Post by beta on Dec 4, 2009 1:40:24 GMT -5
In the vast universe, business was business. A mechanical world run by a strange race of beings called the Quintessons. Upon that world, was their business of a slave race of sentient robots divided into two manufactures - the consumer goods and the military hardware. Each side generally kept seperate and usually sold for service both on the manufacturing world known as Cybertron and elsewhere on other worlds.
Military hardware were sold to the highest bidder generating armies for them and even stand-by armies to act as mercenaries for wars when called for. Again, purchased to the highest bidder. There was no honor nor glory for these poor soldiers of fortune, nor would they see the fruits of their fortune. They were captive warriors.
Consumer goods were no different. Manufactured and sold both on and off world to whomever could afford having such fine mechanisms as robotic slaves and servants. The galaxy was richly spoiled by such prospects. And yet, the consumer goods would never see the fruits of their labors. Only know the misery of their duties and hazards of their existence.
When wars were thin, the Quints pitted consumer goods against military hardware for a time until it became dull as military ALWAYS won. So, they expanded to just military hardware and even the military hardware against alien beasts and races.
Over a millenia of this torture and hell soo enough caused the conception of a forbidden want withn the sparks of both the slave factions.
A slave femme strode through a doorway that slid open, holding a hovercart that held some sort of container upon it as she brought it to her Master.
The Master was a Quintesson, one who was self-absorbed in his work and treated Beta just like any other Quint treated their slaves - like filthy goo.
She said nothing as she strode up to the Quint, only hung her head as she was not allowed to gaze upon her Quint Master. Lifting her optics in his presense would mean certain termination.
For now... she waited. Standing there as he ignored her approach, back side to her. Leaving her to just... stand there.
After several moments of silence, that silence was broken.
"What do you want?" Grumbled the Quint.
Beta did not say anything, she didn't have to as the Quint turned around to see what she had. Refreshments and a container he had been waiting for.
"Ahh, finally. Took you long enough," growled the Quint as he picked up the container and moved it over to a chamber for testing and began to work on it.
Before he got far, the Quint's optics shifted to Beta and glared at her.
She swiftly diverted her optics downwards.
"What are you still doing here?" He snapped at her. "Go on now! Out!"
She bowed swiftly and left the room, leaving the cart.
Elsewhere in the complex, now that her Master was busy, she pondered what next. Her hand curled into a fist as she gazed out over the landscape of Cybertron. This world was her captive home. How much she loathed the Quints more and more.
But what could they do?
Military hardware were sold to the highest bidder generating armies for them and even stand-by armies to act as mercenaries for wars when called for. Again, purchased to the highest bidder. There was no honor nor glory for these poor soldiers of fortune, nor would they see the fruits of their fortune. They were captive warriors.
Consumer goods were no different. Manufactured and sold both on and off world to whomever could afford having such fine mechanisms as robotic slaves and servants. The galaxy was richly spoiled by such prospects. And yet, the consumer goods would never see the fruits of their labors. Only know the misery of their duties and hazards of their existence.
When wars were thin, the Quints pitted consumer goods against military hardware for a time until it became dull as military ALWAYS won. So, they expanded to just military hardware and even the military hardware against alien beasts and races.
Over a millenia of this torture and hell soo enough caused the conception of a forbidden want withn the sparks of both the slave factions.
A slave femme strode through a doorway that slid open, holding a hovercart that held some sort of container upon it as she brought it to her Master.
The Master was a Quintesson, one who was self-absorbed in his work and treated Beta just like any other Quint treated their slaves - like filthy goo.
She said nothing as she strode up to the Quint, only hung her head as she was not allowed to gaze upon her Quint Master. Lifting her optics in his presense would mean certain termination.
For now... she waited. Standing there as he ignored her approach, back side to her. Leaving her to just... stand there.
After several moments of silence, that silence was broken.
"What do you want?" Grumbled the Quint.
Beta did not say anything, she didn't have to as the Quint turned around to see what she had. Refreshments and a container he had been waiting for.
"Ahh, finally. Took you long enough," growled the Quint as he picked up the container and moved it over to a chamber for testing and began to work on it.
Before he got far, the Quint's optics shifted to Beta and glared at her.
She swiftly diverted her optics downwards.
"What are you still doing here?" He snapped at her. "Go on now! Out!"
She bowed swiftly and left the room, leaving the cart.
Elsewhere in the complex, now that her Master was busy, she pondered what next. Her hand curled into a fist as she gazed out over the landscape of Cybertron. This world was her captive home. How much she loathed the Quints more and more.
But what could they do?