Monty Python and the Twins

The Tale of Perceptor

Perceptor was working in his laboratory early the next morning. The researcher was examining the properties of a new rock conglomeration that Beachcomber found on his latest exploratory jaunt. Perceptor's domain was off to one side of the main medbay, a smaller office that doubled as a storage room and was chock-full of bits and parts that any of the mechanics might find useful in their experiments. A large screen dominated one orange wall, containing a computer terminal that accessed the knowledge of Teletran-1. This is where Perceptor sat typing, when a commotion distracted him from his studies.
Wheeljack and Sideswipe burst into the room, startling the scientist and causing him to stand up from the terminal. However, the two newcomers took no notice of Perceptor as they proceeded to rummage through the storage boxes, obviously continuing a discussion that had been going on for some time.

"They could be carried," Wheeljack explained, taking an empty box from the floor and using it like a shopping cart.

"What, a swallow carrying a coconut?" queried Sideswipe, collecting a handful of small springs and tossing them deftly into the box that Wheeljack had tucked under his arm.

"It could grip it by the husk," said Wheeljack reasonably, trying to explain.

Sideswipe beaned Wheeljack on the head with a small rubber washer and looked at Perceptor with an exasperated expression in his optics. "It's not a question of where he grips it. It's a simple question of weight ratios..."

Perceptor stood completely still while he computed for a moment. Pulling up his immense biological encyclopedia program, he calculated the approximate weight, size, and mass of both a swallow (which he had to find the specific entry as he had not personally seen one) and a coconut. Amazingly, Sideswipe appeared to have the upper hand, scientifically speaking. The research scientist could not help but to chime in. "It's true, Wheeljack, a five-ounce bird could not carry a one-pound coconut."

Sideswipe quickly hid his delighted grin by turning his back and digging enthusiastically through the assorted parts on the back shelves. Wheeljack turned to pin Perceptor with a look...one that clearly said stay out of this unless you know what you're talking about.

Perceptor pushed his advantage, recognizing a scientific challenge when he saw one. As pacifistic as he was, he had no problem whatsoever defending himself intellectually. He took a reasoning stance and proceeded to explain to his fellow scientist, ignoring Sideswipe's periodic contributions to the box still held in Wheeljack's grasp. "Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings precisely forty-three times every second." His point appeared to fall on deaf audios as Wheeljack turned suddenly, ear-lights flashing, and selected a few small gyro-motors for the growing pile in the box. Perceptor added, "I am right, you know, and Teletran-1 has the data to back me up."

Sideswipe reappeared with a random collection of thin metal strips. "It could be carried by an African swallow." Flashing a knowing grin at his co-conspirator, the red Lamborghini disappeared back into the stacks of miscellaneous parts.

Perceptor computed that possibility. African swallows were indeed larger. "An African swallow, maybe, but not a European swallow." His agreement was met with Wheeljack's back as the Lancia continued to noisily rummage through the various storage bins in the front of the room. Perceptor couldn't quite tell, but the noise seemed to be covering a quiet set of giggles.

Wheeljack's ear-lights steadied from their flickering, then flashed normally as he pressed his own point. "Wait a minute. Supposing two swallows carried it together?" Before Perceptor could finish computing that possibility, Sideswipe called out from the back shelving.

"No, they'd have to have it on a line."

Wheeljack was undeterred. "Simple! They'd just use a strand of creeper." Shrugging at Perceptor, he juggled the box and peered into it for a moment before proceeding to the door. Sideswipe trotted out from the back shelving, carrying a long coil of fine wire. Perceptor stood back, shaking his head at the nonsense the two other Autobots were spouting. Why in Primus' name would a swallow carry a coconut anyway? It doesn't make sense.

Catching up to Wheeljack, Sideswipe tossed the wire in the box and preceded him out the door. "Held under the dorsal guiding feathers?"

"Why not? I'll prove it!" was the final rejoinder from Wheeljack as the two Autobots traipsed out of pickup range.

Oh dear, thought Perceptor, sitting back down, bored Twins and an inspired Wheeljack. I think we're in for a very interesting day.

oOoOo

Beachcomber and Hound finally dragged Perceptor out of his office much later that day to grab a ration of Energon. "C'mon, Perceptor, not even you can last forever without a good Energon drink to sustain you," they had explained. The trio walked amiably from the medbay section of the ship to the dayroom, chatting about Earth geology and discussing the possible uses for the rock that had been found when a high-pitched echoing whirr stopped them mid-sentence.

"Like, hey, what the heck is that?" asked Beachcomber, peering up and down the large orange corridor for the source of the sound.

Hound swept his tracking rifle around. "It appears that whatever is making that noise is directly in front of us and," he paused, recalibrating, "it's heading our way, fast!"
Perceptor peered up the corridor. He could just make out a tiny object whizzing down the center of the hallway. Something about its odd shape and method of locomotion tickled his memory circuits, but he couldn't quite place what it could possibly be. Absent-mindedly, the red-blue scientist stood completely still, searching his program memory to place the object. The next thing he knew, Hound had tackled him to the floor just as the oddly shaped mechanical doohickey buzzed past at breakneck speed. It was a tiny aerodynamic shape attached to a much larger spherical object. Beachcomber merely ducked, a bemused laugh echoing from his vocalizer. "Well, I'll be..."

Hound and Perceptor peered down the hallway at the rapidly retreating, tiny, flapping object. "What was that?" asked Hound, standing upright and brushing off his armor before helping Perceptor to his feet. "Another of Wheeljack's inventions?" Perceptor used his microscope lenses to take readings and confirm what he hoped was not really what he thought it was.

Perceptor shook his head ruefully. "Yes. It's apparently a mechanical swallow...carrying a coconut."

oOoOo

Perceptor left his office very late that night after finally coming to a satisfactory conclusion to his research on Beachcomber's conglomerate rock. Stepping out into the hallway outside of medbay, he almost didn't register the shadowed forms of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Bluestreak and, several steps behind them, Brawn. Giving a startled jump, which elicited a snicker from Brawn, he half-heartedly returned the even smiles from the trio, who proceeded to pace him back to the barracks rooms. They must all be coming off-shift or something, he thought hopefully.

Or not. Perceptor didn't pick up the lilting strains at first, but when he became aware of the music playing from Bluestreak's doorwing stereo speakers and Sideswipe thumping along on what sounded like an Autobot-sized tambourine, he picked up his pace a little, hoping to distance himself from whatever the Twins were up to this time. The Lamborghinis merely kept pace, Bluestreak a step behind, and Brawn lagging back with a nasty grin plastered across his lip components. To his utter shock, though he knew Sunstreaker used to be an artist, a soft lyrical voice began to sing along.

Bravely, Sir Perceptor-
Strode out from his office.
He's been stuck in there all day-
Brave, brave, Perceptor.

He is never to be found-
When we go out on patrol.
Brave, brave, brave hiding Perceptor...

Perceptor clearly heard Brawn's loud snickering at the lyrics. Although he was not a combat fighter, Perceptor did have an important job, and no unappreciative, unintelligent grunts were going to get to him. He was only a few more moments from the sanctity of his quarters. He could tune them out.

But the lyrics were clever...

He would never be caught outside-
When Decepticons attack.
Or to take part in a fight-
He could run away from.

He would rather sit in there-
And never fight the war-
To never have his limbs dismantled-
Perceptor...

Sunstreaker's voice began to lilt in a repetitive line as a nasty smirk spread across his face. Perceptor was in sight of his goal, and the door to his quarters never looked so welcome.

His head smashed in, and his spark cut out,
His lenses removed, and his optics unplugged,

Ah, there was the door! Just a few more steps...

His fingers snapped, and his Energon drained,
And his cable--

Perceptor huffily closed the door on the lyrical chanting. Faintly, he could hear uproarious laughter echoing back and forth across the corridor walls. He shook his head again, and strode towards the recharge bunk in his quarters. Something has to be decisively done with those two...but what? And who?