[rd][fic][Transformers G1] V For Victory
May. 30th, 2008 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sakon76A cumulation of a few thoughts, among them Ron's fascination with gardening in the '07 movie, and the thought that Mt. St. Hilary is probably inconveniently far from grocery stores....
V For Victory
by K. Stonham
prereleased 30th May 2008
Off to one side of the Ark, up the slope of Mt. St. Hilary just enough to be out of the way of large robotic feet, was a garden. Perceptor took note of it as soon as he stepped outside of the crashed spaceship, viewing for the first time this alien world he and his comrades had been stranded on. It was quite clearly not a natural phenomenon; the plants were in neatly ordered squares of levelled soil, carefully tied to stakes, winding their way skyward with artificial assistance. Additionally, he considered as he walked over to take a closer look, they did not seem to be compatible with the other flora in the area.
"I beg your pardon, Hound," he asked one of the longer-awake Autobots who happened to be nearby, "but this is not a natural formation, is it?"
"What? Oh," Hound said, chuckling as he realized what Perceptor was referring to. "No. That's Sparkplug's garden."
"Garden...?" Perceptor inquired, cross-referencing the concept with the specimen gardens scientists had long kept on Cybertron. The biggest, and most famous, was the Hanging Crystal Gardens of Praxus, but there had been many, many others, educational tools all. Perhaps these Earth natives weren't so different from Cybertronians after all.
"Yeah. He uses it to grow fuel for himself and Spike. Pretty neat to watch and help out with sometimes." Hound grinned. "Word of advice: human food plants can be pretty fragile, so it's best to ask before helping. Brawn accidentally squashed a tomato plant last year and still feels guilty about it."
Perceptor blinked. "Fuel...?" he repeated blankly, looking at the plants. He'd known that organic lifeforms couldn't process energon, and granted the human species by and large were only the size of Cassettes, but still... the caloric content of this patch of greenery surely wasn't enough to sustain one native, let alone two!
*
Sparkplug grunted, digging with his dibble to loosen the root of the weed so he could yank it out and toss it onto the compost pile. It was a tough sucker and clung tenaciously to the ground, but after a minute of man-versus-greenery struggle, he triumphed and pulled it loose. With a satisfied smile he let it fly. "Hide behind my lettuce, will you?" he asked rhetorically.
"Heh." Jazz let a laugh from where he was sitting on the rocks, watching and acting as shade. "You really hate those weeds, don't'cha, Sparkplug?"
"Hate, no. Get annoyed with, yes," Sparkplug replied, wiping his forehead with an arm. He looked up at the blazing May sun. "Think it's about time to drag out the shade covering for this year," he postulated. The lettuce had been mostly in the shade of the tomato plants, but the arid heat was finally starting to get to it and the plants would be bolting soon, gone until early fall and cooler weather came back again. A sun filter over the beds would give the rest of the garden some relief in the punishing desert summer, though.
"Wicked cool," Jazz said. "I'll get it for you in a bit. Wish I could help more, but...." He spread his hands and shrugged helplessly. Sparkplug couldn't help grinning. Gardening was one thing most of the Autobots couldn't do. For the most part their hands were simply too big to be able to grasp weeds and their sense of texture not fine enough to be able to avoid squishing ripe tomatoes. The minibots could do some things, but the thought of Cliffjumper trying to weed a bed of peas was laughable. He'd probably end up blasting holes in the ground to get rid of the invaders.
"Not a problem, Jazz," he assured the 3IC. "Some things a man's gotta do for himself."
"Utterly fascinating," Perceptor muttered to himself, poking carefully at a cornstalk. "This is perhaps the most inefficient design for species reproduction that I have ever encountered."
"Hey, don't knock it if it works, Percy," Jazz advised.
"Humans have been cultivating corn for thousands of years," Sparkplug agreed. "It seems to be effective."
"But it could be improved!" the Cybertronian scientist insisted.
"Nuh-uh," Spike retorted, arriving at the garden with Bumblebee in tow. "No messing with our food system, Perceptor. Wheeljack's bad enough!"
Perceptor straightened slightly, looking at Spike as the teenager opened the gate with its hanging "V" sign overhead. Bumblebee followed him inside, ducking slightly to clear the arch. "Dare I inquire what Wheeljack attempted?"
"Heh. Let's just say it involved explosions," Bumblebee replied, placing his feet carefully between the beds.
"With 'Jack, don't it always?" Jazz quipped in return. "Our chief engineer got his hands on some cereal grain and attempted to distill it into what humans call 'corn liquor' to see if he could refine that into organic energon."
"I... see," Perceptor replied, his optics slightly wide, doubtlessly imagining how said attempt might've gone.
"I think the twins got his still after he was banned from ever trying it again," Spike offered, kneeling to examine the pepper plants. His hands delved through green leaves and gently cradled a red bell pepper, snapping it cleanly off its stem. The fruit practically glowed in the sunlight. He grinned, raising it to show it off to Bumblebee.
"Been meanin' to ask you," Jazz commented, "what's the 'V' over the gate for?"
Sparkplug sat back on his heels and exchanged a glance with his son. "It's kind of a Witwicky family tradition," he started. "Back in the forties, before I was born, America got involved in World War Two. To support the war effort and free up supplies for the troops, people grew vegetable gardens in their yards. They were called victory gardens. So that's 'V' for vegetable, but it's also 'V' for victory," he explained.
"After all," Spike said, "we're in a war now too."
V For Victory
by K. Stonham
prereleased 30th May 2008
Off to one side of the Ark, up the slope of Mt. St. Hilary just enough to be out of the way of large robotic feet, was a garden. Perceptor took note of it as soon as he stepped outside of the crashed spaceship, viewing for the first time this alien world he and his comrades had been stranded on. It was quite clearly not a natural phenomenon; the plants were in neatly ordered squares of levelled soil, carefully tied to stakes, winding their way skyward with artificial assistance. Additionally, he considered as he walked over to take a closer look, they did not seem to be compatible with the other flora in the area.
"I beg your pardon, Hound," he asked one of the longer-awake Autobots who happened to be nearby, "but this is not a natural formation, is it?"
"What? Oh," Hound said, chuckling as he realized what Perceptor was referring to. "No. That's Sparkplug's garden."
"Garden...?" Perceptor inquired, cross-referencing the concept with the specimen gardens scientists had long kept on Cybertron. The biggest, and most famous, was the Hanging Crystal Gardens of Praxus, but there had been many, many others, educational tools all. Perhaps these Earth natives weren't so different from Cybertronians after all.
"Yeah. He uses it to grow fuel for himself and Spike. Pretty neat to watch and help out with sometimes." Hound grinned. "Word of advice: human food plants can be pretty fragile, so it's best to ask before helping. Brawn accidentally squashed a tomato plant last year and still feels guilty about it."
Perceptor blinked. "Fuel...?" he repeated blankly, looking at the plants. He'd known that organic lifeforms couldn't process energon, and granted the human species by and large were only the size of Cassettes, but still... the caloric content of this patch of greenery surely wasn't enough to sustain one native, let alone two!
Sparkplug grunted, digging with his dibble to loosen the root of the weed so he could yank it out and toss it onto the compost pile. It was a tough sucker and clung tenaciously to the ground, but after a minute of man-versus-greenery struggle, he triumphed and pulled it loose. With a satisfied smile he let it fly. "Hide behind my lettuce, will you?" he asked rhetorically.
"Heh." Jazz let a laugh from where he was sitting on the rocks, watching and acting as shade. "You really hate those weeds, don't'cha, Sparkplug?"
"Hate, no. Get annoyed with, yes," Sparkplug replied, wiping his forehead with an arm. He looked up at the blazing May sun. "Think it's about time to drag out the shade covering for this year," he postulated. The lettuce had been mostly in the shade of the tomato plants, but the arid heat was finally starting to get to it and the plants would be bolting soon, gone until early fall and cooler weather came back again. A sun filter over the beds would give the rest of the garden some relief in the punishing desert summer, though.
"Wicked cool," Jazz said. "I'll get it for you in a bit. Wish I could help more, but...." He spread his hands and shrugged helplessly. Sparkplug couldn't help grinning. Gardening was one thing most of the Autobots couldn't do. For the most part their hands were simply too big to be able to grasp weeds and their sense of texture not fine enough to be able to avoid squishing ripe tomatoes. The minibots could do some things, but the thought of Cliffjumper trying to weed a bed of peas was laughable. He'd probably end up blasting holes in the ground to get rid of the invaders.
"Not a problem, Jazz," he assured the 3IC. "Some things a man's gotta do for himself."
"Utterly fascinating," Perceptor muttered to himself, poking carefully at a cornstalk. "This is perhaps the most inefficient design for species reproduction that I have ever encountered."
"Hey, don't knock it if it works, Percy," Jazz advised.
"Humans have been cultivating corn for thousands of years," Sparkplug agreed. "It seems to be effective."
"But it could be improved!" the Cybertronian scientist insisted.
"Nuh-uh," Spike retorted, arriving at the garden with Bumblebee in tow. "No messing with our food system, Perceptor. Wheeljack's bad enough!"
Perceptor straightened slightly, looking at Spike as the teenager opened the gate with its hanging "V" sign overhead. Bumblebee followed him inside, ducking slightly to clear the arch. "Dare I inquire what Wheeljack attempted?"
"Heh. Let's just say it involved explosions," Bumblebee replied, placing his feet carefully between the beds.
"With 'Jack, don't it always?" Jazz quipped in return. "Our chief engineer got his hands on some cereal grain and attempted to distill it into what humans call 'corn liquor' to see if he could refine that into organic energon."
"I... see," Perceptor replied, his optics slightly wide, doubtlessly imagining how said attempt might've gone.
"I think the twins got his still after he was banned from ever trying it again," Spike offered, kneeling to examine the pepper plants. His hands delved through green leaves and gently cradled a red bell pepper, snapping it cleanly off its stem. The fruit practically glowed in the sunlight. He grinned, raising it to show it off to Bumblebee.
"Been meanin' to ask you," Jazz commented, "what's the 'V' over the gate for?"
Sparkplug sat back on his heels and exchanged a glance with his son. "It's kind of a Witwicky family tradition," he started. "Back in the forties, before I was born, America got involved in World War Two. To support the war effort and free up supplies for the troops, people grew vegetable gardens in their yards. They were called victory gardens. So that's 'V' for vegetable, but it's also 'V' for victory," he explained.
"After all," Spike said, "we're in a war now too."
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no subject
Date: 2008-05-31 02:41 pm (UTC)*snerks* And seeing that, as part of my vacation road-trip, I stopped by the Jack Daniel's distillery, I can totally imagine the havoc Wheeljack created trying to make moonshine.
*snerks*
Now I'm picturing him and Perceptor taking that tour and trying to suggest ways to "improve" the age-old process. I don't think it would go well.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 05:08 am (UTC)