Only Bad Answers

[Deleted]

Characters: @maleki , @tarn
Location: Lower sub-levels of the Nemesis.
Content Warnings: N/A
Plot Summary: Maleki’s is caught red-handed trying to find where his killswitch is located.

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In a giant warship designed to house entire legions of vehicons, it was easy to sneak through the Decepticon hallways even if you were over twenty feet tall. Maleki did his best to soak in the shadows, never regretting the dull-grim colors of his armor. He soaked in the shadows just fine, the only problem was his systems made a little noise as he traveled, or his gears softly grinded together.

It was embarrassing: he was a mech meant for stealth, but he wasn’t the best at it. If he was rating himself he’d given himself a seven out of ten, and only if he was feeling enthusiastic. Personally he preferred being a front liner. Sniping and assassinating wasn’t his vice, it was more like a half-heartedly participated hobby. Personally, the vehicon believed that his maker couldn’t make up her mind with his purpose. ‘Hmm. I’ll make him for Black ops. MMMMMmm, no, recon. Nah, I’ll make him for infantry. Nevermind, I’ll just stick with Black Ops.’ Even though it disrespected his creator, disrespected her, Maleki always wanted to say a few things about his own design.

There was nothing wrong with what he looked like, no, it was just he was a specialized vehicon made for Black Ops who preferred fighting in the front lines. Maybe she’d given him the wrong personality. More like forgotten to tapper with it. Maleki thought pridefully. He was fine with who he was, thank you very much.

His stiff wings kept themselves tucked into his back-plating, while he stalked through the hallways, the backdoors of the Nemesis. He knew a spare console was around here somewhere. In his free-hours, just like his counterpart Sev, he dedicated his time to finding all the nooks and crannies of the Nemesis. Any sort of dark hallway Maleki made sure he knew of. As he (tried) quietly slipped around the corner, he paused briskly. There is was.

The small console screen was cracked, stained, the mainframe slightly battered. No one had been giving it any maintenance for ages likely. Grease stains smeared it like a tie-dye shirt. The bulky parts of the computer were a little out of date. The quarters beyond it looked like some abandoned vehicon sleeping quarters turned into some sort of rejected torture chamber. Maleki guessed because it was dark, he likely wouldn’t be able to see any energon stains or other grizzly decorations on the floor and ceiling.

He approached the computer, turning it on quietly. Gradually, the screen lit to a dim brightness, allowing the customized vehicon to begin work searching for the one thing on the ship that hung over his helm: his killswitch. All vehicons had them, especially specialized vehicons. Maleki couldn’t have disliked the fact more. If I’m friggin’ serving in your army DHC, then let me die when I want to. Maleki thought resentfully. If I can find the killswitch, I can find where it is. Maleki reviewed, navigating the various systems of the computer. The operating speed was snail-paced.

Come on… Maleki mentally coaxed the computer, as he at last found the cluster of files that would hold a vast list of ancient Decepticon locations, as well as others that might come in handy. There was no way the computer had access to all the locations where his killswitch might be, but it could give him clues. Clues were a fine start…

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Occasionally, when he was feeling particularly restless or unsettled, Tarn would roam the halls of the Decepticon flagship to take in the splendor of it all. After all, it was not often that he had the great honor of being stationed on the Nemesis. For however long his tenure here would last in any case. After Dreadwing was disposed of, he supposed that Megatron might dismiss them to return to their usual duties.

Of course, if Megatron had other desires, Tarn would most gladly heed them.

At the moment, Tarn found himself in some of the lower corridors. Unlike the upper decks, the lights in these were far dimmer and less maintained. It pained him to a degree to see it in such a state, but Tarn supposed that the Vehicons and engineers assigned to maintain it placed a higher priority on areas where command were more likely to tread.

Surprisingly, the Nemesis was far less inhabited than Tarn had thought it would be. Vehicons abound as they always did, but…it was nowhere near as crowded or noisy as some other warships that Tarn had the privilege to serve on. One in recent memory came to mind. Deathsaurus. Now, that had been teeming with Decepticons. Tarn frowned behind his mask.

But wait. Why was he-

His thoughts were interrupted by a break in his solitude as he rounded a corner. A Vehicon. Busily tapping away at a console. He had not seen many others roaming this part of the ship. So, with some passing curiosity, Tarn strode over to look over the Vehicon’s shoulder at what exactly had captured his interest at the console.

“Well, what do we have here?” Tarn asked aloud from behind the Vehicon.

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It was funny, how scared he suddenly became. Maleki's servos jerked at the console, as he turned around, beholding the tall broad-shouldered head of the DJD. Maleki didn't know of Tarn, but just looking at the mech told Maleki he wasn't a mech to mess with. He was a superior, one of those nasty kinds that Maleki knew ruled by fear, used it like a drug addict. 

The vehicon grunted, gathering his senses. He'd fought in the front lines, he'd seen seasons come and go, and he was renowned to be the more fearless in his vehicon squad. Only locations where being displayed on the mainframe. I got this. Maleki told himself. 

"Sir, try not to startle me like that. You just missed out on an extra five seconds of a salute." Maleki lowered his helm an inch, before giving a rushed salute. Unfortunately, Maleki wasn't as professional as playing the part of an actor as he hoped. His voice had slight irritation in it, grouped with slight fear and a mite of sarcasm. it had been decades since Maleki had been 'put in line'. Maleki knew it was shining through deep down, and there was really nothing he could do about it. Sure he obeyed orders, but there was plenty of times when he questioned if superiors were really all they claimed to be. 

Scrubbing decks, cleaning weapons and patrolling was failing to convince him of the 'might' of his higher officers. 

"Sir, I was simply looking at some locations for potential storage." Maleki attempted, his game still not professionally played. Frankly, Maleki's explanation had just come out. It was really the only thing he'd come up with for the various odd locations shown on the monitor. The seeker's stiff wings were sharply pointing to the floor. If he were a human, by Primus, he'd be sweating like a mad dog. 

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Ah, fear. It was something with which Tarn was intimately familiar. He saw it in this Vehicon. He and the other justices tended to evoke it strongly in their fellow Decepticons. And while that was a shame to some degree, it was merely a side effect from them doing their jobs correctly. Tarn bore it with pride.

As he awaited the Vehicon’s collection of his faculties, his optics flitted to the monitor, taking in the information present within. How peculiar. The odd jumble of locations. The Vehicon seemed to be looking for something…Whatever could that be? Tarn imagined that Vehicons of all mechs would be incredibly familiar with all the necessary areas of the Nemesis required for their work.

Something was off here.

Tarn’s optics flicked down to the Vehicon in question as he spoke. He was a touch incredulous at this one’s manner of address. Tarn fancied himself a connoisseur of language among other things as well as a fine judge. So the notes of irritation, fear, and…perhaps sarcasm? Were not lost on him, though, he was hard pressed to believe what he had just heard.

The Vehicon’s explanation was also found wanting. Tarn gazed coldly down at the Vehicon, optics harsh and judging. After a moment, he leaned down so that he might look at optic level with the Vehicon.

“Really?” Tarn asked, exaggerating his words and lacing them with venomous sarcasm of his own, “Peculiar locales for potential storage.” He extended a hand, offering the Vehicon a chance. “Might you care to share what you were actually looking for?”

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“Might you care to share what you were actually looking for?”

Yeah. I heard there's a place selling glitchhead-repellant. It's almost out of stock, so you know, I thought I'd snag some while there was still a sale. Maleki fantasized himself snapping back at this mech. He hated this superior already. Maleki took a small step back, his fuel pump was beating like a drum, as the imposing mech continued to inspect. Maleki couldn't bear being scared like this. His sarcastic imagination was the only factor to him loosely keeping his cool. Malice's mouth opened and shut both out of fear of what to say and what he knew he couldn't say. 

His EM field was ecstatic, as he tried to decide if he could really pull off lying to this superior or not, and at what cost if so. He was one of those intelligent people, no doubt. Oh Maleki hated playing stupid. he was so bad at it. So bad at playing the idiot that it made him look like an idiot. His seemingly minute long pause continued, as the intimidated mech cleared his throat. 

"Heh! Well!" He began, still not knowing if he was really going to pull it off. "I-uh," Maleki continued stuttering, trying his best not to step backwards. He cleared his throat again, as his vents released a powerful hiss. He realized that if he gave the real answer, he'd likely get his switch pulled, or something awful. If he withheld the truth and this person discovered it, he'd probably get his switch pulled or, well, maybe get tortured or something awful. There wasn't really a bright side or better possibility to this. 

"The reason is extremely humiliating sir." Maleki started again, "I'd request that I'd be spared the embarrassment of saying it sir." Maleki decided, his voice still shaky. He waved his servos defensively, never having to put much effort into showing some of his evident fear. His gears turned with anxiety...

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Oh yes, this one had certainly been caught red-handed at something. It was written all over his body language. Tarn only wished that he had hung back long enough to know if it was worth his time or not. No, he oughtn’t to think like that. He needed to inspect this case like all the others. With fervor and zeal. It just wouldn’t do to get sloppy now.

Straightening and standing tall, Tarn gazed down at the Vehicon, waiting for him to explain himself. It began with a stutter as it sometimes did. But ultimately, it was evasion and an excuse. Tarn let out a sigh, making it long and very audible, stretching out the moments of the Vehicon’s discomfort. He let the Vehicon wonder. Had he believed his obvious lie? Had he gotten away with it?

It was all part of the script.

Moving with sudden and abrupt vehemence, Tarn lunged for the Vehicon’s neck with one clawed actuator, intent on pulling him close as the DJD justice leaned down. His voice low, oddly melody with a tinge of something…else, something modulated, he uttered his final warning.

“I’m afraid not. Without knowing exactly what it is, I may have to assume the worst.”

Tarn’s patience had waxed thin, evidenced by his usage of his singularly unique power. One did grow tired of being lied to. Especially when he had been so reasonable! Really now.

“You wouldn’t like that.”

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Maleki actually knew his sorry excuse wouldn't have gotten him far. He knew the script, or some of it, since he had been generalizing. Of course this mech wanted the real answer. But Maleki wasn't about to give it up easily, if his life was at stake. 

Maleki stiffened when Tarn lunged forth. His instincts made him so badly want to assume a defensive maneuver. His servos clattered indecisively, knowing he so badly desired for them to morph into his guns. But the vehicon was wise enough to hesitate, before being grabbed by the throat. He was being attacked, he was on edge, and his fuel pump was almost bursting out of his chest. Well, he couldn't feel it, but he knew it probably was. Being attacked like this was something different; Maleki had always wanted to fight som of his superiors, after studying them for a time. This one he knew nothing of, aside from very likely being DJD. Maleki's systems released a small growl of an ex-vent, hinting at how the vehicon's provocation. Maleki couldn't fight since he didn't know his enemy, and fighting a superior like this was only going to get him in more trouble. 

Maleki's servos stopped flinching, as he clenched his fists, ex-venting sharply, his systems beginning the struggle to cool themselves while he remained in the grip of the larger mech. Chills shrieked down Maleki's back, as the vehicon was stared down by the hulk of a judge. 

"No I wouldn't sir!" Maleki agreed, his voice clenched. The vehicon couldn't feel anything, thanks to his lack of pain receptors. Which was great. If there'd been physical pain, Maleki knew he'd become a babbling fool. Or more of one, anyway. The soldier tried hard to resume his line of speech, his mind in a frenzy. "I was looking for where I was assembled! I was told my model was flawed, and wanted to try to improve my inner workings myself!" Maleki went on, "Since most doctors are occupied with more pressing matters. No one wants to see to vehicons sir." Maleki's flat tone began kicking in, "At least not in a positive way. I thought if I could fix myself, I'd be able to do my job better." Maleki's body language was calming down a little, as he released some grains of truth. He wasn't completely lying about this whole business! He was somewhat flawed in make: He had no pain receptors, and he was, well...he was Maleki. Maleki's fists remained clenched, while he remained firmly in Tarn's grip. Maleki believed his latest alibi might stand a bit more of a chance. Unlikely, but worth a shot. It was hard trying to lie to his superiors, in fact, Maleki's programming was giving him a migraine.

Unlike most vehicons however, Maleki was much more aware of his programming. He could resist it come of the time, and since his life was on the line, now was one of those times.  

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“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Tarn asked, releasing the Vehicon from his grasp and stepping back. The answer, Tarn knew, was because the Vehicon was still lying. But…the justice detected a hint of truth in the Vehicon’s words. Of course, if he was mistaken, that was just as well. He intended to pursue it regardless.

Warmth flooded Tarn’s body language and deep, low voice as he spread his hands out welcomingly. “A worthy pursuit if ever there were one,” he continued. He tapped his chin a few times, optics narrowed in thought. It was an act. But Tarn fancied himself a fine enough actor. The Vehicon seemed to be relaxing a touch as well. Good, good.

“In fact,” Tarn began as if he had stumbled across a rather novel idea, “Why don’t I assist you? It would certainly speed the process along, and I have the time to spare. Really, I insist.”

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Maleki narrowed his optics as Tarn switched moods from someone seeming rather willing to him to a guy who was alright with Maleki doing the equivalent of surfing the internet. Yeah friggin' right this purple-masked mech was here to simply watch. Maleki wasn't fooled at all by this imposing mech. Maleki wasn't a detective, but he certainly wasn't stupid either. The vehicon never rubbed his neck with his servo, as he couldn't feel any physical pain, and thus hadn't developed some habits most that could feel did.

"You see sir," Maleki answered, miraculously keeping his game together, "I didn't want to say so since it's embarrassing not to qualify for what you were built to do. So I didn't want to say it sir." Maleki actually found his words beginning to sting. It hurt he couldn't live up to the standards, and it hurt he was regarded as a failure. Still. Now wasn't a time to cry over it, or gripe about his crap. malice approached the screen, his mind wearily trying to pull itself together for the next part of his little act. So now he had to look in places where he'd be constructed instead of where his killswitch was. 

Maybe...those could give me clues anyways. Maleki hoped, pausing over the console. "How could I refuse the company of such a high and mighty officer in the first place? Honestly, as a malfunctioning vehicon, I rarely am privileged with such honors sir." Maleki's voice was distant, as his instincts kicked in: His pain was turned into sarcasm, and in order to ex-vent, he blabbed. Not always the most fruitful cure, or the most rewarding, but it was better than nothing. malice half-heartedly brought up a file on a typical-looking vehicon manufacturing facility. It obviously wasn't where he was made. The camera shots of the assembly lines showed the mechanical parts that made Maleki's less intelligent brothers still held their limbs. 

"Nope, not it." Maleki said, already musing on if he could bore Tarn to the point where the mech left. Not likely. Maleki thought. He mentally shrugged, deciding it was worth a shot anyways. Maleki brought up another file of yet another vehicon assembly line. Nothing much was different. "Although, the grey paint job sure is nicely done. The detail of the scratches and patches of tattered metal's always looked like a stunning design to me. Makes you wonder if the Autobots had hippie-designers or something, since most of their structures went for being clean." Maleki mused aloud, as if he were talking about the weather half-mindedly. "I suppose since we Decepticons are all about getting our hands dirty, our walls ought to be dirty too." 

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“Mm-mm,” was Tarn’s response to Maleki’s inane blabbering. He had taken out a datapad to work on some reports while he observed the Vehicon. Maleki’s tone had the ring of truth to it. Interesting that a Vehicon had a chip on their shoulder like that. He quickly tapped his datapad to bring up information on the Vehicons. As Tarn knew it, they were a fairly new addition to the Decepticon forces.

A quick scan of the information readily available let him get the gist of it. It was as he had expected. Vehicons were used for a variety of menial tasks, consumed less energon than the average Decepticon, programmed to be subservient, and entirely disposable. Tarn also found it curious that they all had kill switches installed as well. The only other mechs that Megatron had taken such measures with were the Phase Sixers – except himself, of course – Overlord and Sixshot specifically.

Odd.

Tarn’s optics flicked to the Vehicon in question as his spoke once more, this time, his voice with a light note of sarcasm. His optics narrowed. My, my, clearly this Vehicon did not know his place. But, Tarn was more interested in his own musings at the moment, so he returned to them. Now, why would Megatron install kill switches on Vehicons? Surely, they posed no threat to him. They were even programmed for obedience even if some had their glitches.

It would be so simple to just quash them out if they betrayed the Decepticons. Too easy. So the idea of kill switches didn’t entirely make sense to Tarn.

As the Vehicon spoke up again, Tarn looked up to the screen, seeing that he had now chosen an entirely different type of location to look up. Hm. It was then that one of the Vehicon’s stray statements reminded Tarn of its constant disrespect.

“Is that what you think the Decepticons are?” Tarn asked, voice tinged with an edge. “I must disagree. I see now why this section of the ship is in such disrepair. Unacceptable. Allow me to educate you.”

“We Decepticons do what must be done because no others have the audacity to do it. Occasionally, that means resorting to acts of brutality, but we must never lose sight of our ultimate goal. Equality for all through a peaceful tyranny. Only we who are freed from deception can do this. Do you understand?”

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His sarcasm wasn't very amusing to this large mech. Maleki knew he was pushing it, but it was better to be saying a bit of his sarcasm than a lot of it. Plenty of unsavory comments were swirling in his mind as Tarn reminded him of what Maleki liked to think was the cliche' loyalist point of view. 

Equality? Maleki wanted to chortle a bitter laugh. It was easy for someone who wasn't a vehicon to talk about equality like that. Maleki knew he did have equality in the sense he was treated with the same respect as all his brothers. That was crappy equality to say the least though. Still. maybe this guy's talking about how competitive everyone is to power. That's equality right? Everyone shoves one another for a higher rank, jumps at the chance to get on top of the pile and all that. Maleki considered Tarn's terms. Whatever the case, there was something about being a drone in the thick of the Decepticon ranks that had never been enough. 

Maleki preferred to be free of all this superior garbage. It was why he enjoyed the battle field so much. Most superiors tended to shrink away like the cowards they were and all the worthwhile people began to make themselves known. Rules were different too. Maleki could shoot, bolt, and kill things all he wanted, all the while saying it was in the glory of some myth's name and looking good. 

Maleki nodded at Tarn, "Yes sir." He nodded, answering with his mouth but not with his spark. He considered arguing or trying to jab at a few of the stupid concepts that loyalists floated around the Nemesis, but Maleki decided he'd probably get scrapped. He'd just talk about it with Sev later, and be scolded about how terrible his train of thought was instead. Maleki felt like technically he couldn't be blamed though. 

"Now while I'm willing to follow our leader into battle sir, kill in his name, destroy Autobots and wreck havoc, I've always wondered about what's really going on in-between all the battles and the schemes. What exactly is going on with all that we're destroying and re-shaping sir? I'm seeing new torture chambers, some more labs, but nothing that, per say sir, has to do with...uh." Maleki scratched his helm thoughtfully for something. "...peaceful stuff." Maleki finished dumbly. He knew the words like 'economy' and 'markets' but he didn't really know what they meant. he knew they weren't used in fighting. But he didn't know for sure if they were for peace. 

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“Hm…” Tarn considered the Vehicon’s query carefully. How best to explain it to one who likely only saw the forefront of the war and not its grand design…Tricky, tricky. But Tarn surmised that he might be able to manage. “True rebuilding will come in phase seven of Lord Megatron’s plan. Unfortunately, we may have spent a good deal more time in this war before we attain that phase. Currently, we are repeating a cycle of six phases on the worlds that we invade.”

“Assuming that the world has sentient organic life, we begin the infiltration protocol which involves covert operations like we are currently doing now on this world. The rough idea being the harvest of all of the resources that this planet may hope to offer, such as energon, raw materials and so on, which we will use as fuel to build more facilities such as labs and torture chambers, outposts and other such things to power the war effort.”

Tarn looked at the Vehicon, hoping to see some vague form of understanding in his faceplate. Someone had been truly derelict in their conditioning of their soldiers. Education was equally important for everyone. Some might shrug them off. Vehicons. Genericons. Not Tarn. His position gave him a rather unique perspective.

Everyone was equal under the optics of Decepticon justice.

“Megatron is the only one who will be able to tell us when it is time for Phase Seven, however. When he can lay down his weapon. When the word weapon will cease to have meaning. That day will come.” Tarn clapped the Vehicon on his shoulder plating reassuringly. His optics flicked back to the screen that the Vehicon was idly perusing, wondering at the shift of locale. Hm.

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Maleki prevented himself from giving an audible sigh. This was the sort of loyalist crap he'd anticipated. Of course it was a part of Megatron's big plan. What the frag wasn't? Maleki The vehicon was getting into a groove of withholding the bulk of his come-backs to how this superior was answering. Maleki kept nodding his helm, pretending it was all clicking, though unlike Sev, he could only pull the act half-convincingly. There was nothing understanding or "genuinely soaking it all in" about his stature.

Being pat on the shoulder caused Maleki to mentally cringe. He hated it when people who bossed him around made contact like this, especially in mock assurance. It was insulting, and just aggravating he colluding do anything about it.

"Nice to be reminded of all that sir." Maleki replied. Black-ops and infiltration? No, that wasn't happening right now. Maleki would've caught word of it, especially since he was designed for the job, and knew so many others who were. Okay maybe it's happening because it's black ops and not many people are supposed to know it. Maleki corrected himself. He began typing away, looking for a new location, his back turned to Tarn. This whole deal with him being a loyalist was just annoying enough to Maleki that he decided he'd prod at the mech once more.

"What if Lord Megatron doesn't go to phase seven though. Let's say Autobots are conquered if we win...if it's Peace through Tyranny, then Tyranny's going to keep happening. Phase six will never end, if a some of phase seven can't commence now. Because if Tyranny goes on, Earth isn't going to be enough." Maleki flipped through some images, as he did some of his own war-calculations, where his genius shown. "Assuming I'm following this whole psychology correctly. Then again, I only am just a vehicon. It's highly probable there's something I don't understand-" Maleki ended passively, as he gazed at the image he'd found. it was the lab he'd been manufactured in. His kill switch wasn't going to b there though. Just a bunch of old, rusty memories were greeting him on the screen. 

"-or am not being told." 

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It aggravated Tarn to some extent to have this Vehicon be so unreceptive. He kept his hand on the Vehicon’s shoulder, nevertheless. Tarn’s optics flicked down to the Vehicon as he gave his take on the current state of the war, glinting briefly. “It’s not just Peace through Tyranny,” Tarn mused, “It’s peace in tyranny as well. Tyranny will never see its end as long as the Decepticons exist, for one driven mech with the power to cause real change can bring about more progress than a decrepit council of blind mechs clinging to an ideology that never even gives anyone a chance…”

“The Decepticons are a meritocracy. They always have been.” Tarn’s crimson optics glared down at the Decepticon before him. “And you are not just a Vehicon. You are a Decepticon.”

His optics flicked over to the screen again to examine the new locale, then back to the Vehicon whom he had a grip on still. Ah.

“Speaking of not being told…you are looking for your killswitch, aren’t you? Or you were, at least,” Tarn uttered, his grip tightening like a vice on the Vehicon’s shoulder. Oh, yes. He was a Decepticon. And he would be judged as one. There were no exceptions in the optics of justice.