Cat's In the Cradle

NOTE: Those of you who are familiar with Harry Chapin's music will know where this blog post title comes from...

I need a new cell phone. Not only is mine an antiquated thing the size of a brick (green screen, the "Snake" game, and the old Nokia ring tone -- enough said), it's stopped holding a charge for longer than a few hours. I don't want some fancy thing with more gadgets than I can use, but I'd at least like something a little more up-to-date. A camera phone wouldn't be too bad, or something that could hold a Star Wars ringtone...

Okay, I'm getting off track here. But the old cell phone did get things started.

I'm at the computer banging my head over the next chapter of "Walk Like Men" when the Nokia ring tone finally manages to work itself through the full-volume "Halloween" marathon the twins have got going and beep its way into my brain. I grab the phone, have a look at the Caller ID... and groan.

"What is it?" asks Vader, looking over from his own computer.

"It's my dad," I reply. "Do I have to answer?"

"Yes," he replies, turning back to his laptop.

"Since when did you take his side?" I demand.

"I don't like the man," he answers, not looking away from the screen. "But I think you need to maintain a relationship with him. He is still your father."

I sigh. Leave it to the man who's a walking plethora of father issues -- on several fronts -- to tell me I need to talk to my own dad. I hit the "Talk" button and answer.

I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say it wasn't pretty. And my fossil of a cell phone nearly got chucked at a wall after we hung up.

"Maintain a relationship, huh, Darth?" I fire at the ex-Sith.

"At least you're trying," he admits.

"Trying to what?" someone asks.

I turn, expecting one of Rose's live-ins or someone from my crew. Instead, I see a fat, gray creature with a round white head reminiscent of one of the Zoloft-commercial critters, broad feet like an elephant's, and a whiny sort of voice that would put Luke Skywhiner to shame. He holds a notebook in one hand and looks at me with a puzzled expression on his perpetually downcast face.

"Hey Strong Sad," I tell him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was elected -- or should I say drafted? -- to come here and give you a status report on the farm and the still-enteched," he replies, handing me the notebook. The report is neatly written in a strange gothic script, his typical handwriting.

"Thanks," I reply. Strong Sad is a member of the crew from Homestar Runner, Strong Bad's younger brother, and probably the least insane and annoying of the lot despite his penchant for whining and moping (hence his name). Often a target for frequent pummelling and cruel jokes, he makes Eeyore from "Winnie the Pooh" seem as upbeat as Weird Al. Despite this, I kind of like the guy and feel sorry for his status as low man on the totem pole among his crowd, having been there myself years ago.

"What were you trying to do?" he asks, glancing at my cell phone.

"Trying to talk to my dad," I sigh. "He wants to know why we don't talk or meet much, why I don't seem to like him."

"I know you love your father," Vader puts in, turning in his chair.

"Deep down, somewhere, WAAAAAY deep," quips Grievous from his perch on the back of the sofa close by.

Vader ignores him. "Simply because you love someone, however, doesn't mean you like them. And often it is easy to hate those you love, because when they do you wrong, the pain is far deeper than a wrong committed by someone you don't like."

I sigh. "I just... wish Dad would like me for who I am. He seems to resent having a daughter who's a geek, who does things like dress as Darth Vader and write fanfic and get in long-winded debates with people over who dies in the next Harry Potter book. And it seems to me like he really wants to change that and make me a 'proper young lady,' whatever that means. I wish he'd accept me as who I am... obsessions and quirks and all."

Strong Sad reaches up and rubs the back of his head absently. "You know... it sounds like me and my brothers. I mean... they're always doing weird stuff with computers and going around pulling pranks and pummeling people... and I sit in my room and listen to music and write poetry and play board games with myself. And sometimes... you know... I think maybe they'd appreciate me more if I was like them. But I'm Strong Sad. I can't change who I am. And I just wish they'd see that..."

I reach out and pat his arm. "You know you have friends here, Strong Sad. And we don't care if you're different. Heck, compared to some of the people I've met here and elsewhere, you're halfway normal. Elephant feet and all."

Strong Sad's mouth twitches, almost smiling. But then he sighs and turns to Vader. "I've got to be heading back. Any chance I can get a ride from someone?"

"Inquire of Rose and Prime," Vader replies. "I'm certain they can help you out."

"Thanks." He walks off.

"Poor guy," I note.

"He will be fine," Vader assures me. "I'm certain that, for all they torment him, his brothers do care for him and would help him out in a crisis."

"I wonder if my father would help ME out in a crisis," I wonder aloud.

Vader tosses something at me, and I instinctively catch it and have a look.

"Watch it," he orders. "Then answer your own question."

I sigh and pocket the Return of the Jedi DVD. Sometimes I wonder if my whole Vader obsession didn't stem from my own issues with my father. That would explain SOOOOO much...

Music of the Night

"Kenya, mail call!"

I look up from reading Darth Bane: Path of Destruction to find a stack of envelopes being flung at my head courtesy of Thundercracker, one of the Seekers (Transformers who turn into fighter jets). My clones back home have made it a point to forward my mail to me while I'm at Rose's, as well as clip newspaper articles they believe I need to read and send them as well. I appreciate the gesture, even though I wish they'd handle the bills for me.

"Anything urgent?" Vader asks as I remove the rubber band holding the envelopes together and sift through the envelopes.

"Credit card bill, cell phone bill, Reader's Digest, sci-fi book catalogue, junk mail, junk mail, wedding announcement, junk mail..." I rattle off, tossing each item to the side as I announce it. "Hmm, card from Grandma... more junk mail..." I finish going through it and open the last envelope, which contains a few news clippings.

"Do you know the lucky bride or groom here?" asks Jango, picking up the wedding announcement.

"I couldn't pick them out of a lineup," I reply. "Though I think they go to the single's ward. Or used to -- they won't after they're married. Stands to reason." I skim through the news articles. "Geez, can't Hollywood come up with an original idea?"

"What do you mean?" asks Vader.

I hold up a story that made the front page of our local paper. "Remember how the Boise State football team won its Bowl game back in January?" I ask. "Some big-time producer wants to make a movie about it."

"You're kidding," Vader replies, and he snorts with barely suppressed laughter.

"What's so funny about that?" asks Thundercracker. "There's plenty of football movies."

"It's just sad," I reply. "Is Idaho really that desperate for attention that we talk for months about a stupid football game and go nuts when people give us attention for it?"

"Just be thankful your home state is gaining positive attention," Vader replies. "And for something other than potatoes and Napoleon Dynamite."

"Point taken," I reply. "Thunder, why are you still standing there? Don't you have more mail to deliver?"

"I was just wondering... have you seen Delta?"

"Out on the target range, last I checked," I tell him. "Though she might have come back in."

"Thanks." He walks off.

Vader watches him go, then turns to me. "You suprise me, Kenya."

"How so?"

"I thought I would find you on the karaoke machine again."

"Eh, I've been on it nonstop for the last few nights. Figured I'd give my voice a rest." The Junkions turned Rose's living room into a karaoke bar last weekend, and no one's bothered to take it down yet. Believe me, there are members of this crew I never knew could sing... and some that CAN'T sing but attempted to do so anyway. Thanks a lot, Grievous, I'll never be able to listen to Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City" again without hearing you hack and cough your way through it.

Vader has to be smiling through that mask. "Then you won't mind if I take a turn at it?"

I wave to the front of the room, where someone managed to talk Eragon into trying the machine out. "Knock yourself out."

He waits patiently for Eragon to finish stumbling his way through "Devil Went Down To Georgia." When the young rider finally drops the mike in frustration and goes to sit back down, Vader steps up, take the microphone, and selects a song.

Rose sits down beside me with a grin. "Ooh, I've wanted to hear him sing for so long!"

"It's quite the experience," I reply with a grin.

Everyone quiets down as Vader begins the song, and I have to smile at his choice, as it's one of my favorites:

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness wakes and stirs imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses
Helpless to resist the notes I write
For I compose the music of the night

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Hearing is believing, music is deceiving
Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight
Dare you trust the music of the night

Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth
And the truth isn't what you want to see
In the dark it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it, secretly posses you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Close your eyes, start a journey through a strange, new world
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
Close your eyes and let music set you FREE
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

I applaud, as do many others within earshot. Vader gives a stately bow before handing the microphone off to Jango for a turn.

"Beautiful job," I tell him.

"Thank you," he replies. "I knew you wanted to hear that song."

"And you did it justice."

Thundercracker and Delta walk in at that moment, Delta holding something huge and furry in her arms. I blink, trying to process the image of a Transformer holding a large purple stuffed rabbit.

"What the..." I get out.

"Oh, TC picked this up at the after-Easter sales," she replies, holding the rabbit up for me to see. "Isn't it great?"

"It reminded me of Cyclonus when I saw it," Thundercracker adds. "Figured she would like it as a punching bag or voodoo doll or something like that."

"It was sweet of you," she tells him, and they walk off talking.

I raise an eyebrow at Vader. "You don't think..."

"Who knows? And if so, who are we to begrudge them?"

"Again point taken," I reply. "Though I wonder how Megatron and Starscream are going to react."

The Giant, the Witch, and the Easter Bunny

It was shaping up to be a long week. There'd been no word from Snape or Keily on the state of affairs at Babylon Palace, no reports from home on the state of those still enteched, and no sighting of Nemesis or Delta. Both Prime and Vader had sent out multiple search parties, and I'd joined a few of these myself, but all had come up empty. It was as if the mechs had vanished off the face of the planet. I'd very nearly given up hope that we'd find our friend intact, thinking that she'd either been destroyed or that Nemesis and Galvatron would find a way to bring her over to their side.

Last night I was proven wrong on both counts.

Vader, Prime, Megatron, and General Drache were discussing where to send the latest search party when the door suddenly burst open. I'd never seen so many eyes and optics nearly pop out of people's heads like that -- standing in the doorway, worse for the wear but alive and standing, was a masked green-and-gold Transformer. Every inch of her plating was covered in scratches and dents, something was leaking from her leg, and what looked like claw marks had been carved into her chest, but despite that her optics shone brightly.

"Delta!" Vader exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

"They've got a new ally," she said weakly. "We've got a new ally. And I kicked Mr. Bunny-Ears' butt." And with that she collapsed in a heap.

***

When Ratchet finally allowed us into the medbay to talk to Delta, we learned the full story:

The dark semi truck that had pulled up in front of our house had indeed been Nemesis. Whether he was goading us into a pursuit or trying to spy on us is still unclear, but he obviously wasn't looking for a confrontation, as he fled at the first sign of troops. Delta, wanting a little revenge for her friend's entechment, pursued him, not confident that she could defeat him but at least hoping to knock a few dents in him.

After following Nemesis for the better part of two days, she found herself in a system of caves deep under New Mexico, where the dark Prime and his allies had set up temporary headquarters. There she confronted him... and nearly paid for her bravado with her life when Galvatron laid into her.

Ironically, it was Nemesis' newly-acquired ally that saved her life, stepping in before Megatron's deranged clone could deal the final blow.

"Don't you think she's worth much more to us alive?" she pointed out with a sinister laugh. "We could use more space-worthy soldiers..."

"She's been corrupted by Vader and Optimus," Nemesis pointed out. "It would be more trouble than she's worth to try to turn her to our side..."

Before he could finish that thought, the entire cavern shook... and all heck broke loose as the ceiling caved in. The Resistance's newest ally had shown up.

Some time ago Zacharias' friends among the Asgard had detected unusual activity in Iceland. Now the source of that activity -- the Iron Giant, an alien robot who had spent the last fifty years or so piecing himself back together after a nasty encounter with the US Army -- had arrived on the scene and was doing a rather good job of laying waste to Nemesis' headquarters.

When Delta finally clawed her way out of the rubble, it was to find herself eye-to-eye with Galvatron's minion, Cyclonus... and none too happy about it, either.

"Think you can escape us, little femme?" he sneered.

"Bug off, Bunny-Ears!" she retorted, and pounced on him. The two of them grappled viciously while Nemesis, Galvatron, and the clones of Elita-1 and Steelia tried to fend off the Iron Giant.

In the end, Nemesis, his cronies, and their new ally escaped, no doubt to lick their wounds and rebuild headquarters somewhere else. They did take Cyclonus with them, but not before Delta had given him a nice collection of dents to limp home with. Delta, meanwhile, decided to make her way back to Kentucky to deliver the news to Prime, taking the Giant with her.

"So who's this new ally of theirs?" asked Prime once Delta had completed her story. "You failed to mention her name."

Delta tried to recall. "They said her name once... I think it was... Ephalba."

"Ephalba?" I repeated. "The Wicked Witch of the West?"

Grievous gave a snort. "What, they feel they have to have a green sorceress with a black fashion statement on their side too? No offense meant, Miss," he said quickly when Meleficent gave him a dark look.

"On the plus side, we've got more firepower on our side," I pointed out, looking out the window to the air field where the dragons were quite curiously regarding the Iron Giant, who looked back at the creatures with equal curiosity.

"True," Vader replied. Then he chuckled a little. "Bunny-Ears, Delta?"

"What, doesn't Cyclonus look like a freakin' Easter Bunny?" she retorted. "C'mon, he's lavender and has bunny ears..."

"Speaking of Easter, I need to remind my clone to buy eggs," I remembered. "Brandon's still going to expect an Easter egg hunt this year."

"Despite the war, life goes on," Vader noted. "As it should."

"Well said," Prime replied.