[fic] testing the waters for AoE
Directly related to my recent posts about spinning the ridiculous TF AU epic to OC (and how it would let me dig myself into an even deeper hole of world building and renaming things) - here! Have a test sample.
This is the Age of Empires prologue alien section prologue (there's human perspective bits beforehand). I'm pretty sure nobody's read it. Version A is the orig fic version, version B is the fanfic version. A is harder to read than B (for reasons of pronoun and word substitution) to the standard English reading eye, but I think it drives the "ALIEN" home a lot harder.
Mind you, I'm not married to any of it yet. I've roughed out pronouns (there's eight 'genders' which have crap all to do with physical reproduction - that can be accomplished by anyone in various assorted groupings - but instead denotes caste/function) and a few appropriate proper nouns for things, and slapped some replacement names in which were made up on the spur of the moment. It's rough, it's dirty, it's very quickly done and would require a lot of polishing. It does make for a very different sound, though.
(Mass marketable? Oh, hell NO - certainly not as a first book, the only people who get away with this kind of thing are venerable names in the field. I'm pretty sure most publishers would take one look at it and throw things at me screaming about how I made it unnecessarily difficult/impossible to read. To which I reply "tough" - like hell am I using 'zer' or 'it' for all of them, and 'he' and 'she' aren't applicable.)
Anyway, that's enough babble for me, I'll stop before I start justifying anything else. If you feel like taking a read, please do, and let me know what you think. ^_^
* * * * *
The message came in on the mid-shift databurst, floated very properly on the deep register harmonics of somber mourning that had tinged all communication lines in the last half auhn. The layered polytonality that characterized all of the Oligarchy's official communiques made it fall sharp, however, the vibrations meshing in ways that shivered unpleasantly through Szovand's receptors and left ungrounded sour notes flickering beneath rher armor plates.
The Specialist listened to it twice, once as rhe unpacked and methodically sorted through the burst, and again as rhe transferred the message to an uplink chit, multiple data streams routed with the ease of long practice even as the notes of that one particular message set up acrid dissonances that ground rher mandible plates on edge. Rhe was, rhe thought dimly, relieved that it had come in during rher own shift and not that of a subordinate.
Rhe would admit, privately, that rhe was dismayed that it had.
The databurst held a message for rher as well, sealed not with the expected heavy triad of notes that signified the Custodians, but with the simple, pure murmur of rher Eldest's personal tag and grouped under the portion of the burst reserved for personal messages. Normally rhe would have filed it for later - Szovand didn't make a habit of exercising rher position as the premier communications officer onboard the Victory as an excuse to retrieve rher own personal messages any faster than the general databurst was disseminated to the rest of the crew. In the wake trail of the first message, however, rhe copied it to rher private banks and scrubbed the original, even as rhe pinged the helm board with the glyphs for urgent and duty, underscored with the chord notation of the Oligarchy.
To rher left, Diomv jerked sharply upright, readout clouded oculars darting curiously towards Szovand for a moment. The ping that came back was affirmative, with the clear bell tone of systems awaiting contact. Szovand wasted no time in disconnecting rher own uplinks, smoothly transferring the comm board controls to the other station. Rher digits and systems, which had been through the motions countless times, performed the necessary commands by rote as rhe turned a tiny few subroutines inward, pulling up the message that had been addressed to rhei.
It was, on the surface, nothing more than a lone note's loving and slightly plaintive message to their distant harmonic array, expressing an acceptable degree of loneliness and fond feelings for the rest of the array kin. There was a brief and carefully neutral bit - even personal communications weren't entirely secure - about Cha'are's current assignment with Science Magnate Xhais, reminding Szovand, as though rhe were likely to forget, that the next duty rotation wasn't for two keracycles and that Cha'are wouldn't be able to secure leave until then.
There was nothing at all remarkable about it except for the timing and the fact that Szovand knew the Eldest note of rher harmonic hated stating the obvious and there was nothing else in the missive except the obvious. As rhe disconnected the ship hardline, palming the uplink chit and pushing rhesif away from rher station, rhe spared the attention to rip the message apart to its component binary and ran the result simultaneously through six separate encryption keys that rher harmonic array typically used amongst themselves.
In the time it took rhei to cross the Victory's command center five of the encryption keys came up blank, leaving only a short, blunt note in the deepest key rher array used, something that only Szovand or one of Cha'are's array sibs could have read.
Chamber and Oligarchy preemptive. Records compromised; null data.
Underscoring it, like an admission of failure, was the tonal notation for sincere apology. Szovand ventilated deeply through rher core, absorbing the soothing, unceasing ship song through the deck plating beneath rher struts, and took the last steps to rher target.
The Dynate didn't look up from the control board szi was bent over, szyr optics over bright with data from the softline channel szi was conversing on, but Szovand had no doubt rher own presence had been tracked since rhe had deviated from rher duty station. Rhe waited, patiently at attention, until the Dynate signed off, glancing up with a low ventilation that rang on an inquiry note. "Yes, Specialist?"
Szovand's rank was, very properly, undertoned with the notation of the communication division and rher own grade; delivered in the deep harmonics of the Dynate's voice it never failed to send small shivers through rher frame, forcing rher just a little more upright, a little more to attention. Rhe welcomed it right then, as it overwrote the sour feel of rher duty. "Message received," rhe informed rher superior, extending the chit.
The Dynate said nothing, only straightened and accepted the uplink. Szovand could tell the moment the other accessed it; there was nothing readily apparent from even one step further away, but Szovand was close enough to see the telltale flicker of the other's oculars. The Dynate betrayed nothing, neither in posture or expression, but for half a brief klik something echoed through the narrowband of their adjacent energy fields, arcing from the Dynate to Szovand. It was a wild, raw, overlapping of notes, an angry and injured discordant crash that only barely trembled through the space between them but was still strong enough to vibrate painfully into Szovand's core before rher superior ruthlessly cut it off. The silence that followed was unnaturally thick with the dampened sensation of suppression.
Szovand, glad of the ocular shield and vocal regulator that rher position required of rhei and which hid nearly all of rher own reactions, stood rher ground and waited. Rhe watched as the Dynate played the message through once more without an iota of reaction, and continued to watch as one of the Godhead leaders of their people crushed the uplink chit between two sharp taloned digits, grinding it to carbon dust in the time it took Szovand to cycle one ventilation. When szi spoke, the Dynate's voice was steady, without a trace of those first awful notes in the even tone. "Are there any other communications?"
"Negative," Szovand replied. The regulator, designed to keep a communication specialist's vocalizations cleanly clear of their own inadvertent intonations in the relays didn't allow rhei to vary rher pitch by more than half a note, but rhe dropped the last part of the word as low as rhe could to convey the unspoken - nothing of use. Nothing that could be reported from null data, but the very fact that there was no data bore its own message.
The Dynate exhaled a neutral note, dismissing the specialist with a sharp flick of szyr talons. "Return to your station," szi said aloud. "Send a reply ahead - message received and acknowledged." Szovand retreated with a deep obeisance but the Dynate had already turned away, voice echoing across the command deck in the sharp, implacable notes of the impending battlefield. "Diomv, take us to the nearest junction with a connection to Zhyrtri, full speed. We're needed at home."
* * * * *
The message came in on the mid-shift databurst, floated very properly on the deep register harmonics of somber mourning that had tinged all communication lines in the last half orn. The layered polytonality that characterized all of the Senate's official communiques made it fall sharp, however, the vibrations meshing in ways that shivered unpleasantly through Soundwave's audials and left ungrounded sour notes flickering beneath his armor plates.
He listened to it twice, once as he unpacked and methodically sorted through the burst, and again as he transferred the message to an uplink chit, multiple data streams routed with the ease of long practice even as the notes of that one particular message set up acrid dissonances that ground his denta on edge. He was, he thought dimly, relieved that it had come in during his own shift and not that of a subordinate.
He would admit, privately, that he was dismayed that it had.
The databurst held a message for him as well, sealed not with the expected heavy triad of notes that signified the Elite Sentinels, but with the simple, pure murmur of his Eldest's personal tag and grouped under the portion of the burst reserved for personal messages. Normally he would have filed it for later - Soundwave didn't make a habit of exercising his position as the premier communications officer onboard the Victory as an excuse to retrieve his own personal messages any faster than the general databurst was disseminated to the rest of the crew. In the wake trail of the first message, however, he copied it to his private banks and scrubbed the original, even as he pinged the helm board with the glyphs for urgent and duty, underscored with the chord notation of the Senate.
To his left, Divebomb jerked sharply upright, readout clouded optics darting curiously towards Soundwave for a moment. The ping that came back was affirmative, with the clear bell tone of systems awaiting contact. Soundwave wasted no time in disconnecting his own uplinks, smoothly transferring the comm board controls to the other station. His hands and systems, which had been through the motions countless times, performed the necessary commands by rote as he turned a tiny few subroutines inward, pulling up the message that had been addressed to him.
It was, on the surface, nothing more than a lone symbionte's loving and slightly plaintive message to their distant carrier array, expressing an acceptable degree of loneliness and fond feelings for the rest of the array kin. There was a brief and carefully neutral bit - even personal communications weren't entirely secure - about Ravage's current assignment with Science Director Jhiaxus, reminding Soundwave, as though he were likely to forget, that the next duty rotation wasn't for two megacycles and that Ravage wouldn't be able to secure time off until then.
There was nothing at all remarkable about it except for the timing and the fact that Soundwave knew his Eldest hated stating the obvious and there was nothing else in the missive except the obvious. As he disconnected the ship hardline, palming the uplink chit and pushing himself away from his station, he spared the attention to rip the message apart to its component binary and ran the result simultaneously through six separate encryption keys that his symbiont array typically used amongst themselves.
In the time it took him to cross the Victory's command center five of the encryption keys came up blank, leaving only a short, blunt note in the deepest key his array used, something that only Soundwave or one of Ravage's array sibs could have read.
Council and Senate preemptive. Records compromised; null data.
Underscoring it, like an admission of failure, was the tonal notation for sincere apology. Soundwave ventilated deeply through his core, absorbing the soothing, unceasing ship song through the deck plating beneath his pedes, and took the last steps to his target.
The Lord Protector didn't look up from the control board he was bent over, his optics over bright with data from the softline channel he was conversing on, but Soundwave had no doubt his own presence had been tracked since he had deviated from his duty station. He waited, patiently at attention, until the Lord Protector signed off, glancing up with a low ventilation that rang on an inquiry note. "Yes, Specialist?"
Soundwave's rank was, very properly, undertoned with the notation of the communication division and his own grade; delivered in the deep harmonics of the Lord Protector's voice it never failed to send small shivers through his frame, forcing him just a little more upright, a little more to attention. He welcomed it right then, as it overwrote the sour feel of his duty. "Message received," he informed his superior, extending the chit.
The Lord Protector said nothing, only straightened and accepted the uplink. Soundwave could tell the moment the other mech accessed it; there was nothing readily apparent from even one step further away, but Soundwave was close enough to see the telltale flicker of the other's optics. The Lord Protector betrayed nothing, neither in posture or face, but for half a brief klik something echoed through the narrowband of their adjacent energy fields, arcing from the Lord Protector to Soundwave. It was a wild, raw, overlapping of notes, an angry and injured discordant crash that only barely trembled through the space between them but was still strong enough to vibrate painfully into Soundwave's core before his superior ruthlessly cut it off. The silence that followed was unnaturally thick with the dampened sensation of suppression.
Soundwave, glad of the visor and vocal regulator that his position required of him and which hid nearly all of his own reactions, stood his ground and waited. He watched as the Lord Protector played the message through once more without an iota of reaction, and continued to watch as one of the Primus blessed leaders of their people crushed the uplink chit between two sharp taloned fingertips, grinding it to silicate dust in the time it took Soundwave to cycle one ventilation. When he spoke, the Lord Protector's voice was steady, without a trace of those first awful notes in the even tone. "Are there any other communications?"
"Negative," Soundwave replied. The regulator, designed to keep a communication specialist's vocalizations cleanly clear of their own inadvertent intonations in the relays didn't allow him to vary his pitch by more than half a note, but he dropped the last part of the word as low as he could to convey the unspoken - nothing of use. Nothing that could be reported from null data, but the very fact that there was no data bore its own message.
The Lord Protector exhaled a neutral note, dismissing the specialist with a sharp flick of his talons. "Return to your station," he said aloud. "Send a reply ahead - message received and acknowledged." Soundwave retreated with a deep bow but the Lord Protector had already turned away, voice echoing across the command deck in the sharp, implacable notes of the impending battlefield. "Divebomb, take us to the nearest bridge with a connection to Cybertron, full speed. We're needed at home."
For my own amusement, I note the pronoun divisions here:
szi - overseers, the ruling diade
ne - nobles, alphas, government officials and priests
xe - warriors, defenders, the military and enforcers
rhe - harmonic arrays, gestalts and symbionts
vei - aerials, flyers, anything with wings
co - creators, thinkers, scientists and artists
zhe - caretakers, medics and engineers
tei - workers, support, blue or white collar jobs
Anyone *may* be several of the above - [Starscream], for instance, could be either xe, vei or co. That vei chooses to use that pronoun class says a lot about the importance of flight to vhei and there are lingual notation add-ons that could be used to indicate vir prowess in other castes/professions, if required.
....I might also be easily amused in that it causes a small moment of glee to realize that a [Ratchet/Optimus/Ironhide] OT3 would be so much less confusing if it involved using szi, xe and zhe, instead of lots and lots of 'he'.
However, it is a difficult thing to get into the swing of writing, as I can't even do search and replace - english is very inefficient in the whole he/him/[his/his] and she/[her/her]/hers. v_v
Crossposted from Dreamwidth. ::
bunnies - Feed a bunny
This is the Age of Empires prologue alien section prologue (there's human perspective bits beforehand). I'm pretty sure nobody's read it. Version A is the orig fic version, version B is the fanfic version. A is harder to read than B (for reasons of pronoun and word substitution) to the standard English reading eye, but I think it drives the "ALIEN" home a lot harder.
Mind you, I'm not married to any of it yet. I've roughed out pronouns (there's eight 'genders' which have crap all to do with physical reproduction - that can be accomplished by anyone in various assorted groupings - but instead denotes caste/function) and a few appropriate proper nouns for things, and slapped some replacement names in which were made up on the spur of the moment. It's rough, it's dirty, it's very quickly done and would require a lot of polishing. It does make for a very different sound, though.
(Mass marketable? Oh, hell NO - certainly not as a first book, the only people who get away with this kind of thing are venerable names in the field. I'm pretty sure most publishers would take one look at it and throw things at me screaming about how I made it unnecessarily difficult/impossible to read. To which I reply "tough" - like hell am I using 'zer' or 'it' for all of them, and 'he' and 'she' aren't applicable.)
Anyway, that's enough babble for me, I'll stop before I start justifying anything else. If you feel like taking a read, please do, and let me know what you think. ^_^
* * * * *
The message came in on the mid-shift databurst, floated very properly on the deep register harmonics of somber mourning that had tinged all communication lines in the last half auhn. The layered polytonality that characterized all of the Oligarchy's official communiques made it fall sharp, however, the vibrations meshing in ways that shivered unpleasantly through Szovand's receptors and left ungrounded sour notes flickering beneath rher armor plates.
The Specialist listened to it twice, once as rhe unpacked and methodically sorted through the burst, and again as rhe transferred the message to an uplink chit, multiple data streams routed with the ease of long practice even as the notes of that one particular message set up acrid dissonances that ground rher mandible plates on edge. Rhe was, rhe thought dimly, relieved that it had come in during rher own shift and not that of a subordinate.
Rhe would admit, privately, that rhe was dismayed that it had.
The databurst held a message for rher as well, sealed not with the expected heavy triad of notes that signified the Custodians, but with the simple, pure murmur of rher Eldest's personal tag and grouped under the portion of the burst reserved for personal messages. Normally rhe would have filed it for later - Szovand didn't make a habit of exercising rher position as the premier communications officer onboard the Victory as an excuse to retrieve rher own personal messages any faster than the general databurst was disseminated to the rest of the crew. In the wake trail of the first message, however, rhe copied it to rher private banks and scrubbed the original, even as rhe pinged the helm board with the glyphs for urgent and duty, underscored with the chord notation of the Oligarchy.
To rher left, Diomv jerked sharply upright, readout clouded oculars darting curiously towards Szovand for a moment. The ping that came back was affirmative, with the clear bell tone of systems awaiting contact. Szovand wasted no time in disconnecting rher own uplinks, smoothly transferring the comm board controls to the other station. Rher digits and systems, which had been through the motions countless times, performed the necessary commands by rote as rhe turned a tiny few subroutines inward, pulling up the message that had been addressed to rhei.
It was, on the surface, nothing more than a lone note's loving and slightly plaintive message to their distant harmonic array, expressing an acceptable degree of loneliness and fond feelings for the rest of the array kin. There was a brief and carefully neutral bit - even personal communications weren't entirely secure - about Cha'are's current assignment with Science Magnate Xhais, reminding Szovand, as though rhe were likely to forget, that the next duty rotation wasn't for two keracycles and that Cha'are wouldn't be able to secure leave until then.
There was nothing at all remarkable about it except for the timing and the fact that Szovand knew the Eldest note of rher harmonic hated stating the obvious and there was nothing else in the missive except the obvious. As rhe disconnected the ship hardline, palming the uplink chit and pushing rhesif away from rher station, rhe spared the attention to rip the message apart to its component binary and ran the result simultaneously through six separate encryption keys that rher harmonic array typically used amongst themselves.
In the time it took rhei to cross the Victory's command center five of the encryption keys came up blank, leaving only a short, blunt note in the deepest key rher array used, something that only Szovand or one of Cha'are's array sibs could have read.
Chamber and Oligarchy preemptive. Records compromised; null data.
Underscoring it, like an admission of failure, was the tonal notation for sincere apology. Szovand ventilated deeply through rher core, absorbing the soothing, unceasing ship song through the deck plating beneath rher struts, and took the last steps to rher target.
The Dynate didn't look up from the control board szi was bent over, szyr optics over bright with data from the softline channel szi was conversing on, but Szovand had no doubt rher own presence had been tracked since rhe had deviated from rher duty station. Rhe waited, patiently at attention, until the Dynate signed off, glancing up with a low ventilation that rang on an inquiry note. "Yes, Specialist?"
Szovand's rank was, very properly, undertoned with the notation of the communication division and rher own grade; delivered in the deep harmonics of the Dynate's voice it never failed to send small shivers through rher frame, forcing rher just a little more upright, a little more to attention. Rhe welcomed it right then, as it overwrote the sour feel of rher duty. "Message received," rhe informed rher superior, extending the chit.
The Dynate said nothing, only straightened and accepted the uplink. Szovand could tell the moment the other accessed it; there was nothing readily apparent from even one step further away, but Szovand was close enough to see the telltale flicker of the other's oculars. The Dynate betrayed nothing, neither in posture or expression, but for half a brief klik something echoed through the narrowband of their adjacent energy fields, arcing from the Dynate to Szovand. It was a wild, raw, overlapping of notes, an angry and injured discordant crash that only barely trembled through the space between them but was still strong enough to vibrate painfully into Szovand's core before rher superior ruthlessly cut it off. The silence that followed was unnaturally thick with the dampened sensation of suppression.
Szovand, glad of the ocular shield and vocal regulator that rher position required of rhei and which hid nearly all of rher own reactions, stood rher ground and waited. Rhe watched as the Dynate played the message through once more without an iota of reaction, and continued to watch as one of the Godhead leaders of their people crushed the uplink chit between two sharp taloned digits, grinding it to carbon dust in the time it took Szovand to cycle one ventilation. When szi spoke, the Dynate's voice was steady, without a trace of those first awful notes in the even tone. "Are there any other communications?"
"Negative," Szovand replied. The regulator, designed to keep a communication specialist's vocalizations cleanly clear of their own inadvertent intonations in the relays didn't allow rhei to vary rher pitch by more than half a note, but rhe dropped the last part of the word as low as rhe could to convey the unspoken - nothing of use. Nothing that could be reported from null data, but the very fact that there was no data bore its own message.
The Dynate exhaled a neutral note, dismissing the specialist with a sharp flick of szyr talons. "Return to your station," szi said aloud. "Send a reply ahead - message received and acknowledged." Szovand retreated with a deep obeisance but the Dynate had already turned away, voice echoing across the command deck in the sharp, implacable notes of the impending battlefield. "Diomv, take us to the nearest junction with a connection to Zhyrtri, full speed. We're needed at home."
* * * * *
The message came in on the mid-shift databurst, floated very properly on the deep register harmonics of somber mourning that had tinged all communication lines in the last half orn. The layered polytonality that characterized all of the Senate's official communiques made it fall sharp, however, the vibrations meshing in ways that shivered unpleasantly through Soundwave's audials and left ungrounded sour notes flickering beneath his armor plates.
He listened to it twice, once as he unpacked and methodically sorted through the burst, and again as he transferred the message to an uplink chit, multiple data streams routed with the ease of long practice even as the notes of that one particular message set up acrid dissonances that ground his denta on edge. He was, he thought dimly, relieved that it had come in during his own shift and not that of a subordinate.
He would admit, privately, that he was dismayed that it had.
The databurst held a message for him as well, sealed not with the expected heavy triad of notes that signified the Elite Sentinels, but with the simple, pure murmur of his Eldest's personal tag and grouped under the portion of the burst reserved for personal messages. Normally he would have filed it for later - Soundwave didn't make a habit of exercising his position as the premier communications officer onboard the Victory as an excuse to retrieve his own personal messages any faster than the general databurst was disseminated to the rest of the crew. In the wake trail of the first message, however, he copied it to his private banks and scrubbed the original, even as he pinged the helm board with the glyphs for urgent and duty, underscored with the chord notation of the Senate.
To his left, Divebomb jerked sharply upright, readout clouded optics darting curiously towards Soundwave for a moment. The ping that came back was affirmative, with the clear bell tone of systems awaiting contact. Soundwave wasted no time in disconnecting his own uplinks, smoothly transferring the comm board controls to the other station. His hands and systems, which had been through the motions countless times, performed the necessary commands by rote as he turned a tiny few subroutines inward, pulling up the message that had been addressed to him.
It was, on the surface, nothing more than a lone symbionte's loving and slightly plaintive message to their distant carrier array, expressing an acceptable degree of loneliness and fond feelings for the rest of the array kin. There was a brief and carefully neutral bit - even personal communications weren't entirely secure - about Ravage's current assignment with Science Director Jhiaxus, reminding Soundwave, as though he were likely to forget, that the next duty rotation wasn't for two megacycles and that Ravage wouldn't be able to secure time off until then.
There was nothing at all remarkable about it except for the timing and the fact that Soundwave knew his Eldest hated stating the obvious and there was nothing else in the missive except the obvious. As he disconnected the ship hardline, palming the uplink chit and pushing himself away from his station, he spared the attention to rip the message apart to its component binary and ran the result simultaneously through six separate encryption keys that his symbiont array typically used amongst themselves.
In the time it took him to cross the Victory's command center five of the encryption keys came up blank, leaving only a short, blunt note in the deepest key his array used, something that only Soundwave or one of Ravage's array sibs could have read.
Council and Senate preemptive. Records compromised; null data.
Underscoring it, like an admission of failure, was the tonal notation for sincere apology. Soundwave ventilated deeply through his core, absorbing the soothing, unceasing ship song through the deck plating beneath his pedes, and took the last steps to his target.
The Lord Protector didn't look up from the control board he was bent over, his optics over bright with data from the softline channel he was conversing on, but Soundwave had no doubt his own presence had been tracked since he had deviated from his duty station. He waited, patiently at attention, until the Lord Protector signed off, glancing up with a low ventilation that rang on an inquiry note. "Yes, Specialist?"
Soundwave's rank was, very properly, undertoned with the notation of the communication division and his own grade; delivered in the deep harmonics of the Lord Protector's voice it never failed to send small shivers through his frame, forcing him just a little more upright, a little more to attention. He welcomed it right then, as it overwrote the sour feel of his duty. "Message received," he informed his superior, extending the chit.
The Lord Protector said nothing, only straightened and accepted the uplink. Soundwave could tell the moment the other mech accessed it; there was nothing readily apparent from even one step further away, but Soundwave was close enough to see the telltale flicker of the other's optics. The Lord Protector betrayed nothing, neither in posture or face, but for half a brief klik something echoed through the narrowband of their adjacent energy fields, arcing from the Lord Protector to Soundwave. It was a wild, raw, overlapping of notes, an angry and injured discordant crash that only barely trembled through the space between them but was still strong enough to vibrate painfully into Soundwave's core before his superior ruthlessly cut it off. The silence that followed was unnaturally thick with the dampened sensation of suppression.
Soundwave, glad of the visor and vocal regulator that his position required of him and which hid nearly all of his own reactions, stood his ground and waited. He watched as the Lord Protector played the message through once more without an iota of reaction, and continued to watch as one of the Primus blessed leaders of their people crushed the uplink chit between two sharp taloned fingertips, grinding it to silicate dust in the time it took Soundwave to cycle one ventilation. When he spoke, the Lord Protector's voice was steady, without a trace of those first awful notes in the even tone. "Are there any other communications?"
"Negative," Soundwave replied. The regulator, designed to keep a communication specialist's vocalizations cleanly clear of their own inadvertent intonations in the relays didn't allow him to vary his pitch by more than half a note, but he dropped the last part of the word as low as he could to convey the unspoken - nothing of use. Nothing that could be reported from null data, but the very fact that there was no data bore its own message.
The Lord Protector exhaled a neutral note, dismissing the specialist with a sharp flick of his talons. "Return to your station," he said aloud. "Send a reply ahead - message received and acknowledged." Soundwave retreated with a deep bow but the Lord Protector had already turned away, voice echoing across the command deck in the sharp, implacable notes of the impending battlefield. "Divebomb, take us to the nearest bridge with a connection to Cybertron, full speed. We're needed at home."
For my own amusement, I note the pronoun divisions here:
szi - overseers, the ruling diade
ne - nobles, alphas, government officials and priests
xe - warriors, defenders, the military and enforcers
rhe - harmonic arrays, gestalts and symbionts
vei - aerials, flyers, anything with wings
co - creators, thinkers, scientists and artists
zhe - caretakers, medics and engineers
tei - workers, support, blue or white collar jobs
Anyone *may* be several of the above - [Starscream], for instance, could be either xe, vei or co. That vei chooses to use that pronoun class says a lot about the importance of flight to vhei and there are lingual notation add-ons that could be used to indicate vir prowess in other castes/professions, if required.
....I might also be easily amused in that it causes a small moment of glee to realize that a [Ratchet/Optimus/Ironhide] OT3 would be so much less confusing if it involved using szi, xe and zhe, instead of lots and lots of 'he'.
However, it is a difficult thing to get into the swing of writing, as I can't even do search and replace - english is very inefficient in the whole he/him/[his/his] and she/[her/her]/hers. v_v
Crossposted from Dreamwidth. ::
bunnies - Feed a bunny