Reminder

[missmaryr]

I did not intend to
post another story until after Christmas, but this plot bunny bit down
and would not let go until I wrote this and posted it. It's short and
not my usual standard, but anyway, Merry Christmas.

Reminder

Razorclaw
placed Sam back in the cage, coming from the most recent contact with
Megatron. As usual, the Decepticon leader required Sam to undress. "You
are healing," he said, clearly pleased. "Get dressed." Megatron watched
how stiffly Sam moved. "How much longer before he is completely healed?"
he asked the breeder.

"If Sam continues healing at this rate, he will be fully recovered by the time we return, my lord," Razorclaw said.

"

Good.
Sam, look at me." Sam looked up at the Decepticon leader. "Your
improvement in health and manner pleases me. However, you are still to
be restrained unless in your cage or under the direct eye of Razorclaw
or anyone he designates, as before. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," Sam said. His face was the bland slave expression that Razorclaw knew well.

"Razorclaw,
you have done well." The connection was gone. The trip back to the cage
was silent, and the breeder left, knowing that Sam needed some time
alone after seeing the Master.

Dead End came, provided Sam's meal,
and offered him pain medicines. Sam refused politely and started
nibbling at the food, which consisted of the normal slave ration. As
soon as Dead End was out of sight, Sam dumped it in the waste disposal
and returned his gaze to the screen. There was a large star dominating
the screen.

"What're you looking at?" Sam turned to see a crew
member come in. He was a standard Decepticon, chunky, deep red with
green trim. Sam could see that he had the signs of a hammered out dent
on his leg. Sam glanced behind him to be sure there was not someone else
the crew member was speaking to. "Yes, little one, I'm talking to you.
This place is dead. I'm off duty with this leg." Taking a seat and
looking at the screen, he added, "You were staring like there was
something interesting out there."

"The star reminded me a story from my youth," Sam responded, and looked back at the screen.

"Yeah?
Tell me about it." The last sentence was a demand, not a request. Sam
turned and considered the Decepticon. Normally the crew ignored him,
afraid of dealing with the fragile human who was Megatron's pet. This
one was hurt and looking for distraction. For a moment he seriously
considered blowing the 'con off.

Instead, he looked at the star
and recited, "And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a
decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed, "and
kept going. The first time he glanced over, the crew member was staring
at him. Figuring that the 'con would soon get bored and go, he went on,
listening for the sound of a large metal being moving away.

When
he came to the end, he turned, wondering if somehow he just missed
hearing the 'con go out. Instead, he found he had more of an audience,
consisting of more of the crew. The original blue one was still there.
"Any more?" he asked.

Sam blinked. "Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the King, "and went on.

At the end of the story, another of the crew asked, "What Autobot came up with that stuff?"

"It
was written on Earth not quite two thousand years before I was born,"
Sam informed him, "about one of the most influential beings ever to live
on Earth." He could not imagine why the 'cons were looking at him like
that. Here he thought he would bore one away, and instead here was most
of the crew listening.

They considered each other, the puzzled
human and the disturbed 'cons. "I see now why the Master kept you near
him," the one closest to the door finally said. He was larger than the
others, and something was different about him. "All right, all of you,
we have work." He indicated the original crew member. "I've got that
smoother set up for you." Sam realized that this was the captain. He
watched them file out. None of them spoke. After a time, Sam realized
what bothered them.

He smiled to himself. No wonder they were quiet. He made them think. It was a wonder he didn't smell smoke from overheating.

Those
stories told the 'cons that humans had legends and had history. Sam
recited the stories as he read them, long ago, using the old archaic
language. The way the stories were written was a craft and an art in
itself. Suddenly, those crew members had shoved in their processors that
the slaves had a history and a heritage. The stories told of a family
structure, of a human government, and of a human religion that did not
glorify war or combat, but the value of the ordinary person.

Alone
again, he looked back to the screen. The star was no longer there.
"Thank you," he murmured, not to the star, but to whatever had sent that
sight and that reminder. Christmas, he thought, was never about the
gifts or the hype common in his youth. The Christmas story he recited
told of hope, and in that hope, the strength of the human spirit. He
would not forget again.

.