“Which is why we’re reluctant to just wave goodbye,” the American countered. “We’ve seen what your people can do in a very short time. Our people–our whole civilization–can’t take that kind of destruction.”
“And if we’re still here when they get here you’ll have to,” San said bluntly. “We know you want us to tell you how to build some kind of defensive weapon or shield. We’ve told you more than once–we don’t have anything like that or know how to build one. You’re just going to have to take our word for it that as soon as we’re gone the people who are chasing us will lose interest in your planet.” Bitterness colored her tone as she went on. “We’re the only things on this world worth enough pound-for-pound to cover the fuel costs of coming out here in the first place.”
Abseil looked down at the table. That is the sum of their lives: their worth as weapons. On Cybertron and now here, too, though the humans are too homocentric to understand how they are worth nothing. ‘We go, and you’ll be safe. That’s hasn’t changed.’
The humans’ faces set grim with dissatisfaction.
The meeting ended. The four Cybertronians sat in the conference room, silent and downcast, and not without the smallest feeling that the humans will try to hold them prisoner, or at least slow materials.
**************************************************************
Sortie woke on his own for a few minutes in the afternoon. He didn’t recognise the ceiling but is still to groggy to give it much thought. Primus’ words echo loud and clear in his mind. Sit heavy, on his mind. He knows the voice but the words make Sortie unhappy, but he is soon back to sleep for some more hours.
He woke again at night, more alert but remained supine.
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