Written for

Mine /Yours

My status / Your status

The Autobot was dragged along the corridor, his heels made a screetching noise on the rust-free metallic floor. The whole Decepticon base was still under construction, everything brand-new, everything spotless. Even the guard drones were shining like chrome. Brand-new models before a field test, the Autobot groaned. These things are soon going to be used in real battle. Against Autobots.

The few 'Cons no longer bothered with him. He was already beaten half offline, his circuitry was dulled by a pair of stasis cuffs. Most certainly, he had seen better days...

„OK, Inferno, I'll make a deal with you. I will help you repair the energy lines, you help me choose the transport mech."

„That's blackmail."

Bulkhead looked his neighbor in the optics. Being sorry about his loss of revenue, third time this quartex, would not help his need for friendly advice.

„Look. I know you have a great sense for... what you call them, impressions? I need someone who's like Horsepower was in his younger days."

Inferno grabbed the green robot by the shoulders.

„We have not bought Horsey from an auctioner. He had been our best worker not because anyone ever paid for it. He had been chosen from a responsible maker and he had been treated as a cohort-mate from the first day. And you know what? I think it was only obvious that we will take care of him when he retires."

Bulkhead turned around and transformed. His combined harvester mode blasted black smoke onto Inferno's red plating.

"Look, Bulky. I know. I know you intend to keep him well. But with buying another mechanism, you will give your financial support to slavers. It's keeping up a vicious circle. Today, you buy a slave. Tomorrow, they will catch a new one to be sold. In a vorn's time, who knows it won't be you whom they sell?"

Bulkhead harrumphed. This wasn't their first argument about slavery, it certainly wasn't going to be the last. But he needed a transport mech and Inferno had a good optic for loyalty and endurance. Most villagers were convinced that whenever he said his judgement, he had been looking for the traits of his own Horsepower. The (now retired) beast had set his standards very high.

"And besides. I tried contractors. I tried giving last chances. I fraggin' signed contract with the Charity Fuel Program – they could have taken half the crop if they helped me safely deal the other half. It's time I get a mech for myself."

With that, he rolled out of Inferno's barn.

Inferno turned back to the energy line he had been welding together, merely blinking at his friend over his shoulder. He needed to get at least a megamile's length of severed lines functional before he'd go after Bulkhead and see what kind of mechs the traders had with them this time.

.

The sellers' camp was just as Inferno remembered from last time. Two heavily armoured trucks surrounded a dirty tent, and a tribune had already been set up. Villagers already started evaluating the mechs inside the makeshift storage house, and a huge red countdown indicated the time left before the afternoon auctions. He picked up Bulkhead's energy signature from inside the tent, so he walked in without noticing the "Please ask for assistance before entry" note.

He did notice, however, the panicked scream and the unmistakable noise of a mech falling on the ground, then the clinking of trembling kibbles. Inferno rushed to the source of the sound. It took him less than a nanosec to diagnose the mech's muted seisure as a glitch-down, and he acted on reflex: he pinned down the white and red being with his left hand and his entire weight, then slid his other hand's fingers inside his neck, blocking one of the main energon cables. A moment later, he slid his right hand on the left side of the mech's neck, then blocked the other energon cable too.

The mech tried to writhe away, although he seemed to be doing so without any conscious functions. His optics were glowing in an almost white blue glow. After a few moments, however, the uncoordinated movements slowed down, the optics darkened to grey. When Inferno was confident that the mech went offline, he carefully released his grip on the cables and watched as the other slowly started to boot.

"Hey, you!" he heard one of the traders from behind him. "We don't have that note on the door for nothing!"

Inferno looked up at the bulky black mechanism. Those huge chevrons and enormous tyres had always made him feel weak.

"Sorry, sir. I'm here because a friend of mine is looking for a transporter mech."

For as much as Inferno could tell, the black robot nodded. After the brightness outside, his optics were still on daytime settings, and he could mostly see in black and white for now – dark silhouettes against the sunshine behind the open door.

"Transport, eh?" the trader hummed. "This way."

Inferno cast a last look at the rebooting mech.

"Old freakout, don't worry about him" the black one said. "He's going to stay freaky like this. Thanks for silencing him, though."

"What's the problem with him?" the farmmech asked.

"As his former owner said, he's too good at his job. He considers everything he's not yet seen as some huge danger, and panics. We keep him as an alarm – noone's getting in here behind our backs."

"I've seen that" the red mech nodded. "So where are the...? Oh, hi, Bulkhead."

The large green farmmech had been laying against the wall, watching as other villagers were evaluating the three identical-looking transport-mechs. The trader left them without saying a word.

"Too big queue" Bulkhead murmured. "Granted, GranMac is only here for the feel of it, and Mouser and Click are certainly not going to buy a transporter of this price. Seen that? Their starting price will be one-and-fifty."

"The one in the middle's worth it" Inferno said after a few moments of watching. "The one with the scratch on the left side of his head."

"How do you know?"

"Just look at how he's watching Co-Oper. He's benign but will tear good old Cope' in half if he would hurt his brother while examining him. They're three-split twins, right?"

Bulkhead kept staring in the direction of the three transporters and couldn't see any differences between them.

"The one on the right" Inferno continued "the biggest one. Look how he's posing. He's the best bargain, and he knows. Only, I wouldn't trust him with what remained of my crops from yesterday, and that's not saying much. He's more of an egoist than a mech who'd actually get the job done."

Bulkhead hummed. This was why he'd asked for when he called Inferno along for the auction.

"And what of the third one?"

This time, Inferno only hummed back.

"No idea. I would not give onehundred and fifty barkers for him, but onehundred would be a reasonable price." Then he spotted the shop-shelves. Accesories, drones, spare parts had been lined in neat order. Expensive, he swallowed. He didn't have much money, not with the fuel lines getting punched and the barrels of expensive medical-grade energon getting tapped more often than not. Maybe he should consider setting up a reasonable security system, he mused. Of course he couldn't even afford half of the sensors needed, not to mention the hackproof network connections. He simply couldn't afford to protect his crops, worse than that he hadn't even had the faintest idea of what type of wild beast was stealing his product.

With a sad sigh, he moved on to the white and chrome pair of mechs on display. These were clearly unsuited for any hard work in the fields.

"Frag-toys with minimal agricultural benefits" Inferno murmured. "Although really good-tempered. If they wouldn't cost a fortune I'd suggest GranMac to buy the one in the corner."

Bulkhead looked at his friend.

"I thought you were against buying slaves here. By the way, they cost so much because they are individually sparked."

"And because they were intended to be mostly used as status symbols" Inferno added with disgust. At the same time he had to admit that slaves that were regularly interfaced with, according to some studies, had had a tendency to develop extreme loyalty to their owners. Some of them would even starve themselves to death rather than accept fuel from anybot other than their master.

Well, GranMac could maybe use that level of loyalty. She had a small inn called Death Row in the middle of the village, and her one-night guests kept taking away her property, be it elegant old energon cubes, cleaning drones, or security cameras. Recently her contracted waiter left her for a better paying job after just half a vorn of indentured service.

Inferno gave the white and chrome mechs a better look. He guessed they both had some issues, because they had to be the leftover of the type after the traders having sold the others in the big cities already. Nevertheless, he pulled GranMac aside and asked if she'd like to ask them if there was anything they weren't allowed to talk about.

"They will say no" the lady immediately replied.

"But the way they say no will give us a clue" Inferno explained to her.

A ping on the public radio frequencies reminded everybot that the auction started in one breem.

Only one of the two pleasure-bots replied too quickly to GranMac. The other also said no, but not because it was a pre-set answer, but he genuinely processed the question before saying no.

"Then why were you not sold in Tyrest?" GranMac asked. "The caravan's last stop was in Tyrest, wasn't it?"

"Yes, milady. The two of us" here the mech made a pause, as if choosing his words carefully "were the models on display. The gentlemechs there were only interested in the unopened models."

Behind his back, Inferno pointed at the talking one, and nodded. GranMac smiled and nodded back to him, grateful for the advise.

The tent became almost empty as the second ping was aired. Those who intended to bid at the auction had lined up for the registry and those who only came to watch had settled on the high tribune seats from where the view was best.

One of the large trucks transformed, and Inferno couldn't tell whether this was the one that came after him when he silenced their "alarm", or was it his co-molded. He couldn't really bring himself to care, as he didn't like either.

First, the mech gave a semi-improvised speech about the sunny summer day and the smell of freshly produced energon and the welcoming hospitality of the inhabitants of New Argent. He continued with the praise of the good weather and concluded that, with the well-known good morale of the village, the harvest will be great and plenty. The auctioneer's conclusion, of course, was that this was the best time for the villagers to buy new workforce. At this point, Inferno stood up and went back to the tent.

He approached it with more caution, this time. Despite his large frame, he sneaked in without making a sound. The "alarm" mech noticed him, of course, but this time, he only kept his frightened optics on him.

He was sitting in a corner, his back against thin metal. He must have been watching the parade outside, and perhaps saying goodbye to the portable energon refiner who was the first mech to be sold today. Clearly the traders didn't want the villagers to be saving their last shanix during the rest of the event. The starting bid was three hundred thousand shanix, the first offer to beat that was three hundred-fifty.

"Fourhundred barkers!" the village's only minibot offered.

"Four-fifty!"

"Cheepos! Sixhundred!"

"Shut up, Cliffie! Save your money for next season! Seven hundred barkers!"

"Seven-fifty!"

"Seven-seventy!"

"Seven-ninety!"

"Eight hundred!"

Meanwhile, Inferno positioned himself against the same wall, keeping a respectful distance of the other mechanism. He wasn't sure if the mech recognized him as the one who disrupted his seizure, but he most certainly wasn't considered to be a threat anymore.

"You also hate it, right? Watching your friends being sold."

"Eight-twenty!" was heard from the outside.

After a little hesitation, the mech shook his head.

"You rurals take care of your properties. It won't be bad for them on the long run."

"Eight-forty!"

"Eight-fifty!"

"Eight-fifty" the auctioneer echoed. "Eight-fifty thousand shanix, going once! Going twice!"

"Fifty-five!"

Inferno looked at the thoughtful face. Maybe the mech was right... He watched closer. White frame, red highlights, perhaps his shoulder-wheels were a little too close to the torso, but overall, he was a very decent mech. His posture? Well, that clearly said, 'I don't mind your presence as long as you don't have any ideas'.

"Nine hundred barkers!"

Suddenly everybot fell silent.

"Nine hundred barkers!" the mech repeated. Inferno smiled to himself: of course Circuit had to arrive in the very last second. Or maybe it was below him to speak up before?

Despite the tent's metal shading most personal-range radio signals, Inferno caught a very clear message from Road Police. There was no need to decode it – and he guessed Circuit didn't really bother, either.

"Nine hundred thousand!" the black truck-bot repeated. "Going once at nine hundred thousand! Come on, who will offer more for this exceptional mechanism here?"

Apparently, noone.

"Nine hundred thousand shanix, going twice!"

Circuit messaged back to Road Police, which was either an apology, or maybe it wasn't.

"SOLD!"

There was a polite applause and a very strange sound as Circuit transformed to robot mode. There was a tiny tone of wear in that metallic rustle. Probably he transformed too rarely from his racecar mode.

"They are a team of six" Inferno explained to the mech sitting against the same wall as he. "They reside on the northern slope, equally far from the heavily inhabited areas of Tagan Capital, Tyrest, and Praxus. Yes, I'm sure they will treat their refiner with respect."

"I hope so."

The white mech's face hardened as the other trader called the three-split twins to the side of the stage. The biggest one, whom Inferno considered to be an egoist, was the first.

"This wonderful transporter here is named, quite accordingly, Best! He can carry six kilotonnes of cargo with the most recent development of subspace technology! His loading time is only two breems, and he can even carry an additional half kiloton in normal space even when he's fully loaded! Depending on his cargo, the fuel consumption..."

Inferno blinked at the white-red mech whom he considered to have been sitting beside him.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go" the red mech said as he stood up. "Goodbye."

The other mech looked at him, as if grateful for his time. "Goodbye, sir."

.

As he suspected, Inferno found Bulkhead in the front row.

"At last, where have you been? I thought you'd miss out the best part."

"I heard that the Turbo Team bought the refiner. Have I missed anything else?"

"Yes, Cliffie's evil look he cast at Circuit when he arrived. He wanted to expand his business really badly, but of course he knew he had no chance against an entire cohort."

"... without leaving any unwanted scent in the cargo hold." The auctioneer didn't seem to be bothered by their little chatter in the front row. "He's the best bargain at the starting price of one hundred and fifty thousand shanix!"

Inferno cast a quick look at the black speaker, as if to make him shut up. He didn't like these mechs at all.

"Hold back, Bulky" he muttered. "Only go for the one with the head mark."

Bulkhead nodded, but couldn't help listening to the price going higher and higher. He'd saved money, yes, but not this much...

"Look at this wonderful item, the suspensions themselves are pieces of applied art. He can adapt to rough terrain so easily you won't even notice."

"I hate that mech" Inferno muttered. "Of course I won't notice because I'm not the one actually rolling through a stoneyard with hundreds of tonnes in my normal space cargo hold."

"Bear with him" Bulkhead muttered.

"OK. I just wanted to distract you. You don't have five hundred barkers to waste on an egomaniac. He heard too much praise in his life already."

Eventually, the auction ended at five hundred and sixty-five barkers. Cliffjumper paraded away to the coding relay with his bargain, and Inferno stepped closer to Bulkhead, touching his back kibble's side to the green mech's shoulder as a sign of support.

"And here comes Quote! From the same manufacturer as his brother, Quote can store up to seven point one kilotonnes in subspace and has an additional four hundred tonnes of storage capacity in normal space. Loading time two point four breems, transport range three hundred megamiles without the smallest detectable change to the cargo."

"Even in normal space?" Inferno shouted, just for the fun of it.

"I meant normal space" the auctioneer replied with an angry look.

"Thank you sir."

"No need for trolling around" another farmer hissed next to him.

"Sorry, Sides. This guy makes me feel like I forgot my manners at home."

Bulkhead considered himself lucky. Many of those villagers who placed bids on Best didn't seem to be interested in a second prize – eventually he got Quote for two hundred and twenty thousand, with his only real opponent being his next-farm neighbor Sideswipe, who didn't want to push the price too high for his fellow. Then Sideswipe got the third twin, Ever, for the starting price of one hundred and fifty thousand shanix.

"Going once at one hundred and fifty!" the auctioneer shouted. "Come on, who will pay more for this wonderful item designed for hard work and little consumpion? Can store six point seven kilotonnes in subspace and threehundred tonnes in normal space, with the loading time of a very convenient two point eight breems in total. Who will pay one hundred and sixty thousand for him?"

"Nobot!" Cliffjumper replied from the side of the stage. "You may not be aware, but I and Bulkhead both live on the Stormy Range, so does Sideswipe who just placed his offer. Noone living more than five megamiles further from us will bid on the third twin, as we are not barbarians to separate what was one spark in the beginning. Going once, going twice, all three of them are coming to Stormy Range regardless of how much more time you waste talking here. Do I hear a second of that?"

Huge applause followed his words. The black trucks exchanged disappointed grins, and agreed that the villagers were sentimental softsparks, not businessmechs.

In the back of the tent, the white security mech came to the same conclusion. These villagers were so different from the wealthy city-mechs he used to call his masters...