Translation
Fanfic: Game of patience 7
Chapter: Sayajins
Hi
@ kruzifix: * g * Now don't underestimate yourself.
I also hope that I continue to meet Vegeta reasonably well, because I always run the risk of digressing too much from the actual charas. Raise the alarm if that happens, ok? *G*
Thank you very much again for your visit, I was really happy!
@ Gestirn: I thank you again for your coming! And here comes the next one, hope the waiting time was acceptable.
Yert found it hard not to yawn when he was finally able to leave the conference room after almost 2½ hours. Ressja hadn't taken part, so he could just as easily have gone to his quarters instead of killing time by counting the chairs first, then the pictures on the wall and then even the hair of the man next to him. The latter turned out to be extremely difficult, because the officer had not been able to keep his head still and, moreover, Yert's eyes had started to sting and water, after he had finally gotten to 1912 after the third attempt - before the head moved again and he did should have started all over again.The rest of the time he had listened with one ear and tried to listen to the very low whispered conversation of two other officers with the other; an almost impossible undertaking, he had barely understood a word.
The relieving closing remarks of the great conference leader "Gentlemen, I hope we can find a decision on this very important question in the foreseeable future. Thank you for coming, the next conference will probably take place the day after tomorrow", had triggered a wave of relief in him and almost euphoric, he jumped up from his chair and left the room.
He was now on the way to his room again, where a couple of mission reports were already waiting for him. Sighing, he looked in the pocket of his trousers for the security card that was needed to enter his quarters. He found it, pulled it out, and twisted it between his fingers as he continued down the aisle.A short time later he had reached his room, pulled the card through the slot provided and pressed a small red button that was right next to it. There was a soft click and he swung open the heavy door inward. Yert began to hum the song that had been ringing in his ear all day today and was simply impossible to get rid of.
He mumbled a few verses to himself, closed the door behind him, turned on the light and gave an appreciative whistle when he saw the amount of paper in his mailbox. There was a thin slit outside the door, and by pushing the red button everything that was thrown in there was directed to your mailbox within the quarter.
He let his hand wander to his belt and took off the small device that was attached to it. It was a beeper of sorts, it was called the connector and was worn by everyone here on the base. This ensured that everyone was available at all times.Yert put it on the desk and then turned back to the reports.
"Mission report. Mission report. Oh, an invitation."
Curiously, he pulled the thin sheet of paper from between the thick reports and opened it. He read the lines carefully and then put the invitation back, a little disappointed. Part of him had somehow hoped to have been invited by Hei - however he had thought of it. But it wasn't, the sender was an old friend who invited him to his promotion party.
Shaking his head, he pushed report after report aside until his gaze fell on another thin piece of paper. He started humming the song again, but it was replaced by a surprised "Huh?" After reading the few words that had apparently been scribbled on the paper in a hurry and without special care:
"Deck 10, in 2 hours. Come on, please."
He frowned and turned the page in his hands in the hope of finding something like the writer's signature on the back, but saw nothing.Who could leave him a message like that? Right away he couldn't think of anybody - besides, he had no idea when the note was posted. Since he had been quite far down, however, he could assume that it must have been a long time ago. So the two hours had to be over by now ...
Reluctantly, he put the pile of papers on his desk and pushed aside the rest of the reports that he hadn't read yet. Most of them were simply dry statements about the things that had happened on the missions. Some young soldiers actually tended to tell him in their reports when they had taken a break to eat or sleep, and rarely did he get anything more interesting than: `` The residents have been cooperative and the government has assured us that they will continue to be happy with us To do business `read. But this was probably less due to the soldiers themselves than to their orders. They traveled to other planets to maintain old trading partnerships or to sign new contracts.Yert was slowly but surely upset, mainly because he had to read it all to "be informed and, in the event of a war, to know who the enemies and friends are", as his father always did called so beautiful.
War, war and war again, always and everywhere you had to prepare for a war, had to know who to trust, because a conspiracy could lurk around every corner. You'd think Ressja would be paranoid if the entire upper division of this military base didn't think that way. It was true, they had a few enemies, and right now there was indeed a dangerous smell of minor fights, but there were other things in life as well.
The only mission reports he had voluntarily read for once were the ones he had once found in the library on deck 1. Dusty and yellowed, they had stuck between two thick volumes and caught his eye.At first he hadn't intended to read it, but after looking inside he hadn't been able to put it down. Not only did the writer appear amazingly articulate and intelligent, but the mission content had piqued his interest.
The man who wrote these reports had been dead for 12 years, as he had learned at some point. His name had been Gissu, he had made it to admiral at the end of his career and in his reports he told strangely vividly about a certain race with which he had done business: the Sayajins. Before that, Yert had never heard of this people, even though Ressja had always attached great importance to the fact that he knew. From the librarian he got all the reports that were still available from Gissu, eighteen in number. The others had been lost, but Yert had also been pleased with the ones he got. He read them all through in one evening, or rather, all in one night, and his interest in the people of these sayajins grew.Gissu reported incidents where there was a dispute between one of his soldiers and a sayajin. Yert had been able to imagine the situation vividly.
He didn't know what fascinated him more: the way Gissu wrote his reports or the sayajins themselves.
The young man let his gaze wander to the door of his quarters. The note came back to his mind.
"Deck 10, in two hours. Come on, please ..." he muttered to himself while staring sullenly at the mountain of reports in front of him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one hand, then turned around with a jerk and left his quarters. Deck 10 was his destination as he hurried down the empty corridor to the elevator.
I would be very happy about Kommies.
see you soon!
your
.K.
@ kruzifix: * g * Now don't underestimate yourself.
I also hope that I continue to meet Vegeta reasonably well, because I always run the risk of digressing too much from the actual charas. Raise the alarm if that happens, ok? *G*
Thank you very much again for your visit, I was really happy!
@ Gestirn: I thank you again for your coming! And here comes the next one, hope the waiting time was acceptable.
Yert found it hard not to yawn when he was finally able to leave the conference room after almost 2½ hours. Ressja hadn't taken part, so he could just as easily have gone to his quarters instead of killing time by counting the chairs first, then the pictures on the wall and then even the hair of the man next to him. The latter turned out to be extremely difficult, because the officer had not been able to keep his head still and, moreover, Yert's eyes had started to sting and water, after he had finally gotten to 1912 after the third attempt - before the head moved again and he did should have started all over again.The rest of the time he had listened with one ear and tried to listen to the very low whispered conversation of two other officers with the other; an almost impossible undertaking, he had barely understood a word.
The relieving closing remarks of the great conference leader "Gentlemen, I hope we can find a decision on this very important question in the foreseeable future. Thank you for coming, the next conference will probably take place the day after tomorrow", had triggered a wave of relief in him and almost euphoric, he jumped up from his chair and left the room.
He was now on the way to his room again, where a couple of mission reports were already waiting for him. Sighing, he looked in the pocket of his trousers for the security card that was needed to enter his quarters. He found it, pulled it out, and twisted it between his fingers as he continued down the aisle.A short time later he had reached his room, pulled the card through the slot provided and pressed a small red button that was right next to it. There was a soft click and he swung open the heavy door inward. Yert began to hum the song that had been ringing in his ear all day today and was simply impossible to get rid of.
He mumbled a few verses to himself, closed the door behind him, turned on the light and gave an appreciative whistle when he saw the amount of paper in his mailbox. There was a thin slit outside the door, and by pushing the red button everything that was thrown in there was directed to your mailbox within the quarter.
He let his hand wander to his belt and took off the small device that was attached to it. It was a beeper of sorts, it was called the connector and was worn by everyone here on the base. This ensured that everyone was available at all times.Yert put it on the desk and then turned back to the reports.
"Mission report. Mission report. Oh, an invitation."
Curiously, he pulled the thin sheet of paper from between the thick reports and opened it. He read the lines carefully and then put the invitation back, a little disappointed. Part of him had somehow hoped to have been invited by Hei - however he had thought of it. But it wasn't, the sender was an old friend who invited him to his promotion party.
Shaking his head, he pushed report after report aside until his gaze fell on another thin piece of paper. He started humming the song again, but it was replaced by a surprised "Huh?" After reading the few words that had apparently been scribbled on the paper in a hurry and without special care:
"Deck 10, in 2 hours. Come on, please."
He frowned and turned the page in his hands in the hope of finding something like the writer's signature on the back, but saw nothing.Who could leave him a message like that? Right away he couldn't think of anybody - besides, he had no idea when the note was posted. Since he had been quite far down, however, he could assume that it must have been a long time ago. So the two hours had to be over by now ...
Reluctantly, he put the pile of papers on his desk and pushed aside the rest of the reports that he hadn't read yet. Most of them were simply dry statements about the things that had happened on the missions. Some young soldiers actually tended to tell him in their reports when they had taken a break to eat or sleep, and rarely did he get anything more interesting than: `` The residents have been cooperative and the government has assured us that they will continue to be happy with us To do business `read. But this was probably less due to the soldiers themselves than to their orders. They traveled to other planets to maintain old trading partnerships or to sign new contracts.Yert was slowly but surely upset, mainly because he had to read it all to "be informed and, in the event of a war, to know who the enemies and friends are", as his father always did called so beautiful.
War, war and war again, always and everywhere you had to prepare for a war, had to know who to trust, because a conspiracy could lurk around every corner. You'd think Ressja would be paranoid if the entire upper division of this military base didn't think that way. It was true, they had a few enemies, and right now there was indeed a dangerous smell of minor fights, but there were other things in life as well.
The only mission reports he had voluntarily read for once were the ones he had once found in the library on deck 1. Dusty and yellowed, they had stuck between two thick volumes and caught his eye.At first he hadn't intended to read it, but after looking inside he hadn't been able to put it down. Not only did the writer appear amazingly articulate and intelligent, but the mission content had piqued his interest.
The man who wrote these reports had been dead for 12 years, as he had learned at some point. His name had been Gissu, he had made it to admiral at the end of his career and in his reports he told strangely vividly about a certain race with which he had done business: the Sayajins. Before that, Yert had never heard of this people, even though Ressja had always attached great importance to the fact that he knew. From the librarian he got all the reports that were still available from Gissu, eighteen in number. The others had been lost, but Yert had also been pleased with the ones he got. He read them all through in one evening, or rather, all in one night, and his interest in the people of these sayajins grew.Gissu reported incidents where there was a dispute between one of his soldiers and a sayajin. Yert had been able to imagine the situation vividly.
He didn't know what fascinated him more: the way Gissu wrote his reports or the sayajins themselves.
The young man let his gaze wander to the door of his quarters. The note came back to his mind.
"Deck 10, in two hours. Come on, please ..." he muttered to himself while staring sullenly at the mountain of reports in front of him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one hand, then turned around with a jerk and left his quarters. Deck 10 was his destination as he hurried down the empty corridor to the elevator.
I would be very happy about Kommies.
see you soon!
your
.K.