Born of Risen Apes
On the island base of Diego Garcia a few mornings after San Francisco, Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps elbowed his superior. Perhaps after a few repeats, it should have become routine, and yet the novelty had yet to wear off.
"Are my eyes right?" the former asked the latter.
"Yes, they are," Will sighed. "Yes, that is the Autobot leader following a human in a human training exercise. Apparently to correct his spinal struts."
"What are they doing?" Epps muttered, watching human and Autobot arms move up and down at opposite ends. "If that's Graham's girl, I pity him."
"It's a form," Will corrected. "And Miss Su is our rather unwilling guest, while Ratchet rips out every bit of apparently Cybertronian metal in her instruments. Apparently she's been literally playing on their equivalent of heartstrings."
"She'll be playing the whole base if she likes," Epps grinned. "Think we can reassemble the keyboard in time for her to get Sideswipe into a Sugar Plum Fairy?"
"No."
One pede landed heavily on the beach, leaving a heavy print as Optimus Prime continued with the form called White Crane spreads its Wings. It would be funny if it weren't for the teacher's commentary:
"Ideally you use this to hit the bladder or kidneys, and then you bring the right hand down on their neck, trapping the opponent with an arm bar. If pressed, bring up the other hand and slap them with it, then use the reverse reeling forearm..."
"Big Buddha," Will snickered quietly, while Epps shook with slight amusement.
Later the amusement would fade as the result of speeding through the 24-form Beijing standard would result in the next Decepticon broken into a pile of parts with his bare servos revealed itself. For now, though, Optimus moving to the single whip pose was rather like a dancing giant robot.
"I suppose, taking into account the stronger gravity on your home planet, you guys should be comparatively stronger," Dahlia mused aloud. "Faster running, jumping higher, so on. Which implies that you guys are Heavy Worlders-"
"It'll be fine," Graham told her as the Autobots began the slow process of extracting all Cybertronic metals from her instrument collection. Seeing as most of the strings assembled were made of steel, it almost made Dahlia wish for a transition back to silk strings.
"It better be," she sighed. "I don't want to worry you."
Graham nodded, unconvinced if his expression was any indicator. "Think of it as a holiday."
"I will. At least, until he tears one string too many," Dahlia was still staring at the extraction operation, restringing her violin in her hands and strumming to tune it.
Once she was satisfied, she took up her rosin and rubbed it on the horsehair of its bow, taking care to cover every hair. The care and metaphorical feeding of the fiddle did not go amiss by the Autobot medic, especially as she raised it and caught the end of his flinch.
"It's safe, you know," she added, watching the medic.
"I know," Ratchet answered. "But it is a precaution. We do not yet know the capabilities of the signal gestalt found in the first instrument we dismantled."
"You guys better pay for that," Dahlia faintly rebutted as she drew a long A note.
"Duly noted, Ms Su," Optimus's voice boomed as the Autobot leader entered the temporary atelier, keeping a distance from the discarded metal teased from the steel strings that Dahlia kept unwinding from her instruments. "The sheer variety of strings you keep is astounding. We cannot thank you enough for your understanding."
"It's for a purely selfish reason," Dahlia corrected. "David is involved too far in this. At least, I can avoid throwing another burden on him if I took action now to remove the source of this phenomenon before it escalates."
"Many humans do not share the same depth of thought you have exhibited, Ms Su."
"As a civilian, I assume that ordinarily, I would never have set foot here because of health reasons," Dahlia pointed out. "At least I can see David's workplace. And at least I can do something to help, even if it is just to get out of the way and let the professionals do their thing."
"I do not think your thoughts are typical of the average human, I believe."
"Do you comprehend the thoughts of many humans, Optimus Prime?" Dahlia stated, almost in challenge.
"The average human forms patterns in their daily routine. I suppose given enough time, perhaps, unless a human's individual agency leads them to deviate from a set pattern."
"But that does not mean that you may understand an individual's motivations fully," Dahlia chuckled, pulling another note. "Such as humans. Everything we have done, are doing and will do, is borne out of cowardice stemming from almost humiliating weakness."
Optimus peered down as she tightened a string. "I suppose. But I have witnessed your capacity for courage, and I believe that there is more than meets the eye."
"Thank you," Dahlia replied, pulling another note and then nodding. "Now, for the price of a song, what will you pay?"
Optimus made an exhale that sounded like a cut-off laugh. "You will have to show me- what is that instrument?"
"An erhu," Dahlia replied, setting aside the tuned violin to make a start on the smaller instrument, plucking at the two steel strings before tightening and pulling the bow strung between the strings, tuning the strings.
"Another stringed instrument?" Optimus looked at it. "And music is possible with this?"
"Three and a half octaves," Dahlia replied. "You have music, right? Optimus? Medic?"
"Call me Ratchet," Ratchet added, perhaps feeling left out. "Yes, we have music. Wind instruments, and something like your synthesisers, and mainly brass instruments. Lots of the brass orchestras here sound like Senatorial fanfare back home. "
"Yes, albeit Earth's brass orchestras are of an admittedly limited frequency," Optimus chipped back in. "Ms Su, may I enquire as to why do you have so many stringed instruments?"
"My condition affects my lungs," Dahlia confessed. "I can't play either woodwinds or brass, and there's only so much percussion alone can achieve in polyphony. And, I picked up these instruments for a song. They're... a cultural reminder, if I have to admit."
"I see," Ratchet's eyes glowed, scanning her back before he paused. "Ms Su, there is a bit of metal embedded within your body."
"Yes, that's the ICD," Dahlia absently replied. "Oh wait, it's an implantable cardioverter defibrillator. I forget that you didn't- wait, you can tell?"
The broken tension from disarming the instruments seemed to have returned with a vengeance as both Cybertronians considered the human.
"Ms Su," Optimus asked gently. "I apologise for violating your privacy."
Shaken, Dahlia nodded. "No harm, no foul. But a warning might be nice. My condition, medic?"
"Relatively healthy, given the congenital heart defects riddling your circulatory pump," Ratchet admitted, confused. "Why?"
"Call it a service so that we might be equal," Dahlia replied. "We are unlikely to see each other after this matter, so it is best to part on amicable terms."
At this, Optimus shifted. "You would not become our cultural liaison?"
At this, Dahlia set the erhu down and picked up her violin, drawing a song out of it. "You reminded me of a human legend, like King Arthur. Then I recalled the central theme of Arthurian mythology."
Despite so, Optimus could not help but lean forward. "And the theme is?"
"We might want to live up to our ideals, yet they can only fall to the baser instincts of humanity," Dahlia scoffed. "I must have given you a very long 'it's not you, it's me' speech, but that was the main point. I don't trust myself, and thus I remove myself from the equation."
"Your thoughts are noble, Ms Su," Ratchet finally dropped the last string. "I suppose we shall not meet anymore."
"I don't know about that," Dahlia shrugged, beginning to play another song, not by bowing but by plucking.
"Greensleeves?" Ratchet enquired.
"It suited the mood," was her only reply.
The haunting melody of Greensleeves echoed for a bit outside, and by evening somehow a dance-off had been organised with only one DJ.
"Check out the rep, yeah, second to none!" Sideswipe performed something similar to a fouetté en tournant and twist that any ballerina would have envied. Dahlia whistled, enjoying her last night on the island of Diego Garcia as they bogeyed down.
The grey keyboard reassembled now, Dahlia grinned as she played her way through the night, with David by her side.
Will blinked as she met eyes with him, and somehow... they glowed blue. Will turned away, unsure of why the sight of her unnerved him... why her grin so resembled a slasher smile especially as she lifted the electric guitar.
Ordinarily, there's no reason to keep a musician on base. In fact, most OC fics usually keep their OCs in an occupation directly relevant to the Transformers so that they have a chance to hang around for more than at the sidelines. Transformers: Prime pretty much showed that having untrained humans directly involved is a bad idea. Of course, Dahlia's secret is in her name.
Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!