| abstract
| - Sun Nov 11, 2033 Deep underground, just a hundred miles from the outskirts of the capital city of Ouagadougou, rests this sprawling labyrinth dedicated to Earth Defense Command. Upon emerging from the GroundBridge terminal, one is confronted with directions to either Manufacturing or R&D. Manufacturing is a huge factory, with gritty assembly lines and fire belching machines that work to build the high tech equipment used by the EDC to fight the Decepticon menace. Everything from power armor to hover tanks to shuttles can be created by this highly adaptable facility. Watching the process from any of the catwalks that run above the city is awe-inspiring. In stark contrast to the industrial center, the R&D facility has clean white walls and laboratories. Both mechanical and biological inventions can be worked on here. Men and women in lab coats can be frequently seen here, chatting to one another about their latest projects. Transformers can also receive medical attention here. The Manufacturing and R&D facilities can be defended by a number of experimental weapons, though being deep underground buys it time to receive reinforcements if needed. Apocryphacius has taken General Faireborn's words essentially as orders: rest and eat, which he has done. He does not rest very well. Nightmares disrupt his attempts at defragmenting. There was a while where he seriously considered asking one of the EDC xenosurgeons for a dose of sedatives just to knock him out. However, he feels rested... enough, he supposes. He has eaten. There was something like fishsticks at the cafeteria, and he snagged a cube of energon down at the motorpool. Vaguely seafood-like-food and energon plus some vitamins are good enough for him. So for now, he is poking around the black-painted, candle-lit laboratory that he has been using lately. Right now, he is not working with crystals at all. Instead, Apocryphacius is working with a set of electrodes and a gel-like substance. He mutters to himself, "The impedance is proving rather problematic..." Amber MacKenzie has come in search of Apocryphacius. At least she has the opportunity to check out the new groundbridge system... which she reminds herself is probably now in the hands of good ol' Silas as well. She scowls most ferociously at the reminder, which gets her some odd looks from other EDCers in the hallway. Here at last, though she did have to ask for directions from someone who'd seen the guy. "Wow." With widened eyes, she stares at the black walls, the candles, incongruously mixed with the highest of high-tech equipment. "Black magic ritual?" she asks lightly, though she wouldn't be surprised if he were trying to summon Cross's ghost. Apocryphacius admits sheepishly, "I have an aversion to bright colours, I am afraid. It is... silly, I know, but there it is. In any case, do not be ridiculous. Black magic is nothing but bunk. If I wanted to do a ritual, I would call on Unicron. Unicronian rituals have /much/ better success rates." He may be making a joke there? Hopefully? "But ah, I am being a most ungracious host. Please, have a seat, Miss MacKenzie." He gestures to a number of chairs that he has, which are all properly human-size. "Would you like anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?" Amber MacKenzie graciously accepts the offer of tea, plain, and seats herself. "So it's Miss MacKenzie again, eh? It was Amber last night," she points out levelly. "You might try desensitization tricks to help with that." About Unicronian rituals... she arches a brow but doesn't dispute it. "From EDC records, Unicron comes back more often than Opti... er, Freddy Krueger." It should be noted that there is a beaker and a folding chair stuck to the ceiling. Apocryphacius fetches the tea and presents it. The tea is fine. It isn't bad tea, but isn't great tea, either. It's just tea. He frowns and further admits, "I was behaving rather disgracefully last night, Miss MacKenzie. Very unprofessional. I do apologise. Now, I wanted to ask you about a delicate matter." He sets a device down on one of his work benches and fiddles with it. If they are being recorded, well, the records will likely not be of very good quality. It is not quite a cone of silence, but it is the best he can manage. Amber MacKenzie sighs and shakes her head as she sips the oh-so-average tea. "There was no disgrace or unprofessionalism last night. You'd suffered a tremendous shock the previous day, and the idiot Autobots were unable to figure out that they were setting you off. Not to mention that we are not simply acquaintances." She pauses, frowning a bit, and then continues, "If you need to talk to someone about it, I'm willing to listen... with less than my usual bias." On to other things... "A delicate matter?" Apocryphacius takes a moment to collect himself. Then he explains nervously, obviously having some difficulty, "Something happened late on Wednesday, October 24th, 2033 in a warehouse in Taiwan," notable as an Autobot-friendly country that is not a member of the UN, "at . I know how I think the scenario went. However, as it may be observed, I have my own biases. My species is inherently untrustworthy. I would like an outside observer to investigate the matter. The reason why I did not do anything sooner is that, if the scenario did go as I remember it going, it has the potential to cause a diplomatic scandal, and at the time, I did not want to risk that fallout. I felt the consequences for Earth could be rather deleterious. Now, given the changed circumstances, I think that fallout might actually be," he narrows his optics, "useful, if leveraged correctly." The whole situation makes him feel uncomfortable. What he is proposing ever so delicately will, in the end, amount to blackmail, if the right evidence can be found. Blackmail is, as he understands it, wrong. Two wrongs do not make a right. However, his job description involves 'defend Earth'. If this little bit of leverage could be used to shore up Earth's defenses, does he not owe it to Earth? "I did not want to involve General Cross. His reactions would have been entirely too predictable and would not have been in keeping with the general good of Earth. Also, his actions would have likely led to unacceptable collateral damage of innocents. I do not currently wish to involve General Faireborn, even if that would likely be the more legally correct thing to do," he twitches, "I simply want a discreet outside examination of what happened there. The best course of action to take can be determined after all the facts are gathered. I am uncertain what I have to offer in exchange. My assets have never been considerable, and my legal status is rather dubious." Cutting straight to the case, she sees. "Seeing as that was over two weeks ago, the trail is likely to be somewhat cold. Do you know of any witnesses? Physical evidence?" Diplomatic incident, eh? What's left in the diplomatic court these days?. Now back to something more important, at least to her. "And please don't denigrate yourself. I'm sure you've heard of the nature-versus-nurture controversy. Even if the Quintessons were all untrustworthy or evil - which I honestly doubt - you are a Terran by nurture. Yes, nature will have an effect, but nurture will be stronger." Apocryphacius pulls out a few things and set them down on a table near Amber. One is a folder containing the medical report by the EDC xenosurgeon after Apocryphacius 'fell down the stairs into a pile of rusty machetes and a cart of salt'. One is an unfamiliar object that will take some doing to identify, but it is a shift-lock designed to prevent a Quintesson from switching his faces. The looks he gives that object is singularly hateful. Then Apocryphacius looks back at Amber and makes a shrugging gesture before replying, "I would like the Autobot records to be checked. I would like to know if there are any Autobots, Decepticons, or neutrals of the same body-designs as Repugnus, Sandstorm, or Bottlethrottle or any who could easily be customized to appear to be so, the way that the Decepticon Fakeswipe impersonated Sideswipe. I would also like the Autobot paint records to be checked on these colours," and he gives a list of various neon colours, "Of the Transformers who fit those three body-builds, I would like to know where they were on the 24th of October." He adds a few more objects to the table. The objects seem to be human-sized sampling equipment of various sorts. "If the site at Taiwan has not been thoroughly scrubbed, this equipment should be sufficient to determine down to parts per billion as to whether any individuals with the paints I just mentioned," since Transformers do not leave fingerprints of DNA, but their paint does flake off sometimes, "and if any Quintesson biological matter is present on the scene. A normal human forensics kit would not have the required elements to check for either of those elements." Amber MacKenzie's green eyes narrow and turn cold as she puts the pieces together, even without yet studying the evidence. "What did they *do* to... Ah. You want me to see that for myself, am I correct?" The question is rhetorical. "I can't even say I'm surprised, at least where Repugnus is concerned, though I don't know the other two well enough to judge." Abruptly putting her half-filled cup of average tea down on a table, she rises to her feet and begins pacing restlessly. "What is the end result you want? Bringing them to justice? Forcing the Autobots to acknowledge that they *do* get out of line as you accused them of at the UN hearing?" Apocryphacius bobs in a nod when Amber suggests that he wants her to see for herself. He admits, "In cases such as these, the character of the witness is always called into question, whether or not it is relevant. If a veteran car thief is assaulted, it a crime just the same as if a five-year old is, but one can be certain that the defense will bring the car thief's past into question, despite its lack of bearing on the case. I would rather the evidence be ironclad and the one who gathered the evidence to be as unbiased as possible. As for what I desire? The Autobots are going to be understandably outraged over General Cross's last mission on Cybertron. They may attempt to force concessions that are not in Earth's best interest out of the EDC. All I want is a little something that can be held against them in case they do. This was, mind you, before the events with Triggerhappy. So it could be rather condemning." He steeples a pair of tentacles. "However, if the Autobots accept General Faireborn and behave themselves as proper allies to Earth, I see no need to take action. One might argue that those responsible, if there are any, need to be stopped, lest they strike again, but recent events have made me rather cynical. A certain temperament is useful to governments, however much they may deny it. The only sure way of preventing any such future events would be to change the temperament of the individuals in question." The Quintesson has contemplated the logistics of that. Can the empathy routines of Transformers be edited? "Besides, they are not all bad, however much they may personally annoy me. The lot of them do not deserve to suffer for the sins of a few, and assuredly, the lot of them could suffer, depending on how this incident is handled." Amber MacKenzie smirks and cuts to the chase herself. "Blackmail material. In all honesty, I don't think it'll come to that, but I accept your point. And for the record, I'm not all that different from Repugnus myself in what I've done, though I at least don't enjoy it. All right... If you want a real lack of bias, I'll put my sister on it. This is the sort of thing she does for a living, and she doesn't give a damn about anyone involved. Let me caution you, though... Just like the cybercidic technology, secrets tend not to stay secret. The Decepticons could get a hold of this and broadcast it worldwide, driving another wedge between us." Little does she know that the Decepticons already know, and that this information may already be in the hands of What's-her-name, the Decepticon Intel chief. Apocryphacius twitches and shoots a concerned glance at Amber. Could she really? Chain an ally down in a shady old warehouse and take a bunch of rusty machetes, salt, and a grenade to her ally? (If she could, Cross should have hired her; she would have made an excellent Baseball Cap Agent.) He bobs in another nod, and he admits, "I know. However, the Autobots themselves have not exactly been forthcoming when I have asked for help. I asked Scattershot to check the records of Bottlethrottle's access to paint. He refused. So it would strike me that it would be better to gather the facts and deal with the issue in our own way before the Decepticons have a chance to put their own spin on it." Amber MacKenzie meant more along the lines of deliberately taunting a frail, decrepit old Seeker into painfully frying himself. And there has to be a good reason for stuff like that. Apocryphacius's interrogation was unwarranted by the situation and out of line. But where *is* the line drawn? She's recently realized that she just might be capable of torture under certain circumstances... "Is Scattershot involved?" she asks. "Or just being a jerk by withholding information?" Apocryphacius shrugs. He says, "I do not know. When Lt. Reynolds and I attempted to rescue General Cross from Laserbeak, Scattershot was shot by a rocket. He blamed the rocket on the EDC, but to the best of my and Lt. Reynolds's knowledge, the EDC was not involved with the rocket. I suspect that the Decepticons probably shot the rocket, personally." He's wrong; Bottlethrottle shot the rocket, but he has no way of knowing that. "He threatened to shoot me. He also said, as I recall, 'Ah always had a bad feeling about you, Quintesson. Tigers don't change their stripes, especially when they can change their face. So were you always a piece of tentacle trash, or did a reunion with dear old mom and dad turn you nasty?' I may not have been entirely polite with him. I recall daring him to shoot me." He rubs the top of his dome and grimaces. That was not his best moment. "However, such Quintessophobia is not uncommon in Autobots and may not be indicative of anything." "Well, I knew your complaints against them were legitimate..." Amber points out, "but you *did* pick a bad time to air them. I'm referring to the UN hearing about their sapiency or lack thereof. I interpreted your speech to be arguing against them being granted sapiency because they didn't deserve it. Phobia? Oh yes. And that phobia is crippling them, blinding them to the fact that people are individuals and make individual choices. Yes, I'd say the Decepticons are evil in general, but I don't believe that all of them are. The same goes for Autobots, and the same goes for *humans*. It's particularly sad that the Autobots believe that we Terrans are all hapless, helpless lil innocents that must be protected at all costs; we can be just as evil as the Decepticons. They killed five million of us; we beat the hell out of that record during WWII in particularly despicable ways. We have our murderers, our sadists, our racists all throughout our history." She falls silent a moment, having strayed a bit off topic. "Faireborn will have to address this issue, and soon." Apocryphacius wrings his tentacles and protests, "No! I never argued against their sapience. I simply question the prudence of a treaty with them. I am unsure if they could consistently hold up their end of the bargain. If they wish to be respected by Terran laws, they must in turn respect Terran laws, which they... often do not. Moreover, they were simply asking humanity to award the Autobots rights. They offered nothing in return. You heard Computron threaten to torture General Cross, yes? They would like to be protected under human laws, but they do not want to offer any reciprocity. The fact is, they only argued for their own rights. Not for Nebulan rights. Not for Lizardmen. Not for Brandaxians." Not for Quintessons, to be sure. "I simply could not stand their hypocrisy." Then he sighs and admits, "And my argument seemed to please General Cross, even if it was not in line with his own argument. He could have had me vivisected and dumped in a tank on Mars. If he tried such a thing with you? The Autobots would have objected, because humans are adorable to them. I cannot imagine they would have been upset, in my case." Amber MacKenzie nods. There's no disagreeing with that. "Their actions are... inconsistent. I'd say that the leadership tends to be more conservative, but the rank and file are more chaotic. They aren't really an army, and that's part of their problem. Lack of discipline. I wonder what a psychologist would make of them... I'm suspecting a huge load of PTSD; they've been at war constantly for generations." She eyes Apocryphacius. "I'm suspecting you have it, too. And me. Are any of your degrees in psychology?" Apocryphacius actually raises a tentacle over his mouth and giggles. "Hee hee... no, not yet." He is sure he will pick up psychology someday if he does not end up dead. Even if he goes to jail, he will get out eventually. Ten consecutive human life sentences really would not be all that long, to him. "General Cross had studied psychology, though. He... said the same thing. And was concerned about me." He looks away and twitches. Ah, the topic of the good General is finally broached. "And he still was, with his dying breath," Amber says softly. "He apologized to you, even though you supposedly betrayed him. It looks like he forgave you." She's treading on dangerous ground, she knows, but so far she can be kind and still tell the truth. "No one who was there to hear him could deny that. You... you personally inspired friendship in even so lost and twisted a man. It's a shame you didn't meet him years ago; he might have become a different man." Apocryphacius 's face shift around with a sudden snap, and he hisses bitterly, "I may as well have killed him myself. I took him off Cybertron - because I was afraid the Autobots would torture him. Whether or not he 'deserved' it, I did not feel that they could treat him with whatever justice he may have deserved. I took him off Cybertron, and Silas sent him back. To die. Which is what he wanted. But I stabbed him in the back. I ruined his mission. I took his revenge from him." "I may as well have killed him myself, and I cannot say if I should be sad or happy about the fact." Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Amber MacKenzie startles briefly and then notes wryly, "We really need to nail Silas, don't we? No, you didn't kill him; you made a hard, hard choice between your friend and what was right, and you did it despite your rather justified bias against the Cybertronians. As for revenge for Cross... you can still take it against the one who ordered him and a large number of EDC soldiers to their deaths and who will undoubtedly order more. It would be better, though, to wreak justice on Silas rather than just revenge. It leaves a better taste in your mouth. If it makes you feel any better, I wish that Cross could have been saved. This 'criminal' saved Cybertron, and by your own words, Earth as well. Yes, he was a part of endangering them, but he realized that there were more important things than his revenge in the end. He died a hero." Apocryphacius makes a ratcheting noise and looks out at Amber with red, red optics. "Who said anything about my revenge? General Cross was the one who wanted revenge on a whole planet... for whatever reason. As far as Silas goes, I will find him and his MECH, and human justice will be done. If it were simply up to me..." he turns back to the electrodes and gel he was work on earlier, "...I would take his brain apart and normalize it. Human sociopaths are often lacking the empathy pathways found in normal humans. They do not feel pain when they see another's pain. I would put that empathy pathway back into him. Then he would truly understand what he has done. He would feel the pain of every individual whom he caused pain, and most importantly, he would never do it again." He chuckles. "But it is not up to me. It will be for the courts to decide." Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. "Give 'em hell, Apocryphacius," Amber applauds earnestly, "but make sure you take backup." No, she's not mocking him. "And if you *do* have a way to normalize sociopaths, patent it and release it for psychological therapy usage. You could make yourself a bundle that way. Maybe we can prevent these guys from becoming dangerous in the first place. And yes, it would be nice if Silas suffered the pangs of remorse for what he's done, but it could be that he's merely... evil. It *does* happen. I only hope that our lovely courts, instead of sentencing him to death, don't send him to a secret high-security prison because he's gifted." Apocryphacius makes a shrugging gesture and admits, "I have never tried, but I see no reason why it should be impossible. With enough study, it should be workable," and here is the thing: he is completely sincere. This is not cocksure arrogance. This is a calm, cautious, confidence. He has bridged space itself. Why should the mind itself not yield to the scientific method? "And I think Silas would be a /perfect/ first test subject." A pair of his tentacles steeple. "In case anything went wrong. But, as I said, it would be up to the courts to decide, and I rather doubt they would consider such experimentation ethical. However, here is the thing about the Autobots and their inconsistencies. If the courts do sentence Silas to death, fake his death, and keep him around to do their dirty-work? There will be an Autobot black ops team all too willing to take him out for good, which will not be legal or even good, but perhaps it will be necessary." He sighs tiredly. Amber MacKenzie nods slowly. "I'm sure you could," she agrees and then sighs. "Subaqua 1 was established for expediency. All those murderers, rightfully sentenced to death, who instead... make money or technology for their captors. And when they're stolen from our delightful governments' secret prison, they go back to being murderers again. Don't forget that Terrans have had black ops teams for decades, too. Some of what I've done against the Decepticons has been black ops. Ethics and ideals... where do they belong in a galaxy like this?" Apocryphacius shifts around slowly, and he says firmly, almost feverishly, "They belong in maintaining order." Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Amber MacKenzie bows her head and sighs. "Expediency of a different kind, but yes. We sapient species aren't very nice, and so the 'good guys' can't always be nice, either. I guess it's an ideal rather than a procedure, because if the good guys held to the letter AND the spirit of the law, they'd always lose to the bad guys. I've done things like that, and I expect I'll be doing them in the future for as long as this war goes on. Earth's welfare trumps my personal honor." "But to tell the truth of something," Apocryphacius admits, looking rather pained, "even if there had been a simultaneous strike on Charr, which would have assured destruction of Charr as well as Cybertron?" "I would have done the same thing I did there. You have your lines. I have mine." Amber MacKenzie smiles ruefully. "I should clarify that. I *do* have some lines that I won't cross. Killing all the Cybertronians just to get the Decepticons is one of them. I'll expand my statement. The welfare of Earth - and other peaceful species - trumps my personal honor. I'm picking and choosing my qualifications, yes, but that comes closer to what I mean. No doubt I'll have to refine that as exceptions occur to me." Apocryphacius makes a shrugging gesture, and he asks slowly, "If modifications could be made to the Decepticons to make them peaceful and orderly, would it ever be ethical to do so? They would never consent to such a thing." He fiddles with his set of electrodes. He attaches one to his dome and dials on a screen. The screen is simply fuzzy, and he frowns. Amber MacKenzie shakes her head. "No. I can see some extremist good guys doing that sort of thing, but changing them so radically would be a crueller way of killing them. The original Decepticon would cease to exist either way." "You think so, really?" Apocryphacius looks mildly surprised, and he points out, "You just suggested that neuro-restructuring of human sociopaths would be acceptable if it could be done. What is the difference?" He changes the voltage on his electrode set, and gives himself a nasty shock in the process. He grimaces. Amber MacKenzie smirks. "For Silas. For the rest of them, it would be a potential therapy, and the doctor in charge would decide if it were warranted, just as he or she would for any other therapeutic procedure." Apocryphacius suggests, "If... First Aid, let us suppose, decided that mnemosurgery was an appropriate treatment methodology for captured Decepticons, would it be acceptable to you, then?" He grabs a small pry-bar and opens up one of his panels. He tries placing the electrode inside. The fuzz on the screen looks vaguely less fuzzy, but it does not look like much of anything, still. Amber MacKenzie eyes the Quintesson. "You ask tough questions. Normally, I'd trust First Aid with most patients. However, they're at war and have been for a long, long time. I *think* that First Aid might have his patient's best interests in mind, but it's a hard thing to call. Remember that sociopathy is actually a fault in the brain that can be corrected, just as hormone imbalances can. Choosing to be evil is a choice, not a physical defect." Amber is quite right to eye the Quintesson. Apocryphacius reaches for some long, thin needles that are loaded with a thinner wire still. "Personally, I would not trust anything with First Aid. We engaged in a rather unpleasant argument in which I am not entirely blameless. Nonetheless. That is beside the point. Many Decepticons show signs of various mental disorders, sociopathy included. How much of their evil is genuinely due to choice, and how much is simply down to mental illness? For that matter, how much of it is down to their culture? How many Seekers, who come online as Decepticons and never question the Empire would have been fine, unquestioning Autobots if only they had come to life as Autobots?" For some reason, that makes Amber smile. "Agreed. Back again to nature vs. nurture, complicated by culture. In my opinion, that applies to everyone I've met, regardless of species. I know a Decepticon who's brave, loyal, and self sacrificing... where his own team is concerned. He totally buys into their published beliefs because it's all he knows. At the same time, a large number of them are perfectly aware of what they're doing and glory in it. They joined the Decepticons because it not only allows but encourages them to indulge their worst desires to cause pain and destruction. Nurture/culture. Your theory about mental illness is something I hadn't really considered before, and it's a valid one, but I wouldn't dare mess with their minds for lack of an understanding of the 'mechanics' of it. That's a bad term, but the best I can come up with. Anyway, some of those pain and destruction junkies may be that way because of something gone wrong in their minds. If that can be fixed, if there's a normal Cybertronian medical procedure for just that kind of injury, then go for it." Apocryphacius puts down the needles and sighs, looking at them ruefully. Then he says, "I thank you for your time, Miss MacKenzie. Let me know what you and your contacts determine - and what I will owe you. For I certainly will owe you. You will likely want to leave now. The next steps of the testing here will be... unpleasant." He glances back at the needles. Amber MacKenzie takes the GroundBridge to EDC HQ - Ground Bridge Hub - . WHOOSH! Amber MacKenzie has left.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)