Author's Notes: Damn Microsoft word! I had a glitch and my notes for this story were deleted from my flash drive! I think I have a back up at my work on my desktop, but all the updates I did to it are ka-poot. -Cries- Now I'm all depressed...this has happened before and I've always been able to restore it, but it got deleted from my flash drive! -Cries some more-
Aside from all that, I hope you all enjoy this! Please review!
Phase Nine: Lost in Translation
Chapter Twenty-three
Humans could suffer ill effects as a result from traumatic experiences. This simple fact had lead Perceptor down a multitude of thought paths and startling revelations. Most organics that Perceptor knew of hadn't displayed any awareness other then what their own instincts were telling them. Universal awareness was simply not attributed to organics; quite actually it was a general consensus among those who knew anything substantial about organics was that they were incapable of such complex thought. All examples they had pointed to a basic system of instinctual responses that melted down to the simplest form of cause and effect.
'It is cold, so therefore I go to where it is not cold'. A common reaction to negative stimuli, in this case the stimuli would be the cold; where as a human would go further and mingling in previously gathered observational data with instinctual thought patterns. 'It is cold and has been cold for a long time. Therefore I must devise a solution to the problem indefinitely.' The stimuli of cold, or the absence of adequate heat rather, lead the human race to develop something no Cybertronian has ever heard of: clothing. It had puzzled him greatly to see the first human he came in contact with to be covered in such fragile material. The purpose escaped him. It couldn't have been armor; it was far too weak.
Human were entirely self aware and observant. Once more they were capable of empathy; the act of being able to switch perspective and see thing from another individual's point of view. They could analyze situations from different angles, contemplate varying scenarios, and come to intelligent conclusions (as well as impossible conclusions and assumptions based off of nothing due to stress and anxiety; often referred to as Paranoia. Something that was not too uncommon amongst Cybertronians.). They could also lay plans out in advance, assume and anticipate, they understood the complexities of cause and effect and knew how to manipulate it to their advantage. Also they were able to think in a way that displayed tactical behavior. Such things were unheard of in organics. They were sentient and most astonishing of all they were amazingly similar to Cybertronians. Aside from obvious differences in make up and culture, of course. It was all terribly exciting.
He had been looking forward to returning to the human holding compound, or 'Sanctuary' as those in the facility called it, a somewhat supercilious pseudonym he thought. Jazz had been courteous enough to escort him seeing as Perceptor was not convinced that the humans, while friendly and all together quite harmless, would be too keen on a Mech they barely knew wandering unaccompanied into their territory and he did not wish to cause any unnecessary and avoidable stress. Jazz thought the notion was silly, but conceded the point and agreed to accompany him if only to have an excuse to skip out on his tactical duties. They chatted as they strolled down the halls towards the Sanctuary.
"Kimberly's the one who has the socialization issues. Brea's a kinda shy too, but she's startin' to come out of her shell," He grinned and rubbed his helm, "It just takes a little poking…and a little time for 'er to get use to you is all. She ain't had the best of experiences with Mechs…"
"Yes, Prime explained her situation to us," Perceptor replied solemnly. "She is very valuable to our case. More then she realizes I would guess."
"Best not to throw anything too big at her just yet. She's coming out and settling in fine, but Annie mentioned the kid's been having some…unpleasant recharges."
"How do you mean?"
"She called 'em 'night terrors'. I guess it's pretty common for humans, seeing as most of our bunch has had 'em," Jazz shrugged. "Anyway, Kimi's really the only one who might have a problem with new Mechs around, but I wouldn't worry too much. Poor kid's just been through a lot, more then she'll let on I bet. I've seen Mechs crack that remind me of her a little and the stuff they saw…" he gave a small shutter and shook his head, "It would make the most steadfast of us cringe. But really she's a lot better then when she was first brought here and Brea's been helpin' her a bit. They're a pair I tell you. I think Sides and Sunny might be getting' a bit jealous."
Jazz's laugh faded away into a stony silence. Perceptor looked out into space, seeming to eb lost in his own thoughts.
"I feel somewhat ashamed that they've suffered so much under us," Perceptor said quietly. "I do not think many Mechs are even aware they are sentient. Even more do not seem to be even aware of the Human presence."
"And a lot just don't care," Jazz added suddenly resentful. "All they care about is the energy and keeping the status quo just that."
"It will be a problem," Perceptor admitted. "I agree completely they deserve their freedom, Primus knows they are far more then entitled to it…but if what I understand of the situation has any basis in truth…then we cannot release Earth any time soon. It would doom us and such a thing will not help the humans. We must find a middle ground…a collaboration perhaps."
Jazz seemed to be restraining himself, searching for some tactful response. "It isn't like I'm disagreeing with ya…I just, well…It's not right. At all! To think every time I refuel…what had to happen for me to hold that cube…how many humans have died since the occupation do you think? How many cultures are lost forever because of us? I won't even touch high grade any more. Whenever I think about it…it just makes my CPU twitch."
"I understand," Perceptor replied with a gentle node. "Wheeljack and I have been discussing possible alternatives to Earth fuel, anything to help our case when we leave for the Citadel. Optimus agreed that we cannot condemn one method of energy collection and offer no alterative and still expect a satisfying outcome. Some avenues of thought we devised seem very promising, but the sheer intuitive to implement them to the scale we would need to completely wean ourselves independent of Earth…we would have to convince the entire populous as well as the Senate. And even then, to actually place them into practice would require at least one tenth of a vorn of continuing the current occupation and withdrawal of Earth resources if only to fuel the reformation of Energy collection."
"I don't have the answers," Jazz admitted, "But I think you're going about it the right way. Right now, though, I think we have to make the problem known and clear to everyone. Too many Mechs have their processors wedged so far up their tailpipes that module in their neck is their CPU." Perceptor, always proper and polite, found his companion's analogy quite…vulgar if not discouragingly accurate. "I've been thinking how we could get the information out about all this. Maybe like a rally or information notice. Word of mouth even…"
"Well that report that aired on the Iacon news feed a few orns ago certainly helped things along. Kaon Trading dropped after the story aired," Perceptor added. "One of my associates went completely broke because of it and filed for Government assistance. And was denied. I believe he is working in Tarn as a records clerk."
"Can't say I'm all that sad to hear that," Jazz replied and paused. "I was actually wondering if we could get a reporter down here to do a story, but Prime shot it down. He wants this place to keep low key until he can work his magic around the big shots up at the Citadel. Swing some votes maybe."
A pause.
"Convince the leader and the masses will follow," Perceptor quoted rather sullenly. He never thought he'd ever use that quote.
"Like good little drones," Jazz added, fully aware of the origin of Perceptor's words and the significance behind them. Neither commented on it.
The walked in silence as they reached the entrance to the Sanctuary. Passing through the door and into the expansive and brightly lit room, a seemingly random idea struck Perceptor. "There is always the Academy."
"What about it?" Jazz asked, not following his train of thought.
"The Academy is full of young Mechs, many who are about to graduate and enter working society. I think it might prove wise to implement them with some form of empathy involving the Humans and other non-Cybertronian species. I wouldn't be surprised if half of them have never heard of them before. There are some brilliant minds there, I've spoken to a few, and they may be able to offer additional theories on our energy collection dispute."
"Well…we'd have to talk to the Headmaster about it," Jazz mused. "But I wouldn't be against it, but Prime probably will. I don't think he'd been too eager to let a bunch of younglings run amuck in here. Bluestreak's bad enough." He chortled affably at the last bit, it was all a jest.
"No, no, no," Perceptor laughed, "I meant to bring one or two of the humans there. Hold a seminar or special class and introduce the species to them. Let them ask questions and such."
Jazz's expression was thoughtful and then slowly leaked into a grin. "Say now…that's not a bad idea."
"I'm liable to them once in a while," The scientist conceded jovially. "Regardless of what Fixit claims..."
Fixit had called Perceptor the Universes greatest collection of useless knowledge. Brea and the other didn't know anything about that, but they did learn fairly early that he was certainly curious; sometimes shamelessly so. Jazz habitually accompanied Wheeljack or Perceptor whenever they visited and Bluestreak would show up occasionally while Mirage only made perhaps one or two trips. Apparently he was their sales-Mech, telling his friends and acquaintances or anyone who would listen of their cause, but secretively. Brea had no clue how such a thing would work. He was apparently well known and very well liked among people in Iacon who mattered and as Sea Watch explained the intricacies of lobbying, being of a prestigious lineage didn't hurt Mirage's endeavors either.
"Sunstreaker said that the Kaon elite don't like him," Brea mentioned.
Sea Watch chuckled and shook his head. "No, I doubt they would."
"What did he do exactly?" Brea asked. The Micromaster seemed to hesitate.
"Well…it's kind of a personal matter for him, understand. I don't think he'd appreciate me babbling his business to just anyone," he said. "You should ask him instead."
Brea hadn't had a chance to ask him as he seemed busy with his duties. Even then, Mirage struck her as a Mech who enjoyed his alone time. Sure he was very polite, but on the two occasions he'd visited, he seemed slightly…uncomfortable, as if he would have preferred a quiet conversation with one or two people rather then their large group. It made her sad. He was one of the biggest reasons why she was able to escape from Xeon's clutches…and to not be able to thank him properly or show him how much she appreciated it…well it was not a nice feeling. Ratchet made it down there at least once every two 'days' roughly and at least one of the Micromasters were almost always there to either help with whatever needed to be done or indulge in conversation. Apparently, Stakeout and Sean had some sort of thing going on because it did not seem as though any conversation could held with them present without them arguing. One altercation over the purpose and reliability of mood rings ended with Sean leaping at the Micromaster as if to tackle him. Stakeout, being at least two feet taller and a good deal bulkier, just grabbed the exuberant young man around the middle and held him above his head until he decided to 'lower his testosterone levels' and 'rethink his attempt at fighting an opponent he had no chance of winning against'. Sean got his revenge the next day when Ratchet saw the Micromaster finger shaped bruises on his sides.
While Prowl and Optimus had not been seen since Wheeljack and Perceptor had arrived, Fixit was sure to tell the humans of any updates or news regarding their case or Human activity in general. The group of Human arena fighters who had been taken into custody were being kept at a separate facility after Prime's request that they be transferred to his care was denied, pending an investigation. However, Optimus assigned one of his close friends to the staff at the facility and that way he was assured the humans would receive the care they required.
"It's ironic isn't it?" Craig had said.
"What is?" Annie asked.
"That we fought so hard to keep Lobbyists out of our politics back home and now we're counting on them to save our asses here." Brea had to laugh at that.
Today was a continuation of the endless interrogation of everything and anything human or Earth related. Perceptor had his data-pad and was scribbling away happily, seeming to transcribe everything they said…or at least the stuff he felt was important. Poor Wheeljack could barely get a question in edge wise, but managed to sneak in a few inquiries while Perceptor took a few moments to write out his notes.
"There is one thing I've been meaning to ask," Wheeljack said somewhat wistfully. They had been going at it for at least an hour and any formal seating or standing arrangement on the humans' parts had been abandon and they opted for lounging where and how it was most comfortable. Brea and Sean were sitting side by side against of the sheds while Brea braided Zoë's hair. Caleb and Rodney and Izzy had been wrangled into peeling, cutting, and preparing vegetables for dinner. The impromptu knives they used were sharpened pieces of metal that had been set into flat pieces of wood and glued together. Izzy of course was not given a knife, rather he was washing the vegetables in a bucket of water and handing them to either of the two brothers.
"And what would that be?" Annie asked.
"Well…" He seemed to hesitate, "Actually, it's something I wanted to show you."
Everyone's interest had waned somewhat, but at Wheeljack's words they all trained their sights on the engineer, eyes relit with curiosity. The Mech held his hand aloft in a way Brea recognized, after seeing it several times, as him pulling something from sub-space; it was a data-pad. He pressed the keys set into the frame and then sat it down for them to see. Annie stepped up, followed by Brea, Zoë, and Sean. Izzy scrambled up to see as well while Caleb and Rodney took their time.
On the data-pad was a complex series of Cybertronian glyphs, graphs, and various lines and strange diagrams. At first Brea wasn't sure what the Mech was getting at until she looked over to a corner and saw what could only be described as scribbles, the familiar yet simple letters a noticeable contrast to the agile and complex Cybertronian text. Mingled amongst them were crude doodles of things like the sun and some clouds, a tree, and a figure of a man, presumably, beside a smaller figure of a woman, or girl, holding hands.
No one said anything while they all took the image in and Brea bent down to look at a scroll of letters that spelled out what made out to be gibberish to her. "Wir…sin-sind nicht…allein…I think it's German."
"What does it say?" Wheeljack asked elatedly.
"Anyone sprechen sie deutsches?" Caleb asked with a grin as he came to stand along side her and several of the other chuckled.
Brea grinned and said, "Nein," prompting another round of chortles.
"It's says 'We are not alone'," Annie asnwered. The group collectively glanced at her and then back at the text as if trying to devine the translation from the foreign speech.
"You speak German?" Sean asked a little incredulously and the older woman nodded.
"Uh-huh. And French and Italian. I took Mandarin in college but I've forgotten a lot of it. A little Japanese too." Sean glanced over at his brothers with a look of sheer disbelief as if to say 'can you believe such a person exists? How can you fit all that in your head?!' and they laughed.
"What about Klingon?" Rodney challenged jokingly.
"Or Sindarin!" Added Caleb.
"Westron!" Sean called. Annie looked at the boys, clearly unamused, and told them as much.
"Those aren't real languages," She said with a shake of her head, which then prompted them to counter that there were more Trekkies and Tolkien-nuts that they out numbered some small Polynesian island cultures and therefore counted as a 'real language'.
"What about this?" Wheeljack asked, interrupting their banter and pointing to another set of scribbles of text farther up the data-pad and Annie walked over and peered down, staring at the words for a long moment and muttering under her breath. Finally she seemed to come to a revelation and she sat up a little straighter and looked pleasantly surprised.
"Oh, I see! I know what it is!" She said and bending down she read it aloud, "Finden sie etwas im schicksal zu lieben das ihnen gegeben worden ist und sich anzupassen." To the group's incomprehension, she said, "It's a quote from Marcus Aurelius."
"Who?" Wheeljack asked, also chorused by the three brothers and Brea. All these strange alien words were making his processor work double time and Wheeljack wondered it was possible to have a short circuit from listening to alien organic languages. Sensory overload perhaps?
"He was a Roman Emperor," She explained and turned to Sean who was the closest to her. "Caesar's dad…well, he was his adopted son, but still." They all made noises of understanding save for Wheeljack and Perceptor. Perceptor added another line of notes, scribbling away furiously, captivated at all that he was learning.
"I didn't know Caesar was adopted…" Brea muttered curiously to herself and Caleb glanced at her and smiled.
"What does it mean, though?" Wheeljack prompted, sounding eager now that he was receiving answers to his inquiry. By his reaction, it seemed the writings had occupied his curiosity for some time.
Annie pointed to the words as she translated, "Adapt yourself to the things among which your lot has been cast and love sincerely the fellow creatures with whom destiny has ordained that you shall live. That's the actual quote; they got it a little wrong here. They actually wrote more along the lines of saying 'find something to love in the destiny that has been given to you and adjust', but I'm paraphrasing a bit."
"So we have a quote, in German, from a Roman Emperor," Rodney asked, sounding close to a brain overload. "All written on an alien robot notebook…" he glanced around with an arched eye brow, "Anyone else confused as 'ell?"
"Yeah," Annie agreed, somewhat suspiciously, and looked up at Wheeljack, "Where did you find this?"
"I was at a social gathering and one of the attendees had a human pet with him," At the word 'pet' Wheeljack noted the eyes of the human legion gathered around him turned cold, but he continued on as if he hadn't noticed, "I couldn't tell whether it was male or female, I had intended to ask but forgot. I had several Data-pads lying around and it just started writing on them. It was a fairly young one, easily older then Zoë, but younger then either Kimberly or Brea I think. It was shorter and it's body ratios were smaller."
"From this," Annie gestured to the drawing of the man and girl, "I think we can say it was a girl. See this right here?" She pointed to another word, just under the man, "It says männlich, which means 'Father'. And here," she pointed to the girl figure and the corresponding words under, "It says Adelisa."
"What does that mean?" Wheeljack asked.
"It's a name," Annie replied with an amused smile.
"Oh."
"What happened to her do you think?" Brea asked and she noticed the slight drop in the engineer's shoulders.
"Truthfully?" He said, "I don't know."
"Well could you get in contact with the guy who was keeping her?" Annie asked, going down the same thought patterns as Brea. "And find out?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't," He admitted, also seeming to catch on. "I don't know if he'd be willing to free her though…from my talks with him I do not think he considers humans to be sentient."
"That's no excuse not to try," Brea argued with a little more force then she meant to convey.
Wheeljack glanced at her in surprised at the vicious bite in her voice. Brea noticed the Mech's slightly stunned look and turned away, sheepish, and muttered a quick, "…sorry."
Author's Notes: Westron and Sindarin are languages spoken in Middle Earth in the Lord of the Rings books.
-cries because she is still upset over her notes being deleted-
So...many notes...gone...so much work...