Title: Ozone 7 - Gender Relations
Author: Femme4jack
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Movieverse, AU
Pairings: (none explicit this chapter, sorry!) Refs. Jazz/Mikaela, Bumblebee/Sam Mikaela/Bumblebee/Jazz/Ironhide/Optimus Prime/Ratchet, Blaster/Maggie/Glen
Characters: Megatron, Mikaela, Mirage, Shockwave
Summary: The revelations about the AllSpark's activities on Earth cause Mikaela to ask difficult questions about choice and consent, while her temporary protector raises another set of questions regarding perceived gender.
Content Notification: Dubcon references, references non-explicit xeno intimacy (tactile, spark), references xeno spark creation methods and canonical hatchlings, unnamed humans in Decepticon captivity, unsavory scientific experimentation, cussing.
Mikaela desperately needed to be alone, or at least away from five particular mechs. Whatever was happening to her particles or waves or whatever the fuck was her "unique, trans-dimensional spark-like bioenergetic pattern", it was making it hard to think. Hard to want to do anything other than physically crawl into the chest of one of her cohort mates and let that glorious star envelop her inside and out, to lose herself in it and find that release that she craved more than food or water.
Optimus had put a moratorium on any further direct spark contact between mechs and humans until the effects could be further evaluated. Mikaela's body-soul-energies-whatever had reacted to this with all the grace of a toddler being denied a second bite of ice cream after having had her very first. Oh, she understood the decision, and seeing Sam connected with truly terrifying-looking alien machinery in Medical, still unconscious with pale new skin growing on his arms, she was in complete agreement. Her brain was terrified by what had happened to her ex and in shock at the implications of what Jazz had explained to her. Her soul, because really, that was the simplest thing to call this energy she was suddenly so very aware of, was pissed as hell at being denied. She suddenly had an inkling of what Bumblebee had been going through with a bond that was both incomplete and being rejected.
She felt like she was being taken apart from the inside out by an electric-charged buzzing shiver running through her body from head to toe, making her ears ring. Only the merge of body and spark would put her back together. It was just too much to be around her cohort, feeling their sparks pulling her like some magnetic wave that made far more than just her body throb and ache with need. When she was in close proximity to any of them, she could feel their possessiveness, their desire for her. What was not culturally acceptable to them on an individual level was completely different when it came to cohort. She was theirs. They were hers. It was a new bond, and according to their coding and sparks (and her body and soul), they should be doing very little other than merging repeatedly until it settled.
Apparently, the compulsion was far stronger when it came to the bonds with the humans. The urge to reproduce had never been part of their cohort coding before, but her organic nature was changing them as much as they were changing her. She, however, didn't have the benefit of the inhibitor code Ratchet could inject the others with, to give them temporary relief and the ability to overcome the compulsions. Not that the Matrix allowed such a stopgap to work on Optimus, and she knew the strength of his compulsion to 'complete the circuit' with her again was disturbing him deeply now that he understood its purpose.
Physical release did little to help. Jazz had been thorough and amazing, and had taught her things about her own body she had never known, not to mention the aspects of Cybertronian systems that Ratchet had omitted, as detailed as he was. But it hadn't been what either of them really needed, and had left both even more worked up than before. Being physically with them was torture, so she'd insisted on getting away, or at least as away as was possible under the circumstances.
There was no way Optimus was allowing her or any of the bonded humans off base or to be without protection even within the well-protected perimeter. He feared Megatron knew, and that her bond with Prime's cohort made her too compelling a target. The raw fear she had sensed in every member of her cohort told her enough about what she would face should that happen, and her own encounters with the warlord filled in the gaps (Sam pinned to a table by huge clawed hands, the horror of a medical probe drone slithering up his nasal passage to his brain haunted her still). She grudgingly accepted the offered solution. A relatively new mech, part of a different cohort, had been assigned as her protector, and they had been sent to a bunker deep underground on a different part of the base. It was far enough away that she could not "feel" the cohort the way she could in the same room. It took a bit of the edge off, but not much. Enough that she could think a bit more clearly.
The blue and white mech had not yet picked an English designation, and spoke only Cybertronian to the others even when humans were present. Under normal circumstances, she might have been insulted by the attitude. She could have sworn she felt the seats cringing underneath her when she got in for the drive to the other side of base. It was so different from the noticeable ways her cohort did just the opposite. However, with the near-painful static shivers that kept racing through her, the mech's cool aloofness and silence were a relief. According to Jazz, she could not have been in safer hands. The mech had been an acolyte to the Prime before the war and was fiercely loyal.
The mech was sitting about a hundred yards from her, brushing dust off with a polishing cloth using quick, yet graceful motions. She had to admit that the frame was probably the most attractive of any of the Autobots, at least by her standards. The graceful, almost Egyptian looking helm was beautiful, and there was something about the mech's armor and color patterns that suggested refined elegance. If her attractions had been physical, she should have had the same burn that she had long felt for her cohort. But Ironhide and Ratchet, with all their bulk, dents, craggy expressions, and sometimes-horrible manners were far more attractive to her. It made her realize just how much the bonds had affected her even prior to knowing they existed.
Sideswipe was a good example of this. She found him hilarious, considered him a friend, and thought he had a beautiful frame. She'd enjoyed his company as much as any member of her cohort, but had no attraction to him the way she did to Prime and the others. She had never questioned it before, but now realized it was because she was not bonded with him on an energetic level. This new mech held no attraction to her, no matter how physically stunning, and it wasn't simply a function of personality. The blue and white mech wasn't cohort.
She didn't know what to make of it. She had not chosen these bonds, but they felt like an integral part of her. Who she had become since getting into that Camaro suddenly felt as much a function of energies working in ways she couldn't comprehend as it did her own choices. Optimus, of course, would wisely say that the two could not be separated. She had chosen to accept the bonds. But had she? Had she really made any choices at all, or had the choice been made for her when the AllSpark and Matrix had begun manipulating the energies of humanity's ancestors?
And did it even matter?
She knew she wouldn't choose any differently if she'd been given a choice, not with how right and perfect and whole it felt to touch those sparks and complete those bonds. But could she have chosen differently? Was she capable of not wanting this? Or had her primeval ancestors been shaped so that she would do exactly as she had done.
Should she feel used?
Had her entire species been created just because the AllSpark knew that its form in this universe would be destroyed? Was her species nothing but spark incubators, evolved to take the place of the cube? She had viscerally rejected the idea of her body's purpose being an incubator of babies. Her parents had fucked up enough, and she had no desire to fuck up another generation. It had been one of her and Sam's more vicious arguments that had not involved the Autobots. After Egypt he had broached the topic of marriage, and had found out that she had no intention of being a mom.
Yet, she couldn't bring herself to be horrified at the idea of creating a spark from energies the cube had caused her species to evolve with. She loved her cohort, and could not bear the idea of them being the last of their kind, even if they would outlast her by eons. But that wasn't what made her feel so accepting of the idea. She was suspicious that she did not have a choice about feeling just fine about producing new sparks. It was deeper than a biological imperative, which she could and did reject. It was a soul imperative.
Had her very soul been simply created as a tool?
She shivered as another wave of buzzing static raced through her, setting her teeth on edge. Her guardian suddenly stood, and was walking over with near silent steps, something that should not have been possible for a large metal being like himself. The mech sat about ten feet from her and looked at her with intensity that made her feel like she was being dissected.
"What?" she finally asked defensively..
"You need to distract yourself from the bond coding," the mech finally said in a tone that sounded far more alien to her ears than the others. There was no hint of gender in the tone or recognizable accent or dialect, and it made her realize just how deliberately those had been chosen by the earlier arrivals. Was "he" even a he? All of that was arbitrary, she understood from Ratchet's lessons. They had no genders or many depending on how one looked at it. Ratchet had explained that frame class, city of origin, function and status all affected what pronouns were used in Cybertronian, and that prior to the war they had at least 38 distinct pronouns rather than the paltry 'he', 'she' and 'it' of English.
"How do you propose I do that?" Mikaela said, her tone grating to her own ears.
"Any way you please. You have excess charge. I have no intention of helping you to cope with that. Overloading to release it will help for a time, but not for long if your bond code functions anything like ours does. Conversation about a neutral topic is sometimes a better distraction."
She could get no read on the mech's body language to tell if the disdain she thought she heard truly was that.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"What I wish to talk about would not be neutral," the mech countered in the androgynous tone that her brain simultaneously demanded and refused to assign a gender.
"Okay, I've got one. How do I refer to you? I don't need the lecture on 38 genders and all that. I get it. But I don't want to think of you as an it and I'm stuck with my lousy and limited language."
The mech regarded her quietly for a moment, focusing and refocusing on her in a way that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. "It matters little to me, personally," the mech replied. "He appears to be the default for most who arrived previously. She has many problematic connotations attached to it in your species. Arcee never chose. NEST apparently chose for her because of her size and vocal resonance patterns. Does it matter to you which I choose?"
It was Mikaela's turn to consider the words and focus in on the strange elegance of the mech's form. "I care that most of you are defaulting to 'he'. It pisses me off. And it really pisses me off that some of the NEST teams automatically assume Arcee is a weaker warrior."
"There are many Autobots and Decepticons who would not wish to face Arcee in hand to hand," the mech said, and this time Mikaela had no doubt about the tone and respect it conveyed. "Why does it concern you that most of us have used the gender pronoun that some consider the default in your language? It is not as though we can use the plural for the singular in ordinary conversation."
"It matters to me because of history, and because using 'she' as default still seems strange or wrong to most people's ears, and because of those 'problematic connotations' you talked about. You are just reinforcing everything that is wrong with our culture by your choices."
The mech made a buzzing sound that Mikaela thought she recognized as annoyance. "For much of your species' history, at least in the majority of cultures, females were the property of males, or were not considered persons under the law. Considering that our status as 'machines' on your planet likewise places us in role in which some would assume us to be property, choosing a male pronoun seems to be in our own self-interest, though I doubt it will make much difference. Your military has weapons that are capable of doing us great damage. While we may seem a threat to you, in truth, you are a far greater threat to us, and if word gets out regarding how the artifacts of our species interfered in your evolution, regardless of the advantages you were granted as a result, your kind are just as likely to exterminate us."
"Pronouns won't make much a difference if that's the case," Mikaela said bitterly, "though it could make a huge difference to some little girl if some big, burly Autobot who saved her town from the Decepticons was a she. But whatever. No one bothered to ask me. Well, Prime did, but only after he and most of the others were firmly established as male by NEST and the government." Mikaela let silence settle again.
"I'm not sure there is a 'your kind' and 'my kind'," she suddenly blurted out.
"Say more," the mech responded in a tone she could not interpret.
"The AllSpark created my species. It created your species. Turns out my species may be able to give life to a new generation of your species, save you from extinction. Maybe we are, like, two branches of the same species. Maybe we are a 'we', not an us and them'"
The mech's armor flicked in a wave-like pattern, like a shiver. "I find that idea distasteful. You are an inferior species, short lived, weak, organic, slaves to your biochemistry."
"And?" Mikaela challenged, unwilling to take the bait if that was indeed what was being given.
"It appears you may be correct. I am repulsed by the idea of forming bonds with organic life forms, and even more so by being beholden to your kind for survival and the continuation of our species. But I cannot argue with the facts. It does not mean that I have to like them, and I do believe it is more likely that your species will destroy ours than ensure our survival. I will have little choice, however. My cohort-mates, when they arrive, will not share my distaste, and will wish to bond with some of your kind if it is permitted. One, in particular, will find the idea fascinating and highly erotic. This will impact my own attitudes and responses. I am never at my best when I am isolated from my cohort." The mech shivered again, but then moved so the elegant helm was closer to her. "Do you find me offensive?"
Mikaela shrugged. "I find you honest. Do others feel like you do?"
"Very few are aware of all of the facts yet. They understand Prime has formed a bond with your species, and has brought you and others into his cohort. Some are puzzled, even troubled or repulsed, but trust and respect Prime too much to say so. Many believe the move was political, to have human assistance to ensure our continued welcome here. When they learn the remainder of the facts, they will be in no place to question the will of the AllSpark, the Matrix, and the Prime. Given what I understand, once the bonds form, it feels completely natural. Our bond coding would not permit otherwise. For some, it is desirable even prior. Blaster's cohort had plans to court the two signals analysts they have been working with, and that is without being aware of the purpose of these connections. It is pure curiosity and attraction on their part. Wheeljack's cohort is fully aware, and is fascinated from a scientific perspective. All of us wish to see our species survive, Mikaela Banes."
Mikaela nodded, finding herself liking this mech more than she ought to, considering the clear attitudes toward her species. The honesty and alienness were fascinating. The fact that her mind refused to assign a gender added to that fascination.
"How do you feel about these bonds?" the mech suddenly asked her, "about what the AllSpark did here."
"Still trying to figure that out, but, I wouldn't give up my cohort for anything. It's... it's like nothing I ever could have imagined. But I'm scared. I don't know what this is doing to me. Ratchet was sure it was all benign or beneficial, but now he isn't sure how much of that is fact and how much of that is the changes in his own coding demanding that they continue to merge with me regardless."
"If it is not harmful to you, will you help our species survive?" the mech asked.
Mikaela unconsciously rubbed her abdomen. She shrugged. "Like I said. Not us and them. We. Yes, I want to. I never wanted to be a mom. This is... different. I want to for the same reason I want to learn how to do repairs from Ratchet."
The mech gave her a puzzled look. "Why would you wish to ignore your biological imperatives? I thought that was why humans were always mating in the first place."
"Because I'm more than my womb and my biological imperatives, and because there's enough babies born on this world who aren't wanted. Believe me, I'm not mother material."
"But being the source of a spark is different for you?" the mech asked, leaning in close enough for her to clearly feel the field brush against her and make her hair stand on end, and to be reminded again that this mech was not cohort. The field felt, not uncomfortable, but distinctly different from those that called to her.
"Yeah. It is. Don't ask me to explain why, because I can't. It just is."
The answer left her feeling uncomfortable and confused.
The mech leaned back again and was quiet. After a few minutes he...she...it? spoke. "Mirage is what you may call me, Mikaela. And if you must use a pronoun, I think I will go with she. It pleases you, and you are consort to the Prime. As appalling as my coding finds that idea, I will adjust, just like I did with all the other unsuitable mechs he chose. The issue is my coding, not them, or you."
"Um, thank you?" Mikaela responded, not quite sure what to say, but feeling as though despite all qualifiers, she had just been paid an enormous compliment. "Consort?"
"The best translation available for the members of the Prime's cohort. It is a position of incredible power and prestige, or it was, and still is to many of us."
"Oh. So, what other memos have I missed? Wait, on second thought, tell me more about Cybertron, about Optimus, before the war. Jazz said you were close to him."
Mirage visibly seemed to preen at the question, and she actually gave the barest hint of a smile. "Of course, Mikaela. If that is what you wish."
It was a large windowless warehouse, like many others in the industrial slum of a nondescript gray city in the former Communist Block. If the vehicles that entered and exited on a regular basis were of a rather odd variety, no one noticed, or assumed it to be controlled by the mafia and deliberately averted their eyes. The police and other officials were always paid their proper bribes on time, and no one ever checked on the activities within.
On one particularly frigid autumn day that promised an even more frigid winter to come, a rust-covered armored fuel tanker rolled in, properly unnoticed. Once inside, the truck exploded outward with a cacophony of moving parts in a sequence that was less than smooth.
Lacking proper energon and without the energies the Fallen had provided, Megatron's self repair was under-performing in a rather spectacular manner. It did not matter. What was taking place within the warehouse would, in due time, place this resource-rich world under his control.
"Shockwave, report," he demanded. Soon, the cycloptic mech emerged from between two rows of subjects who were thoroughly cabled into the equipment that maintained and monitored them as well as stimulating their spark-like energies to produce spark shards.
"My Lord Megatron," Shockwave replied with a deferential nod. "I have successfully incubated a new brood. The sparks are larger and more stable than those that were incubating on the Nemesis. With the energon donations and the refinement techniques I have developed for the Earth-based fuels, I predict that the hatchlings will be strong enough for full sized frames within two vorns."
"Two vorns is too long," Megatron growled. "What of your attempts to produce energon from the AllSpark conduits?" The Cube had been source not only of sparks, but energon itself, after all.
"Thus far, the subjects have disintegrated before even a drop was extracted, my Lord. Their organic frames are unsuitable conduits for that form of the cube's energies."
"They are pathetic and weak," Megatron agreed in a measured, calm tone, "but we would not have been provided this means of creating a new army had there been no way to provide them the proper energon. You are missing some vital aspect of this research Shockwave. There must be a means of separating their energies from their insect bodies, or a way to shield their flesh from the energon's effects."
"I will need more subjects, my Lord," Shockwave replied.
"Soundwave will obtain an additional hundred for you through his contacts. Any more than that will trigger Prime's attention. Speaking of which, Laserbeak has footage that might be of interest to you. It seems that the Autobots are also now aware of the potential these humans have."
Megatron activated his holographic projector showing the image of a suburban garage where a young man was touching the spark of an Autobot scout. The playback focused in on the large spark forming between the human's hands and chest, ten times larger than the tiny spark fragments that gave something approaching sentience to the hatchlings.
"I want to know if it's just Prime's pet that is capable of producing a spark that large. Do whatever it takes to find out, Shockwave. I don't care if you have to expose your own spark or that of every Decepticon on Earth to the conduits.
"My Lord, if I could study Prime's pet for myself, I could tell you conclusively."
"In due time, Shockwave, in due time. It is in our interests to watch how things progress with the Autobots before we take their results for ourselves."
