Post by Nasch on Dec 20, 2018 17:00:23 GMT -5
Dense, jungle trees swarmed and scattered the earthen landscape below that Nasch could see from the singular portal window in the transfer vessel he was in. The remaining three Saiyans from the dreaded Raiven mission, had finally made their way home. To New Sadla. Apprehension permeated the cabin and fear exuded from all three of the warriors. They new what was coming when they landed. Men with shackles and binds, ready to kill if they made even a single twitch that denoted they might try to flee. Their failure on Raiven would not be welcomed, and neither would they be any longer as warriors of their proud race. Nasch new the customs of his people well, even if he was one of the odd few who abode to them only to appease others. He was not of the same mindset as most Saiyans on the planet or really in most places. The idea of combating one another for sport was appalling to him, though to no other reason than finding it unnecessary. If they were to be a unified sovereignty, their stratified society based solely on the merit of one's strength was not going to be enough. It was surely intimidating and it did grant them a status among the other races of the galaxy as dangerous and even righteous, but it did not mean they would be able to accomplish all intents and purposes. Expansion on a galactic scale would cease when fear does not work and the numbers grow against them. The political reverie of the state was fragile, built on the foundation of the corpses of its defeated.
Nasch was not so disgusted with this notion as he was confused. This confusion mostly stemmed from his anecdotal experience and was perhaps strongly biased to his position. Nasch was well aware his strength did not compete with many of the nation. He was of the lower strata, perhaps nearing the bottom itself. He also knew that his chances of rising within that strata only grew more distant and challenging with every day that his own power grew at the fractional speed of others. He wanted to believe that the ignition of the heart would be enough to change the minds of his people, but in reality it is only the mightiest who can topple a titan. Queen Radia was that titan and she would not be felled in her ways and the Saiyan a race are too proud to understand change. They cannot believe in change, because they must then swallow their pride and admit they were wrong. Nasch was also, unfortunately, well aware of the futility of asking a Saiyan to swallow their pride.
Lost in thought, Nasch had hardly noticed that ship entering the docking port just a ways away from the palace. A voice from the cockpit spoke up. The co-pilot turned his head in his seat, eyes flickered back at Nasch sitting in the cabin with his chin rested upon his palm. The co-pilot spoke with a warm, yet raspy tone. "Never thought the palace itself would be my final resting place. Always thought I'd die in the field, against monsters and creatures. But I was afraid. I was afraid to die there. Would I even be remembered...?" The raspy voice started to drown out, becoming quieter as if he was no longer trying to voice his anxieties to Nasch and the pilot, but simply trying to rationalize why he did what happened. He was practicing his excuses to live. Nasch remained quiet, blocking out the whispered ramblings of the man. The pilot spoke back, replying with the likes of, "If you don't want to die in there, I can stuff you out of this window real quick." The co-pilots ramblings became little more than motions of the lips, now shaking. This man was not ready to die.
Nasch, on the other hand, was seemingly calm. No fidgets or twitching. Not even a heart hastened by the excitement of his seeming impending doom approaching. Nasch had resolved days ago back on Raiven that he had died then. Or at least, he should have. Treska should be on this ship right now, or alive on Raiven still fighting. The horrifying image of his face gritted in agony as the muscles and skin of his body hardened and tightened into paralysis was etched into Nasch's mind. No matter how he tried to shake the image, it was like an eternal scarring on his mindscape. Nasch shut his eyes, clasping his hand in the other and took a few deep breaths. He was not going to be executed for his failure on Raiven, no. He was going to be executed for abandonment. For desertion. For treason against the sovereign state. That was what he believed in the whole of his heart and nothing else.
The sound of the external hyper-thrusters started to dull, then altogether become silent. The internal workings of the ship fell silent and for once, no white noise was there to accompany the awful silence of these three men. Nasch stood first, the sound of his scratched black-and-green armor bending to the now rigid frame of the Saiyan man. He took several steps forward, meeting the backs of the still seated warriors, placing a firm hand on each shoulder. Nasch stared out the cockpit window with them now, seeing an entourage of six or seven armored Saiyans, elites no doubt, accompanied by what looked to be another warrior in more elegantly decorated armor. Likely an official who would be overseeing them for the duration of the trial, if they were even allotted one.
"Our harbingers await us, friends." Nasch spoke in a hushed yet affirmative tone. His hands relaxed from their shoulders and he walked toward the cabin door, hovering his finger over the release button. One more long, drawn out breath. "See you on the other side," Nasch spoke quietly. To whom these words were for, not even Nasch can remember at this point.
Word Count : 1,006 | N/A
Nasch was not so disgusted with this notion as he was confused. This confusion mostly stemmed from his anecdotal experience and was perhaps strongly biased to his position. Nasch was well aware his strength did not compete with many of the nation. He was of the lower strata, perhaps nearing the bottom itself. He also knew that his chances of rising within that strata only grew more distant and challenging with every day that his own power grew at the fractional speed of others. He wanted to believe that the ignition of the heart would be enough to change the minds of his people, but in reality it is only the mightiest who can topple a titan. Queen Radia was that titan and she would not be felled in her ways and the Saiyan a race are too proud to understand change. They cannot believe in change, because they must then swallow their pride and admit they were wrong. Nasch was also, unfortunately, well aware of the futility of asking a Saiyan to swallow their pride.
Lost in thought, Nasch had hardly noticed that ship entering the docking port just a ways away from the palace. A voice from the cockpit spoke up. The co-pilot turned his head in his seat, eyes flickered back at Nasch sitting in the cabin with his chin rested upon his palm. The co-pilot spoke with a warm, yet raspy tone. "Never thought the palace itself would be my final resting place. Always thought I'd die in the field, against monsters and creatures. But I was afraid. I was afraid to die there. Would I even be remembered...?" The raspy voice started to drown out, becoming quieter as if he was no longer trying to voice his anxieties to Nasch and the pilot, but simply trying to rationalize why he did what happened. He was practicing his excuses to live. Nasch remained quiet, blocking out the whispered ramblings of the man. The pilot spoke back, replying with the likes of, "If you don't want to die in there, I can stuff you out of this window real quick." The co-pilots ramblings became little more than motions of the lips, now shaking. This man was not ready to die.
Nasch, on the other hand, was seemingly calm. No fidgets or twitching. Not even a heart hastened by the excitement of his seeming impending doom approaching. Nasch had resolved days ago back on Raiven that he had died then. Or at least, he should have. Treska should be on this ship right now, or alive on Raiven still fighting. The horrifying image of his face gritted in agony as the muscles and skin of his body hardened and tightened into paralysis was etched into Nasch's mind. No matter how he tried to shake the image, it was like an eternal scarring on his mindscape. Nasch shut his eyes, clasping his hand in the other and took a few deep breaths. He was not going to be executed for his failure on Raiven, no. He was going to be executed for abandonment. For desertion. For treason against the sovereign state. That was what he believed in the whole of his heart and nothing else.
The sound of the external hyper-thrusters started to dull, then altogether become silent. The internal workings of the ship fell silent and for once, no white noise was there to accompany the awful silence of these three men. Nasch stood first, the sound of his scratched black-and-green armor bending to the now rigid frame of the Saiyan man. He took several steps forward, meeting the backs of the still seated warriors, placing a firm hand on each shoulder. Nasch stared out the cockpit window with them now, seeing an entourage of six or seven armored Saiyans, elites no doubt, accompanied by what looked to be another warrior in more elegantly decorated armor. Likely an official who would be overseeing them for the duration of the trial, if they were even allotted one.
"Our harbingers await us, friends." Nasch spoke in a hushed yet affirmative tone. His hands relaxed from their shoulders and he walked toward the cabin door, hovering his finger over the release button. One more long, drawn out breath. "See you on the other side," Nasch spoke quietly. To whom these words were for, not even Nasch can remember at this point.
Word Count : 1,006 | N/A