From the first moment Carly had heard of them, she'd been fascinated by the Autobots. Part of it was her engineering bent--an entire species of real, live robots! She wanted nothing more than to figure out how they worked and what their tech was like. Part of it was the fact that she was a sci-fi fan; Star Wars had hooked her on the idea of life on other planets, and here it was on hers! But a major part of her interest in the aliens, she had to admit, was that they were women.
Giant, alien, robotic women warriors and leaders and scientists. And no one gave them crap for being women, or telling them that something was beyond their understanding, or that girls didn't study certain subjects....
She'd wanted, with all her heart, nothing more than to meet them and maybe, maybe, in the back corner of her dreams and wishes and hopes where she stuffed everything she thought would never really happen, maybe she could learn from them and be as awesome as they were.
Because after seeing Reagan on TV gingerly shaking the hand of Optimus Prime, and seeing 8 o'clock news footage of Prowl co-ordinating a human/Autobot military attack on Decepticons....
The robotic women ("femmes," they called themselves) from outer space could do anything they set their minds to. And Carly, and any number of other girls she knew, were not going to be left behind.
*
Carly let the doors to the washracks slide closed behind her with a sigh. It had been a very long day calibrating the auto-defense targeting system for Autobot City, and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in some hot water.
And she loved Spike dearly, but sometimes it was just nice to be able to foist their five-year-old son off onto him and Sparkplug, letting the men order pizza and watch football or monster truck rallies or whatever it was they did, while she went off and bonded with her girlfriends.
Not quite what you asked for, probably....
Giant, alien, robotic women warriors and leaders and scientists. And no one gave them crap for being women, or telling them that something was beyond their understanding, or that girls didn't study certain subjects....
She'd wanted, with all her heart, nothing more than to meet them and maybe, maybe, in the back corner of her dreams and wishes and hopes where she stuffed everything she thought would never really happen, maybe she could learn from them and be as awesome as they were.
Because after seeing Reagan on TV gingerly shaking the hand of Optimus Prime, and seeing 8 o'clock news footage of Prowl co-ordinating a human/Autobot military attack on Decepticons....
The robotic women ("femmes," they called themselves) from outer space could do anything they set their minds to. And Carly, and any number of other girls she knew, were not going to be left behind.
Carly let the doors to the washracks slide closed behind her with a sigh. It had been a very long day calibrating the auto-defense targeting system for Autobot City, and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in some hot water.
And she loved Spike dearly, but sometimes it was just nice to be able to foist their five-year-old son off onto him and Sparkplug, letting the men order pizza and watch football or monster truck rallies or whatever it was they did, while she went off and bonded with her girlfriends.