Post by tzanbestgirl on Jun 13, 2024 8:45:53 GMT -5
Current PL: 7,000
WC: 353
What was it about some Saiyans that led them to inhabit the most remote and barren corners of Plant? It confused Tzan ten times more, now that the Tuffles were revealed to be so weak and eager to please. For sure, there were subversives (terrorists) worldwide, but the War had selected for the most spineless to survive, as so often happens to the losers of History... This reluctance to spread and conquer spoke to a weakness festering in the Saiyan soul, Tzan feared. It was not natural for predators to keep to their dens when the land around them was so full of prey... Or so she assumed, neither a biologist or a sociologist, but an officer. She shook away these fanciful thoughts with the carbonized nub of a cigarette.
The Sergeant was still on the first pack of the day, and as it just past midday and she was in the middle of busywork, one could assume she was trying to rein in her vice. It was nothing of the sort, really, her brain was just tired from the flights. Here and there all over the world, lost in absolutely nowhere, were pinprick Saiyan settlements in need of water, grain, saibamen, some other barest essential to squeeze life from soil. It was Tzan's responsibility, for the time being, to assure that these fine folks would not die off like vermin, or worse, turn blaster and fists against their fellow countrymen. And she had asked, of course, why they had chosen to live so far from civilization -- the answers were varied: riches, strength, inner peace, communion with a higher power, freedom from law and good sense. None particularly resonated with the saiyaness, who either saw the Kingdom (even in its current, debilitated state) a wellspring of some such things, while those other 'un-Kingdom-like' abstractions reeked to her as alien syncretism.
Then again, it wasn't her place to judge.
Here, in the Bluffs, waiting for the saibamen to finish karting around some dozen tons of less-irradiated soul down the cliffs, Tzan again fiddled with her scouter, trying to explode one of the unsuspecting plant-men with her mind.
The Sergeant was still on the first pack of the day, and as it just past midday and she was in the middle of busywork, one could assume she was trying to rein in her vice. It was nothing of the sort, really, her brain was just tired from the flights. Here and there all over the world, lost in absolutely nowhere, were pinprick Saiyan settlements in need of water, grain, saibamen, some other barest essential to squeeze life from soil. It was Tzan's responsibility, for the time being, to assure that these fine folks would not die off like vermin, or worse, turn blaster and fists against their fellow countrymen. And she had asked, of course, why they had chosen to live so far from civilization -- the answers were varied: riches, strength, inner peace, communion with a higher power, freedom from law and good sense. None particularly resonated with the saiyaness, who either saw the Kingdom (even in its current, debilitated state) a wellspring of some such things, while those other 'un-Kingdom-like' abstractions reeked to her as alien syncretism.
Then again, it wasn't her place to judge.
Here, in the Bluffs, waiting for the saibamen to finish karting around some dozen tons of less-irradiated soul down the cliffs, Tzan again fiddled with her scouter, trying to explode one of the unsuspecting plant-men with her mind.