Adjustment of character, 7
So, this thing looks all wonky to me. I have no idea if this will work. If it does, we get more Adjustment. If not, you don't see so who cares.
"Things are... very different..." the femme said, looking around as though she expected her vision to have changed. Then again, maybe it had in a manner of speaking, since she was getting new names for everything. She looked at Metrodash, and her optics suddenly went very wide and she jumped a little. It couldn't be his name... maybe she was reacting to the meanings 'pet' carried now.
Roadstead took her arm, pulling the larger femme out of the room. "Come on, I said. Things are different, I know. You'll adjust."
Slowly, she followed him, though Roadstead knew that Amber was looking everywhere she could as they walked down the road through the base. They only made it part way before she broke the silence. "This is... Earth, right? But... nothing- I mean, no-one quite looks like what I expected. The- your- ah, our Seeker-frame is... it's more like Armada, but that's not right either..."
“There's there's almost nothing Armada about our frame, other than that it's similar to the G1. You're picking up on the Animated influence- oh. I guess you wouldn't know about that... Well, don't worry, most of the fandom's 'verses have be re-created by us. There's... I don't even know how many OCs there are. We all worked together... the canons helped. Some of us got a little obsessed... well.” Roadstead twitched a wing. “Yes. This is Earth. We've been here about fifty years... We try not to kill humans, which might be our, the OCs', influence. But then, I don't think Megatron would have ever put forth an effort to kill another sentient race. He's not that sort.”
"He's... not...?" Amber asked, looking rather confused. "I mean, he does in... well, you know..."
"G1 does little to show the expanse of the empire," Roadstead said. "We're... big. Interplanetary big. We have at least thirteen planets that I know of, and dozens of allies. And we're successfully arrayed against the Autobots with their twenty eight planets, and allies. I have no idea how they have so many..."
"...Empire?" Amber echoed, as though it were an unfamiliar word. "But that's... so many... You'd have to have... thousands. ...Millions..."
"Billions, actually. Our sparking-rate might be very low, but our lifespan is nearly unlimited, and the war is... less deadly than Earthian wars. Point was, Megatron knows how to make nice with other races, and other organic races."
Amber was silent for a moment, but spoke again before they entered the common room/mess hall. "What about the fact that humans, at least the ones I know, prefer Autobots? We- ...they... don't like to be taken over and made to join an empire, you know."
Roadstead was silent for a moment, smiling just a little. She was so young... "You're wrong, you know. Humans are pack creatures, and short-lived. After a couple of generations, they'll be used to it, and most will feel little loyalty to 'long dead' nations. It's not like the Decepticon Empire is a bad place to be. We're more individualistic than the Autobots."
"Um. What?" The femme seemed flatly disbelieving, and followed him into the building. Roadstead kept her close as he gathered their energon.
"I'll use you as an example," Roadstead explained as he lead them to a table. He wasn't entirely sure how much she was listening, though. "If you had been taken by the Autobots, the first thing they would have done would be..." He looked away, wings twitching unhappily. Nothing for it, though... and who knew if she would even understand.
"They would take your wings. Format your into a grounder's chassis whether you want or not."
Much to Roadstead's surprise, and silent gratitude to the twin gods, Amber got it. Her optics opened wider and her wings flared up. Even with the hideous colors, the gesture was familiar and comforting, and he had hope that, even if she wasn't a Seeker, she was actually a flier spark.
"They do what? They force- but- why?"
"Haven't even flown, and you know it's a terrible thing for them to do..." Roadstead smiled, a little proud. "There's hope for you. I was worried."
Amber flushed, looking at the cube of energon before her. She didn't look willing to try it yet, so Roadstead showed by example, taking a hearty swig. "But you didn't say why. They have fliers, they have the Aerials and Skyfire and-"
"And those are all canons," Roadstead interrupted. "They do not have any OC fliers. By force." He gave a wing-twitch shrug. "In general, fliers are a little head-strong, wild. We don't fit in their 'machine' very well. When a flier's been sparked and raised in their culture, they can handle the constriction... usually. And... some of their first OC fliers were true Seekers. The moment they heard Starscream..." Another shrug.
"He controls you...?" she asked. Roadstead had mentioned that he was their Winglord, but it was clear she didn't quite understand. Explaining wasn't a hardship, though, not really.
"Yes. We don't have the strong trine bonds that fandom favors, but we do have a Winglord, flock-leader... whatever you like to call him. A mech, or femme, with a Seeker's spark, not just frame, is... I am incapable of disobeying an order from him. And he doesn't like taking choice like that, so he avoids ordering us."
"...Oh. So... the early... Autobot... fliers, they... And the Autobots didn't... like that. And..."
"Yes." Roadstead smiled again, pleasantly surprised. "It was a bad experience. The Seekers were saved, thankfully, but after that, every flier has been forcefully reformatted. Some are okay, flier in form but not spark. The ones who were fliers in both... ...sometimes the canon fliers bring their OC brethren to us, to keep safe. Sometimes... they can't."
"That... doesn't end well, does it?" Amber asked softly. She made a soft sound at Roadstead's nod, and finally chose to try the energon. The liquid energy made her jerk and stare at the cube.
It was a welcome break in the depressing mood, and Roadstead was able to relax a little, enjoy his morning fuel. He still answered, though. "They suicide. It doesn't happen very often, now..."
"That's... cruel," Amber murmured. And then she straightened, and Roadstead realized what seemed to be coming. It seemed she had not quite realized, or remembered, that being a giant robot was not anything unusual here.
"It's nothing we can stop," Roadstead said, cutting off what seemed to be an impeding rant. "The war is even. We do what we can... We're fighting to win, for... for the freedom to be where each person belongs. This is where it gets tricky."
The distraction worked, and Amber drank more as she puzzled over Roadstead's words. "Freedom to be... where you belong? That... doesn't sound very good..."
"Doesn't, does it?" Roadstead agreed easily, aware that they had an audience. He was being evaluated, and he knew it. He wasn't worried, not about this. It was something which was in his coding, more than others, he believed. "Is this way. Decepticons and Autobots both believe that every mech and femme has a place they belong. Autobots believe it's determined by programming, by where one was sparked. We believe that your place is wherever you can put yourself."
She was still confused, and that was fine. Examples were needed. "Starscream. If he were as treacherous as weak as G1 shows him, he could not stay where he is. He would be torn down and put into a place that he can keep. Or me. My limit is close. I know it is. Knowing ones limits is vital, reaching beyond them leads to pain, death... If I go beyond my limit, take command when I'm not ready, I could lead my whole squad into death." It happened, and that was why killing a commander was not the worst thing that a soldier could do.
"But what if you don't want to reach up? Everyone has to, or you- you end up like Metrodash, just..." Amber tried to verbalize concepts that she was unsure on.
"Metrodash reached too far and pays the price. Preferring to follow, to be under others, is no shame. Look at Soundwave. He's useless without a commander. And his cassettes are worse. Or the Constructicons, they need strong leadership. As long as they know this, it's good. Know yourself, know your limits.” Roadstead was not very sympathetic.
"And what if you just don't want to reach?" Amber asked again.
"Then you don't. You stay where you are. There's luxury in promotion, but there's responsibility. If all you want is to survive..." He twitched, holding back a sneer. "No-one starves, unless they refuse to take advantage of the programs. Then again..."
Roadstead smirked, looking around the room. He found matching expressions on his fellow's faceplates. "We believe it goes like this, life does.
"To feel the road is to risk the crash
To know the sky is to risk the fall
To learn the cave is to risk the weight
To taste the waves is to risk the depths
To explore space is to risk the expanse
To be safe is certain death."
He started alone, and quiet, but with every short line, Roadstead got louder, and mechs joined, until the last line was said by nearly the entire room of mechs. The brown Seeker smiled, raising his half-full cube in toast. It wasn't a religious chant, but there was certainly enough fervor in the words. It brought them together...
Amber was silent for a long moment after silence fell, and then nodded slowly. "I... I don't think I can say I get it. B- but I think..." And she shrugged. It was good enough, Roadstead decided. He had reacted more strongly, but then, he hadn't heard the chant until he'd been around for a few more orns.
After another few moments, attention drifted off of the Seeker pair. Amber finish drinking, slowly. She seemed to be enjoying the energon, and Roadstead was willing to allow it. She deserved to know some of the pleasures of this life, as early as she could. There was more that had to be done, though...
"Amber? I have a question. When we're done here, we need a shower. And I'm going to bathe with you, because there's a lot on your frame that's changed. I'm only going to teach you, I promise." He would, because she needed to feel able to trust him, or she wouldn't listen, couldn't learn. "The question is, do you want to use the public wash-racks for this, or are you willing to be in the room again while I'm 'faced in return for a private 'rack." Starscream would probably let him use his washracks...
She looked down, flushing at the information. Roadstead waited in silence. It wasn't like he could change her options! She needed to learn how to clean herself, and this was the only way to do it.
Sunrain took him to the wash-racks, which were full of fluttering, cooing, and softly aroused Seekers. Everything was highest quality, Sunrain told him, because they wouldn't accept anything else. Sunrain touched him, made him feel good... and stopped when he fell to his knees and sobbed. His teacher held him until Starscream came...
"I'd... No-one's going to do anything- I mean, t- to me, in the... public wash-racks...?" Amber asked softly, breaking Roadstead from his thoughts.
"Not with me there. We understand that you're in shock..." Later, she would have to learn to guard herself, when to offer... This time, though, she would only have to worry about how to wash herself.
"Then I'll do that. I mean... It's not like we're getting naked. Or like I can... count on having privacy, if you have to... pay for it..." Amber sounded as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.
It was good enough for Roadstead. "No, we're not getting naked." He nodded a little. Amber was surprising him quite a lot. He wondered when she would break. Everyone broke... They had lost everything, after all. If they didn't let themselves feel that... He didn't want to think about that.
"...Right then." Amber stood, then looked at her empty cube. Roadstead showed her how to pinch a corner and disperse it, then stood as well. The wash-racks weren't that far from the common room.
"Things are... very different..." the femme said, looking around as though she expected her vision to have changed. Then again, maybe it had in a manner of speaking, since she was getting new names for everything. She looked at Metrodash, and her optics suddenly went very wide and she jumped a little. It couldn't be his name... maybe she was reacting to the meanings 'pet' carried now.
Roadstead took her arm, pulling the larger femme out of the room. "Come on, I said. Things are different, I know. You'll adjust."
Slowly, she followed him, though Roadstead knew that Amber was looking everywhere she could as they walked down the road through the base. They only made it part way before she broke the silence. "This is... Earth, right? But... nothing- I mean, no-one quite looks like what I expected. The- your- ah, our Seeker-frame is... it's more like Armada, but that's not right either..."
“There's there's almost nothing Armada about our frame, other than that it's similar to the G1. You're picking up on the Animated influence- oh. I guess you wouldn't know about that... Well, don't worry, most of the fandom's 'verses have be re-created by us. There's... I don't even know how many OCs there are. We all worked together... the canons helped. Some of us got a little obsessed... well.” Roadstead twitched a wing. “Yes. This is Earth. We've been here about fifty years... We try not to kill humans, which might be our, the OCs', influence. But then, I don't think Megatron would have ever put forth an effort to kill another sentient race. He's not that sort.”
"He's... not...?" Amber asked, looking rather confused. "I mean, he does in... well, you know..."
"G1 does little to show the expanse of the empire," Roadstead said. "We're... big. Interplanetary big. We have at least thirteen planets that I know of, and dozens of allies. And we're successfully arrayed against the Autobots with their twenty eight planets, and allies. I have no idea how they have so many..."
"...Empire?" Amber echoed, as though it were an unfamiliar word. "But that's... so many... You'd have to have... thousands. ...Millions..."
"Billions, actually. Our sparking-rate might be very low, but our lifespan is nearly unlimited, and the war is... less deadly than Earthian wars. Point was, Megatron knows how to make nice with other races, and other organic races."
Amber was silent for a moment, but spoke again before they entered the common room/mess hall. "What about the fact that humans, at least the ones I know, prefer Autobots? We- ...they... don't like to be taken over and made to join an empire, you know."
Roadstead was silent for a moment, smiling just a little. She was so young... "You're wrong, you know. Humans are pack creatures, and short-lived. After a couple of generations, they'll be used to it, and most will feel little loyalty to 'long dead' nations. It's not like the Decepticon Empire is a bad place to be. We're more individualistic than the Autobots."
"Um. What?" The femme seemed flatly disbelieving, and followed him into the building. Roadstead kept her close as he gathered their energon.
"I'll use you as an example," Roadstead explained as he lead them to a table. He wasn't entirely sure how much she was listening, though. "If you had been taken by the Autobots, the first thing they would have done would be..." He looked away, wings twitching unhappily. Nothing for it, though... and who knew if she would even understand.
"They would take your wings. Format your into a grounder's chassis whether you want or not."
Much to Roadstead's surprise, and silent gratitude to the twin gods, Amber got it. Her optics opened wider and her wings flared up. Even with the hideous colors, the gesture was familiar and comforting, and he had hope that, even if she wasn't a Seeker, she was actually a flier spark.
"They do what? They force- but- why?"
"Haven't even flown, and you know it's a terrible thing for them to do..." Roadstead smiled, a little proud. "There's hope for you. I was worried."
Amber flushed, looking at the cube of energon before her. She didn't look willing to try it yet, so Roadstead showed by example, taking a hearty swig. "But you didn't say why. They have fliers, they have the Aerials and Skyfire and-"
"And those are all canons," Roadstead interrupted. "They do not have any OC fliers. By force." He gave a wing-twitch shrug. "In general, fliers are a little head-strong, wild. We don't fit in their 'machine' very well. When a flier's been sparked and raised in their culture, they can handle the constriction... usually. And... some of their first OC fliers were true Seekers. The moment they heard Starscream..." Another shrug.
"He controls you...?" she asked. Roadstead had mentioned that he was their Winglord, but it was clear she didn't quite understand. Explaining wasn't a hardship, though, not really.
"Yes. We don't have the strong trine bonds that fandom favors, but we do have a Winglord, flock-leader... whatever you like to call him. A mech, or femme, with a Seeker's spark, not just frame, is... I am incapable of disobeying an order from him. And he doesn't like taking choice like that, so he avoids ordering us."
"...Oh. So... the early... Autobot... fliers, they... And the Autobots didn't... like that. And..."
"Yes." Roadstead smiled again, pleasantly surprised. "It was a bad experience. The Seekers were saved, thankfully, but after that, every flier has been forcefully reformatted. Some are okay, flier in form but not spark. The ones who were fliers in both... ...sometimes the canon fliers bring their OC brethren to us, to keep safe. Sometimes... they can't."
"That... doesn't end well, does it?" Amber asked softly. She made a soft sound at Roadstead's nod, and finally chose to try the energon. The liquid energy made her jerk and stare at the cube.
It was a welcome break in the depressing mood, and Roadstead was able to relax a little, enjoy his morning fuel. He still answered, though. "They suicide. It doesn't happen very often, now..."
"That's... cruel," Amber murmured. And then she straightened, and Roadstead realized what seemed to be coming. It seemed she had not quite realized, or remembered, that being a giant robot was not anything unusual here.
"It's nothing we can stop," Roadstead said, cutting off what seemed to be an impeding rant. "The war is even. We do what we can... We're fighting to win, for... for the freedom to be where each person belongs. This is where it gets tricky."
The distraction worked, and Amber drank more as she puzzled over Roadstead's words. "Freedom to be... where you belong? That... doesn't sound very good..."
"Doesn't, does it?" Roadstead agreed easily, aware that they had an audience. He was being evaluated, and he knew it. He wasn't worried, not about this. It was something which was in his coding, more than others, he believed. "Is this way. Decepticons and Autobots both believe that every mech and femme has a place they belong. Autobots believe it's determined by programming, by where one was sparked. We believe that your place is wherever you can put yourself."
She was still confused, and that was fine. Examples were needed. "Starscream. If he were as treacherous as weak as G1 shows him, he could not stay where he is. He would be torn down and put into a place that he can keep. Or me. My limit is close. I know it is. Knowing ones limits is vital, reaching beyond them leads to pain, death... If I go beyond my limit, take command when I'm not ready, I could lead my whole squad into death." It happened, and that was why killing a commander was not the worst thing that a soldier could do.
"But what if you don't want to reach up? Everyone has to, or you- you end up like Metrodash, just..." Amber tried to verbalize concepts that she was unsure on.
"Metrodash reached too far and pays the price. Preferring to follow, to be under others, is no shame. Look at Soundwave. He's useless without a commander. And his cassettes are worse. Or the Constructicons, they need strong leadership. As long as they know this, it's good. Know yourself, know your limits.” Roadstead was not very sympathetic.
"And what if you just don't want to reach?" Amber asked again.
"Then you don't. You stay where you are. There's luxury in promotion, but there's responsibility. If all you want is to survive..." He twitched, holding back a sneer. "No-one starves, unless they refuse to take advantage of the programs. Then again..."
Roadstead smirked, looking around the room. He found matching expressions on his fellow's faceplates. "We believe it goes like this, life does.
"To feel the road is to risk the crash
To know the sky is to risk the fall
To learn the cave is to risk the weight
To taste the waves is to risk the depths
To explore space is to risk the expanse
To be safe is certain death."
He started alone, and quiet, but with every short line, Roadstead got louder, and mechs joined, until the last line was said by nearly the entire room of mechs. The brown Seeker smiled, raising his half-full cube in toast. It wasn't a religious chant, but there was certainly enough fervor in the words. It brought them together...
Amber was silent for a long moment after silence fell, and then nodded slowly. "I... I don't think I can say I get it. B- but I think..." And she shrugged. It was good enough, Roadstead decided. He had reacted more strongly, but then, he hadn't heard the chant until he'd been around for a few more orns.
After another few moments, attention drifted off of the Seeker pair. Amber finish drinking, slowly. She seemed to be enjoying the energon, and Roadstead was willing to allow it. She deserved to know some of the pleasures of this life, as early as she could. There was more that had to be done, though...
"Amber? I have a question. When we're done here, we need a shower. And I'm going to bathe with you, because there's a lot on your frame that's changed. I'm only going to teach you, I promise." He would, because she needed to feel able to trust him, or she wouldn't listen, couldn't learn. "The question is, do you want to use the public wash-racks for this, or are you willing to be in the room again while I'm 'faced in return for a private 'rack." Starscream would probably let him use his washracks...
She looked down, flushing at the information. Roadstead waited in silence. It wasn't like he could change her options! She needed to learn how to clean herself, and this was the only way to do it.
Sunrain took him to the wash-racks, which were full of fluttering, cooing, and softly aroused Seekers. Everything was highest quality, Sunrain told him, because they wouldn't accept anything else. Sunrain touched him, made him feel good... and stopped when he fell to his knees and sobbed. His teacher held him until Starscream came...
"I'd... No-one's going to do anything- I mean, t- to me, in the... public wash-racks...?" Amber asked softly, breaking Roadstead from his thoughts.
"Not with me there. We understand that you're in shock..." Later, she would have to learn to guard herself, when to offer... This time, though, she would only have to worry about how to wash herself.
"Then I'll do that. I mean... It's not like we're getting naked. Or like I can... count on having privacy, if you have to... pay for it..." Amber sounded as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.
It was good enough for Roadstead. "No, we're not getting naked." He nodded a little. Amber was surprising him quite a lot. He wondered when she would break. Everyone broke... They had lost everything, after all. If they didn't let themselves feel that... He didn't want to think about that.
"...Right then." Amber stood, then looked at her empty cube. Roadstead showed her how to pinch a corner and disperse it, then stood as well. The wash-racks weren't that far from the common room.