Post by Vegia on Feb 9, 2018 2:28:08 GMT -6
“This isn’t your fight, girl.”
She hadn’t heard her father use that tone with her in… years. Not since she had beaten down another Elite warrior in open combat. She had been called Elite for almost half her life. She had erased that stain of failure from her birth, but now he was angry with her, because she wouldn’t back down? Because she wanted to do her duty to her people?!
The palace burned behind them. Her brother, Letis, lay unmoving with the rest of the family forming a defensive shield as medical treatment was applied. A barrage of blasts scattered between daughter, father, and the rest of the family. When the smoke cleared, Letis was gone, and Vegia suppressed a shudder at the sound of her mother’s fury and pain, the outrage of her brothers.
“Don’t be a fool, old man!” She shouted, and where she would once have hoped to see a smile on his face at her bravado, there was only cold anger in his eyes. “I’m strong! I can fight! You can’t—”
His fist caught her firmly in the gut, and the air exploded out of her as she doubled over. She didn’t even see him move! The sudden blow caught her completely off guard, and her eyes bulged as pain flared in her stomach. She tried to suck in a breath as the world wobbled in her vision, but her body refused, and her knees went weak as she lurched to the side.
“The best thing you can do is keep the family name alive.” Her father spat, “You were never worthy to stand alongside us… Least Elite.”
The contemptuous nickname her brothers had used to mock her throughout her youth hit harder than any fist ever could. She wanted to throw up, but mercifully Karo’s elbow struck the back of her head before she was reduced to that indignity, and the world went black.
The journey in such pods was supposed to be quick and comfortable. It was supposed to keep her in a state of semi-sedation to ensure that the boredom didn’t drive her mad. In actual fact, it was successful in absolutely none of these design goals, but at least boredom wasn't something that she needed to worry about. She had plenty to keep her in a state of agitated awareness.
She awoke to the alarms of the transport screaming at her that the tiny pod had suffered catastrophic damage. The air was thin, and her lungs burned as she struggled to stay conscious. It was so cold. The void of space was separated from her only by a thin skin of metal, and she felt it. Her every breath caused fresh spots to burst in her vision, her whole body aching as heat bled away from tired limbs.
Yet, even so, all she could see were those last, awful moments. The physical discomfort of her travel was nothing compared to the anguish of those last, painful memories.
Her mother’s scream. Her father’s cold eyes. The endless waves of enemy troops bearing down on their position. Her childhood home reduced to so much burning wreckage; a ruin of its former glory. A palace that had stood for generations, reduced to nothing due to their weakness.
Her family’s promise broken in an instant.
And at the last, she hadn’t even been allowed to die with honour.
When the pod finally broke atmosphere, she was convinced that it would be the end of her. The pod practically sloughed away around her, metal melting away as inadequate heat shielding, compromised by the World Trade Fleet’s parting ‘gifts’, burned in the atmosphere. It had been so quiet in space. Now her whole world was a screaming cacophony of terrifying noise and pinwheeling motion as gravity reasserted itself and she was flung, helpless, towards the planetary surface, as though she had been pitched there by the hand of some angry God.
When she awoke, it was in the middle of a crater. The wreckage of her pod was scattered around her, except for those bits that were embedded within her.
Vegia had suffered a great deal of pain in her life. She had been badly beaten, burned with energy, broken limbs, and more. Her training had not been gentle. Even the agony of her forced flight from her home paled before this, though. The freeze-burn suffering of flight in a damaged space pod was gentle compared to the ruined state her body was in when she awoke. It felt as if every bone in her body had been cracked, every inch of flesh bruised, and she was again trapped. The fact that she could breathe was another injustice. The air was plentiful, but it hurt her bruised, possibly broken, ribs.
How was it possible for her to have survived when so many superior, powerful warriors had died?
At least she’d been disgorged from the pod face up. This alone allowed her to look into the slate-grey sky above her, and not stare into the dirt. It was a small mercy, but one she was grateful for. She’d never seen an alien sky before. It was interesting how different planets had different coloured atmosphere.
Then it began to rain, and she gave up trying to hope for anything.
Eventually, the young Saiyan Elite lapsed into unconsciousness. She didn’t expect to wake up again. In many ways, that would have been for the best. She could have gone to have grave and been reunited with her family in the afterlife, if there even was such a thing. Privately, she doubted it; death was death, and whilst it was comforting to think that her family might still exist in some form… she couldn’t believe it, not really.
In her dreams, she was there for their final moments. She witnessed her brothers being blasted to pieces by the relentless onslaught of World Trade Force troopers. She saw the moment that an Arcosian punched a hole through her mother’s heart, and broke her father’s spine. She saw that cold smile, the satisfaction of a monster who had finally been given everything that they had ever wanted.
For generations, the Arcosians had been a footnote in the great story of the Saiyan race; a threat that had been roundly defeated and would never return again. Now, it seemed, they were back, and whilst the Saiyan race had grown weak, the Arcosians had been made stronger than ever by their trials.
Her nightmares were filled with visions of slaughter; and in every one, she was forced to watch without even a body to attempt to fight. Powerless. Helpless. Her father's voice ringing in her ears.
"Least Elite."
When, to her surprise, she awoke, it was to the distant realisation that she had been screaming, thrashing, shouting. Her sheets were soaked through with sweat. She was in a strange room. But, she could move. It hurt, but she could move. She was also tied down.
Power flared around her as she struggled against her bonds, but it flickered out almost immediately. Her body was too thrashed to channel her ki; and as she collapsed back into the mattress, a kindly face leaned over into her field of vision. He was an old man, and the cold towel he pressed against her face was heaven itself.
“There, there.” He murmured, “You’ve been through a lot, young lady. You just try not to injure yourself.”
“I have to…” She croaked, her voice cracked and weak. “I have to…”
The towel brushed over her brow, wiping away the fever and sweat, leaving a trail of cool relief in its wake.
“You have to relax, dear. You’re lucky to be alive, and you need time to heal, Saiyan or no.”
“But, the Palace, the King…” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. The edges of her vision were starting to go black. The old man’s expression looked very sad. He didn’t need to say anything. It hadn’t been a nightmare. It was real. Very real. It was all gone. Everything. Gone.
“Here.” The old man said, “Drink this.”
He lifted something to her lips, and she realised how parched her throat was. He stopped her from just gulping it down, and before long, the room swam and she found herself drifting away, eyes closing despite her best struggles. He’d, drugged her? Why would he…
When she awoke, she wasn’t tied down any more. She felt, fine.
She pulled herself out of bed, and as her feet hit the floor, she realised that – actually – she felt better than she’d ever done before. Didn’t they say that after a near death experience, Saiyans became much stronger? She’d never actually experienced that herself, until now… but clenching her fist, she could feel new power surging within her, just waiting to explode out!
The space was small, crowded with far too many bottles, bandages, and miscellaneous medical equipment. A huge cauldron bubbled in the middle of the hut, with a tiny table set next to it, and two folding chairs. She was wearing a long white nightdress, which… she didn’t want to think about too much, and she was also very alone.
Hesitantly, she stepped forwards to the cauldron, and when she pulled off the iron lid she revealed-
Laundry. Quite a large amount of it, in fact, including her bright red and gold uniform bubbling away amongst the soap.
“Oh, you’re awake! That’s good.”
She looked up sharply to see the silhouette of the kindly old man against the doorframe of the hut. He looked smaller than she remembered, and a lot frailer.
“How long did you keep me out for?” She demanded, her voice sharp. Her wounds had healed completely! She had to get back to Vegeta, she had to help her people!
“Just a couple of days.” The old man said, soothingly. “You’d be amazed what the right beans can accomplish. You’re lucky the people that found you knew to bring you to me.”
She hesitated, thinking back… maybe she hadn’t been as badly injured as she thought she had? It was possible. It was always hard to gauge one’s own state of injury. If it had mostly been bruising rather than shattered bones, then, maybe she could have recovered in a day with this primitive treatment? She clenched her fist.
“And you stripped me out of my uniform?!”
The old man chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to sit himself down on one of the chairs. He set down the basket of vegetables he’d gathered on the table, and gestured to the other seat.
“I’m just an old doctor.” He said, “I promise, I’ve seen it all before. Please. Come and have a seat, you must have a lot of questions.”
For a few moments, she didn’t move at all. When she finally did, it was with a heavy huff.
“I suppose you did save my life.” She conceded. “We’ll call it even.”
Her uniform felt strange as she pulled it back on. Stils had been helpful; he’d shared what was known of the news with her. Vegeta had fallen, but it hadn’t been destroyed in its totality. The Prince was missing, the King was dead, along with most of the royal guard. It would be weeks before a full casualty list could be ascertained, if it ever came out at all now that the World Trade Fleet was in charge.
She didn’t need to see it written down. She knew in her heart that her family was dead. They wouldn’t have fled. It was a shame that none of the Line of Karo could have lived with.
She knew because she felt it now, burning in her heart like a brand. She’d survived, and she should have given her life in the defence of her duty. But. Now that she had been forced to live, it was time to make something of it. Earth was the rallying point for those Saiyans who had survived the attack. No doubt someone higher up the chain than her would have survived and, maybe, together, they could forge some kind of plan out of all this chaos.
“Are you sure you want to go rushing off already?” Stils asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. She tensed at his touch but restrained herself from lashing out. Even as angry and alone as she was, she was still a member of the Royal Guard, and the last of the Line of Karo. She had to conduct herself with dignity. “You could stay with me for a few days, take some time to recover your strength.”
She looked back at him, and made herself grin, even though she didn’t feel anything like joy or confidence in her heart. Appearances were important. She had to make the right impression.
“I’ve never been stronger.” She said, “As those World Trade Fools are going to discover soon enough!”
Before he could say another word, bright blue power surged around her, and she tore a jagged trail up into the sky. She couldn’t let herself be tied down by the kindness of strangers. She had to keep moving.
She’d figure out where she was going later.
She hadn’t heard her father use that tone with her in… years. Not since she had beaten down another Elite warrior in open combat. She had been called Elite for almost half her life. She had erased that stain of failure from her birth, but now he was angry with her, because she wouldn’t back down? Because she wanted to do her duty to her people?!
The palace burned behind them. Her brother, Letis, lay unmoving with the rest of the family forming a defensive shield as medical treatment was applied. A barrage of blasts scattered between daughter, father, and the rest of the family. When the smoke cleared, Letis was gone, and Vegia suppressed a shudder at the sound of her mother’s fury and pain, the outrage of her brothers.
“Don’t be a fool, old man!” She shouted, and where she would once have hoped to see a smile on his face at her bravado, there was only cold anger in his eyes. “I’m strong! I can fight! You can’t—”
His fist caught her firmly in the gut, and the air exploded out of her as she doubled over. She didn’t even see him move! The sudden blow caught her completely off guard, and her eyes bulged as pain flared in her stomach. She tried to suck in a breath as the world wobbled in her vision, but her body refused, and her knees went weak as she lurched to the side.
“The best thing you can do is keep the family name alive.” Her father spat, “You were never worthy to stand alongside us… Least Elite.”
The contemptuous nickname her brothers had used to mock her throughout her youth hit harder than any fist ever could. She wanted to throw up, but mercifully Karo’s elbow struck the back of her head before she was reduced to that indignity, and the world went black.
The journey in such pods was supposed to be quick and comfortable. It was supposed to keep her in a state of semi-sedation to ensure that the boredom didn’t drive her mad. In actual fact, it was successful in absolutely none of these design goals, but at least boredom wasn't something that she needed to worry about. She had plenty to keep her in a state of agitated awareness.
She awoke to the alarms of the transport screaming at her that the tiny pod had suffered catastrophic damage. The air was thin, and her lungs burned as she struggled to stay conscious. It was so cold. The void of space was separated from her only by a thin skin of metal, and she felt it. Her every breath caused fresh spots to burst in her vision, her whole body aching as heat bled away from tired limbs.
Yet, even so, all she could see were those last, awful moments. The physical discomfort of her travel was nothing compared to the anguish of those last, painful memories.
Her mother’s scream. Her father’s cold eyes. The endless waves of enemy troops bearing down on their position. Her childhood home reduced to so much burning wreckage; a ruin of its former glory. A palace that had stood for generations, reduced to nothing due to their weakness.
Her family’s promise broken in an instant.
And at the last, she hadn’t even been allowed to die with honour.
When the pod finally broke atmosphere, she was convinced that it would be the end of her. The pod practically sloughed away around her, metal melting away as inadequate heat shielding, compromised by the World Trade Fleet’s parting ‘gifts’, burned in the atmosphere. It had been so quiet in space. Now her whole world was a screaming cacophony of terrifying noise and pinwheeling motion as gravity reasserted itself and she was flung, helpless, towards the planetary surface, as though she had been pitched there by the hand of some angry God.
When she awoke, it was in the middle of a crater. The wreckage of her pod was scattered around her, except for those bits that were embedded within her.
Vegia had suffered a great deal of pain in her life. She had been badly beaten, burned with energy, broken limbs, and more. Her training had not been gentle. Even the agony of her forced flight from her home paled before this, though. The freeze-burn suffering of flight in a damaged space pod was gentle compared to the ruined state her body was in when she awoke. It felt as if every bone in her body had been cracked, every inch of flesh bruised, and she was again trapped. The fact that she could breathe was another injustice. The air was plentiful, but it hurt her bruised, possibly broken, ribs.
How was it possible for her to have survived when so many superior, powerful warriors had died?
At least she’d been disgorged from the pod face up. This alone allowed her to look into the slate-grey sky above her, and not stare into the dirt. It was a small mercy, but one she was grateful for. She’d never seen an alien sky before. It was interesting how different planets had different coloured atmosphere.
Then it began to rain, and she gave up trying to hope for anything.
Eventually, the young Saiyan Elite lapsed into unconsciousness. She didn’t expect to wake up again. In many ways, that would have been for the best. She could have gone to have grave and been reunited with her family in the afterlife, if there even was such a thing. Privately, she doubted it; death was death, and whilst it was comforting to think that her family might still exist in some form… she couldn’t believe it, not really.
In her dreams, she was there for their final moments. She witnessed her brothers being blasted to pieces by the relentless onslaught of World Trade Force troopers. She saw the moment that an Arcosian punched a hole through her mother’s heart, and broke her father’s spine. She saw that cold smile, the satisfaction of a monster who had finally been given everything that they had ever wanted.
For generations, the Arcosians had been a footnote in the great story of the Saiyan race; a threat that had been roundly defeated and would never return again. Now, it seemed, they were back, and whilst the Saiyan race had grown weak, the Arcosians had been made stronger than ever by their trials.
Her nightmares were filled with visions of slaughter; and in every one, she was forced to watch without even a body to attempt to fight. Powerless. Helpless. Her father's voice ringing in her ears.
"Least Elite."
When, to her surprise, she awoke, it was to the distant realisation that she had been screaming, thrashing, shouting. Her sheets were soaked through with sweat. She was in a strange room. But, she could move. It hurt, but she could move. She was also tied down.
Power flared around her as she struggled against her bonds, but it flickered out almost immediately. Her body was too thrashed to channel her ki; and as she collapsed back into the mattress, a kindly face leaned over into her field of vision. He was an old man, and the cold towel he pressed against her face was heaven itself.
“There, there.” He murmured, “You’ve been through a lot, young lady. You just try not to injure yourself.”
“I have to…” She croaked, her voice cracked and weak. “I have to…”
The towel brushed over her brow, wiping away the fever and sweat, leaving a trail of cool relief in its wake.
“You have to relax, dear. You’re lucky to be alive, and you need time to heal, Saiyan or no.”
“But, the Palace, the King…” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. The edges of her vision were starting to go black. The old man’s expression looked very sad. He didn’t need to say anything. It hadn’t been a nightmare. It was real. Very real. It was all gone. Everything. Gone.
“Here.” The old man said, “Drink this.”
He lifted something to her lips, and she realised how parched her throat was. He stopped her from just gulping it down, and before long, the room swam and she found herself drifting away, eyes closing despite her best struggles. He’d, drugged her? Why would he…
When she awoke, she wasn’t tied down any more. She felt, fine.
She pulled herself out of bed, and as her feet hit the floor, she realised that – actually – she felt better than she’d ever done before. Didn’t they say that after a near death experience, Saiyans became much stronger? She’d never actually experienced that herself, until now… but clenching her fist, she could feel new power surging within her, just waiting to explode out!
The space was small, crowded with far too many bottles, bandages, and miscellaneous medical equipment. A huge cauldron bubbled in the middle of the hut, with a tiny table set next to it, and two folding chairs. She was wearing a long white nightdress, which… she didn’t want to think about too much, and she was also very alone.
Hesitantly, she stepped forwards to the cauldron, and when she pulled off the iron lid she revealed-
Laundry. Quite a large amount of it, in fact, including her bright red and gold uniform bubbling away amongst the soap.
“Oh, you’re awake! That’s good.”
She looked up sharply to see the silhouette of the kindly old man against the doorframe of the hut. He looked smaller than she remembered, and a lot frailer.
“How long did you keep me out for?” She demanded, her voice sharp. Her wounds had healed completely! She had to get back to Vegeta, she had to help her people!
“Just a couple of days.” The old man said, soothingly. “You’d be amazed what the right beans can accomplish. You’re lucky the people that found you knew to bring you to me.”
She hesitated, thinking back… maybe she hadn’t been as badly injured as she thought she had? It was possible. It was always hard to gauge one’s own state of injury. If it had mostly been bruising rather than shattered bones, then, maybe she could have recovered in a day with this primitive treatment? She clenched her fist.
“And you stripped me out of my uniform?!”
The old man chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to sit himself down on one of the chairs. He set down the basket of vegetables he’d gathered on the table, and gestured to the other seat.
“I’m just an old doctor.” He said, “I promise, I’ve seen it all before. Please. Come and have a seat, you must have a lot of questions.”
For a few moments, she didn’t move at all. When she finally did, it was with a heavy huff.
“I suppose you did save my life.” She conceded. “We’ll call it even.”
Her uniform felt strange as she pulled it back on. Stils had been helpful; he’d shared what was known of the news with her. Vegeta had fallen, but it hadn’t been destroyed in its totality. The Prince was missing, the King was dead, along with most of the royal guard. It would be weeks before a full casualty list could be ascertained, if it ever came out at all now that the World Trade Fleet was in charge.
She didn’t need to see it written down. She knew in her heart that her family was dead. They wouldn’t have fled. It was a shame that none of the Line of Karo could have lived with.
She knew because she felt it now, burning in her heart like a brand. She’d survived, and she should have given her life in the defence of her duty. But. Now that she had been forced to live, it was time to make something of it. Earth was the rallying point for those Saiyans who had survived the attack. No doubt someone higher up the chain than her would have survived and, maybe, together, they could forge some kind of plan out of all this chaos.
“Are you sure you want to go rushing off already?” Stils asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. She tensed at his touch but restrained herself from lashing out. Even as angry and alone as she was, she was still a member of the Royal Guard, and the last of the Line of Karo. She had to conduct herself with dignity. “You could stay with me for a few days, take some time to recover your strength.”
She looked back at him, and made herself grin, even though she didn’t feel anything like joy or confidence in her heart. Appearances were important. She had to make the right impression.
“I’ve never been stronger.” She said, “As those World Trade Fools are going to discover soon enough!”
Before he could say another word, bright blue power surged around her, and she tore a jagged trail up into the sky. She couldn’t let herself be tied down by the kindness of strangers. She had to keep moving.
She’d figure out where she was going later.
