Author's Note: Have I ever mentioned how much I hate this site's formatting? Well I'm here to tell you right now. Just trying to get my line breaks to work is enough to make me cry. :')
I really, really despise using the "horizontal line" as a line break because of how far it extends across the page. It feel like it chops off the flow of the story, so I have to be a bit creative. Also the fact that I can't make double spacing work doesn't help matters. Everything is so squished when I upload it. I haven't used this site for many years, and I'm feeling that inexperience. Is there anything this site doesn't gobble up on its Doc Manager?!
Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I've made a few changes in this chapter and the previous. Most of it included reducing the length of the paragraphs.
I have to thank a friend of mine that convinced me that longer paragraphs are not always reasonable and can be quite a strain to read. I should know better since I also get mentally turned off and emotionally exhausted just looking at a thick paragraph. Reading should not always be a chore, and fanfics should be enjoyable to read.
Chapter Summary: They finally meet!
Swindle spent several of this planet's solar cycle silently observing the non-native aliens, mostly learning a great deal from intercepting their primitive comlinks (surprising how such a backwater species managed to even leave their planet).
A majority of it was trivial, such as how they called themselves Polystralians, who represent a collection of sovereign states called the Commonwealth of the Pacific (which Swindle was relieved to find that aside from sharing one word, acted without the conservative pompousness of the Autobot Commonwealth).
As a whole they called themselves humans, but Swindle found that "flesh bag" was more accurate to describe the humans. The Nebulans were made of tougher stuff than these humans, who couldn't go out the planet without walking in those puffed-up airbags they call exo suits.
They looked so delicate, and yet they were risking it all trying to make a home on the planet.
If the name of their colony was any indication (who in Spark's name came up with a name like Freeland?) the organics appeared to be the enterprising sort. Definitely his kind of crowd, but Swindle was more interested in singling out the most influential of the lot, and the designation of Hutama was frequently mentioned.
Undoubtedly the leader, Swindle had seen this fashionably-dressed (he was no aficionado of aesthetics, but the organic certainly had taste) individual multiple times as he operated the colony with authority that was neither Autobot nor Decepticon in manner.
Hutama didn't appear to adhere to a chain of command, but instead balanced bureaucracy with personal oversight for many of the colony's operations. He sought counsel with professional when specialized knowledge was required, or when he humbly admitted to lack experience in certain subjects.
The… Polystralian (the name rolled uncomfortably over Swindle's glossa like a feeding tube forced through between his derma) obviously had a knack with the public as even the most skittish of workers was soothed by his presence alone. If Swindle was to be honest, and he would deny ever admitting it, this Hutama had charisma that could give Megatron a good run for his credits.
Definitely a beneficial business partner for Swindle, especially if the intergalactic arms dealer intended to continue using this planet as a hideout from nosy Autobots and bounty hunters. And maybe, just maybe if the Polystralians proved useful, he could strike a deal with them to ensure his protection in return for some illicit technologies. Swindle was sure he had a few to spare, and ones that the black market wouldn't miss.
First he needed to have a face-to-face with Hutama, which wasn't difficult seeing how laughably easy it was to infiltrate Freeland. The organics had no means of detecting spark signatures and what security forces there was was nothing more than a ragtag group armed with simple projectile weapons.
The minimalist style and size of their weapons made them look like a sparkling's plaything, and Swindle doubted they could take even a flake off his paint job. They probably would have a better chance chucking the things at him, but that was a large stretch.
Still no excuse for him to walk in his robot mode and cause a panic. That was more Blitzwing's flair when he was being Random.
The intergalactic arms dealer found one of their unused Trade Convoys and integrated its form into his frame. Although too utilitarian for his taste, Swindle put up with it as he kept his optics on Hutama while keeping out of sight.
)))((((()))))(((
"And you're certain there's nothing we can do about it?" Hutama said.
"Yes, sir," the soldier on his screen replied, helmet and visor obscured all facial features. "Preliminary reports from the science department indicates that the… Siege Worm will just burrow underground if we attempted a ranged assault, and, given its size and power, I highly advise against a direct military strike."
"And as long as it decides to nest under our mines, no one can come even a meter to salvage anything," Hutama concluded, leaning back in his chair with fingers crossed over his chest.
Though Hutama kept his face still to conceal his displeasure, the soldier picked up a slight irritable note in the Polystralian's voice.
"The plus side, sir, is that we've managed to evacuate the civilians before the Siege Worm entered our borders," the soldier offered some comfort.
Well there was a silver lining in the situation.
Hutama vowed to protect all those under his care while he was heading the colony, and he be damned if a single human fell on the alien planet due to his negligence.
"And for that I thank you," Hutama said, leaning forward to deliver a well-meaning smile to the soldier. "Please keep me updated on the situation."
"Will do, sir," was the soldier's last reply before Hutama cut the connection.
Alone in his office, Hutama released a deeply suppressed sigh.
He liked nothing better than to give the Siege Worm, and possibly the entire planet, a few colorful swears in true Commonwealth fashion. Maybe throw a few stomps on the ground with his all-terrain exo boot for good measure. The planet deserved it for being so creative in its ways to ensure every colonization effort went as painfully and horribly as possible.
First he needed to actually observe the situation from the colony's observation deck. Afterwards, if there was still daylight, pay the evacuees a visit for morale sake.
Reaching the observation deck by elevator at the far end of Headquarters, the metaphorical brain of the colony, Hutama arrived at a hexagonal room high above the colony. Behind the safety of tempered glass walls was a spacious view of the landscape.
Excluding the fact that the planet was nothing but feral wilderness that could kill a human ten times over, the place was a sight to behold. Though a far cry from Earth's natural beauty (or what remained of it preserved in media and dwindling parks), the planet was an unending stretch of untouched land.
Lush forests blanketed the rolling hills, giving the illusion of a verdant sea whenever the wind swept against the canopy to rustle the leaves in glossy waves. The forests bled into sweeping, vibrant grasslands with reeds that flowed in tandem with the nearby river meandering its way to the ocean in lazy arches that carved through the ground.
And while Earth was once called the blue marble, this planet adopted every hue and shade of green imaginable. Everything from the mist that obscured the distant plains to the water had a green tint. Even the mountains that crowned the horizon pulsed with veins of emerald-colored minerals that they had yet to name.
If only they could enjoy all this splendor without those damned aliens, Hutama thought sourly.
He noted a plume of smoke that was ruining the picturesque view like a physical rip in a photo.
The guard on duty in the observation deck sensed the purpose of Hutama's visit and wordlessly handed the Polystralian a pair of binoculars. Hutama gave the soldier a thankful nod before taking the binoculars to focus on the source of the smoke.
His eyes captured a scene of utter destruction as a gargantuan worm tore up what used to be a relatively new mine. If the creature wasn't destroying his attempts at colonizing the planet, Hutama would have appreciated the effectiveness and beauty of the worm's spiral body to barrel through the earth like a child playing in the sandbox.
An explosion erupted from the mining site as the Siege Worm managed to disturb a combustion engine in its quest to pulverize the ground to pass into the neverending void that was the creature's gullet. It appeared unfazed by the disturbance as the tube of flesh and chitin continued to practically swim through the mess of dirt and rock. The sudden light, however, caused Hutama to flinch away.
"Bloody hell," he uttered.
That was enough to persuade the Polystralian to avoid considering military action. If even explosives couldn't halt its path of destruction, then nothing in their current power could. The only option was to sit around and wait till the Siege Worm decided to move on.
Hutama never felt so powerless in his life.
The Polystralian returned the binoculars to its owner and thanked the soldier again before departing.
With the elevator speeding back to the surface Hutama checked the chronometer and decided he had enough daylight to spare a visit down to the medical wing. It was a stroke of luck they managed to get everyone out just as the Siege Worm was breaching through the terrain like a submarine would to an ice sheet.
The Polystralian felt his feet press firmly against the floor and pressure concentrating on his legs as the elevator neared the ground floor and began to slow. The elevator made a cheerful ding before the metal door slid out of the way.
Hutama stepped out and into the cavernous passageways of the colony. The passageway was supported by great, arching metal beams that made him feel like he was imprisoned within the chest cavity of a titanic whale. He would know since he walked under the skeleton of one at the Australian Museum in Sydney.
A shame that the last cetacean went extinct 170 years ago, which was 30 years after the Great Mistake. Bad enough that there was barely enough food for them to sustain a healthy population, but the climatic changes and nuclear radiation was the final nail that sealed them in their coffins. He wanted to meet one since hearing of their sociability and intelligence. Sometimes they would sing songs to thank humans who would offer them fish.
Now that would have been a sight to see.
Standing alone, Hutama patiently waited for a spare ride. They were far from a future dominated by flying cars. Despite the inconvenience, Hutama didn't mind public transportation. In fact he used it quite a lot before and after his rise to political power.
The transportation networks back at the Commonwealth allowed him to mingle with the populace, much to the chagrin of Protective Service. Not his fault really, he was no good with some of those rempong politicians in the Commonwealth Parliament.
Of course he had to mingle in disguise as his face was the most recognized in the Commonwealth, which added an entertaining challenge. But here the alien planet they were all in this together just to survive.
Those days of hanging out in the coffee shops of Jakarta or pubs in Adelaide to listen in on his constituency were long gone. Hutama was just another person paving a fearfully unknown path for humanity's future.
Populist history be damned.
An incoming vehicle drew the Polystralian out of his thoughts. He was grateful to receive transportation that he failed to notice its unique coloration, the purple-tinted windows, or the fact that Trade Convoys were not the usual modes of transportation in the colony.
"To the Clinic, please," Hutama instructed as he got in from the passenger end and buckled himself to the seat.
The vehicle drove off and there was a moment of silence before Hutama realized the vacant driver's seat.
"What in God's name?!"
"Oooh, so sorry we had to meet like this," an amused voice vibrated through the interior. "But I needed to find a way to catch your attention, and, well this seemed like the best way to make an entrance, don't you think?"
The disembodied voice spoke in fluent English, but there was a… synthetic quality. It was too crystalline clear to be human.
"Look, mate, I don't know who you are, but you can quit the prank," Hutama spoke hotly, his body pressed firmly against the door like a cornered cat with eyes wide that glanced wildly.
"Prank? I assure you, my good sir, that I come in peace," the voice replied. Hutama noticed the dash flash a soft purple light with every syllable the voice spoke.
"Like hell you are!"
Without warning the Polystralian threw himself out of the still moving vehicle, causing him to roll across the pavement. That was one irreplaceable Thai suit silk ruined.
Once he got his footing, the Polystralian gunned for the main road.
Swindle had expected this bout of desperation (organics were so unreasonable at time), which was why he drove them into a secluded alley. The colony's small population meant that there was little chance anyone would happen upon their meeting.
He rushed in his vehicle mode and swerved to blockade the Polystralian's exit.
"Now let's not be hasty here," Swindle tried to placate the other. "Allow me to introduce myself."
Before a very stunned Hutama, the human watched and slowly backed away as the Trade Convoy dismantled and reformed itself until there was a tall robot standing before him.
"The name's Swindle, and I might have a solution to your problems."
"If you can, touch a Siege Worm as it moves by. That will teach you all you need to know about the insignificance of humanity."
- Pastor Jack's Homiletics
Glossary
Rempong (Indonesian slang): fussy, complicated, troublesome, busy