So Ronery (Part 1)
A story about the two loneliest robots.
Duty was so boring. Sure, the universe is a beautiful and awesome place, and he had seen wonders that left his processors reeling with the enormity of existence, but he never had anyone to share it with. He was lonely. His race was a social one, but from creation his life had been solitary. Even with the marvels and his never-ending stream of data he felt empty.
Most of the time he just floated along in the orbit of whatever planet he was ordered to, even after he was sure they had forgotten about him. Sometimes he would orbit Earth to look for possible Decepticon activity. Those assignments could be hard. He could watch his allies interact with each other. He saw friendships and romances and just simple interaction that he longed for. Even worse, he saw the same things when he watched the Decepticons.
From up in orbit, from so far away, you could barely tell there was a war on. Sometimes he’d forget that he was supposed to feel hatred for the robots with purple sigils on their armor. Sometimes he’d even forget that he was on anyone’s side. He’d watch their lives, all their lives, and comment to himself even as the vastness of space swallowed his words.
Occasionally he’d rebel. Much like himself his rebellions were quiet and unnoticed by Prime. Well, except for the few times an eyewitness’ sketch of a UFO bared a striking resemblance to the wayward spaceship. Then he’d usually get a call on his comm from a senior officer telling him to cut it out. Once, though, got called down to earth for a lecture from the second in command about “scaring the natives.” He didn’t much care for the second, but got the distinct impression that Prowl was unnerved by his determination to start a conversation after the lecture.
Most everyone forgot, or never knew, that he wasn’t just a reconnaissance unit. No, he was also a scientist and he’d fill many of his hours by tinkering or creating blueprints for machines that will never be built. He’d even fashioned a little device that duplicated his spark signature. Sometimes he’d stick this to an orbiting satellite and off he’d go.
These were the times that he loved. The only time he felt was really his own. Sometimes he’d turn off his thrusters and just float, taking everything in as weak gravities slowly dragged him through space. Sometimes he’d go down to a planet’s surface to skip through the atmosphere. Flying was always so much more rewarding when he could feel the air whipping around his frame.
It was during one of these little excursions that he found himself heading towards Cybertron. He had been meaning to visit one of the Autobot bases hidden on his home planet. He was hoping that maybe something new had been written or found that he could copy into his memory banks for later. It had been some time since he had had any new reading material and there are only so many times you can read Spark of Darkness before it starts to get to you.
While he was a skilled flier, Cosmos had always had trouble with landings. He only had an 83.594% success rating when it came to landings, but he almost always managed to walk away unharmed. Of course, it was just his luck that this would be one of the 16.406% of times he totally bungled and crash-landed. Right smack dab in the middle of Decepticon territory, no less.
Well. Well, that’s interesting. He double-checked his cameras and data readouts and, finding them correct, wondered what exactly to do. He had waited for this moment for years, centuries even. A disabled Autobot, well into Decepticon territory, was the perfect opportunity. Now that it had become a reality, though, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was just so excited!
Ok, ok, he knew what he had to do first; he had to go and collect the Autobot then secure him in the brig. After that he would have some time to let the bot stew before interrogating him. Oh there were so, so many ways he could go about this! He only hoped the Autobot wasn’t too damaged.
His data files confirmed the downed Autobot’s identity as Reconnaissance Unit: Cosmos. A recon unit. This was excellent! Surely this Cosmos would have valuable information he could send to Lord Megatron.
This was far too important a task to entrust to his drones. He headed out to the battle scarred surface of the planet to bring his quarry back himself. Truthfully his data banks didn’t have very much information about Unit Cosmos, so he was a little surprised to find a minibot in the middle of the impact crater. No matter. He promptly carried the awkward little thing back to base, armor plating still hot from impact.
After a preliminary exam he found the minibot was hardly damaged at all. Almost happily, he noted what damage was there was mostly superficial and shouldn’t hinder his interrogation in the least.
It took longer than he liked to figure out the most efficient way to chain up his new prisoner, but he soon settled on a configuration of energy chains that would do nicely. Soon had finished linking the length of chain around the prisoner’s shoulders that hoisted him up just enough that he couldn’t sit properly and left him in a strange crouching position.
Shockwave considered what, if anything, to do with the prisoner’s legs. It might be amusing to watch the round little bot try to scrabble up into a standing position that his chained wrists wouldn’t allow him into. He settled on linking the prisoner’s feet together with a length of chain that would allow him movement, but would restrict his ability to kick or attack his captor.
He was just double checking the lay of the chains under the prisoner’s shoulders when he felt his captive stir. Mentally cursing the Autobot’s timing he hurried to get his hand out from underneath the thick plating and look sufficiently menacing before his prisoner fully regained consciousness. He had really hoped to let Cosmos wake up alone in his cell and let panic set in before making his grand entrance.
Luckily, it wasn’t difficult for Shockwave to look menacing.
Duty was so boring. Sure, the universe is a beautiful and awesome place, and he had seen wonders that left his processors reeling with the enormity of existence, but he never had anyone to share it with. He was lonely. His race was a social one, but from creation his life had been solitary. Even with the marvels and his never-ending stream of data he felt empty.
Most of the time he just floated along in the orbit of whatever planet he was ordered to, even after he was sure they had forgotten about him. Sometimes he would orbit Earth to look for possible Decepticon activity. Those assignments could be hard. He could watch his allies interact with each other. He saw friendships and romances and just simple interaction that he longed for. Even worse, he saw the same things when he watched the Decepticons.
From up in orbit, from so far away, you could barely tell there was a war on. Sometimes he’d forget that he was supposed to feel hatred for the robots with purple sigils on their armor. Sometimes he’d even forget that he was on anyone’s side. He’d watch their lives, all their lives, and comment to himself even as the vastness of space swallowed his words.
Occasionally he’d rebel. Much like himself his rebellions were quiet and unnoticed by Prime. Well, except for the few times an eyewitness’ sketch of a UFO bared a striking resemblance to the wayward spaceship. Then he’d usually get a call on his comm from a senior officer telling him to cut it out. Once, though, got called down to earth for a lecture from the second in command about “scaring the natives.” He didn’t much care for the second, but got the distinct impression that Prowl was unnerved by his determination to start a conversation after the lecture.
Most everyone forgot, or never knew, that he wasn’t just a reconnaissance unit. No, he was also a scientist and he’d fill many of his hours by tinkering or creating blueprints for machines that will never be built. He’d even fashioned a little device that duplicated his spark signature. Sometimes he’d stick this to an orbiting satellite and off he’d go.
These were the times that he loved. The only time he felt was really his own. Sometimes he’d turn off his thrusters and just float, taking everything in as weak gravities slowly dragged him through space. Sometimes he’d go down to a planet’s surface to skip through the atmosphere. Flying was always so much more rewarding when he could feel the air whipping around his frame.
It was during one of these little excursions that he found himself heading towards Cybertron. He had been meaning to visit one of the Autobot bases hidden on his home planet. He was hoping that maybe something new had been written or found that he could copy into his memory banks for later. It had been some time since he had had any new reading material and there are only so many times you can read Spark of Darkness before it starts to get to you.
While he was a skilled flier, Cosmos had always had trouble with landings. He only had an 83.594% success rating when it came to landings, but he almost always managed to walk away unharmed. Of course, it was just his luck that this would be one of the 16.406% of times he totally bungled and crash-landed. Right smack dab in the middle of Decepticon territory, no less.
Well. Well, that’s interesting. He double-checked his cameras and data readouts and, finding them correct, wondered what exactly to do. He had waited for this moment for years, centuries even. A disabled Autobot, well into Decepticon territory, was the perfect opportunity. Now that it had become a reality, though, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was just so excited!
Ok, ok, he knew what he had to do first; he had to go and collect the Autobot then secure him in the brig. After that he would have some time to let the bot stew before interrogating him. Oh there were so, so many ways he could go about this! He only hoped the Autobot wasn’t too damaged.
His data files confirmed the downed Autobot’s identity as Reconnaissance Unit: Cosmos. A recon unit. This was excellent! Surely this Cosmos would have valuable information he could send to Lord Megatron.
This was far too important a task to entrust to his drones. He headed out to the battle scarred surface of the planet to bring his quarry back himself. Truthfully his data banks didn’t have very much information about Unit Cosmos, so he was a little surprised to find a minibot in the middle of the impact crater. No matter. He promptly carried the awkward little thing back to base, armor plating still hot from impact.
After a preliminary exam he found the minibot was hardly damaged at all. Almost happily, he noted what damage was there was mostly superficial and shouldn’t hinder his interrogation in the least.
It took longer than he liked to figure out the most efficient way to chain up his new prisoner, but he soon settled on a configuration of energy chains that would do nicely. Soon had finished linking the length of chain around the prisoner’s shoulders that hoisted him up just enough that he couldn’t sit properly and left him in a strange crouching position.
Shockwave considered what, if anything, to do with the prisoner’s legs. It might be amusing to watch the round little bot try to scrabble up into a standing position that his chained wrists wouldn’t allow him into. He settled on linking the prisoner’s feet together with a length of chain that would allow him movement, but would restrict his ability to kick or attack his captor.
He was just double checking the lay of the chains under the prisoner’s shoulders when he felt his captive stir. Mentally cursing the Autobot’s timing he hurried to get his hand out from underneath the thick plating and look sufficiently menacing before his prisoner fully regained consciousness. He had really hoped to let Cosmos wake up alone in his cell and let panic set in before making his grand entrance.
Luckily, it wasn’t difficult for Shockwave to look menacing.