Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Sept 11, 2020 7:08:44 GMT -8
The Saiyan could only respond with spite and defiance. A very telling final selection of words before losing consciousness. It was only natural, of course. A warrior would sooner die than face the humiliation of capture.
But then, with capture, comes the hope of continued survival. With imprisonment comes the possibility of escape. The Good Doctor would have some use of him, for sure. Whatever that was, it wasn't her concern, so long as it served the purpose of ensuring the Tuffle race's continued survival.
Be it the Saiyans, or the encroaching threat of the Cold Force, the universe was a dangerous place. And only the best prepared, the hardiest, would survive and thrive...
She turned around and faced the wreckage of Javelin-01, the troops who were now carefully extracting the cockpit from the rocky outcropping, no doubt to retrieve Paya's body.
It was this spirit that was necessary to survive. The overwhelming desire to honour the memories of those who gave their lives to ensure their continued existence...
Her scouter beeped. She tapped it in response.
<<Go ahead.>>
"The Production company just answered," a familiar, if distant voice said. "They're agreein' to our terms, Hoss. This consultation's in the bag."
ADHQ-01 "Blue Thunder"
En Route to West City
Cerola blinked. This whole time, she had been staring out the window at the vast plains of the Southlands, just reminiscing. What an odd instance to recall. It wasn't like she was going to meet that Saiyan again any time soon.
It had been eight centuries since that battle. What were the odds that he was here too? The TSE had many laboratories scattered across the galaxy. Planet Aspic was not the only warehouse full of pickle jars. It certainly had the most, though.
Still, on the off chance that they were to meet again, she would have to be prepared to make good on that promise. And without the superior technology of the TAS, or even what ISLET was able to rebuild in the last centuries, it was going to be far more challenging.
She turned to face her adjutant. "That's good. I am concerned, however. Are you certain this won't detract from our intended objective to observe the tournament?"
"I mean even if it does, we stand t'make a lotta dough from that contract." Major Carnation spat out of the fireport behind her, saliva landing on the green field. "I get whatcha mean, Hoss. The Old Doc wants a checkup on the pulse of combat today. But the World Martial Arts Tournament is two and a half years off. That's plenty time to pump up."
She might have been an eccentric who leaned a bit too much into Wild Southern films - and films in general - but Carnation was adjutant for a reason. The general nodded. "Today's results will be grossly outdated in thirty months," she concluded. "I suppose we can have a recon team pay attention, in the worst case. The profits from this film contract should be quite substantial."
"Got that right, Hoss." Carnation tipped her cowboy hat and took a sip from her sarsaparilla. "Gotta say though. Ya really zoned out fer a while there. Anythin on yer mind?"
Cerola rested her chin on the back of her left hand, elbow on her desk. "Just memories. Someone I met during the war."
The Major grinned in a teasing fashion. "Someone who caught yer eye?" She knew her CO, of course. Carnation might have been earthborne, but she read her file, and was really impressed. That's why she volunteered for this assignment. The only downside was the general's strict demeanour. She really could use a bit more spice in her life. And such a thing was part of the Major's personal mission.
"I doubt I'll be seeing him again," Cerola concluded. "He wasn't on the Index."
Carnation's voice soured in disappointment. "Well shucks. Musta been quite a feller if ya still think about 'im long after."
"Yes," the general nodded. "He really was quite the warrior..."
670/5023
@null
But then, with capture, comes the hope of continued survival. With imprisonment comes the possibility of escape. The Good Doctor would have some use of him, for sure. Whatever that was, it wasn't her concern, so long as it served the purpose of ensuring the Tuffle race's continued survival.
Be it the Saiyans, or the encroaching threat of the Cold Force, the universe was a dangerous place. And only the best prepared, the hardiest, would survive and thrive...
She turned around and faced the wreckage of Javelin-01, the troops who were now carefully extracting the cockpit from the rocky outcropping, no doubt to retrieve Paya's body.
It was this spirit that was necessary to survive. The overwhelming desire to honour the memories of those who gave their lives to ensure their continued existence...
Her scouter beeped. She tapped it in response.
<<Go ahead.>>
"The Production company just answered," a familiar, if distant voice said. "They're agreein' to our terms, Hoss. This consultation's in the bag."
ADHQ-01 "Blue Thunder"
En Route to West City
Cerola blinked. This whole time, she had been staring out the window at the vast plains of the Southlands, just reminiscing. What an odd instance to recall. It wasn't like she was going to meet that Saiyan again any time soon.
It had been eight centuries since that battle. What were the odds that he was here too? The TSE had many laboratories scattered across the galaxy. Planet Aspic was not the only warehouse full of pickle jars. It certainly had the most, though.
Still, on the off chance that they were to meet again, she would have to be prepared to make good on that promise. And without the superior technology of the TAS, or even what ISLET was able to rebuild in the last centuries, it was going to be far more challenging.
She turned to face her adjutant. "That's good. I am concerned, however. Are you certain this won't detract from our intended objective to observe the tournament?"
"I mean even if it does, we stand t'make a lotta dough from that contract." Major Carnation spat out of the fireport behind her, saliva landing on the green field. "I get whatcha mean, Hoss. The Old Doc wants a checkup on the pulse of combat today. But the World Martial Arts Tournament is two and a half years off. That's plenty time to pump up."
She might have been an eccentric who leaned a bit too much into Wild Southern films - and films in general - but Carnation was adjutant for a reason. The general nodded. "Today's results will be grossly outdated in thirty months," she concluded. "I suppose we can have a recon team pay attention, in the worst case. The profits from this film contract should be quite substantial."
"Got that right, Hoss." Carnation tipped her cowboy hat and took a sip from her sarsaparilla. "Gotta say though. Ya really zoned out fer a while there. Anythin on yer mind?"
Cerola rested her chin on the back of her left hand, elbow on her desk. "Just memories. Someone I met during the war."
The Major grinned in a teasing fashion. "Someone who caught yer eye?" She knew her CO, of course. Carnation might have been earthborne, but she read her file, and was really impressed. That's why she volunteered for this assignment. The only downside was the general's strict demeanour. She really could use a bit more spice in her life. And such a thing was part of the Major's personal mission.
"I doubt I'll be seeing him again," Cerola concluded. "He wasn't on the Index."
Carnation's voice soured in disappointment. "Well shucks. Musta been quite a feller if ya still think about 'im long after."
"Yes," the general nodded. "He really was quite the warrior..."
670/5023
@null