Slaves and documents

Chapter 1:

He couldn't go on anymore. Really.
For years he had been counting the days he was sent out to conquer some goddamn planet. What was Freezer going to do with so many planets? He only stayed on the original planet "Freezer 1-17" anyway.
But why did he ask anyway;
1. did he know the answer anyway,
2. Nobody listened to him, the son of a lower-class warrior,
3. he had asked himself this question far too often.
Now he was sitting here (again) in the lounge of Vegeta-yusei, his home planet. Together with a few other Saiyajin and waited for him to be called to find out his next destination.
He sighed. Always the same. Why were they never allowed to do what they wanted? For example, he would much rather ...
"Tarles in room 3, please. I repeat, Tarles in room 3, please!"
Great, now it was that time again. Grumbling to himself, Tarles rose from the chair in which he had sat for a full 15 minutes. On his way to "Room 3" he was again checked out."Yes, Lord God again, is it so strange that I am not wearing my Scouter?" thought the warrior, annoyed; he found it unnecessary while on Vegeta-yusei.

Finally he raised his hand to operate the switch to open the door. There was a hiss, the metal door marked "Administration 3" rattled to the other side, and Tarles entered.
He looked around for a moment, although he already knew the interior of this room inside out; Tarles had learned not to feel safe even on the soil of your home.
Therefore he always looked around when entering a room.
When he let his gaze wander, his eyes stopped on the desk, which was in the rather small room.

A very young woman was sitting there, all alone, although up to five people were usually busy in the administration, arranging hundreds of orders and documents, distributing them and so on ...
Tarles approached slowly; however, the closer he got, the more disgusted his face grimaced.That one at that desk wasn't a Saiyan - it was a Tsufurujan.
Yes, a Tsufurujan woman, to be precise. She had been branded, like others of her pathetic, hideous race who could still be found here and there on Vegeta-yusei. Under her left eye she wore the Saiyan symbol for "cattle".
Back then, when they took over this planet, the Saiyajins had not wiped out all of the Tsufurujans - a few still use them as slaves today.

And one of them was now sitting, frantically rummaging through several documents, in front of the lower-class warrior, who was slowly becoming impatient.
She only noticed him when he let his tail, the hallmark of all Saiyajins, dance in front of her nose.
The Tsufurujan woman was immediately startled by her files; in the process, she knocked over a container of staples and writing materials.
Reluctantly, she looked at him, but didn't dare look him straight in the eye - she knew that this would have meant her death. Looked in the eyes of a Saiyan as a slave ..."Um ... what's your ... your name?" she whispered liese.
"Tarles. Rank C." answered the question monotonously, examining her penetratingly and coldly. She looked utterly exhausted, pale and as if she was going to break down any moment.

It doesn't matter.
Something like this happened every day; Every day several slaves gave their lives because they were not up to the demands of the Saiyajins.
The slave rummaged through a folder in which, as far as Tarles could see from the print, all today's orders were stapled, and hastily pulled out a piece of paper, because the Saiyajin was already beating her fingers on her upper arm in annoyance.
He had already snapped at her to hurry up.
When Tarles received the note, the connecting door of the room suddenly tore open and a Saiyajin stepped into the frame of the door.
"Hey, slave woman! Make sure you come here, I have a new job for you!" he quipped, grinning viciously as the Tsufurian rose with tears in her eyes; you could see from her that she would have preferred not to go.It was only a matter of time before she would collapse from exhaustion and then her worthless life would be over immediately: those who were too weak died.
This was not only the case with the slaves, even with the Saiyajins, anyone who was too weak died.
In her hurry to respond quickly to the call, she threw down a few papers, and when she finally faced the Saiyan who had called her, she received a slap in the face from him. It landed roughly on the cold floor.
A grin crossed Tarle's lips; this species just didn't deserve it any other way.

Now she got up crying, padded into the room and left him alone.
The Saiyan nodded to Tarles, which should mean that he had to wait a moment if he still had something on his "heart".
He nodded back with a snort.
Just as he was about to turn away to examine his new mission in peace, he noticed a rather old-looking, yellowed document among all the papers.He has always been curious.
For Tarles, this quality was often associated with screaming and sometimes even pain; when he was a child, no one was safe from him when it came to discussing something in private.
The Saiyan had vowed to get this darned habit under control, but ...
"Won't attract attention if such an old piece of paper is missing ..."
With these words Tarles grabbed the said paper, tucked it into his armor and went out as if nothing had happened.
In the hallway, the other Saiyajins, who were still waiting, looked up briefly as he passed.
"Tarles!"
The named turned around slightly.
"What's going on in there? Why is it taking so long?" A female Saiyajin stood up from her seat. She had wild, slightly curled hair and a piercing look.
Like many female warriors, she was very scantily clad: naturally sleeveless and under her breastplate she wore a tight-fitting black suit.Her legs were almost completely free, this Saiyajin wore a kind of pantyhose up to her knees.

Tarles turned completely around now. "Ask the guys who are responsible for this shit here, Tamana!"
He grinned slightly. "There's a 'Tsufurujanerin sitting there."
The Saiyajin, who was obviously called Tamana, stopped and grimaced. "What is a slave looking for here?"
Shrug of her counterpart.
Tarles turned back and went on his way. Tamana snorted, collapsed back into the chair, annoyed, and propped her chin up. "Tsufurujins ... pah!"

He left the big building, which looked like a kind of skyscraper.
In the square in front of it there was a hustle and bustle: this administration was located at a landing pad for space capsules, and accordingly it was always loud here, many ran around wildly; mostly to bring half-dead Saiyajins to the nearest meditank and have them treated by a doctor.
Tarles looked around briefly, then pulled out the yellowed document he had taken with him.As he expected, it was really very old.
It even showed a few cracks. The lower-class warrior scanned the data briefly and quickly noticed that it was a file.
"Well?"
It was the data of a Saiyan child, one who was sent to a planet whose inhabitants were not very capable of fighting.
With the Saiyajins it was customary to send children or babies to "weaker" planets.
Because like every Saiyajin they had the ability to transform themselves into a monstrous oozarou at full moon, which destroyed everything that came in its way.
So other peoples usually had no chance to defend themselves; and even an infant could devastate a planet. The Saiyajin children were then brought back later, if they were too small to travel home, and the planet was auctioned or sold directly.
Tarles was trying to decipher the hard-to-read lines when a voice jumped up from the paper.Well, Tarles? Where is my little brother going this time, huh? "
Tarles rolled his eyes visibly annoyed, he had just missed that!
"That's none of your business, puke!"
“Hey, show a little more respect for your big brother!” Raditz strolled comfortably towards his little brother; He couldn't help but smile mischievously.
He loved teasing or arguing with Tarles.

He was the older one, so he could do that too ...
His grin widened when he saw the document in Tarle's hands - judging by the condition of the paper, it couldn't be a mission!
"Did you take something back again? Show me!"
Raditz reached for the paper, but Tarles snatched it out of his reach.
"No!" was the answer.
Raditz chuckled inwardly; a perfect opportunity to piss him off again!
“Come on, just a little look, we're brothers!” Now Tarles jumped aside, growled and raised his voice:"Read it from my lips, Raditz: piss off!" The younger gave the older one a piercing, cold look before he rose into the air and flew away.