Bonus post - Devices, Too part 4.

(For anyone new, the story starts with Appliances and continues with Devices, Too...)

Part 4 - Outside

A couple of hours later Poppy flopped down at the kitchen table, winced as her back made contact with the chair, and took a long swallow of her cooling coffee. Chill shook his head. None of her charges were able to make much in the way of facial expressions but in the last year she'd become something of an expert at reading their body language and overall attitude: Chill was a little alarmed.
     "Are you all right?"
     "I will be." Poppy rubbed at the back of her neck. "But I'd appreciate it if you could have a word with Grunt. I'm not a soldier, I can't be expected to do their workouts!"
     The multigym had turned out to be a bit of a tyrant, insisting on her using him at least once a day, and continually upping his programme. Poppy had tried resisting, but he was stubborn, and followed her around the house until she gave in. And since he had turned out to be particularly clumsy, unless she wanted half the furnishings broken she was pretty much forced to do as he wanted. So far it hadn't been too bad, and she'd been feeling the benefits in increased stamina and flexibility, but it was time now to grab back control before everything got out of hand.
     Chill nodded understandingly. "'Spin and I will have words with him. If matters don't improve, we can always have him seconded to one of the NEST bases." He paused in thought, then inclined his head. "That might actually be a better idea. The soldiers there would get more benefit from him than you ever could. When do you speak to Agent Graham next?"
     "He asked me to contact him after I get back from the pub."
     "Then I suggest you mention it to him this afternoon."
     Poppy nodded, a little reluctantly.
     "It'd probably be for the best, though it feels like I'm failing Grunt..."
     Chill shook his head.
     "Not at all, Poppy. He'd be a lot more useful, and a lot happier, somewhere he feels he has more purpose."
     Poppy considered it, then smiled.
     "I suppose so. Thanks, Chill."
     "You're welcome. May I get your breakfast?"
     "I'd rather you tell me what that business was this morning at the crack of dawn. What's energon?"
     "Our lifeblood."
     Poppy blinked.
     "You what? Seriously?"
     "Yes. It fuels and feeds us."
     She considered that for a moment then frowned.
     "But... You've never said anything about it before. And I thought you used solar power for fuel..."
     "Solar power can be converted into energon. It's easy enough for we smaller transformers. But the larger ones - especially those with vehicular modes and weapons - require a lot more than can be simply gathered from sunlight."
     "Ah, I see. That makes sense. So the energon in the garage is just for 'Beat?"
     "Primarily. Though if he's willing to share, we'd all welcome a little. Energon has a certain... pleasurable effect if one hasn't had any for a while. If I've understood it correctly, it's a little like human alcohol."
     Poppy stared, then waved her hands.
     "Oh god... I don't want drunk robots running loose! Can you imagine what Muncher would do?"
     Chill made the sound she'd come to associate with him chuckling.
     "No, it's nothing like that. Well, not for us - I can't vouch for our larger colleagues. We just become... mellow is probably the best way of putting it."
     "You sure?" At Chill's nod, Poppy breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, OK then. But I'll hold you to that!"
     "Of course..."
     There was a moment's silence, then,
     "So if that's energon in the big tanks, what's in the others?"
     "Coolant in the smaller tanks, additive-rich refined energon in the drums, and medical-grade oil with added nanites in the can. That's one of Ratchet's specials: it'll help protect Upbeat's exterior and heal any little scratches he may pick up. It's different from the medical nanites, for general use rather than for injuries."
     Poppy grinned.
     "He thinks of everything!"
     "Ratchet is rather good."
     "What does the refined stuff do?"
     "It acts as lubrication. Your planet's surface has an astonishing amount of irritants. They're not too much of a nuisance for us, but for the vehicles... most aggravating, if not actually painful."
     Poppy nodded thoughtfully, chin propped in her hand, and gazed at Chill.
     "You're well-educated, aren't you? What were you? You know, back on Cybertron."
     He stilled, staring at her, then lowered his head, shoulders bowed.
     "I was training as... your equivalent would be a cross between architect, electrical engineer and metallurgist. I wanted to specialise in creating versatile, self-sustaining domiciles..." His voice tailed off and he shrugged. "Then the war came..."
     Poppy bit her lip, regretting she'd asked.
     "I'm sorry."
     He raised his head and regarded her sadly.
     "So am I." The brilliant light of his eyes faded for a moment, something she'd come to associate with them closing, then brightened again as he straightened. "But I'm alive, unlike so many of my colleagues. I may even be able to resume my studies, one day. And in the meantime - this is not such a bad life."

Steamy was agitated.
     "But Poppy! That sort of food isn't good for you!"
     "Just once isn't going to do me any harm."
     "But I've read so much about how bad pub grub is for you."
     "Yes, if you eat it all the time." She was trying to be patient. She knew they all had her best interests at heart - no, they had sparks instead of hearts, didn't they - but honestly! Even her fussy aunt Veronica hadn't been this pernickety. And even 'Spin, who usually took her side when such issues were mooted, wasn't helping.
     "But we've heard terrible thingth about what cholethterol doeth to your bodieth. And alcohol! You could have a heart attack! Liver failure! Obethity! You could die..."
     Oh for... Poppy took a deep breath and gazed around at the worried forms of the assembled transformers. "Those things take years to happen. You all know I'm healthy - you've all been making sure of that! All I'm going to do is have one little meal at the pub. Just one. I will be fine."
     "You promith?"
     Poppy nodded.
     "I promise. We'll be back in a couple of hours or so and tonight I'll eat whatever you think would be best for me. How's that sound?"
     'Spin grumbled. "It'll do, I thuppothe."
     "Great. Now, if you'll excuse me, 'Beat is waiting. Chill's in charge 'til I get back."

Poppy sat back, her hands loosely on the wheel, and just let 'Beat drive. The radio station he'd chosen today played rather more recent music than his usual golden oldies, but also avoided what passed for pop these days. She wasn't surprised when he took the scenic route, the narrow road winding through autumnal countryside.
     "This is nice."
     "Thought y'd like it. Your planet is very pretty."
     She grinned and settled a little more deeply into her seat with a contented sigh, happy to ride without words for a few minutes.
     But her curiosity wouldn't let her stay quiet for long.
      "So... How often do you need to refuel - and do I need to help you with it?"
     The Mini juddered for a second, on the verge of stalling, then the forward motion smoothed out again before Poppy could ask what was wrong.
     "Nah. Can feed meself. Might need a hand with th'oil, though. Can't reach me back."
     "Hm. Do you need it in both your forms?"
     "'s useful in both. If you don't mind."
     "Of course not. I want you to feel comfortable."
     "Ta. Maybe when we get back?" It was tentative, and Poppy chuckled.
     "OK." She peered forward. Through the trees ahead she could make out a building. "Is that it?"
     "Yup."
     Moments later 'Beat pulled into an area that was more paddock than car park. Framed by trees a short distance away was an ancient and rather unprepossessing building, blocky, its roof thatched, its windows small. The sign was so faded as to be almost illegible: Poppy could just make out 'The King's Head'.
     "Blimey. Which king?"
     There was a moment's silence, presumably while 'Beat accessed information, then,
     "Charles the second, I think."
     History wasn't Poppy's favourite subject.
     "So how old is it?"
     "Middle 1700s. Was old coaching house."
     Poppy frowned.
     "It's a bit off the beaten track for a coaching house, isn't it?"
     She almost felt 'Beat shrug.
     "Not me place to criticise human ways..."
     Poppy grinned and opened the door.
     "So, how do I recognise Lightdance?"
     "He's over in th'corner at th'end of th'bar."
     "OK, thanks. I shouldn't be too long."
     "Don't mind me. You enjoy y'rself."

There were only a handful of people in the pub, the owners of the four other cars parked outside, presumably. They glanced up as she entered, as people are wont to do in half-empty pubs, then resumed their quiet conversations as Poppy approached the bar. The middle-aged, motherly-looking woman behind the counter smiled.
     "Ullo love. First visit?" Poppy nodded. "Going to be eating?"
     "Please." She took the offered menu card, asked for a half-pint of local cider, then, her eyes finally adapting to the dimness inside the room, ran her gaze to the corner at the end of the bar.
     And blinked. Apparently Lightdance's alternative form was a jukebox. She was anything but a connoisseur, but the machine looked like an original - and was very pretty. She moved closer, admiring the smooth curves, the broad, stylised glittery petal effect at the base, the chunky design. The sign on the front read Wurlizter. And ye gods, it still played actual records!
     "Aren't you a beauty?" She murmured, touching the glass front.
     Lightdance twinkled at her. She inclined her head.
     "Hello. I'm Poppy."
     "In't she grand?" Poppy jumped and looked over her shoulder. The barmaid was hovering behind her, cider-filled half-pint mug in hand.
     "It's lovely! I didn't know you could still get ones that play vinyl."
     "Not many left outside museums, these days."
     "I'd love one. I don't suppose it's for sale?"
      "No, love, 'fraid not."
     Poppy grinned.
     "No harm in asking. If you ever do decide to sell, can I have first refusal?"
     "If you like." She handed Poppy a notepad and pen. "Give us your name and phone number and I'll tell the boss."
     Poppy obliged, then took her drink to a table close to the jukebox and had a look at the menu. Ploughman's lunch, fish and chips, baked spud with an assortment of toppings... Her mouth watered. Healthy food was all very well as standard fare, but sometimes you just had to indulge in something deliciously naughty.
     Ooh, steak and ale pie with chips and mushy peas! Perfect!
     Steamy would have a fit. Perhaps better not tell him...
     She gave her order at the bar then stood in front of Lightdance, ostensibly taking a look at what music was on offer while speaking very quietly to the transformer.
     "'Beat tells me you're a friend. I suppose he's told you about me. I'm here to say hello and invite you to join us."
     With a whir and a click, without being touched the jukebox slid a record into place, and seconds later the warm strains of a clarinet drifted across the room. The barmaid smiled as she carried Poppy's lunch to her table.
     "Ah, 'Stranger on the Shore'... somehow that one always gets played. Enjoy your lunch, love. Let me know if you need anything."
     'Stranger on the Shore'. Somehow that seemed highly appropriate...

The meal was delicious and filling, and Poppy treated herself to another cider (though only because she knew 'Beat would be driving back), while Lightdance regaled the pub in general and Poppy in particular with a variety of melodic old songs. Poppy recognised 'World Without Love', 'Aquarius' and 'Exodus', but most of the rest were unfamiliar. Though no less delightful for that, and somehow very fitting in the ancient low-ceilinged room with the smoke-darkened beams overhead. Poppy leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, soaking up the atmosphere.
     "Everything OK love?"
     Poppy opened her eyes and nodded as the barmaid lifted her empty plate.
     "That was really good, thanks."
     "Glad you enjoyed it. Can I get you anything else? Pudding, maybe?"
     Poppy considered it, but the meal had been of the usual generous pub quantities and she really was rather full.
     "Next time. I'll make sure I order something a bit smaller!"
     The barmaid chuckled.
     "Right you are!"
     Poppy swallowed the last of her cider and, with one last smile and gentle pat to the jukebox, paid for her meal and exited the pub.

'Beat opened the door for her and reminded her to put on her seatbelt as she slid behind the wheel. She slapped lightly at the dashboard.
     "What's all the fuss for?"
     "Eh, you've had a drink. Can't be too careful..."
     She considered remonstrating, but it was too much effort. Chuckling, she directed the Mini to take them home.
     'Beat took the direct route this time, and after a couple of minutes said carefully,
     "Lightdance liked you."
     "Oh good. I liked him too. Wonderful choice of music."
     "'e's not sure 'e wants t'leave th'pub though."
     Poppy sighed.
     "I can understand why. Though I'd love to have him join us."
     'Beat was silent for a moment., then asked, tentatively,
     "Pr'aps we can go back again, in a couple o' days? See if e's changed 'is mind?"
     "I think that's a very good idea. Thursday lunchtime it is."

© JAT Oct 2011

[grump] Sue sent me an email earlier...

Browsing the latest catalogue from my friendly bookseller, this caught my eye… [g]
Alan Dean Foster : Codgerspace
Severn House 1994
"THE TOASTERS WERE REVOLTING . . . . . as were the lawn mowers, vacuum cleaners, dishwashers and just about every other household appliance imaginable... Now an alien threat to man and machine has put the fate of the galaxy in the unlikely hands of five senior citizens - and their brave little food processor... "

There's nowt new under the sun. I've never heard of this (though it does sound fun): the Poppy Tales are based on the Bayverse Tfs. (And looking at the date, I wonder if the original Tfs were inspirational... Probably not.)

Labels: fanfic, Transformers