Adjustment of character, 9
Yup! More! And things are HAPPENING. ...Sort of. Almost. >.>
Do tell me if I start going over things too many times. I try to keep track of it, but there's around 2k words per chapter here, and... My brain has been quite mush lately. Is annoying.
It was less than a full orn later that they were on a small ship. Optimus had commed them as they took off, first asking how the new OC was doing, and then promising that his records showed no interplanetary activity. The Earth-assigned Prime would be in trouble if the deception was discovered, but that would mean Roadstead had been captured, and the Seeker wasn't about to let that happen.
Amber, now a pale blue and lovely deep violet, had only just left the window, though she still sat within easy view of it. Roadstead understood. Every OC on the Nemesis had wanted to look at Earth when they found it, and most had been allowed to. Unlike most continuities, the Decepticon flagship hadn't been crashing...
"That's not... even my home, is it? Even if I looked... nothing's the same, is it?" Amber asked, looking at Roadstead.
"No, it's not. I never even tried to look... And this is at least sixty years after the time you know. You'll find a new home. You'll have all the opportunities you grew up with. In time, you'll have lived here so long that your memories of humanity are archived. Faded..."
"I still lived with my parents. I didn't have a boyfriend... my younger sister did." Amber didn't answer Roadstead, but it wasn't needed. He had been expecting this for days, and counted himself lucky that they had indeed got off-planet before it happened. "They all teased me. About liking such an old show, about what I wrote... about how Megatron wasn't real."
"You still miss them. And part of you feels glad that you're right and they were wrong. Glad that you won't have to listen to them again. But you feel bad for feeling that way, and you really do miss them..." Emotions were never logical.
"...Can I be alone for a while...?" The question was soft. Roadstead didn't look at Amber, twitching a wing in the direction of the door.
"There's rooms back there. One for Metrodash and I, and you can have the other if you want. If you find you can't recharge alone, let me know." She trusted him, by now, to not make moves on her. He found her much more attractive in her new colors, and he was still trying to convince her that interfacing was just pleasure, but like any other Decepticon, he respected the fact that she said 'no' quite firmly and regularly.
They were well away from the Sol system, and just entering transwarp space, when Amber came out of the room she had claimed. Her face was flushed, and the metal around her optics was marked where she had rubbed it, even though their forms couldn't make actual tears. Her vents still caught unevenly, causing an occasional sob, but it was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Roadstead politely ignored the signs, nodding at her.
"We're currently en route to Ijurn, a Decepticon planet on the edge of the empire. It's one of the closer ones, which is why we're going there and not, say, Zarak... There are some humanoid organics, so you can see how that goes, too." The natives of Ijurn were not really that close to human, more like a kind of intelligent, upright deer. They would still reassure Amber that the Decepticons weren't cruel to those in their empire.
"When will we be there?" Amber asked, vocalizer just a little hoarse.
“A few orns. We use local time on a neutral planet, but within the empire we return to Standard. Ijurn's natives use their local times, because they're adapted to it, but we won't be dealing too much with them. They like to keep private,” Roadstead answered.
"So... It's going to take us more than a month to get there?" Amber asked. Roadstead was pleased that she actually knew how long an orn was, and remembered it.
"Yup. This also means we have most of a week to talk before recharging near the end of the orn." He grinned, expression slightly feral, before softening again. "I'm not really going to make you go right from days to orns. It would be the Pit on us both. We'll be using the trip to adjust, though, so by the time we reach Ijurn, we'll be on standard time."
Amber shook her head a little, looking at the abstract trans-warp space outside the cabin window. "I can't really imagine being ...awake so long, or sleeping so long... How long is this whole 'tour' going to take?"
"Maybe a few groons. I'll be away from the front for years... I know. You adjust to it, though. We're made for it. It's easier on us in every way... You just have to see it. Don't worry right now." He was rather looking forward to the vacation, even with Amber around, and the return to his chassis' normal rhythms. He'd have to visit Sunrain, too... and maybe he could even see Shockwave...
"Anyway! Right now, you need to learn history. Our history is similar to what you know, but it's the differences that trip everyone up. After all, in the fan-canon, we, OCs as a cultural phenomenon, don't exist."
Amber nodded, already aware of that. Even though self-insertion and human-turned-TF were two of the most common plotlines in the old fandom, they were always unique occurrences. "This 'verse didn't even start as... like, 'pure' G1 or... what did you say, Animated or anything, so... That would change things too..."
"Yup!" Roadstead agreed, grinning again. "It changes things a lot. Let's see... 'Cons and 'Bots were one nation once. That's the same always. And there was a bit of an interplanetary- well, interstellar, really, nation. Then problems started coming up. Different planets got different cultures, and the sides began to... well, specialize more than they had. Travel was still difficult then, so... as near as anyone now can tell, the nation just got to big.
"And that was still okay. Things dissolved, but there wasn't a war, there wasn't a problem. One nation had just become many." Roadstead sighed. He wasn't really the best at history, and he knew it. Human or Transformer, he just wasn't interested. He had an idea of the broad sweeps, and some stories about individuals... Well. Amber only needed the broad sweeps right now.
"The problems started when Cybertron first found Kaon. Not the city-state fan-canon puts on Cybertron's surface, but the planet which was in a more-or-less neighboring solar system. As near as well can tell, them actually came in peace, but... culture had divided too much. The nascent Decepticons and the nascent Autobots couldn't stand each other. Frag if I know who threw the first blow- It was probably a Decepticon, because I do know my own people.
"It was a slaughter. One on both sides."
Amber looked startled, but then, she had looked more or less the same way through most of the lesson. "I thought you said they came in peace. Why would you- well, you know, your side... why were they attacked when, I mean, if they just didn't like the culture?"
"Each side thought the other were barbaric, uncivilized brutes. Human wars have been started for less. The point is, not many survived Kaon. Both sides withdrew, but contact continued to be made, and it was almost always violent. As the nations grew, they met the other lost nations, which were either absorbed or conquered or drove one or the other side away... It's the basic state of war."
"So... You're not fighting for... energon, or... um, whatever else?" And Roadstead couldn't blame Amber for her confusion. Every fan-canon verse had them fighting for something. Then again, they were made for kids.
"Not really, no. There's the general search for resources, and we each feel our way of life is best, and seek to protect other races from the other side's culture- unless it's very clear that they would do better in it. Like the Insecticons we found once... they're practically made for Autobots. So we avoid them and hope they're deep enough in Decepticon space that the Autobots don't find them. Creepy things, Insecticons."
"They always were- oh. Right, not... they're different." Amber looked down. "So... I guess you don't really know much about the Autobots. How long... How long have we... er, OCs? been... arriving here?"
Roadstead shrugged. "Sometime after the war as such started. Shortly after Megatron took over. The first few... they died. The next one lived long enough for us to realize that it was a programming issue- that is, for the 'cons to realize. I don't know what the story is on the Autobot side. Similar, I think."
"Anyway... coding. Yeah. So, even with that, it took a while for one to actually make it to a medic or programmer and have enough to get fixed. And then she started babbling about canon and TFs and... well, she was a sue, and without any other OCs around, we didn't know how to handle her. Eventually, she... well, torqued off the wrong person. Another OC had come in the mean-time, and... it's been snowballing. It used to be vorns between arrivals. Now... it seems to be only groons."
Amber was silent for a while, and hesitant when she asked, "So... when I came here... That cat, er... Glit? That... wasn't just to be mean or... anything?"
Roadstead shook his head softly. "No. That was a code check. OCs rarely come through with bad coding now, but it's still very messy. Glit probably cleaned it up a little, and made sure that nothing was missing. Whatever's doing this does seem to be learning, but it's still best to be safe when it's possible.”
The femme answered sooner this time. “And... Shockwave did yours...? You kind of made it sound that way...”
“Yup. He did, and then 'faced me into the berth. Left my seals, if I'd had 'em, to Sunrain, though... I'm guessing you don't really want to hear about that, do you?” She would have to hear some time. It wasn't healthy to be unaware of what your own body could do and feel. But they still had a little time, and her world view had to be crumbling by now.
And it certainly wasn't like he couldn't afford to be patient. He had already taken part in missions which had been planned for longer than a human lifetime. Amber still had a human's understanding of time.
“So what you did to me in the shower was interfacing? Even after you said you wouldn't?” Amber asked, somewhat angrily.
“That was to interfacing what a hand-job is to sex. Especially because I didn't make you overload. Generally, pleasure isn't considered interfacing unless genitals or sparks are involved. Even if the pleasure leads to overload-”
“I don't want to hear any more,” Amber interrupted, standing. Roadstead made no effort to stop her as she walked out of the bridge.
Do tell me if I start going over things too many times. I try to keep track of it, but there's around 2k words per chapter here, and... My brain has been quite mush lately. Is annoying.
It was less than a full orn later that they were on a small ship. Optimus had commed them as they took off, first asking how the new OC was doing, and then promising that his records showed no interplanetary activity. The Earth-assigned Prime would be in trouble if the deception was discovered, but that would mean Roadstead had been captured, and the Seeker wasn't about to let that happen.
Amber, now a pale blue and lovely deep violet, had only just left the window, though she still sat within easy view of it. Roadstead understood. Every OC on the Nemesis had wanted to look at Earth when they found it, and most had been allowed to. Unlike most continuities, the Decepticon flagship hadn't been crashing...
"That's not... even my home, is it? Even if I looked... nothing's the same, is it?" Amber asked, looking at Roadstead.
"No, it's not. I never even tried to look... And this is at least sixty years after the time you know. You'll find a new home. You'll have all the opportunities you grew up with. In time, you'll have lived here so long that your memories of humanity are archived. Faded..."
"I still lived with my parents. I didn't have a boyfriend... my younger sister did." Amber didn't answer Roadstead, but it wasn't needed. He had been expecting this for days, and counted himself lucky that they had indeed got off-planet before it happened. "They all teased me. About liking such an old show, about what I wrote... about how Megatron wasn't real."
"You still miss them. And part of you feels glad that you're right and they were wrong. Glad that you won't have to listen to them again. But you feel bad for feeling that way, and you really do miss them..." Emotions were never logical.
"...Can I be alone for a while...?" The question was soft. Roadstead didn't look at Amber, twitching a wing in the direction of the door.
"There's rooms back there. One for Metrodash and I, and you can have the other if you want. If you find you can't recharge alone, let me know." She trusted him, by now, to not make moves on her. He found her much more attractive in her new colors, and he was still trying to convince her that interfacing was just pleasure, but like any other Decepticon, he respected the fact that she said 'no' quite firmly and regularly.
They were well away from the Sol system, and just entering transwarp space, when Amber came out of the room she had claimed. Her face was flushed, and the metal around her optics was marked where she had rubbed it, even though their forms couldn't make actual tears. Her vents still caught unevenly, causing an occasional sob, but it was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Roadstead politely ignored the signs, nodding at her.
"We're currently en route to Ijurn, a Decepticon planet on the edge of the empire. It's one of the closer ones, which is why we're going there and not, say, Zarak... There are some humanoid organics, so you can see how that goes, too." The natives of Ijurn were not really that close to human, more like a kind of intelligent, upright deer. They would still reassure Amber that the Decepticons weren't cruel to those in their empire.
"When will we be there?" Amber asked, vocalizer just a little hoarse.
“A few orns. We use local time on a neutral planet, but within the empire we return to Standard. Ijurn's natives use their local times, because they're adapted to it, but we won't be dealing too much with them. They like to keep private,” Roadstead answered.
"So... It's going to take us more than a month to get there?" Amber asked. Roadstead was pleased that she actually knew how long an orn was, and remembered it.
"Yup. This also means we have most of a week to talk before recharging near the end of the orn." He grinned, expression slightly feral, before softening again. "I'm not really going to make you go right from days to orns. It would be the Pit on us both. We'll be using the trip to adjust, though, so by the time we reach Ijurn, we'll be on standard time."
Amber shook her head a little, looking at the abstract trans-warp space outside the cabin window. "I can't really imagine being ...awake so long, or sleeping so long... How long is this whole 'tour' going to take?"
"Maybe a few groons. I'll be away from the front for years... I know. You adjust to it, though. We're made for it. It's easier on us in every way... You just have to see it. Don't worry right now." He was rather looking forward to the vacation, even with Amber around, and the return to his chassis' normal rhythms. He'd have to visit Sunrain, too... and maybe he could even see Shockwave...
"Anyway! Right now, you need to learn history. Our history is similar to what you know, but it's the differences that trip everyone up. After all, in the fan-canon, we, OCs as a cultural phenomenon, don't exist."
Amber nodded, already aware of that. Even though self-insertion and human-turned-TF were two of the most common plotlines in the old fandom, they were always unique occurrences. "This 'verse didn't even start as... like, 'pure' G1 or... what did you say, Animated or anything, so... That would change things too..."
"Yup!" Roadstead agreed, grinning again. "It changes things a lot. Let's see... 'Cons and 'Bots were one nation once. That's the same always. And there was a bit of an interplanetary- well, interstellar, really, nation. Then problems started coming up. Different planets got different cultures, and the sides began to... well, specialize more than they had. Travel was still difficult then, so... as near as anyone now can tell, the nation just got to big.
"And that was still okay. Things dissolved, but there wasn't a war, there wasn't a problem. One nation had just become many." Roadstead sighed. He wasn't really the best at history, and he knew it. Human or Transformer, he just wasn't interested. He had an idea of the broad sweeps, and some stories about individuals... Well. Amber only needed the broad sweeps right now.
"The problems started when Cybertron first found Kaon. Not the city-state fan-canon puts on Cybertron's surface, but the planet which was in a more-or-less neighboring solar system. As near as well can tell, them actually came in peace, but... culture had divided too much. The nascent Decepticons and the nascent Autobots couldn't stand each other. Frag if I know who threw the first blow- It was probably a Decepticon, because I do know my own people.
"It was a slaughter. One on both sides."
Amber looked startled, but then, she had looked more or less the same way through most of the lesson. "I thought you said they came in peace. Why would you- well, you know, your side... why were they attacked when, I mean, if they just didn't like the culture?"
"Each side thought the other were barbaric, uncivilized brutes. Human wars have been started for less. The point is, not many survived Kaon. Both sides withdrew, but contact continued to be made, and it was almost always violent. As the nations grew, they met the other lost nations, which were either absorbed or conquered or drove one or the other side away... It's the basic state of war."
"So... You're not fighting for... energon, or... um, whatever else?" And Roadstead couldn't blame Amber for her confusion. Every fan-canon verse had them fighting for something. Then again, they were made for kids.
"Not really, no. There's the general search for resources, and we each feel our way of life is best, and seek to protect other races from the other side's culture- unless it's very clear that they would do better in it. Like the Insecticons we found once... they're practically made for Autobots. So we avoid them and hope they're deep enough in Decepticon space that the Autobots don't find them. Creepy things, Insecticons."
"They always were- oh. Right, not... they're different." Amber looked down. "So... I guess you don't really know much about the Autobots. How long... How long have we... er, OCs? been... arriving here?"
Roadstead shrugged. "Sometime after the war as such started. Shortly after Megatron took over. The first few... they died. The next one lived long enough for us to realize that it was a programming issue- that is, for the 'cons to realize. I don't know what the story is on the Autobot side. Similar, I think."
"Anyway... coding. Yeah. So, even with that, it took a while for one to actually make it to a medic or programmer and have enough to get fixed. And then she started babbling about canon and TFs and... well, she was a sue, and without any other OCs around, we didn't know how to handle her. Eventually, she... well, torqued off the wrong person. Another OC had come in the mean-time, and... it's been snowballing. It used to be vorns between arrivals. Now... it seems to be only groons."
Amber was silent for a while, and hesitant when she asked, "So... when I came here... That cat, er... Glit? That... wasn't just to be mean or... anything?"
Roadstead shook his head softly. "No. That was a code check. OCs rarely come through with bad coding now, but it's still very messy. Glit probably cleaned it up a little, and made sure that nothing was missing. Whatever's doing this does seem to be learning, but it's still best to be safe when it's possible.”
The femme answered sooner this time. “And... Shockwave did yours...? You kind of made it sound that way...”
“Yup. He did, and then 'faced me into the berth. Left my seals, if I'd had 'em, to Sunrain, though... I'm guessing you don't really want to hear about that, do you?” She would have to hear some time. It wasn't healthy to be unaware of what your own body could do and feel. But they still had a little time, and her world view had to be crumbling by now.
And it certainly wasn't like he couldn't afford to be patient. He had already taken part in missions which had been planned for longer than a human lifetime. Amber still had a human's understanding of time.
“So what you did to me in the shower was interfacing? Even after you said you wouldn't?” Amber asked, somewhat angrily.
“That was to interfacing what a hand-job is to sex. Especially because I didn't make you overload. Generally, pleasure isn't considered interfacing unless genitals or sparks are involved. Even if the pleasure leads to overload-”
“I don't want to hear any more,” Amber interrupted, standing. Roadstead made no effort to stop her as she walked out of the bridge.