Chapter Text
“The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.”
― Albert Einstein
He didn’t like the dark, he realized when he descended into it.
D-16 was built to fly through the darkest and emptiest corners of the universe but he knew he wasn’t built for this type of darkness. This was suffocating and awful, to know that millions of tons of stone were between you and the sky terrified him.
Venting became difficult the farther they went down and he could swear he heard the walls moving, creeping, inching towards him to engulf him.
His parks skipped a beat when everything around him made a crack, he fully expected that the ceiling would come down or something equally horrible. The plates that surrounded him gave one last crack, like a ember dying in a fire.
He wasn’t sure how to feel when the elevator stopped, for it meant that they wouldn’t go down any further, but it also meant that he would have to leave whatever little protection the metal shell gave him.
Momus told him it was a mine. While drinking his first cube of energon he was told where it came from, mecha mined the raw crystals. He was also told that he would be one of those mecha.
The mine wasn’t empty, but it was dark and clammy. The sparse light did little to nothing to improve vision for it couldn’t even reach the ground. His optics were having trouble adjusting.
Unknownst to him, mines were often used in the past as punishing facilities, the dark wasn’t any better than a cell to be honest. This mine was stationed in Tarn, partially under the industrial terrain of corporation Vakker. Vakker made metal beams and other heavy construction materials, it is said that the name Vakker found it’s way from an extraterrestrial language and meant something like clean, or beautiful. Even it that was true, Vakker did not make true of his supposed nature and is the living proof that the world has a strange sense of irony.
“This is it. It’s not much I know, but it will become familiar.”
They started walking and the ground had a steady rise which he could felt in his struts. They kept walking until he noticed that the lights were starting to dim.
He stood still to look at one of them and he noticed that more than a few of them were unlit, or broken with electrical sparks flying around.
H-11 called when D-16 did not follow.
“Coming.” he answered.
He sped up his pace to keep up and saw that his companions had gathered around a glass-like room where a mech handed out things to a queue of miners. Some of those mecha were even bigger than Momus!
He suddenly became very conscious of his size, or rather lack of.
Said mech tapped on the glass to get the attention of distributor. The queue growled as one single beast when denied. Momus’s hissed with bared teeth and they shut up. His fangs gleamed, standing out between a row of an otherwise flat row and D-16 found his tongue wandering over his own pair, wondering what they were for and bit his glossa leaving a taste of energon in his mouth.
The stranger handed a few flat things to their mentor. Momus turned to the newsparks. “I’m gonna give you these, these are cards and they’ll monitor you. You’ll check in at the beginning of your shift, if you don’t, you don’t get paid it’s that simple. If you want your equipment you hand over your card to the distributor and he’ll place some on your name. You hand them in at the end of your shift. ”
“But what if gets broken or lost?”
“You’ll pay for it if you break it, if it get lost you’ll be charged with theft. So don’t let that happen.”
The cards were pushed into their servo’s without further ceremony. “You’ll get your quarters assigned to you in a joor. The lights go out in two joors.”
When he left, the tunnel suddenly looked thrice the size it was before and D-16 never realized how much the mech loomed over him. A secret feeling escaped him, a feeling of relief.
So there he stood, in front of his quarters which he shared with three other mecha. His put the card on the scanner and the slid open with a whoosh.
Three mecha, it shouldn’t be impossible to be civil to each other right?
One other mech was there and he was recharging. Minding his steps he walked to the only unoccupied berth, (at least he thought it was, seeing that it had no visible scuffs and stuff lying on it).
He didn’t really have anything that belonged to him yet, only his card. Confused and tired, he sat down and the berth protested under him with a threatening creak.
“What’s your name?” The mech on the berth was awake, his voice was slurred and he had one optic open, one that drilled into his frame.
“My serial number is D-16.” The mech found this very funny for some reason.
“Well D-16, how old are you exactly?”
“I came online 22 joors ago. Do you know Momus?” The smile on the stranger disappeared, it was a pity D-16 decided, it looked good on him.
“I do know him.” He held up his left servo. Or what was left of it, it missed all his digits and part of the palm, the edges of the wound were twisted and black. “Happened on his watch. Let me guess, he’s your mentor.”
“He is. What happened?”
“Fire, fluorine fire if you wanna starts getting all technical about it. Didn’t know that Momus was this desperate for new workers.” He paused. “You’re a newspark.”
“There was another mech with me, H-11, he was assigned to Hadron.”
“Then you’ll see him around, Hadron and Momus like to switch miners from time to time with each other.”
D-16 looked at the mech, and noticed he looked... old. His was scuffed up and his plating reflected his life full of hard labor. He looked a little like him. Broad shoulders, a slim waist in comparison and thrusters. Thrusters surrounded with the same metal bands.
“You don’t like it here.”
“What makes you think that?” The mech eyed him with a raised optics ridge and laughed.
“Ha, you walk like a glitchmouse! All soft steps and optics looking everywhere. It’s no shame kid, everyone hates it here, especially if you’re a flier. Is that claustrophobia kicking in yet?”
“Claustrophobia?”
“It feels like the walls are trying to eat you, noticed anything?” D-16 nodded.
“You’ll get used to it, ”
“What’s your name?”
“Terminus of Tarn, at your service.”
The next day would be one of hard work for him, Terminus knew. His hands would bleed precious energon before the pickaxe could harden them, he made a mental note to ask a favor for his roommate. He didn’t feel like listening to pained moaning all night cycle.
D-16 however, didn’t know what to make of this new mech, he wasn’t like the foul mouthed Momus or the pompous and skittish Paradron. So he sat down on his berth and played with his card, watching as it slid through his digits again and again. The walls still loomed and his chest felt heavier than on the surface, but in here it wasn’t as bad. Maybe he would have a change in the future to return there, maybe he would not. This young mech ignored his roommate in favor of processing his very first day of life. What a day it was.
And Terminus, that old and slightly weary mech smiled a knowing smile. The kind of smile that betrayed a person of knowing more that the other, or knowing what they shouldn’t know.
The dark ate, some would even say it devoured.
Yes, this mech would get used to it, he’d have to.