Chapter Text
“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
Chuckles passed through the round. The new senator had the audacity of being late. To his first session, nonetheless. The entire assembly was waiting for him to make his appearance, and their minds fell easily to the stereotype clinging to the mech. Out of his caste, no matter how hard he worked, Momus didn’t belong. He wouldn’t last long, in their cultured midst.
Sherma idled in his seat, servos flicking a datapad impatiently. He had a lot to say on today’s topic of discussion, even if he knew that few things would actually lead to making a difference. The education reform was one of his pet projects though, and he would at least say his piece.
He was up first and as nerve-wracking as that was, it didn’t help that senator Momus, freshly elected, was making a mockery of them all by attending late.
Plating, check. Polish, check. Smug, condescending grin, check.
Momus turned in front of the mirror slowly, admiring the way the light caught on his new paint, before taking a deep vent to settle his jittery spark. The new badge of his office glittered on his chest, radiating power that he might’ve never even had a whiff of if it hadn’t been for one lucky break in an unnamed mine shaft.
“Senator... Momus,” he said, trying it out, “ Sen- ator Momus. Senator Mo- mus.”
Just another crowd. Bigger and meaner, but just another crowd. A mech’s a mech, no matter what fancy function he’s got.
Momus finally left his flat in Translucentica – Translucentica! – to go to his date with the most powerful mecha on the planet. He was only slightly nervous.
The time it took for his transport to get him to the Grand Imperium, his smirk felt real and his gait was loosely confident. This wasn’t the posture of a meek rookie. He was seasoned.
Just another crowd.
Pushing the doors to the Imperium open, he swaggered in. “Dear, dear, my most sincere apologies,” he drawled, weighty Helexian accent affording a foreign cant to his words, “certain things got in the way, you know how it is, and I’ve been quite rude in neglecting my fellow senator the favor of my presence. Momus of Helex, pronounced Mo -mus, please restrain your adulation.”
He looked from face to face, memorizing their expressions – shock, disgust, contempt – and smiled blithely as he imagined wiping it all clean. They think me an empty-headed fool, only here to place hold. Slaggers. “Don’t let me stop the session from commencing, sweetsparks, just wait ‘til I’ve settled in.”
He noisily made his way up the Senate podium, giving a cheeky wave to the security director before easing in past three other senators, then finally settled in with a hmph! that echoed in the increasingly quiet room. When no one spoke even after he quieted, Momus looked around brightly.
“What’s wrong, dears? Need a little help getting started?” he waved indulgently at the fellow at the podium, who looked up to speak, “Don’t worry, sweetspark, I’ll let you have their attention now.”
Sherma’s expression didn’t even flutter as his optics ticked over their loud newcomer. Helexians. Did they exist purely to make noise? It certainly felt that way. Momus’ introduction of himself was completely suitable to his ‘reputation’; entirely inappropriate. Sherma gave him maybe a month as a senator before he’d scramble to climb back down the social ladder he had scaled in such an unconventional stroke of luck. A month of the needling company of senators, of watching every move, breath and word through a thousand optics. A month of being scrutinized by every powerful party on Cybertron ought to be enough to break the defiant spirit of Momus’ spark.
“Yes. Well. Welcome, senator Momus,” he had no trouble mimicking the Helexian’s accent on the name. Not a gesture of mockery, but one of indifference that earned a snicker from Crosscut in the back row.
“If you’d just settle down, I would open the floor to discussion on my educational reform proposal of which a copy all of you received this morning.”
A copy Momus read page for page. Dry, terribly dry, but necessary reading. It would be gauche of him to try and upset Senator… he squinted.
Senator… Sherma.
Yes, well, it would be inappropriate and bad for his image. He gave Sherma a beatific smile instead, nodding as if to tell him go on . He could feel the weight of other’s optics on him, and put on an good empty expression, as if he didn’t follow. Rather than acting desperate and chasing after people’s approval, he was going to make himself a pawn. Let them come to him, thinking him weak and willing, so he could nibble at their power little by little.
Momus had no pretensions about how shaky his base was here. Everyone knew a mineshaft needed good supports before the goodies inside could be dug up. He’d dig in a little, put up more supports, and then dig on.
So Momus settled in. He played with his datapad, he blinked in a not-so-subtle way like a bumpkin trying to hide his awe – not really, this place was shiny but he’d seen bigger buildings and worked on shinier things – and played it up.
Momus’ entrance seemed forgotten by the time the round dispersed for refreshments, nothing solved, everything thrown open for debate. Sherma had done his part, said what he needed to, and earned the arguments he expected. Of course it had not come to a decisive vote. He’d only written this proposal’s first draft six months ago. Considering how long the senate took to deliberate on anything, it was amazing he’d gotten to speak on the revised version today already.
Now came the part he liked less about being a senator. The socialising. It was commonplace to enjoy refreshments and discuss the day’s topics in smaller rounds. Not to mention that the arrival of a new senator demanded a sort of party. Nothing outrageous, of course. Tasteful music was played, delicate treats were being served and Sherma parked himself near a window for the evening. It was highly unlikely he’d be approached for a personal argument about his proposal. It was what some senators called (but never to his faceplate of course) a very dull subject. Dry. Boring. It lacked the glamour and sensation of others’ ideas.
Sherma didn’t mind. He’d made his peace with his existence as an extension of the governing body with little to no power on his own. The senate was all about connections and secrets and he had few of both.
But he did enjoy watching the show, so to say. Senators stalking around each other as if they were courting, secretive nods here and there, a wink, a silent transmission. He sipped his drink and waited for Momus to make a scene. It was bound to happen, with this new blood in their midst.
Oh, and here came his eager little fishes, nipping and biting at his bait. The socialising period was where Momus shined . He flitted from person to person, flirting or arguing or laughing, until everyone had at least one impression of him. Every senator here would know his name, like or not.
The people here didn’t like him, he knew that well .
A good crowd gathered around him, listening to Momus’ story – something superfluous thing about a party, his flat, dropping all sorts of hints at his character and what he liked and all the other shallow things that defined his social status. They laughed, and parted, and Momus darted on. More specifically, to the drab mech in the corner, lurking like the wallflower he was.
“Whew,” he said, holding his drink and an amiable smile on his face, “this is real exciting work, isn’t it? Senator Sherma, yes? I must say, I do think senatorial work may be exactly what I was looking for.”
A coy little glance, flirting so briefly it might’ve been not there at all. “Your reform is an interesting idea. It’s so… efficient .” Not grandiose, not striking – this here was a mech who wasn’t looking to make a statement. The effectiveness of the document said he actually wanted this. Senator Sherma was a cute little cog in the machine, and wasn’t that just perfectly lovely for what Momus wanted. “But your framework needs tweaking. It’s nice and dandy for Iaconian high caste mecha, but that’s not going to fly in Kaon, or Petrex. Cultural differences are too wide for that sort of uniformity.”
Of course, eventually, Momus would take a turn on him. Sherma had watched him flit between the little groups of senators, charming, talking, gesturing and quite clearly finding angles with each of his new colleagues. Which inevitably included him.
“Kaon and Petrex are not my primary concerns regarding education. Their infrastructure is much too turbulent to apply such changes. I was going to refer to them in an addendum.”
It’s just that no one had bothered to ask him during the discussion, which Sherma knew would happen. A cog he might be, but he understood his own position perfectly and moved comfortably within the parameters set for his unassuming frame and mind.
“You look much happier mingling than you did on the floor, senator Momus, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“And thus Iacon forges on ahead, leaving the other cities behind. Rather close-minded of you, senator. Perhaps turning your attention to a city that isn’t the hub of our planet would let you move your plans a little further.”
Momus smiled, and this time, there was a glint of dentae. Not my primary concerns. Too turbulent. Pah! Fragging Iaconian cog, only cares about where the power flows.
None of his thoughts showed on his perfectly vapid expression. “I’m not offended if it’s not an insult,” he waved it off, “and I could say the same, though obviously in much the opposite . You look like you’d rather be always up on the podium, sweetspark.”
Since that’s probably the only time anyone bothers listening to you.
Sherma raised an optical ridge at the nickname. It wasn’t often he spent time in the company of Helexians and their peculiar way of speaking just did not express a grand amount of intelligence or a sense of propriety.
Nor did senator Momus’ expression, a devious smile decorating the striking orange faceplate. Sherma felt vaguely insulted, even though the new senator had not made such an attempt.
“I won’t deny there is a certain relief in being the speaking voice, not just an argument.”
The dig at his proposal didn’t leave Sherma’s mind though, and although he tried to play being at ease and sipping his drink with nonchalance, it bothered him. It bothered him that this upstart, smartmouth newbie would dare think he only focused on Iacon and didn’t care for the rest of their planet.
“Don’t let me keep you from making your rounds, senator. I can recognize the process of currying favours when I see it.”
“A process you evidently don’t partake in. Respectable of you, senator.” If you’re a fresh forge who doesn’t know a skidplate from a mudflap. “I’ll make sure to update you on how my favor currying went. Good luck on your… contemplations here.” Stand in the corner like the unwanted you are.
Momus laughed, light and airy, before pushing away as he sashayed into the crowd. It parted around him, before swallowing him up. His voice carried, pitched and accented, as he continued to seed his web around the room.
The rest of the session was as it normally would. Momus socialised until it was time to go back to the floor, and he spent that time carefully arranging his notes on all the other senator’s. A few comm channels were exchanged, party invites were made. His year would be busy. Events back to back, all so he could establish his name a little more firmly.
When it was finally time to leave, he brushed by Sherma one more time. Waved an invite under his nose – a party, with Proteus and his posse. “I’d say favor currying went well, sweetspark. Don’t worry; I won’t be expecting your presence there.”
A wink, to take the worst out of his bite, and he was gone.
Alright, he’d give him six months. Momus had a lot more spirit than Sherma expected.