Prisoner of War
Some of my fellow Autobots can remember the exact moment they entered the war. I'm like the others, however, the ones who lost sight of this war's beginning ages ago. To me it's as though we have always had war, even though history records indicate there was a glorious stretch of peace. I wish I could remember what it felt like.
I wish I knew what if felt like not to live in fear of dying. To know the sound of genuine laughter. To bask in the warmth beneath a free sun. To be able to go off-line and not worry about having a plasma rifle pointed at me when I awaken.
Some give me a hard time, labeling me the human word 'hippie'. That suits me just fine. If they choose to call me a name which represents one who abhors fighting and loss of life, I welcome such a distinction.
It is true I'm not on the front-lines as often as some. When mission rosters are declared I am rarely included. But my role in this war is no less than theirs. I stay behind and conduct important research in an attempt to improve our way of life, and maybe even discover some way of ending this unrelenting war. Though the tools and skills I use may differ from my Autobot brothers, we are all soldiers doing our duties.
I may not handle a weapon often, but I am witness to the destruction a weapon can cause on an almost daily basis. My hands have comforted the dying. My optics have watched brave souls perish in fits of rage and regret. Suicide is not exclusive to humanity.
I can't remember peace, but I am always searching for it with each dawning day. I can't recall a time without violence, but I remain hopeful it will come to pass. I'm an Autobot by designation and a hippie by reputation.
I am Beachcomber, and I am a prisoner of war.
the end.
A/N: This little nugget popped into my head while working on The Closing of the Book. Beachcomber has always been one of my favorite characters.