[rd][fic][Transformers] Texture 4/6

[sakon76]

Texture 4/6 - Velvet
by K. Stonham
prereleased 6th June 2008

The spark shocked him into a muzzy wakefulness. The snap of energy tingled, an unaccustomed sensation. He heard the murmur of something--a voice? He couldn't quite muster up the energy to make it out. Then his door closed and there was the sound, the impression, of someone walking away. Who, he didn't know. It was all foggy, lost in a misty haze. Where he was, who that was, what was happening... he didn't know and he didn't care anymore. He waited for himself, his awareness, to drift away again as it should. With the bond that anchored him to the universe snapped, it was the only natural outcome.

He waited.

Eventually, when the planet's moon was high in the sky, he realized it wasn't happening. Surprised, shocked even, at this realization, his engine started and he nearly bolted, but....

No. Best to stay under whatever cover he'd apparently found here, and suss out the situation. He needed information before he could act. Where was he? What was going on?

When was it?

Wherever he was, it had an information web streaming through the air. He opened a connection, and started sifting through it for what he needed to know.

*

The planet was small and blue, third from the star designated as "Sol," with three-quarters of its surface covered with corrosive saline oceans. In them, as on the land surfaces, the dominant form of life was carbon-based organics. There was (arguably) only a single sentient species on the planet, one called "humans." They resembled miniature Cybertronians to a small degree, being symmetrical, bipedal, and expressing complex chains of both rational thought and emotional fluctuation. They dreamed of exquisite beauty and committed acts of vile deformity; they were in contact with the Autobots, and the Decepticons were reviled.

He remembered landing on this planet, vaugely. It had been a while ago. A quarter vorn, perhaps? It had come after he'd felt himself being ripped apart.

There were informational sites, contact information, sightings lists, intangible memorials.

He had a faint impression of staggering to cover, like someone who had imbibed too much highgrade. He'd obviously managed to find a camouflage before the empty world had faded away from him.

There were lists of the dead, names whispered into the velvet silence of that which no longer was.

There were dreams of almost-waking but never piercing that surface. Like a mech without audio intakes trying to parse sound vibrations... just moving enough to help when needed, he stabbed a blind guess.

There was the name that had taken the universe away with him, only a quarter-vorn ago.

*

Jason approached Faithful just a touch warily the next morning and opened the driver's side door. "You gonna zap me again?" he asked. No answer. With a sigh he got in and buckled up, adjusted the mirrors and put the key in the ignition. "I know you're not just a car, you know," he said before turning the key. "So if you wanna give me your name at any point, I kinda doubt it's 'Old Faithful.' But I ain't got anything else to call you until you speak up." Still no reply. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned the key.

The Vic roared out of the lot as he started the patrol.

It was a slow day, almost peaceful, with only a handful of robberies to report and two domestic violence calls to get in the middle of. For the most part Jason forgot about the car and what it wasn't, especially when talking down a boyfriend with a knife. There were just sudden moments when he got back in the car and wondered, hand frozen on the wheel, if it could feel him. Or if, maybe, he was going crazy. Not like people the world over hadn't been mildly suspicious of cars and trucks and planes and, hell, all technology for the past twenty years. There'd even been a popular name coined in the media for the alien-loonies: "'droid dementia." He didn't think he had it, but then, probably none of them did either.

The sun was low and casting the sky golden by the time he pulled back into the lot, and he sighed as he turned the engine off. The dispatch radio popped and buzzed as Cherise directed the cars to calls, but there was no other sound. Well, if he concentrated there was the ticking of the car's metal as it cooled, the low rush of street traffic, and a soft whoo-who of a bird nested somewhere in the locust along the fence.

An unfamiliar voice from the radio caught his drifting attention. He blinked at it, shifting up a little straighter. Cherise's voice went in and out under waves of lulling static. "What...?" Jason asked, reaching for the radio. As he touched the receiver it squawked loudly at him and he jumped back, startled, like he'd been bit. The static swirled lowly for a minute, then coalesced into a grainy voice.

"Prowl," Faithful said.

"Prowl?" Jason asked dumbly. Then, "That's your name?"

The engine revved once without the key turning over, and Jason wondered just what, if anything he should tell Fanzone. Maybe he should just wait? "Nice to meet you, Prowl. I'm Jason Marsh."

Comments

[meallanmouse.livejournal.com]

Shiny. *happy sigh* So very shiny.

[therhoda.livejournal.com]

Oh i like it, that he remembered.

[mmouse15.livejournal.com]

What a fabulous way to bring Prowl in, and you write his scenes so well. *bounces* I can hardly wait for the next one! I really love how this is developing...

[gundamangel.livejournal.com]

There was the name that had taken the universe away with him, only a quarter-vorn ago.

I almost cried right there. Great story by the way, love the rookie.

[okami-myrrhibis.livejournal.com]

Love the way you've been writing this... and the "memories" of Jazz *sob*

[tainry.livejournal.com]

Oooh, lovely!

There were lists of the dead, names whispered into the velvet silence of that which no longer was.
Prowl's mindscape is particularly beautiful. Well done!