A WORD OF THANKS TO CATBITE FOR BETA READING FOR ME THIS STORY.
Shattered Reality
Ch. 2: A Partnership
In the wake of the Quintessan Oppression, the light was almost extinguished. Thousands of years of history and culture vanished, leveled along with the debris of burning steel of buildings and monuments. An entire heritage was consumed in the flames of contempt.
In the aftermath, Cybertron was transformed. Where once flourishing trade provinces once existed in place were desolate wasteland and ghost towns. Ravines re-sculpted the flow of rivers and channels. Gapping canyons exposed the mines where countless natives perished to harvest the planet's resources for the greedy foreign masters. Off the coast of Iacon, the monolith of Halifax spaceport was a reminder of Quintessan ingenuity, constructed as a means to transport exploited energon to other parts of the galaxy. Smelting pools, acid baths, and arenas were gruesome visages of the aliens' taste for "entertainment."
In all, about 25 million lives were lost, a legacy was destroyed, and entire landscape of a planet was changed in the Quintessans' bid for power. Yet the greater effects of Oppression were felt at Iacon and Kaon, the former twin cities of a bygone Golden Age Cybertron.
Unlike its sister, Iacon never recovered from the crippling blow. Indeed it seemed the spirit of its people, which once propagated freedom and tolerance, had became embittered and vengeful, gazing at the outside universe with suspicion bordering on paranoia and xenophobia. The attitude reverberated through its denizens as well as the external appearance.
Where once ornate architectural structures once graced the city layout, there were now chains of fortifications and battlements. Turret guns trained on the skies and streets below, manned by stern-faced mechs. The Forum which once was the seat of wisdom and justice was converted into the iron fortress of the despotic Autobot regime. There was barely any indication of whether citizens still dwelled in the walled boxed slums within the confines. Only fear and shadows prowled the streets.
In contrast, Kaon had survived, reborn from the ashes. As if awaken from a horrific dream, it gained a thirst for enlightenment and learning, as if the progresses they made proved that nothing could crush the spirit of the people. Thus this striving brought for the creation (or recreation) of things once thought lost to the end of the Golden Age. New ideas of philosophy, law, and the arts developed, as if Kaon endeavored to regain the former glory of their predecessors.
However, few would wonder if they succeeded, mourning the loss of the knowledge of the past. Lost to the ages were the records and studies of countless ancestors in the Quintessans' attempt to destroy the identity of a people.
From his fourth story office, Megatron could see the gilded skyline of post-oppression Kaon. Thin, frail skeletal frames of unfinished structures stood against the indigo sky. Modern buildings of steel and glass testified to the urban growth. Among them the pallid ruins of the lost generation served to remind the inhabitants of how far they progressed. It was a constant reminder and a comforting thought that regardless of what they went through, Cybertron still lived on despite the holocaust.
Likewise the particular residence he stayed at was yet another innovation of modernization. The smooth silver metal that comprised of the walls of the four story house was stolen by the conquerors, but was replaced with inferior but stronger steel that oddly had its own beauty and luster. The missing marble portico columns were reconstructed with using the same material. Only the mosaic crystal windows remained intact, left by the former Quintessan patron who claimed the hall for his own until being driven out by the rampaging mob. Four rooms on each of the four floors were more than spacious enough for a Kaon math professor living alone.
It was perhaps best that no one else dwelled at 402 Lunar Drive, for every space of floor was covered by various data-pads, compasses, and other scholarly equipment. The parlor itself was outfitted with a sleek retro-design bar and lounge couches that were piled with other paraphernalia. A wall-to-wall screen board opposite of it was covered in scrawls of what may be one long running on equation that could easily be mistaken as an ancient Cybertronian language. Gyro spheres of all sizes occupied every corner of each side table and plasma balls and lava lamps sat on each counter. Pictures of fractals adorned the olive-hued walls.
In short, Megatron never progressed pass the living conditions of a typical long-term dorm squatter. Only his office was kept tidy for the sole reason of receiving guests, who came infrequently for reasons understandable. Shockwave learned this the hard way as he fought to navigate the cluttered gauntlet. The cerulean blue mech's gold optic flashed in agitation as he made his way to the mica-top desk, wondering how such an orderly mind of a math professor could contrast so greatly with his outward environs.
Megatron on his part covered the smile on his face as the University president plopped wearily unto the hardback armchair. Expressionless as the faceplate was, there was no mistaking the exasperation in his frame.
The firm voice confirmed this suspicion. "Can I conclude that you have yet again bribed the fire inspector? How are you able to keep track of everything let alone your students' work in this mess?"
A shrug came from the other. "Becomes second nature I guess. You know that memo you sent me this morning? Third floor, fourth bookcase, top shelf. You can check if you want."
He didn't.
"At least tell me why you decided to grace my humble abode with your presence," Megatron continued without missing a beat. He eyed Shockwave, trying to deduce the next "expression" but reading Shockwave was like trying to determine the mood of a printer. Impossible.
For sure the news had to be damn important to drag the President of Kaon University in for a personal visit rather than using the typical email system. Could it involve finances? Megatron leaned forward in anticipation.
He was not disappointed. A sleek dark data pad slid before him bearing the seal of the city on its cover, an emblem that resembled a red face squinting with narrowed slit eyes. Flipping the cover, Megatron smiled at the amount. As he scrolled to the bottom however, he stared and frowned.
"There must be a mistake. I asked for funding for my project not an assistant."
"As the contract says," replied Shockwave matter-of-factly, "the board agrees to provide you the funds for your 'transformation' research. I convinced them of its practical applications for storage of construction vehicles and other cumbersome machines. However, they are adamant that you take on an intern, a partner as it were."
"Now wait a nanoklick." Megatron stood waving the data-pad angrily. "You mean bring in some upstart college brat who thinks he knows everything and who will probably claim the work as his in the end. This is too much! Besides, I prefer working alone."
"You have no choice, old friend." Shockwave nodded. "Either you take on the kid or denied the funds. It would be imprudent if you forfeit this opportunity on some personal whim."
Megatron's mouth opened and closed, not knowing how to refute that argument. It was true he had worked hard to file a petition, got it through the arduous paperwork of the school system, and finally gained the approval for his project. Yet the concept of taking on a young helper was not part of the dream. But Shockwave had a point. Was he going to throw away this chance just because he didn't feel up to teamwork?
He grunted in reluctance. "All right. I agree with the terms. Now who's the luck young mech?"
Tapping a finger on the thick portfolio before him, Shockwave explained. "You'll find his full resume and evaluations inside. Impressive really.
"His name's Starscream, a science and engineer major from Crystal City College. His academic record shows he's top in his class, a favorite of all the professors. The modifications he made on the ion generator at the local hospital has saved the administration thousands of credits and made it fuel efficient as well. His current thesis on time and spatial phenomena as a future method of travel is quite a read, and though it is a bit hypothetical, it is credible."
"So an all-round scholar," Megatron harrumphed. "So when do I meet up with the wonder student?"
"He'll be coming in five joors and will remain with the project for the duration of six months. After that time he will return to Crystal City for graduation. I suggest you rectify that attitude of yours. You two will be in for a long haul."
"I can't wait."
Damn.
--
"Professor Megatron?" a red and white mech ventured. "Sorry for the delay. The moving crew came to my dorm a couple joors behind schedule." The younger mech grinned, the corner of his lip upturned in a somewhat self-confident smirk.
Outside the shuttle station, in plain view of the public, Megatron could not act on impulse and yell at Starscream as he wanted to. Instead it came out as a strained, "No problem."
The two made their way off the platform and hailed a transport rover. No luck. It was rush hour as many of Kaon's inhabitants joined the crowd for the return home or the daily grind for the next shift. For a moment, Megatron contemplated walking back to the campus when Starscream suggested the subway systems. The mentor answered back gruffly, more forceful than intended.
"Absolutely not. Those death traps were made from the mines from the Oppression. What if the walls should collapse?" That was the end of that argument and the awkward silence that followed.
And so they decided to take the longer scenic route as Megatron pointed out the more well known landmarks of Kaon. Starscream on his part was awed, having hardly any of these buildings back at Crystal City. The younger mech was inquisitive, asking about the more social features of the metropolis, just as his optic caught sight of a vast white slope rising from the north district, amid the steel and glass company buildings. It resembled a wing of a star cruiser ready to take flight.
"That would be the symphony hall," Megatron nodded. "It was built back a vorn ago, one of the first to be constructed almost after the war. I go there myself every once and a while, or on a blue moon rather. You ought to hear Soundwave. A sheer musical genius if you ask me."
"Not to change the subject, sir," Starscream interjected. "But I'd like to know the about where I'm staying. Which campus hall is my dorm located?"
A confused look came as the response. "Dorm? Hell, they didn't provide us the convenience. No, you'll be residing at my quarters for the term. It's more than enough room with four floors. The top-most one is off limits, but other than that the rest of the house is yours. Now, what has Shockwave told you about me?"
"Well I was told that you've been working on this transformation research for about…"
The older mech waved his hand. "Not on the project. What did he tell you about me as a mech? See, I'm a firm believer that a good partnership is one in which you can get along with the other mech and count on him."
A smirk crossed Megatron's countenance. "You'll understand soon that I'm not easy to work with. My expectations are high, and drive to succeed even higher. Then there are days in which it goes into reverse and I withdraw into my office and I don't want to be bothered on days on end. Shockwave nearly fries his logic circuits trying to figure out why I'm slow on turning in paperwork, but I get it done in the long run. How about you? Got any hobbies?"
"Hobbies?"
"Precisely, you'll need one, so get one. As much as you're into this whole project you need something relaxing to do to calm the old processor. I find it an effective method of churning out new ideas or untangling problems that seem impossible to resolve." Megatron smiled at Starscream's bewildered look. "I personally find Strategium my kind of game, claiming someone else's pieces before they get yours, wit against wit with your opponent."
Snapping open his briefcase, Megatron tossed a strange colorful cube at the other, who gave a dubious look at it. "That I invented a while back. The trick is to swivel the cubes until all of the same color end up on each side. I call it the Rubric cube."
Handing it back, Starscream's optic brow rose, wondering if he should take any of the conversation seriously or decide that the other mech was out of his wits. "Not to change the subject, sir. But I'd like to know the details of our work schedule."
Much too stiff, Megatron decided. Perhaps a bit of Soundwave's classics could loosen him up. Nevertheless he indulged the tense Starscream and became ticking off each point on his fingers. "You'll be residing at my home on 402 Lunar Drive. First fueling begins at 0500 sharp or you'll go empty for half the day. We'll be at the lab at Nova Hall at 0600. I have the only clearance card so if you're late just bang on the plexi-glass and hope I hear you. We'll be working from anywhere between 10 to 14 joors, depending on the progress. By 2100 we'll be home, guzzle down some energon, then recharge and begin the cycle again. Sounds good to you?"
Starscream gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not exactly a morning riser. Do we have to report to the lab that early?"
"Six months to complete this project is an insane decision on part of the school board," Megatron replied. "But if you desire to recharge in and miss out on some important things…"
"All right! All right!" Starscream raised his hands in surrender. "We run by your schedule, not mine. Just don't expect me to be all perky at 0500."
He glowered, much to Megatron's amusement.
This could be an interesting semester.