Fictionary 2

[Andy Turnbull]

This picture is entitled The Once and Future Thing.

Andy

[The Doctor]

Five billion years ago, they came from Cybertron One, a world composed entirely of machinery...a world torn by age-old war between they who called themselves the 'heroic' Autobots and their enemies, the 'evil' Decepticons. These incredibly powerful living robots, capable of converting themselves into land and air vehicles, weapons and other mechanical forms, continue their conflict throughout the ends of time and the wastes of space. They are...THE TRANSFORMERS.

THE ESCAPE
Written by Ralph Burns.

CAPTAIN DAN AND CREWMAN BILL
“So, why do they call it 'deep space'? What exactly is so 'deep' about it? I mean, I can look at a puddle and say 'oooh, that's deep', but space? Who looked at it and thought depth was a good way to describe it? I mean, really. I've been thinking a lot about this recently and it doesn't make any sense at all.”
“You think too much, Bill. Now hand me the damn beer. A cold one this time.”

ARTICLE 4 (ABSTRACT)
'In the event of incursion by Enemy forces, all citizens shall proceed immediately via broadband transmission to Planet Falkirk's central port, Tesco. If Tesco has been destroyed as a direct result of the initial assault, citizens should therefore progress to McDonalds where trained staff shall be ready to guide them aboard the deep space survival ship. An appropriate child shall be selected, no older than five standard years, within minute 1 of Article 4 being initiated and plugged into the main transportation bay, where using Adams' formula for tracking how children perceive time (namely, the younger they are, the more time appears to slow), time shall be slowed to the perceptual equivalent of 3 years old for all aboard. Thus, all citizens shall age one month per standard year while on board. High Command statistics (see subsection alpha///555///689+cat) clearly show this shall provide for sufficient mission time for escape ship to clear enemy space. All non-essential systems shall be shut down once ship has escaped Planet's gravitational well and course has been plotted and engaged for safe harbour beyond enemy forces. Silent running protocols shall be in full effect. Under no circumstances must the microwave ovens, televisions or radios be activated onboard ship, so as to identify ship location to enemy forces.
By minute 1.332 of Article 4 initiation, the ships' central processor shall select the two citizens charged with watching over the populace as they 'sleep' (relative term). They shall be re-programmed with personalities suited to those befitting a Captain and one crewmember (for any additional duties as required in the event of the Captain being incapacitated, as recommended by Government Liaison Davidson), equipped with hazard pay at rate 4.5 and assigned new names so as to suppress any distress involved. Should the Captain and crewmember survive to disembarkment at Colony Blackpool (current designated safe harbour as defined by Policy Attachment 1984//Tower//ArkY1), vouchers amounting to no more than 20 Olde England pounds for either Tesco or McDonalds shall be issued (dependant on the origination of home port). Tobacco products, pornographic material or apples shall not be purchased with vouchers.
May (insert deity of choice here) watch over them and may we not live to see this Article be invoked. This abstract is also available in Braille, Cantonese, Binary and Interlac.'

THROUGH THE PORTHOLE
"Have you ever wondered which faction it is?"
"Dunno, Bill. I just watch over the boat. That's all I do. Watch over the boat."
"So many flashes of fire out there...I can't even see the local sun. Wonder why they fight so much. Hey, which sun did we pass the other day? You know, on Tuesday."
"Dunno."
"We could look it up on the Spectrum. I've got the old tape deck working. You know, I've been doing some reading and it seems kinda odd that the main computer operates with magnetic tape. Something about that is buzzing at the back of my brain but I just can't pin it down."
"Dunno. Hey, look. The big green one just blew up. Took out twenty stragglers. At last, some excitement."
"It's always exciting, Bill! We've been passing through the front line for – what – couple of weeks now? Mad stuff. Just wish I could work out which side is which. Think they ever have any feelings about what they're doing?"
"Don't be daft. I'm going to get another beer. You want one?"
"Nah. I'm going to watch for a while yet. I can't help but wonder if they'll ever see us."

THE FIRST TRANSMISSION
On deck 4, beside the automated library system, an ancient television flared into startled life. Analogue of course, after the Digital Broadcast Incursions in the dying days of the Second Humanian Empire/Cybertronian War. White noise filtered across the dusty screen. Immediately, an alarm sounded on the Bridge. Bill was in his bunk sleeping so it was down to Dan to answer the computer alarm, swearing violently. He had been trying to get some shut-eye himself but he was supposed to be the 'Captain', even if his job appeared to amount to little more than answering computer alerts. The majority of core ship operations were outwith his direct control. He had not been given the knowledge to affect essential ship-board functions such as navigation. Even the answering of computer alarms did not require direct human intervention. He suspected it was just to to give him something to do. He felt like a cosmic janitor.
Dan took the stairs. The ship design eschewed the usual onboard travel chutes and lifts to delay incursion forces and also to force the crew to take more exercise. He took his time, munching on a toffee donut as he went. He sighed as he came up to the TV. No doubt the transfer protocols from the library were on the blink again. That would explain the white noise. Probably knackered after Bill was farting about in the library that afternoon. Dan couldn't see the point of education. It just filled the mind with ideas that could never be fulfilled. What was the point in distressing yourself so much?
Dan reached for the screwdriver from his tool-belt when a picture briefly flashed up on screen. He stopped cold. He stood stock still for quite some time staring at the TV but all there was now was static. Surely he must have imagined it? It was hard to tell. The television sets (as well as the radios) were not supposed to be switched on anyway!
Dan backed away.
He was about to just leave the corridor when the picture from before flashed up again. No audio, thankfully. It was an image of one of them. The micro metal men. It was kneeling down against a checkered background (of course, it had to be checkered) and most insidiously of all, a prostrate human hand from just off-screen was reaching out for it...
Clearly the micro metal man had fostered some kind of relationship with the mostly unseen human. The human hand held a sword, apparently knighting (honouring?) the enemy.
Dan ran. The image was the most frightening thing he had ever seen in his life. As he rounded a corner, the screen winked out. Static ruled supreme once more.

WELCOME ABOARD THE 'S.S. BIRMINGHAM'
The piped music droned endlessly in its manufactured cheeriness. Dan wished he could switch it off but that would have violated Operations Protocol alpha/1//4//dog.2 and would have stripped him of at least 2p to the pound for each hour of paid duty. He ran a computer search for the music. It was an old Earth tune named 'Kingston Town' by UB40. It irritated him, especially as it was mostly for his benefit. No doubt part of some way of making him feel welcome on the ship. He had also just woken up with his new personality. It hurt like hell and he wished paracetamol had not been banned. 'Oh kingston town, The place I long to be...' The words of the song pounded at his head, further aggravating him. He looked round. All around him as far as the eye could see in a vast silver chamber which extended beyond the horizon, people were slowly running down, adjusting to perceptual time. A fixed smile adorned their faces as they serenely changed into their pajamas and climbed into their beds, noticeably slowing down as they did so. Some children climbed into their beds with beloved soft toys or action figures. One child had a rare Garfield stuffed toy, worth more than some planets. Clearly, he had rich parents.
Of course, all of this was happening within less than one recorded second, but as Dan passed through the local perceptual time filter into real time in the ship beyond he saw it all and he felt nothing. His new programming had been done in somewhat of a rush, it would seem. He was desperate for a beer though. He wondered where the the booze was kept on this ship. Probably up on the bridge. He should get up there, see where the ship was in local space, what system it was traversing through..
'The night seems to fade, But the moonlight lingers on, There are wonders for everyone, The stars shine so bright, But they`re fading after dawn, There is magic in Kingston town.'
Night fell in the belly of the beast. The local inhabitants lay in their beds, their eyes open for they were not fully awake, their minds lost in some strange twilight state, pre-occupied with their own interests, the S.S.Birmingham a distant and foggy memory to them already. A few of the elderly were filling in some crosswords, very slowly. Perhaps they would reach '2 down' within the next decade.
By the time he reached the bridge, Captain Dan was fully awake and aware. He strode on to the bridge, most of his core re-programming now taking effect. He checked the ships' chart against the radar logs. They were making good progress, no sign of any enemy forces following, though their was a risk the ship could fall through the local front line in space in 2-3 years. Perhaps he should-
There was a polite knock on the door to the bridge. Dan opened it. A tall lanky man with a wide grin stood behind it. "Hullo! You must be the Captain? I'm Crewman Bill. Sorry it took me a while to get here. Got distracted. Fascinating ship. Oh, and I have some beer. Found it in a fridge in the mess. So...can I come in?"
'And when I am king, Surely I would need a queen, And a palace and everything, yeah. And now I am king, And my queen will come at dawn, She`ll be waiting in Kingston town.'

THE RADIO
Dan had not been happy when all the ship-board televisions had repeatedly switched themselves on, usually randomly displaying the sight of the same sickening micro metal man as before. Predictably, Bill had protested, pointing out that he had especially enjoyed watching ancient episodes of 'Happy Days' in the library on the television sets there. They had helped divert him thinking about the robot men fighting each other all around the ship as it hurtled silently through space. Bill also pointed out that he had never seen the transmissions that upset Dan so much.
The Captain had banished Bill to the garden for a while after one particularly heated argument, knowing full well that would inflame Bill's hay fever. Both men in general spent less time with each other. Ship operations, for the most part, functioned fairly efficiently anyway, so there was little need for direct contact.
On this day, which was a Sunday, Dan was in his favourite chair on the bridge, listening to the soundtrack from an old Earth One motion picture, 'Top Gun', on the radio. He had the bridge porthole covered up. He had grown tired of the stars and the occasional flashes of fire from the conflict, showing no sign of abating nor of the edge-point being reached. The radar had as yet not shown clear space ahead, above, below or behind.
Dan cursed as he knocked his beer can over as he reached into his bag of Golden Wonder (archive edition) Smokey Bacon crisps. Foaming liquid spilled all over his black leather chair. He jumped up to fetch a towel from the dispenser. The song on the radio skipped a beat.
Dan began the task of moping down his beer. He had spilled more of it than he thought. His movements were somewhat clumsy. That had been his 8th can of the evening.
The song on the radio skipped another beat.
Finally, his task completed, Dan waddled over to the bin to shove his sodden towel into it. Just as he did so, the song on the radio stopped dead. Damn it, he needed some music – no, wait. He could still hear something, but it sounded very low in volume. The volume control was probably acting up. He turned the knob up and then heard much better. But there was no song. Merely the chanting of a voice over and over.
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!'
The voice of the micro metal men! Now they were talking to him too! Dan ran from the bridge and never paused for breath as he hurtled down the decks to the mess. He flung himself at the far wall and turned on the radio there.
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!'
Dan switched the radio off at once and ran to his own quarters, just behind the engines on deck three. Out of breath, he sagged on to his bed. He had to be imagining this. Perhaps he had consumed too much beer, but it was hard to tell. He liked his beer. He needed it to function. It was hard for him to recall a time when he had not. He simply sat there for a while, the panic in his mind and body slowly subsiding. Yeah, yeah, just feeling a bit stressed. Hard to think straight, probably just imagining things. Probably nothing. Bit of music would help calm him. He switched on the radio above his bunk. There was nothing. No voice. He began to relax and poured himself a drink. Just a simple radio glitch. Easy enough to fix -
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!'
Dan ran from his room screaming. He was not fully aware of where he was and where he was going, his mind filled with primitive urges beyond his control to take flight, to escape any way he could. He had to get away. As he pelted down stark corridors, the internal ship loudspeakers activated, amping up the volume on all the ship-board radios.
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!'
Dan rounded the corner into the garden, sobbing. His head in his hands, he very slowly and carefully sat down under a bush. Crewman Bill was standing nearby in the centre of a clearing, his head to one side, completely fascinated by the voice being broadcast over and over.
Then, it stopped.

BELIEF SYSTEMS
"Do you believe in God, Dan? I do, I really really do. I've been reading about Him in all these old books in the library. I mean, now that you've thrown all the radios and TV's out the airlocks. All I have left are books."
"We have a library? Bill, we lost that section of the ship five encounters ago."
"Oh, oh. Really? Wow. Hadn't been down there for a while, had stashed a big pile of old books in my quarters. I still believe in God though. He watches over us, guides us in our actions, gives us moral meaning in our lives. Don't you think?"
"Yeah. Sure. Which one are you talking about anyway?"
"You know, the proper one. The one that looked after Earth One."
"Uh-huh, and look what happened to that! Look, Bill. You're being daft. There is no 'God'. Just a tool designed to give comfort to simple minds. That's what you are, Bill. You're simple. You just know this life. I'm not supposed to remember the time before, remember the War. But I do. That survived my re-programming on this damned ship. I remember it all. I remember the great famine, the purgers, the torture brigades. What people will turn into, what they will transform into, when all around them is nothing but horror, when they are deprived of external points of view, when all there is to feed the mind is propaganda...oh my. You...you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
"I wish you wouldn't mock my faith."
"Faith! Hah! There is no faith here. Just beer. Now go and fetch another one, would you? I felt myself in danger of genuine emotion there. Can't have that. Oh, and switch off the radar for a bit. I don't need to see the metal men fighting today. I don't want to remember. It hurts."
-------
CONTINUED IN NEXT POST

[The Doctor]

CONT FROM PREVIOUS POST
--------

THE LAST TRANSMISSION
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
Bleep!
Dan woke up with a jolt. He had fallen asleep in his chair on the bridge again. He pushed empty beer cans from his lap and rubbed his eyes. Damn, he felt so tired. After several minutes, his bleary eyes focused on the main radar screen. It was registering an aberrant reading, off the port side. Oh, his head! It felt larger than a melon, whatever one of them was. He wondered why that word had floated to the top of his mind. Dim memories... He jumped up and down and stretched his emaciated arms, trying to put some life into himself. Really should eat more.
Eventually, Dan focused on the screen. There should have been an apparently random selection of green dots against a black screen, which to the trained eye represented various bodies in motion in the local star system. And yes, there were dots but something about their location bothered him. Something about their placement bothered him. He took a step back to have a fresh look at the screen. At which point his mind joined the dots. They were showing him a picture.
It was a picture of a micro metal man. It was kneeling down against a checkered background and most insidiously of all, a prostrate human hand from just off-screen was reaching out for it...
Other dots swirled around underneath the picture, slowly forming words and those words phonetically spelled out what the Captain had heard before, both long ego and every night in his dreams.
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!'

'THE MICRO-WAR ON PLANET FOUR!' (A REPORT FROM THE 'DAILY ORCHESTRA', DATED 80/1/332)
'Micromasters!' That's what we call them! Scourges of civilised humanian worlds across the fourth parallel! Human sized robots from the robot planets of evil! More like us than they can possibly know! Obviously designed for infiltration and replacement maneuvers, these insidious spawns of evil decimated the remote colony world of Planet Four yesterday, as reported directly from High Command itself! Current details are sketchy but it is reported that the enemy forces landed shortly after lunchtime and immediately began pillaging key energy resources along the shoreline at New Cornwall. Our troops immediately engaged, valiantly ignoring the sinister cries of the Micromasters (said to translate into ''MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN! MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!' when translated from the Binary). Our troops easily routed the assault! Eye-witness reports concur! "Our boys were magnificent against the micro menace!" said Julia Thorne, 33, resident of 80 Acacia Avenue, "They never let up! Even when the micro robot men transformed into their attack modes, our troops struck back with anti-missile batteries! Sadly, the ice-cream factory fell in the first assault, but we must all make sacrifices in the War effort!"
Yes, we must! Hero of the battle of Iacon's Shadow, Field Marshall McV had this to say: "We will prevail, we will never give up. What happened to Saturn must never happen to our green and pleasant shores! Even now our..." (cont on page 4).

THE CAPTAIN SAYS GOODBYE
Bill tended carefully to the rose bushes. He loved being in the garden. So peaceful, and such a contrast from what was going on outside the artificial environment of the ship. Here, he could feel safe. Here, he did not feel truly alone. He laboured long into the afternoon until the upsetting noises from his stomach informed him that it might be a good idea to get some food. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to check in on Dan, see if he wanted anything to eat. He had been increasingly withdrawn since he had ordered the radar systems be smashed, without reasonable explanation. He seemed to spend all his time cocooned within the bridge these days. Yeah, time to check in with Dan. Perhaps he could be tempted by ravioli. Nothing could be gained from ruminating on what were no doubt stray transmissions from the enemy forces endlessly fighting outside. Ghost voices and images from those who perhaps never truly lived...
But Bill soon found that Dan was not on the bridge. There was, however, a note pinned to the back of his favourite chair. Bill snatched it up quickly. It was not like the Captain to leave notes. He read it quickly, for there was not much text upon the note. Simply and starkly, it read: 'I'm going outside now. I may be some time.'
The Crewman was puzzled. What on Earth One could his friend mean by that? Best to run a quick check on the ships's power output to give some indication where the Captain might be. Maybe Dan had just had too much beer that day and had gone for a swim or was mucking about on the football pitch.
No, no drain on ships' resources, except for the airlock on deck 4.
The airlock on deck 4!
Bill ran as fast as he could but when he got there he knew at once that he was too late. The transparent inner door was closed, the outer door on a 12 second countdown to opening. Warning klaxons blared. Bill hammered on the inner door. Dan was inside the airlock chamber. He was not wearing a protective suit. At the sound of the dull thud of his crewmates fist, he turned and smiled weakly, his upper lip trembling slightly. He saluted sharply.
Then the outer door cycled open and the air and Captain Dan rushed out. His body banged against the side of the outer door on exit, damaging its ability to fully lock.
Bill cried out once, but Dan was gone. He was gone.
And now Bill was all alone.

WHAT DAN WROTE IN HIS DIARY, AGED 16
The occupation force finally left today, driven back by the defenders from Edinburger. Mother invited many of them into our house for medical aid. It seemed only fair, she said, as we have the largest compound in the area. It's good to see the enemy finally gone, though the news feeds say they may be headed for planet 4. Hopefully, Dave can get out in time. Dad says he can come here if his shuttle arrives before the curfew. Hope so. Got a lot of time for Dave, even if he can defeat me in Connect 4, which is just not acceptable. Dave is a bit fond of a tipple though, going by his letters, which is a bit daft. I'll wire him a story after church if I get time later. Think I might ask Dave out. Need to think about it a bit more. Got something on my mind.
After dinner, one of the soldiers showed me a picture. He smelled a bit so I kinda didn't take notice of him at first but he persisted. Seemed kinda manic, I guess the fighting really took it out of him. He said it was a digital printout of an image intended for propaganda (some kind of enemy plan to downsize themselves and integrate human parts with their bodies), hardwired directly into one of the metal creatures central brain-cores. Said it showed one of the 'micro metal men' front line enemy forces. They had a thing for shouting 'MICROOO-MAAAAN!' or something like that. Anyhow, the picture showed one of the micro metal men. It was kneeling down against a checkered background (of course, it had to be checkered, what with that being a graphical representation of how they planned to fuse our life with theirs) and most insidiously of all, a prostrate human hand from just off-screen was reaching out for it...
Clearly the micro metal man had some kind of relationship with the mostly unseen human. The human hand held a sword, apparently knighting (honouring?) the enemy.
As soon as I saw the image, I felt a kind of primal disgust within me. It was the most frightening thing I have ever seen. I actually was physically sick! The solider seemed really sorry for me. He put his hand on my shoulder and said something like "It's alright, son, we forced them off this rock. They aren't coming back." Not sure, I wasn't really listening that hard at the time.
Thing is, they're talking about further attacks on the news. Maybe even conscription. The opinion pollsters say there are millions of the micro metal men out there lurking in space (hell, even President Bartlett looked rattled at the last State of the Nation address). Word is, they may even fight each other as well as us! It must be mental out there.
I hope I never have to go into space.

BILL VERSUS THE MONSTERS
The ship was blind. No radar, it tumbled down through space.
Then, one day, there was a knock on the outside of the damaged outer door to the airlock on deck 4. Of course, there was no one to hear this sound, for sound does not carry in a vacuum, but it was perceived nonetheless by those who entered and by the ships's proximity alert which blared long and hard before being silenced.
In his quarters, Bill looked up from his book on the history of China. The ships' computer had passed the alert directly to him. He touched a wall-mounted control panel for additional information, not fully conscious of what he was doing, for his shipboard programming was taking control of his body and mind at this particular moment. Full alert protocols were engaged. Bulkheads slammed down throughout the ship, protecting key systems and -
The control panel winked out. Bill raised his left eyebrow. Now that was unexpected. He wondered what he would do, then his own personality re-asserted itself as the core re-programming faltered, having encountered an unexpected event.
Perhaps he could check the internal radar. No, the late Captain Bill had destroyed that system at the same time as he had knocked out the external radar. No way to check what was going on without having a good look through fine old-fashioned human eyes.
Bill stepped gingerly out of his quarters into the silent and grey corridor beyond. If there were intruders aboard, where could they be? Where was a logical place to head directly for? The bridge? The engines? The humans down below in their quasi-rest? Bill pondered these thoughts and more as he strode down the quiet corridor and turned the corner.
Two micro metal men stood there, patiently, in front of the stairway. Of course, they had tracked his body heat! It would register more strongly than those of the humans down below, even if some of them were very ponderously filling in reproductions of history's finest Logical Puzzler magazines.
Bill had no weapons, so all he could do was stand there and stare. His eyes searched for the tell-tale faction insignias, the red or purple markings that would alert him to which race now stood within this stronghold of the human race, but the metal warriors' bodies were pocked and marred by the heat of zero gravity battle and he was unable to tell which faction they belonged to. He wondered idly if they would shout the battle cry that Dan had shouted more than once during his drunken rages. He waited, for there was nothing else he could do.
'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!' shouted the one of the left after an interminable period, but then who really knew how such creatures perceived time? 'MIIIIIII-CAR-OOOOO-MAAAN!' concurred the one on the right.
Then, something remarkable happened. With a harsh metallic grinding, the chest plates of each robotic warrior opened up and smaller metal man in armoured suits clambered out and jumped down to the deck. Their boots clinged to the corridor floor as they landed with powerful metallic force. They gazed ahead without apparent expression or emotion.
Bill wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't the Captain! What was he do to? Shoot them with weapons he did not possess? The weapons locker was two decks above him, he would never reach it in time before being cut down by the strange intruders. He had never seen the like of them before and despite the mortal danger that he was in, he could not help but be fascinated. What new evolution in the enemy race was this?
Time slowed to a crawl, seeming to go on forever...
Then, as one, the two diminutive magnetic warriors raised their left arm and pointed them at Crewman Bill, their index fingers raised. Uncanny avatars. For in every way they resembled a human yet with a metal sheen to them. Sad eyes gazed endlessly forward. One was coloured all in red from head to foot, one all in blue.
'DIE! A! CLONE!' they intoned in a flat high pitch. No emotion betrayed their intent.
'Clone?' thought Bill. What could that mean, what -
It was only in that moment that Bill's mind fully registered the resemblance between the small magnetic men and himself. They looked just like humans with a metallic covering. The enemy forces clearly wished to replace humans with creatures of their own design! The...the 'Diaclone' men had come. They had some sort of magnetic power...possibly copied from old Earth One computer systems like Spectrum computer tape decks? Had this ship been under surveillance for some time? Bill had to stop them. He owed it to his race. He was no hero, but he had to try. After all, who else was there?
'DIE! A! CLONE!'
Bill ran back from whence he had came, opening up bulkheads ahead of him and closing them behind him as fast as he was able. Yet the creatures were astonishing in their speed, running every bit as fast as him and smashing through the bulkheads with powerful fists as if they were made of paper. Bill lead them on a trail of destruction through the depths of the ship, past essential core systems and through long and empty corridors, passageways and stairwells. Yet, as he had guessed, the Diaclone men never wavered in their pursuit, never deviated to attack the ship. They wanted him. Perhaps to study him so as to improve their design? Bill would never know.
And then, the race ended, here in the belly of the ship, where humanity slowly aged at the perceptual pace of a small child. Bill opened the entrance door to them, made of out of solid oak for charm, and wavered on the doorstep. Within, he could see several humans in ultra-slow motion gather round a headstone for a funeral service. He hoped God looked favourably on whoever had passed away during the long voyage to Colony Blackpool. Bill had to have faith. His faith informed him, helped him make sense of his world. Not for the first time, Bill lamented that Dan had known nothing constructive to help him make sense of his own world. Bill could only guess as to what had happened to him in his past and how the transmissions from abroad had affected him. He hoped that he had found a peace of sorts.
'DIE! A! CLONE!'
And here they were. Standing before him. They were not in any rush, for of course they could not tire. Could they, Bill wondered, feel anything at all? Humanian Empire propaganda would say no, but of course it would. But then, here on the cusp of many frontiers, there was always hope.
Bill held out his hand in a gesture of peace. As expected, he was ignored, but it was worth a try. The heads of the Diaclone men silently swiveled round to peer through the door at the slow-moving humans beyond, in a world literally of their own and not of theirs. By now, with this proximity, they would have detected the previously carefully hidden heat signatures of those humans. Bill had done some tinkering in the few seconds lead time he had had available to him.
"Please, don't," whispered Crewman Bill, but of course the Diaclone men ignored him. With mechanical precision, they strode directly past him in pursuit of the greatest prize: all of the humans behind the oak door. Within, one of the funeral attendees appeared to wink at the Diaclone men as they entered...
...and stopped.
Or appeared to stop. For clearly they had been made to emulate humanity too well and were now within the power of the perceptual time field, helpless to move any faster than the humans within. All six billion of them. Bill began to close the door. He figured that with odds like those, he could trust the humans within to deal with the intruders. Perhaps there would be war. Perhaps there would be peace. He would not know and perhaps he shouldn't. Humanity had to help itself. And who was he? Just a Crewman? Perhaps, but he was also an Acting Captain now. He spared a moment's thought for Anna, the young child whose perception of time now held the fate of all those aboard. Brave child.
The door closed with a satisfyingly loud 'THUNK!'.
And that was that. Perhaps the fighting outside continued. Perhaps the ship would fall through the enemy front line forever. There was no way to tell, with the radar systems destroyed beyond repair. All Bill could do was look after himself, and ensure no harm came to the passengers deep below, for they depended on him, and him alone now. He would monitor their progress from afar, relatively.
But first, he would do some gardening. Some stubborn rhododendrons needed sorting out. Bill looked forward to it. Such an activity soothed him, and it was important to stay relaxed. After all, it was his escape from the pressures, and privileges, of what his life had become.
'And when I am king, Surely I would need a queen, And a palace and everything, yeah, And now I am king.'

And the ship sailed on.

THE END

RB 15/06/07

-Ralph

[legios]

The Once and Future.......

Adapted and abridged from:

“The Once and Future Thing: Applications of pre-industrial social models to the understanding of Cybertronian Society”

by

Aisha M. McQueen

Much attention has previously been focused on the formally military aspect of Cybertronian society. Several authors have argued (Itano & Ishiguro(3055), Hayes et al(2998) that wartime and post-war Cybertronian society can best be understood with reference to the principle of military chains of command becoming ingrained in the population over extended periods of warfare, creating a society where the unit replaced the nation state as the primary source of identification (Itano & Ishiguro)

Although this model has provided valuable insights into some individual incidents in Cybertronian history – the events surrounding the catastrophic siege of Tornan, the earthbound Autobot's acceptance of Megatron's leadership in their early confrontation with Galvatron – it could be argued that other models provide a greater insight into the broader perspective of Cybertronian psychology and history. Whilst post-industrial models have tended to be those most commonly applied to the study of Cybertronian culture Lang and his co-authors observe that this is often driven by the sense that Cybertronians, as beings of a mechanical origin, could not help but be post-industrial in nature (Lang et al 3056). However, in many respects Cybertronian culture could be said to have become trapped in a pre-industrial state of development for the majority of its existence. Certainly, pre-war Cybertron with its semi-independent city-states linked by webs of trade and cultural exchange more resembled the early Zorraiel states, or Earth's Greek city-states than it did the Terran United States of America in its shortlived superpower era. However, whilst the Terran Athens, like the early Zanaxian Polities, was the first flowering on its world of the democratic experiment, Cybertron would find itself in the face of the stresses of warfare falling back on a different form of social organisation.

Cybertron would, over time, fall back on a social structure familiar from the myths of many worlds – Charismatic Feudalism. The Thalian Stormlords, the Rekinia of Verectis and the Round Table knights of Earth mythology all share certain characteristics with the way Autobot society developed during the Cybertronian wars.

Although in theory both Autobots and Decepticons were organised into regimented military units with clear chains of command and organisational structure the truth was rather different. In truth the glue that bound together both factions was a sense of loyalty and obligation to charismatic individuals. Whilst both sides professed loyalty to a set of ideals or principles their understanding of these principles was bound up with their expression by particular exemplar figures. In much the same way as kings and emperors in early feudal structures are seen as embodying their nations, these leader figures came to be the embodiment of their factions, and they became woven into the fundamental “mythology” of their faction. This, perhaps above all else, explains the both the strength and the fragility of Cybertronian war and post-war society.



The arrival of the Young King: Autobot Feudalism in the Early War era:

An example of this can be seen in the way that the wartime Autobot faction only truly coalesced once Optimus Prime emerged as a single figure of leadership. Whilst forces had fought under the Autobot banner since the opening phases of the war they had been directed by the High Council and had in many ways been Autobots second and loyalists of their home city-state first. That changed with the siege of Iacon. Although Prime could not be everywhere, and it is unlikely that he turned the tide of the war single-handed, as the popular accounts would suggest, he became a visible symbol of the Autobot faction. Very quickly a shift in loyalties began to take place. Whilst no formal oaths were sworn or debated a large proportion of the Autobot forces began to see themselves as loyal to Optimus as their leader rather than to the Council. Much of this was due to Optimus's own personality and the presence he exerted on the battlefield.

However, in many ways he had also ascended to a position much like that of an ancient king. Amongst many of the European peoples of Earth's medieval period kings were seen as elevated by their deity to rule over them as part of a kind of divine chain of command that ran from the creator of the world down to the lowliest agricultural worker. The king was selected by the deity and in turn the king selected a tier of rulers below him, rewarding them with lands and burdening them with responsibilities and tying them to him by personal fealty. Optimus Prime's status as bearer of the Matrix – an object held in reverence by many Autobots and believed by them to be directly connected to their creator deity Primus – gave him many of the trappings of the divinely-appointed king. Indeed, combined with Optimus Prime's increasing influence over military appointments, and his increasing tendency to hand-pick his immediate subordinates a pattern emerges that is increasingly similar to the feudal system. In being accepted by the Matrix it could be argued that Optimus Prime had indeed drawn the sword from the stone and been acclaimed the rightful king. In the eyes of the Autobots Optimus Prime became the expression of all that an Autobot was to strive to embody – he was more than their leader, he was the symbol of what they fought for and their “nation” was synonymous with Optimus.

The Death of the king: Arklaunch and the collapse of the Autobot army

And whilst the “king” lived and, metaphorically at least, sat upon the throne the system worked well indeed. However, like many feudal societies this arrangement possessed a fatal flaw – a point of vulnerability at the top of the heirachy. With Optimus' disappearance after Arklaunch the Autobots were left in disarray and their earlier gains quickly evaporated. It has been argued that this was a result of a loss of senior personnel and damage to the command integrity of the Autobot army (Hayes et al 2997). However, the Autobots had known from the beginning that Operation:Rockfall was a dangerous gambit, and that it exposed those going to extreme risk. As a result, although many of StrikeForce Alpha were members of the senior command echelons steps had been taken to “harden” the chain of command against their loss. Other officers were in place to maintain command continuity and contingency plans had been made should the last Ark fail to return. (Transcripts p1207-1320).

Nevertheless, with the disappearance of Optimus Prime the Autobots previously highly successful and competent military campaign collapsed. Why? To put it simply, because the king was dead and no mechanism existed to replace him. The situation was no different from that which overtook the Terran nation of Britain in mythology when its then king, Arthur, was absent from the throne. In the case of Arthur he was waylaid on foreign campaigns and effectively lost to his nation(McGloughlin & Turner 3000). The end result was that the unified nation he had created began to fragment. The Knights and Lords who made up the fundamental social structure of Britain were loyal to the king, their feudal lord. In the king's absence there was a vacuum at the head of their society and their forward impetus dissolved. In a similar manner the Autobots had come to invest Optimus Prime with the same kind of significance that Arthur held for Britain. They were loyal to the Autobot cause and Code certainly, but they were loyal to them as espoused by their Prime. He was the linchpin of the system and the focus of their first and strongest loyalty. His loss left a hollow space at the centre of the Autobot army, as if the heart had been torn from it. Is it then any wonder that the Autobots lost their focus and their war effort began to crumble and fragment. The king-figure that had held it together had vanished. Had Optimus been removed by dysfunction on the field of battle then perhaps the impact would not have been so severe. A new Prime might have arisen, a new king anointed by Primus around whom the Autobot's might have rallied. (As was to happen much later with the rise of Rodimus Prime). However, without the Matrix which might have confirmed this new hero-king such an eventuality was impossible. Whilst the Autobots fought valiantly they were accustomed to fighting for their vanished Prime and much of the heart had gone out of them. The Autobots were not of the nature to fight one another for the vacant throne – unlike the Decepticons who would do just that on several similar occasions. Instead the throne remained vacant, awaiting the return of the Prime, and the Autobots attempted to fight on under the guidance of secular leadership. But the heart had gone out of them, and the crushing defeat that sent them scuttling into the wainscoting was inevitable.

The level to which Autobot society had reformed itself around Optimus Prime in his role as hero-king can be seen from the way in which elements of the Autobot resistance preserved and revered his memory. Despite the fact that Prime and Strikeforce Alpha had fought alongside many of those in the Autobot resistance, and had been present on Cybertron in the living memory of the rest, nevertheless they swiftly took on the aspect of a pantheon of mythical heroes, commemorated as exemplars of the Autobot Code and representatives of a better time that had vanished into legend. Like the hero-kings of many worlds Optimus Prime died and yet did not die. With no wreckage or remains Prime was simultaneously dead and immortal and the everburning Matrix flame reinforced the hope that Prime, or his anointed successor still functioned somewhere out in the depths of space. The dark of space swallowed up Prime and his chosen warriors like the mists of Avalon swallowed Arthur or like Aquarion walking into the caverns of the sacred mountain of T'Zelig never to return. And in the same way as figures such as Arthur, Prime became the centre of a folk mythology. That Prime was merely gone, rather than destroyed, and would one day return to lead them to victory when the time was right became a widespread belief amongst the Autobot underground.

The King Reborn: The Prime's return and the Autobot Renaissance.

This then perhaps explains the dramatic effect that Prime's eventual return to Cybertron had on the resistance. A force that had been reduced to expending much of its efforts on simple survival seemed to be re-energised by his presence, finding new strength and courage from his mere presence. The presence of Optimus, their idealised warrior-king gave the scattered resistance cells a unifying common identify and drew the shattered remnants of the Autobot “kingdom” together. And later, without Optimus as a living symbol to which their loyalties attached – the liege lord to whom they owed their fealty it is unlikely that the Autobots would have rallied to the defence of Cybertron against Unicron with anything like the steadfast dedication or the unity of purpose that they displayed. Even after the Decepticon hammerblow that ended the so-called “False Dawn” period (Rayle & Aramaki (3054)) the Autobots rallied around Optimus in much the same way as a medieval army might rally to its king in retreat. A fresh military defeat on the scale of that which drove the Autobots from Cybertron should have shattered their cohesion and left them divided and easy pickings. But with their warrior-king, the exemplar of all that they saw as best and noble in themselves, taking a stand the Autobots were drawn back together by the basic threads that bound them together. Optimus was their leader, whilst he stood the loyalty they had pledged – whether by open oath or in their hearts – bound them together. Just as no knight of the romantic tradition would abandon his king and turn from his duty except at peril of his soul, no true Autobot would turn from his duty to their leader.

In many respects Prime's trajectory as Autobot leader enacted the role of the Charismatic Warrior King as identified in sources as varied as human, zanaxian, ackermanian and bistonian (Magami & Mori) – arrival in a time of crisis and division to rally the kingdom, driving back the barbarians and reestablishment of a kind of order, and finally being struck down in battle against the forces of darkness and being carried from the known world in such a way that took them beyond death. The hero-kings of most cultures leave behind no more than the tales of their deeds and a promise to return, whether this be to fight a final battle between good and evil, or simply when their people most need them. For the Autobots however it was different. More than simply promising too, Optimus did indeed return to rally his subjects in their hour of darkest need.

It is perhaps not surprise then that in the days of Star Saber's administration there was a belief in some Autobot circles that Optimus Prime would return to liberate them, overthrowing the regime and returning them to some previous golden age. After all, he had returned to light their darkest hour before. In cheating death and returning to lead the Autobots in reclaiming Cybertron Optimus Prime had done more than perform a near-miracle militarily, he had also very much set himself into the role of the Autobots Once and Future King.

References

Itano, I. & Ishiguro, M “Military Structures in Cybertronian Life: an assessment”, Zorraiel Gamma Historical Press. (3055)

Hayes, L. Yune, T & Fox, M “The Chain of Command above all else: The end of Cybertronian Civil society.” Rekinov University Press. (2998)

Lang, E. Habara, N & Frankel, A “Born complete: The myth of the Precocious Cybertronian society”. Karabarran Press (3056)

Hayes, L. St Germain, T. Fox, M. Dobson, P “Eggs in one basket: Critical errors of command in the Cybertronian wars.” Rekinov University Press (2997)

Transcripts of the Cybertronian Database. Winthrop Commission Translation. Humanian Diaspora Fleet Intelligence Department. (2645)

McLoughlin, D. & Turner, T. “Our touchstone legends: An analysis of the mytho-poetic melting pot of the Humanian Diaspora”. Self-published by the authors.

Rayle, H & Aramaki, S. “The False Dawn: First Unicronian War to Decepticon Resurgence, a reevaluation” Thallian Fleet War College. (3054)

Magami, B & Mori, K. “Lords of Steel and Storm: The warrior king mythology in comparative study” (in preparation)

[Grand Moff Muffin]

20/05/07 at 06:04 AM #8

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FRAGMENTS OF BURNT PARCHMENT FROM THE MIDDLE AGES

Listen, and ye shall right well wit... ...it befell that afore them they saw come riding out of the silver castle a knight clad in armour most peculiar, displaying a red... ...his steed likewise. They came together... ...smote him such a buffet upon the helm, and bore him to the earth... ...gave and received many sore strokes. "Lo, sir," said the first knight's squire. "Ye have done a passing foul deed." Early on the morrow... ... grieved him wonderly sore. The King let cry a tournament should be done before his castle... ...but they knew him not and asked what knight he was. "Ye shall not have my name, for it would be beyond your powers to speak it aloud." "Then thou art unto me a most unwelcome guest, and... ...feign see inside your silver castle." Then there befell unto him... ...became known as Knight of Massive Bulk, which did grieve him sore. And anon... ...came with an army of ten thousand knights, but when they arrived at the clearing, the silver castle was gone.

END