Acala felt her head grow numb and sluggish with fatigue, as though each passing moment added more weight to her mind. Her body was a mess, peppered with bruises and burned out of energy. The dregs of the simulants produced by her body in anticipation of a battle had almost all been filtered out of her system.
Saiyans were not trained for prolonged battles; instead, they were shock troopers of sorts, deployed to destroy all resistance that might stand in the slavers' and terraformers' way. Their ultimate weapon, the Oozaru transformation, could at most be used once to take out the enemy's strongest warriors or their command structure before they needed to rest and 'recharge,' which usually consisted of local fauna and natives.
So, basically, a Saiyan's job description entailed dropping down on a planet, killing all the natives and resistance, eating everything they could get their hands on, and waiting for extraction from the Frieza Force.
Which goes to say how tight of a leash the Tyrant kept on them.
Shaking those gloomy thoughts out of her mind, Acala tried to focus more on what to do next. She had learned to ignore her stomach, but it was still very uncomfortable.
Stretching out as much as she could in the cramped pod, she tried to relax a little. Which turned out not to be such an easy task with the cold desert air slipping past the filtration unit. The crash had damaged the air purifier and considering it was turning the poisonous fumes of Xarrack into breathable air, she had to admit the skills of the Frieza Army technicians.
Beside her, Spina was still lying curled up like a kitten around her tail... still biting down hard on the white, furry tip. The only reason Acala wasn't slamming her off was that the younger Saiyan's breathing had just gotten a bit steadier, though still shallow, and her tiny body looked awfully scarred with the amount of wounds it had received.
"Tch... weakling..."
Acala's lips twitched, but the words lacked any bite to them, somehow muted by an unnatural protectiveness she hadn't quite shaken off since a moment ago.
Something flashes before her eyes, an old memory, some five maybe six years old... a rugged Saiyan dragging his daughter by the tail to the conditioning chambers meant for low-level warriors. An overwhelming pain as combat doctrines were drilled into her head, bit by bit, overriding memories and pleasant experiences. Forced to fight and kill others for scraps of food...
"Grrr..."
A low growl escaped her lips, her tail curled instinctively around Spina's smaller form, pulling her closer even though she had no real reason to do so. Sayans weren't meant to coddle one another, they were meant to fight and kill and eat till they die on some unknown mudball out in the infinite universe.
But for some reason, doing such an unnatural thing felt... right, in a way. The warmth of the little girl seeped into her own as the comforting silence swallowed her whole.
Soon, the hum of the pod's failing systems faded into the inconspicuous background of rustling sand, Acala's eyelids grew heavier by the moment, and the urge to close them and fall into a slumber became too strong to resist. Her last thought before she finally gave in was a heavily scarred face looming over her, grinning as an energy bomb gathered in his hand.
---
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*
Acala's eyes snapped open. The consistent beeping alerted her of the imminent shutdown due to power cell damage. The pod's inside was cold and it was only going to get colder still. The hum of machinery was absent, replaced by the silent echoes of her own breathing and that of the little creature's beside her.
The light from the pod's emergency system still flickered with a dim scarlet glow, casting bride shadows across the interior. Acala reached out immediately, checking the pod's control panel for a situation report. A weak emergency beeping and a small red indicator showed that the power cells were pretty much dried up, the fuel had drained from the broken reserves and evaporated in the desert heat.
With a groan, she opened the database, searching for a map of Xarrack from the last expedition by the Frieza Force. There was one, not of the whole planet, but most of it at least. Her location was easily identifiable, smack dab in the middle of a desert made of poisonous green fumes and scalding red hot sands.
There was no 'Oasis' in the red and green desertscape of the Deathworld, no paths leading through the dunes and into the dried-up forests. But there was an outpost, a deserted outpost of the 'Force,' a relay station marked as having been evacuated.
The distance was... manageable if she could get something to eat before starting off. She would, of course, be dragging the pod behind her along with any other that could be salvaged. Even though mostly scrapped, there were still important machinery bits in them that could be repaired or repurposed, especially the filtration and dispenser devices.
Her heart settled for a moment, not elevated but no longer sinking either. Not yet at least.
She inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with cold air, clenching her fists until the familiar surge of power began to course through her veins again. Despite the exhaustion and hunger she was experiencing, there was a considerable increase in her strength.
"Uh... you there?"
[Yes]
A one-word response on a floating screen before her eyes, at least the simulation was real. It was one of the few things she had begun to doubt about, chalking it up as a hallucination from hunger.
Acala sighed, letting her eyes wander over the strange optic torture she was being subjected to with how close and far away the screen was,
"So... what now?"
[The User's thoughts alone are sufficient to communicate. Verbal responses may lead to misunderstandings with nearby individuals.]
Acala rolled her eyes,
'Tch... jerk.'
[Clarification: As a non-living system, I cannot be classified as "annoying" or "stupid."]
She clenched her jaw, getting more irritated by the smug responses
"Whatever. Fine. What about the simulation?"
[The User has used their daily simulation attempt. The next session will be available in 17 hours, 11 minutes, and 32 seconds.']
Her lips curled in disdain,
"What? A daily limit!? Are you kidding me!? That's ridiculous!"
[The limitation is for the User's safety. At their current power level, excessive simulation exposure may result in lasting physical or mental damage.]
"Hm? Why didn't you tell me that before!?"
No response, apparently this time the system had decided not to entertain itself at Acala's expense.
'I suppose... show me... something.'
[Something... clarification nee-]
[User: Acala]
[Species: Saiyan]
[Power Level: 1043]
[Skills: Flight(Common), Ki-Blast(Common), Ki-Reinforcement(Common), Ember Strike(Common)]
[Equipment: Frieza Force Armor(Common)(Tattered)]
'Ooh...'
That was more interesting, a whole overview of her power level. Although,
'What's with the 'common' next to the skills?'
[Clarification: Skills are divided into certain categories based on their efficiencies. For example, a 'Common' grade flight skill would consume more energy than an 'Uncommon' grade flight skill.]
Acala pursed her lips as she took in the implications of what the system just stated. Everything she knew was apparently the bare minimum. Basic techniques, tattered equipment, heck, even her Power Level was bottom of the barrel. It was as though the system was purposefully mocking her... this, TBS freak, taunting her with an exciting future.
'Fine then... show me something uncommon. Or better yet, something even rarer!'
[Request Denied. Example Unavailable. Higher grade skills require more System Points... or any system points, and Templates from stronger opponents.]
Acala clicked her tongue in frustration, but still, she couldn't ignore the system's words nor the excitement flickering beneath her irritated gestures. If there was anything that Xarrack was rich in, it was dangerous monsters. More templates meant better rewards and better rewards meant higher-level skills, good equipment, and maybe even a way off the planet.
She didn't want to be a disposable thug under Frieza, she saw no point in working for a ruthless tyrant who seemed to be hell-bent on legitimizing his pirating empire in the eyes of the rich folks in the galaxy.
But first, she needed to survive this death world.
The outpost was a few clicks south, the distance was nothing to her if she was simply flying that way. But dragging a damaged pod and carrying an injured child almost her own size in her current state would mean slow progress. And she would also need to find food, the Dune Dragons had left a lot of meat, but she didn't know if it was edible.
A soft, almost imperceptible whimper pulled her out of those gloomy thoughts, and as she glanced down at Spina, she realized the little girl was having a nightmare. The little Saiyan was stirring in her sleep, clutching Acala's tail even tighter in her sleep.
Acala sighed, watching Spina's small face suddenly scrunch up in disgust as she spat out a white tail hair. She didn't know what to make of this kid... she was so... weak, barely useful, but still...
A strange, warm sensation tugged at her chest, one that she wouldn't willingly name or acknowledge, not in a million years. Survival instincts, she assured herself, it was nothing but a survival instinct. It would be better to have someone to guard her back, someone to use as bait, someone as a prop to pretend to be harmless. And if that 'someone' happened to be the scrawny kid with a death grip on her precious tail... so be it.