the first time Frieza had even been injured. The first time he had ever felt pain. All feared Frieza's power simply because he was so overwhelming. Never once had I ever heard of him being challenged. Never so much as get in a fight, because Frieza turned every battle into a one-sided slaughter.

Regardless, that suited my needs perfectly. I could secure a peace treaty. Then the war with the Federation would be over. All that would be left was crushing the Reach Empire since they weren't a part of the Federation…

Then there would be peace.

"We lost the battle, but won the war… Now let's go win the peace. Two out of three is good enough for me," I told Bardock, earning a deep chuckle as we approached the command center. There were a handful of generals inside, talking amongst each other as they took the reigns of the military. All of them fell silent the moment the doors slid open and dropped into a kneeling position. My gaze flickered over the screens they were pouring over.

They detailed our position within the heart of the Federation. We had taken the capitals, but we were overstretched. It wouldn't be long before the Federation realized it too and tried to take their capitals back. Some were already trying.

I walked to the chair in the room and took a seat, "Catch me up on the situation." As much as I wanted to dwell on what I had learned—Froot, the Guardians, the Pink Lanterns— there simply wasn't time for it. That could come later.

For now?

The Warworld obeyed my order to open up an open channel, one that would be broadcasted across the galaxy, directed at the Federation. "I am Prince Tarble, Supreme Commander of the Trade Organization Armed Forces. On behalf of Lord Frieza, I officially accept your surrender. At noon tomorrow, the peace talks shall begin on Planet Vegeta, the Saiyan homeworld. Any aggressive actions taken towards the Trade Organization will be considered a decoration of intent and will be responded to in kind."

I leaned back into my chair, narrowing my eyes at the maps of the galaxy. The message would spread quickly. Our own Diplomat team was already prepared, but I would lead the Peace Talks in Frieza's place. Cooler, and possibly King Cold, would make an appearance, but that was within my expectations. Cooler cared about profits more than anything. King Cold would be the wild card, but from what I understood, Cooler took the most after his father.

"It's over, Tarble," Bardock remarked, standing next to me as my attention shifted to the various maps, my mind already turning over responses and countermeasures.

"Not yet," I responded. The war wasn't over yet. There was too much to do, last-minute adjustments that needed to be taken care o—

Bardock reached out and thumped me on the head, an old gesture. I hardly felt the blow because, once again, Bardock was hiding his power level. He was stronger than my brother, who I noticed was in a training room with the gravity increased. How long had he been hiding his true strength? For what purpose?

"You know, you flip between extremes, Tarble," Bardock said, earning an annoyed frown from me. I was getting really tired of being psychoanalyzed. "Way back when you were fresh out the tank, you'd sleep for weeks. You'd sit around, doing nothing until the next mission started. Now, you never stop doing something. Stop and take a breath. No shame in it. Especially considering what happened in the Vega System."

Froot. The Guardians. The Pink Lanterns. Bardock hiding his power. We missed our chance to have Frieza be killed by the enemy…

My gaze landed on the confirmed casualty list. Avery and Technician were dead. I found their names, along with everyone else that I had stationed on the planets in the Vega system. Thirty billion. Thirty billion men. Each handpicked by me. Every single one of them were good and loyal soldiers. And they were dead because of Frieza's thoughtless display of power.

"I'll stop and breathe when the war ends. For good," I dismissed the advice.

There just wasn't any time for it. Now, I had to prepare. I was about to embark on a battlefield that I had never stepped foot on before.

Diplomacy. The true final battle of the war.

…

Bardock sighed as he left Tarble alone, walking through the Warworld. The place was the definition of overcrowded, and that was after a solid half of the population that had retreated to the Warworld was sent off. For two days, as they flew through slip space, every hallway was completely packed to the point you could only get anywhere by flying.

Tarble had a one-track mind at times. But, for now, it really didn't matter. Bardock hadn't exactly been looking forward to that conversation of why he had hidden strength in the first place, so if Tarble wanted to push that conversation back then Bardock wasn't going to complain.

"Tora, Fasha," Bardock got the two's attention, speaking through his scouter. "Come find me," Bardock ordered as he flew over the crowded hallways. There wasn't much room for privacy, but that worked in his favor. Tarble had set the date and location for the Peace Talks. That meant they had a time and a place.

Bardock touched down on the ground in a spot with a small opening, but they were mostly surrounded by others. A few spared them a glance, backing up a bit to give Bardock more room -- in recent years, the Saiyan race became the most respected and feared species in the Trade Organization. A big change compared to a decade ago where the only reason people knew what a Saiyan was, was because he was the Employee of the year for more than a decade.

Tarble was still a few years off from breaking his record.

Fasha and Tora made their way towards him, he felt it thanks to his ki sensing ability. Something he had gained years ago, not long after he had joined the Ginyu Squad. You could only spend so much time with powerhouses like that and not feel the strength that radiated from them. Then one day, something had simply clicked in place. With it, his power had skyrocketed enough so that he had briefly been the most powerful Saiyan alive. Then Broly had appeared, followed by Vegeta and Tarble having their growth spurts. Now, only two were stronger than him. And one of which was out of the picture.

Fasha arrived first. There was a tension in her stance, likely knowing exactly what this was. In her hands was a datapad that she held so tightly that the screen began to crack. Bardock cocked an eyebrow and gestured to it. “What’s with the datapad?” He asked, trying to break the tension.

Instead, Fasha stiffened. “It’s… just something a dead soldier wanted to pass onto me.” She replied in a tone hard as steel, almost daring him to challenge her on that. Bardock had his questions, but he swallowed them down. Whatever it was, Fasha didn’t feel like sharing and he didn’t feel the need to press the issue.

Tora arrived a moment later, his second in command towering over the two of them. His expression was serious. The date had arrived faster than any of them had expected, but it had arrived all the same. The war was all but over. The Reach would be crushed, the Federation would be crippled… then it would be all over. But, right now, they had an opportunity available to them.

“They need to die. Tarble is already king in every way that actually matters, but he won’t ever step up and take the titles. And until then, we’re stuck in this situation,” Bardock spoke quietly after they removed their scouters. Right now, the Class system was still in effect. The two Vegeta’s were the last two hangups from really breaking free of it. They were what was holding the Saiyan race back.

Traditionalists against Progressives. A conflict as old as time.

“The Peace Talks is where we have our chance. Everyone is going to be expecting something to happen, but they won’t expect for us to make our move,” Bardock began, taking out a capsule before tossing it on the ground. The capsule released its contents, revealing a gun. A sleek rail gun, a little banged up, but ultimately still functional. Nothing was really special about it, except for one thing -- the shell loaded into the weapon was made of Nth metal. “I found this in the battle. It’s Frieza-Force issued.”

Tora frowned, “Won’t that make it look like the Frieza-Force killed them?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.

Bardock nodded, “We’ll be hiding in plain sight. The Frieza-Force will expect the Federation to make a move, so they’ll think that the weapon is the Federation trying to cover their tracks.” Using a gun left a bad taste in Bardock’s mouth, but he had long since gotten used to the taste. The mission, the team, then pride.

The Nth metal was the silver bullet as far as the galaxy was concerned. It’s exactly what a weaker species would use. A Saiyan? Everyone knew Saiyans hated guns. He and the team wouldn’t even be on the list of suspects… more than that, everyone would assume that King and Prince Vegeta were casualties in an attempt on either Tarble or the Cold Family. When they looked for who killed them, they’d likely find a half dozen conspiracies on the Federation side.

It was about as good of an opportunity as Bardock could ask for.

Tora nodded while Fasha looked down at the gun dispassionately. The others would be included later, but they needed to hammer out a plan now. The details -- or, rather, detail. Who was going to pull the trigger?

Bardock was surprised when Fasha reached down and grabbed the gun. She lifted it with ease, bracing it against her shoulder to test it out. She nodded to herself, her dark eyes hard as she looked at something only she could see. Without a word, she sealed the gun away in a capsule. Picking it up, she looked at Bardock -- there was something in her gaze that set him on edge. Fasha was no stranger to battle lust, but there was something darker in her gaze.

She had been a part of the conspiracy to kill the Vegeta's since the beginning, but something had made it personal for her.

"We deal with the prince first," Bardock told her. King Vegeta wasn't the supremely powerful Saiyan that he had once been. He had fallen vastly behind the times to the point that there were children more powerful than him. Both he and Matillo were relics of a bygone era for the Saiyan race. The Prince was the largest obstacle to Tarble becoming king. Take him out first, then King Vegeta could get mopped up at any time.

Fasha offered a curt nod, "Just tell me when." She said before she flew up and away, leaving him and Tora to watch her leave. They glanced at one another, each silently asking the other if they had any idea what prompted that.

Regardless, they had their shooter and an Nth metal bullet. Vegeta would die soon enough.

"It's finally happening, huh?" Tora muttered, leaning against the wall next to Bardock.

Bardock smirked, "Remember the days when this was all talk?"

"You mean when you kept ranting about how much better of a job you would do if you were king and the rest of us agreed to shut you up?" Tora shot back, earning a chuckle from Bardock. Those had been the days, huh? Before the war, when they were all low-class trash scraping by with every mission. Every battle had to be won with quick thinking and ruthless tactics, because none of them had been strong enough to overpower anyone. The days when the Power Ball was the ultimate technique of the Saiyan race because it allowed them to use what had been their ultimate form.

To think, all of this got started because King Vegeta picked him to train his youngest son in an effort to stall him from becoming Mid-Class. If he hadn't done that, then Tarble would have gone off to be mentored under a completely different Saiyan. Who knew who he'd be if that had happened? That potential had always been there, but it had taken time to realize it. Tarble probably would have died in anyone else's care.

"He's not going to forgive something like this," Bardock noted. He had practically raised Tarble for a good chunk of his life. From fresh out the pod to beating the shit out of him in sparring, until they went separate ways. Because of it, he knew who Tarble was.

Deep down, underneath all of the Prestige and Titles, he was still that same brat that fought to the brink of death thousands of times in search of approval from a family that had discarded him for being weak.

That family they would be murdering.

"Then we make sure he doesn't know it was us," Tora remarked. He had a point. A secret like that?

It could only end in bloodshed if it ever saw the light of day.

…

"Mom?" Elery questioned, hovering nearby her Mom while she talked with Kakarot and Raditz's Mom. Mom looked at her, so Elery continued. "Who are we going to fight now that the war is over?" That was the question that had plagued Elery for some time now. Her dumb big brother had kept her out of the fight in the Vega system, but she got to be a part of the fight to take a bunch of capital worlds.

It had been fun, but apparently, the war was over? The Federation just decided to… give up. It was weird to think about—Elery would rather just die than surrender, so it was weird that despite being so huge and powerful and still alive the Federation was—yet they just gave up like that.

A troubled look passed over Mom's face before she shrugged, "I'm sure we'll find someone to start something with. The war is over in the galaxy, but there's still the Reach to finish off. After that, we could see about going to different galaxies. There's a whole universe full of worthy opponents to fight Elery. We just have to find them." Mom reassured her.

Elery mulled that over for a moment and offered a nod, satisfied with the answer. If this war was ending, then it just meant that they could start another somewhere else. She was sure that her brother had a list of enemies to declare on already prepared.

"Why don't you go ask Tarble?" Mom said, using a tone that she only used when she wanted others to go away so she could have Mom talks with other moms. Elery's face twisted.

"He's busy," Elery dismissed. Her brother was always busy. "I'll go find Kakarot," Elery decided instead, turning around and blasting off. They were on her brother's old capital ship, the Devastator, which made it pretty big, but not so big that it made it difficult to find her friends. It was a bit more difficult to find them since there was a whole bunch of Saiyans on the ship, so their power levels didn't stand out as much.

Still, she found them easy enough in the cargo area. Kakarot and Olaive, both of which were fighting against Kakarot's older brother, Raditz. He didn't really look anything like Kakarot -- he had already had his growth spurts, so now he looked like an adult, with super long shaggy hair that dipped down all the way to his butt. Elery had already had her first growth spurt, so did Olaive, leaving Kakarot behind in height.

Broly probably would have had his first growth spurt already too.

Elery flew over before taking a seat on one of the cargo containers that housed a lot of capsules that would be filled with stuff. "Hey, guys. Are you all excited to go back home?" Elery questioned, her tail twitching back and forth. Just as she expected, her question distracted Raditz just enough that Kakarot was able to slip a fist through his guard, letting him score a right cross to Raditz's face.

It was tempting to join in, but that would make it unfair.

"I guess. I'm not sure why every Saiyan is getting recalled to Planet Vegeta, though. Not like we're going to be any good for Peace Talks," Kakarot remarked, dodging underneath a kick, only to be hit with another in the face when the first proved to be a feint. He flew back, his nose bleeding, but Olaive took the pressure off of him to let him recover.

"I think Prince Tarble is going to feed the diplomats that he doesn't like to us," Olaive pointed out, and that was a possibility. Though, Raditz didn't think so because of his scoff.

"It was King Vegeta that ordered the recall. He's using the Peace Talks as an excuse to celebrate Prince Vegeta and Prince Tarble's achievements to every Saiyan. So we know who the strongest of us all is," Raditz said, punching Olaive in the gut before flinging her into Kakarot.

Huh. Elery really didn't care, honestly. Her only thoughts on the King were that Mom didn't like him, so she didn't either. "It'll be fun. The last time everyone was there, we were all way weaker. Do you think we could blow up the planet if we tried?" Elery wondered, swinging her legs back and forth as she imagined it. "We could hold a tournament for everyone to see who the strongest Saiyan really is! Brother says that power levels don't mean everything, so maybe one of the other kids is actually way stronger than everyone else?"

Raditz huffed, "Don't think it's you?" He questioned, fending off Kakarot's attacks with ease.

Elery wished, but time had proven again and again that Brother was simply too strong. The same for Other Brother. "No. Have you ever managed to beat Other Brother?"

"Other- you mean Prince Vegeta? No, not even close," Raditz answered. That was good. She wanted one of the kids from her generation to be the most powerful Saiyans alive. It would be cooler that way. "But, the idea of a tournament is a pretty decent one. Might be good entertainment while the Princes are stuck dealing with Peace Talks."

Yeah, it would be fun. And maybe, after the war was over, Brother would stop being so busy all the time. He could let someone else be Supreme Commander, then they could go to war with another galaxy. Or the Federation again! They let them build up their strength, then when they were at their strongest, they could go back to war.

It would be fun! Elery couldn't wait.

…

It didn't hurt anymore. The drugs saw to that, but the memory of receiving the wound that took his tail and arm from him were painful to relive as he was stuck in a hospice.

Frieza stared down at the stump of his arm, cut off at the elbow, and gnashed his teeth. That damn Lantern. Those damn Guardians. Those damn monkeys!

"Lord Frieza-" Frieza lashed out with his hand, reducing the creature's head to a fine mist. He could hear the failure in the alien's tone. The fear. If they had a solution, then they would be more confident. But, no matter how many doctors he burned through, each gave him the same result.

Too much was unknown about his species' biology, a preventive measure taken by his father by wiping out the rest of their species. They reproduced asexually, so it mattered little. It was to prevent poisonings and diseases, because their biology was so unique compared to lesser species. Such as the lack of a need to breathe.

However, that was quickly becoming a roadblock, because each doctor failed to produce results. They said it would 'take time' to regrow his arm and tail. Or that they would need to 'study his biology' to determine how long it would take to regrow it. The uniqueness of his race proved to be the very thing that stopped him from leaving this damn room.

His image would be ruined. The unstoppable, untouchable CEO of the Trade Organization would no longer be so unstoppable or untouchable. People would doubt his power. After all, an undefeated champion was in a completely different league from a mere champion.

If people saw him as some cripple…

Cooler wouldn't let the chance go by. Oh, his elder brother had waited for a chance like this for all of his pathetic life. Cooler might be a pathetic attention seeker, but he was smart. It was possibly his only redeeming quality. He would seize the opportunity and take the Trade Organization away from him.

Frieza's hand balled into a fist -- he'd reduce the company to ashes before he let that happen. He'd destroy it all, everything in the galaxy, rather than let anything be taken from him.

"The preparations?" Frieza bit out, looking at Berryblue.

"Underway… though, not too late to put a stop to this," she answered while a few aliens dragged away the headless corpse.

Frieza smiled to himself, feeling something other than rage and humiliation.

"Oh, why would I ever want to stop?" After everything he'd suffered, he was entitled to a little entertainment. And he had oh so looked forward to this.

He had cultivated the conflict for a decade now. It was time to have the Saiyan race explode.

And what an explosion it would be.