CHAPTER 2: THE SYMBOL

Planet Bourbon, a rugged world of iron hills and jagged, towering mountains, stretched beneath a hazy, rust-colored sky. A ship roared across the rocky terrain, descending near the outskirts of a bustling town. Its engines hissed as it landed, kicking up a cloud of red dust that mingled with the dry air.

The Explorer stepped out of the ship, their boots crunching against the rocky ground. Meelo followed close behind, a constant whir of servos and chirps emanating from its compact frame. The droid’s blinking lights and shifting panels seemed to convey a question.

The Explorer glanced back briefly. "No, I don't," they answered flatly. "But they're the only reliable source I know for finding out what's going on."

Together, they made their way toward the town. It was alive with activity: townspeople haggled loudly over goods, shopkeepers shouted promises of "exotic meats" and "the planet's finest treasures," and the air carried a mix of spices, sweat, and the acrid tang of fuel. The Explorer ignored the commotion, their focus unyielding.

They turned into a narrow alley, where shadows cloaked a weathered side door guarded by a hulking security droid. Its metal plating was scuffed and rusted, and its glowing red eye flickered faintly as it scanned them.

The droid emitted a series of mechanical growls and clicks, its voice crackling like old static.

"I'm here to see Bracada," the Explorer said without hesitation.

The droid tilted its head, emitting a low, grating sound that suggested refusal. Its bulk shifted slightly, blocking the door.

"Then make him available," the Explorer said firmly, their voice edged with impatience. "It's important, and I don't have time to waste."

For a moment, the droid didn’t move, its flickering eye locked on the Explorer. Then, with a sudden hiss and a groan of gears, the door creaked open, and the droid stepped aside.

The Explorer and Meelo exchanged a brief glance before stepping through the threshold, their senses immediately assaulted by the cacophony of an underground bazaar.

The space was cavernous, sprawling across three floors filled with the universe's most illicit contraband. Traders and criminals from all corners of the galaxy bartered and whispered, their stalls overflowing with stolen artifacts, black-market tech, and strange substances glowing ominously in sealed containers.

The Explorer strode purposefully through the chaotic crowd, brushing past a seller hawking counterfeit relics. Their eyes scanned the room, their mission clear and unwavering.

"Armor stolen from the Frieza army! Best quality—so tough, not even Frieza himself could scratch it!" a vendor shouts, waving a battered chest plate as the Explorer passes.

The Explorer pays no mind, their focus unwavering as they push through the bustling bazaar.

"Hey!" a voice calls out. A scruffy passerby steps in front of them, eyeing Meelo with an unsettling grin. "What’ll it take to hand over that robot of yours?"

The Explorer doesn’t break stride. "He's not for sale."

"I wasn’t asking for a price." The passerby pulls a compact blaster from their jacket, aiming it directly at the Explorer. "How much pain will it take to make you give him up?"

Meelo hovers forward, his frame vibrating with a low hum of warning. Before the situation can escalate, the Explorer raises a hand, signaling Meelo to stand down.

Before anyone can act, two hulking security droids emerge from the crowd, their glowing red eyes locking onto the armed passerby. The droids take position behind the Explorer, their imposing presence enough to make the would-be thief think twice. The weapon lowers, and with a muttered curse, the passerby slinks away into the crowd.

One of the security droids emits a garbled mechanical tone, its voice a jumble of static and synthesized clicks.

The Explorer glances at it. "Lead the way."

The droids turn, their heavy footsteps clanking against the metallic flooring as they guide the Explorer and Meelo to a stairwell at the edge of the bazaar. They descend, the air growing cooler and more stagnant with each step, until they reach a set of revolving doors. The droids stop, standing sentinel as the doors hiss open, granting the two entry.

Inside, the room is dimly lit, cluttered with machinery, parts, and tools scattered across workbenches. At the center of it all is a four-armed snake-like alien wearing a stained lab coat and a scouter over one eye. He’s hunched over the shattered remains of a security droid, half of its body missing, sparks flying as he works.

Monitors line the wall behind him, displaying feeds from every corner of the underground bazaar. He doesn’t look up as he speaks, his voice smooth and oily.

"Sorry for the trouble. You know how desperate criminals get when they’re on the run," he says, his upper arms still working while his lower arms casually pick up a drink. "Everyone’s after something these days. But what you’re looking for... it isn’t something of value, is it?"

The Explorer steps forward, their tone measured. "Not the kind of value you’re thinking of."

The alien finally turns, a sly grin spreading across his scaled face. Slithering closer, he retrieves a small data chip from the pocket of his lab coat, his movements deliberate. With a flick of one hand, he places it delicately on the table in front of the Explorer.

"Then I suppose you’ll find this very interesting," Bracada says, his voice smooth yet tinged with intrigue.

He picks up the broken device beside him, turning it over in two of his four hands. "The original data chip on this droid was fried," he continues, inspecting the damaged machine, "but thankfully, its backup data transferred just before it was destroyed. This..."—he gestures toward the new chip—"is the last recording from its investigation of the planets you listed. Every one of them was lifeless. Barren."

The Explorer crosses their arms. "Anything unusual?"

"The whole thing is bizarre," Bracada says, slithering toward a monitor. "Take Heatron’s Spice Colony. I’ve been there before—it was thriving. Now? It's a planet-sized asteroid floating aimlessly in space. Whatever happened erased it all. And it cost me a droid to get this." He taps the battered machine at his side.

"Here," the Explorer says, pulling an item wrapped in cloth from their pack and handing it over.

Bracada unwraps it to reveal a small, glowing artifact. His eyes widen slightly. "For me? You didn’t have to. I told you—I only did this because of the favor I owed your father."

"Take it anyway. Call it a thanks."

Bracada nods, setting the artifact aside. "Suit yourself. But before you go, there’s one more thing I noticed." He presses a button, pulling up an image on the monitor.

The screen displays a decayed fruit—shriveled and blackened, yet still clinging to an unnatural shape. Its surface is marked by deep grooves, and faint remnants of spiked stems protrude from its top.

"This was found on one of the planets before the droid was destroyed," Bracada explains. "It was too far gone to extract anything useful, but the droid recorded some trace data. Its structure doesn’t match anything I’ve encountered, but the strangest thing? The remnants indicate it came from an enormous tree—one far larger than any natural flora on the planet."

"A tree?" the Explorer repeats, leaning closer.

Bracada nods. "Whatever it was, it left an imprint deep in the soil. The tree must’ve been ancient, but there’s no evidence of it still existing. The image and scan data are on the chip. That’s all I could salvage."

“Thanks again.”

***

Back on the ship, the Explorer and Meelo review the data chip, watching footage of desolate planets. The Explorer pauses on an image of the fruit recorded by the droid, zooming in to study its twisted, decayed features.

"What do you think, Meelo?"

Meelo buzzes, skeptical but curious.

"Maybe. We need to figure out what kind of tree could grow something like this—and why the planets all ended up like this after it was gone."

The Explorer sits back, deep in thought. "Whatever it is, it's tied to the disappearance of life on these planets. Let’s head to the next stop and see if we can find more traces of this."

The ship lifts off, leaving Planet Bourbon behind as it ventures into the unknown.

***

Meanwhile, on another planet, a village teeters on the brink of devastation. Smoke rises from scattered fires, and the once-thriving settlement bears the scars of recent chaos. The villagers huddle together, their eyes filled with uncertainty as four imposing figures stand before them. Around them, defeated raiders lie bound, their weapons shattered and piled nearby.

The figures emerge fully into view, clad in sleek black and grey armor. Their presence exudes a commanding air, their movements sharp and deliberate. At the center is their leader, a towering, battle-hardened warrior with a long ponytail draped over his shoulder and a scar carved across his face. This is Amond.

The elder steps forward, his frail hands clasped in front of him as he bows low. His eyes sweep across the group, noticing a strange feature they all share—long, prehensile tails, each wrapped snugly around their waists. A chill runs through him as he recalls ancient stories of beings like these.

"We are forever in debt to the Frieza Empire for keeping us alive this long," the elder says, his voice heavy with reverence and exhaustion.

Amond raises an eyebrow, his tail flicking slightly behind him as he steps closer. "We don’t work for Frieza," he replies, his tone calm but firm.

The villagers exchange startled glances, fear creeping into their expressions. The elder stammers, unsure of how to respond.

Amond softens his tone, lowering himself slightly to meet the elder’s gaze. "You’re safe now," he reassures them. "There’s no need to cower. We’re not here to take your lives—or your loyalty."

Relief washes over the villagers, their fear melting into gratitude. The raiders who once terrorized them remain bound, trembling as the Crusher Corps stands vigilant nearby.

The elder hesitates. "How can we possibly repay you for saving our home?"

Amond pulls a small, glowing seed from his belt and holds it up. "If you insist," he says, "take this. It’s a seed that will help your planet flourish again. Plant it, nurture it, and its harvest will bring prosperity. In return, we’ll establish a trade route. Your resources will benefit others, and you’ll have our protection."

He places the seed into the elder’s trembling hands before turning away. Behind him, his team watches, each member distinct in demeanor.

On a nearby pile of rubble sit Raisin and Lakasei, identical twins sharing one of the planet’s delicacies and laughing quietly to themselves. Their mischievous energy contrasts starkly with the silent figure of Cacao, who is busy organizing supplies and making preparations for departure.

Daiz, sporting dark teal hair and a punk-rock flair, adjusts his earrings as he glances at Amond. "Sounds like another win for the Crusher Corps," Daiz remarks casually.

"And another opportunity," Amond replies. "We’ve learned more about this ‘Frieza Empire.’ If this Frieza is really trying to rise, our king needs to know. We don’t bow to anyone."

Daiz smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Before we leave, I’ve got one last thing to do."

Amond sighs. "You’re doing it again."

"Every planet, Daiz," Raisin mutters, rolling his eyes.

Lakasei shakes his head, biting into a piece of fruit. "Just let him. It keeps him entertained."

Daiz ignores their comments, hovering toward a large rock near the edge of the village. With a flick of his wrist, neon-colored energy begins to gather in his hands, emitting a radiant, otherworldly glow. With precise movements, Daiz uses the energy like a brush, painting a vibrant symbol onto the surface of the rock. The villagers watch in awe as the swirling design of a tree comes to life, glowing brightly before settling into a faint shimmer.

"There," Daiz says, admiring his work. "Now they’ll never forget who saved them."

As he lands back with the group, the villagers gather around the elder, who clutches the glowing seed to his chest. The villagers whisper amongst themselves, filled with awe and hope, while the bound raiders are dragged away by members of the Crusher Corps to face imprisonment.

Amond looks over his team. "We’re done here. Let’s head back. The king will want to hear about this."

Without further delay, the Crusher Corps boards their ship. As it lifts off, the villagers watch the glowing symbol etched into the rock, a mark of both protection and power, and hold tightly to the gift left behind—a seed that promises a brighter future.

________

Writer's Note:

Well we are back with the Explorer. I will say right now they are a mystery, but they will be revealed in a later chapter who they are. It won't be anyone you'd expect, but they are integral to the story as it plays out in later chapters.

Welcome back Crusher Corps! They're not exactly the same members “to the T” as the movie because I changed all their species to being saiyan, but majority of their armor, characteristics, and origins will honor the originals. It's for a specific story element that plays later on. The mystery is unfolding so stay tuned....