Melinda Interviews Diktat

Diktat and Melinda meet in the mountains for an interview.

Melinda looks around. "Well, Commander Magnus suggested an out-of-the-way place would be better so you don't wind up getting shot at." She rubs her aching head.

Frbie takes a few pictures.

Diktat smiles, "People would shoot at me? I'm shocked. What *is* the world coming to?" He sits down, crossing his legs. He places down a large blanket, and spreads out an amount of foodstuffs.

Melinda says, "You brought picnic supplies?!" She blinks for a minute, looking surprised, then merely shrugs and digs in her bag for a sweater. She pulls out a big Thelma-from-Scooby-Doo sweater and dons it.

Diktat nods, arranging a couple of items, "Of course. If we're going to sit at this ridiculous height, we might as well make it a small occasion." He picks up a bottle of wine, "Say when."

Melinda says, "when" quickly. 8) She smiles. "Well, Diktat, I have to say again, you definitely have class." Frbie takes notes, behind a rock. Melinda spreads the blanket better over the pine needles and pinecones, and takes a seat, pulling out her battered reporter's notebook.

Diktat stops pouring, passing the small glass across, "I do try, Child of Terra." He looks across, "I believe the phrase is, "Shoot!"

Melinda tastes the wine. "Ooh! It's good." She grins, polishing off the glass quickly, immediately getting sleepy, having no tolerance. 8) She pours herself another glass, and looks at what else Diktat brought. "Got any bagels?" she asks.

Diktat nods gamely. “Of course!” He points out the cheeses, "They'll go well with the bagel. I get them delivered from Paris."

Melinda looks surprised. "Being a Con has its perks, eh?"

Diktat shrugs, "I'm just an appreciator of culture, sister."

Melinda makes a big bagel sandwich, and downs more wine. She grins around a bite, and says, "indubitably." She then frowns suddenly, as her cell phone rings. "Jusht a second," she says, after another quick bite. She opens the phone. "Yeah, what?”

Diktat arches his fingers on his leg, and pours himself a Light Enerwine.

Melinda listens a moment. "We're in the Rockies," she says into the phone.

Without preamble, a Concorde SST soars down into view from the skies above.

Diktat arches an optic.

Melinda says into her cell phone: "North of San Fran." She looks up. "Oh! He's here!" She closes her cell phone and puts it away.

The Concorde SST streaks into view, homing in on the source of the cell phone. It descends rapidly to the ground before unfolding into the form of the Aerialbot Commander.

Silverbolt nods apologetically, "Sorry for being late. I had to respond to a call for help in regard to some trouble in Canada."

Melinda looks back at the giant Autobot. She nods. "It's cool. We're having a picnic. Thanks for your help."

Diktat is sitting, one leg raised, hands arched on his leg. He's completely nonplussed by the Autobot’s presence, nodding a greeting. He passes Melinda a bagel.

Melinda looks at Diktat. "The Autobots aren't making you nervous, are they, Ambassador?" She looks at Diktat concernedly, as she takes another bagel. "Thanks!" she mutters, taking another bite. She layers it with cheese and various dressings, and then devours it in just a few huge bites.

Diktat laughs, "Of course not. I know the Autobots would never try to censor someone's opinion." He slaps his forehead dramatically, "Sorry! I must have been thinking of a different set of Autobots." He laughs, "Nothing quite like a private Interview, eh?"

Melinda mutters to Diktat, "How'd you know I was hungry? (smile)"

Diktat mutters to Melinda, "Decepticon Intuition (grin)."

Melinda looks back over her shoulder. "Thanks for the escort, Silverbolt!" She digs in her bag for a pen, and finally pulls out a stolen EDC ballpoint. Taking another sip of wine, she steadies her notebook on her lap.

Diktat arches his fingers, "So...Where shall we start?"

Melinda grins. “Let’s start with the basics. Your name is spelled ‘D-I-K-T-A-T’, right?"

Diktat nods, grinning. "Correct."

Melinda rubs her sore neck, and asks, “Now, what is your official title again?"

Diktat shrugs, "I don't really have an official title..."

Melinda flips through her notebook. "Will ‘Ambassador’ do?"

Diktat shrugs, "’Ambassador’ is a good a term as many. In my life I've accumulated a great number of names." He grins, "Not all complimentary."

Melinda smiles. "I can imagine."

Diktat smiles and waits for the next question

Mel looks up, and continues, in a slightly more professional tone, "So, Ambassador, what exactly are the goals of the Decepticon Empire, as you see them?"

Diktat collects his thoughts, and speaks, "Of course Decepticon philosophy is incredibly sophisticated and intricate, but at the most basic level it's this..."

Silverbolt frowns a bit, listening to Diktat, while fiddling with a datapad.

Melinda leans forward to listen, her notebook poised...

Diktat continues to speak, his voice growing in richness, "We are on a holy, sacred crusade. We do not wish to mindlessly destroy. Such a thing is for lesser, petty warlords."

Silverbolt narrows his optics, slipping the datapad into Melinda's purse.

Melinda stops to jot down a few notes. She asks, "So you are on a crusade. For what purpose?"

Diktat answers, "We simply wage a war to end all wars, uniting all kingdoms and worlds into a perfect, eternal Empire. Peace through Tyranny, as Megatron once so nobly put it."

Melinda jots.

Diktat smiles, "We do this because, and don't take this the wrong way, the Decepticon is the supreme being in the Universe."

Melinda stops to collect her thoughts, skipping a few of her preplanned questions, wishing she'd had a BIT less wine.

Diktat pauses a moment to see if he gets a reaction

Silverbolt does absolutely nothing, except to cross his arms and to stare up at the sky.

Diktat continues, "Of course that makes us sound as bigoted as the Militants."

Melinda nods, her only reaction the careful jotting down of what Diktat said. She mutters, concentrating on accurate scribbling, "Just a second." Melinda digs in her back, coming up with a small tape recorder. She sets in on play. "You mind? I want to make sure you are not misquoted."

Diktat smiles, "No. I love the sound of my own voice.”

Melinda smiles.

Diktat thinks, placing his finger to his chin, "Now...where was I?"

Melinda says, "Many cultures throughout history have assumed their culture to be the best, and tried to convert others to it by sword point..."

Diktat nods at Melinda, butting in, "Of course. But they were mere petty tyrants, acting through selfish megalomania."

Melinda comments, "Most cultures either gave up that pursuit, or were destroyed from internal forces..." She pauses, asking, "What do you think makes the Decepticon cause stand out? What will make it succeed where, for example, the Roman Empire or the Catholic Church failed?"

Diktat nods, "I understand your point, but both your examples are rather poor. We can and will achieve this great goal for the simple reason that, as Cybertronians, we are effectively immortal. We must take on such a great task to validify our place in the universe. We simply aim to stop all wars. That, you must agree, is the most important goal there is." He concludes, "The Autobots are, simply, moral cowards."

Melinda smiles. "What do you think the greatest weakness is, of the Autobot cause?”

Diktat replies, "They agree with our ideas at this level, but can't bring themselves to perform the required deeds to stop the eternal slaughter. They simply sit by, looking at the universe and saying, ‘Oooh! Isn't that Bad!’, failing to *do* anything to make a better future. That's their biggest flaw. A Moral Cowardice."

Silverbolt frowns a bit, but says nothing.

Melinda jots, asking, "Do you think a universal totalitarian government is the only way to prevent war?” She reaches into her bag, and looks at the datapad Silverbolt slipped into it.

Diktat pauses, "I believe that a Benevolent Dictatorship will be the most profitable way for everyone to reach their emotional and social satisfaction. A Democracy, for all its worthy merit, could not *achieve* universal peace. The people would change their minds, grow fickle. We must *drive* until we reach this goal...after that, with no war, a utopia would be formed."

Melinda jots, then says, "All societies have malcontents. How would this universal empire deal those that disagree with the government in power?"

Diktat considers the matter. "You have to remember that whilst we are not afraid to use violence to achieve our means, it is purely a second result. I may point out that the crime rate in Polyhex is virtually *nil*. Old Cybertronians roam the streets in perfect safety. Once the universe is conquered there will be no need to rebel, for everyone will be provided for. And if they do, the people would have no time for them. They would be happy. However, up until that point, while we are still conquering the universe, we would stamp down on rebels, as they attempt, for their selfish aims, to stop the crusade. We are an altruistic group, you see.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. Finally he says, "Next question."

Melinda instead asks, "Altruistic? What of your leader Galvatron's assertion that The Empire cared nothing for the human population, and that they would be eradicated when the Cons finally took over?" Melinda jots, pausing only to take a bite of bagel.

Diktat looks quiet offended, "A Complete Lie," he states blandly, before continuing.

Silverbolt frowns, "Care to tell him that to his face?"

Melinda looks up at him, bemused. "Galvatron's public pronouncements are lies?" she asks.

Diktat pauses. "He was angered at the times of those statements. They are not current policy."

Silverbolt remarks with a smirk, "Of course."

Melinda grins, asking, "What *is* the current Decepticon policy toward humans?"

Diktat composes his thoughts, then replies, "We will not destroy anyone who wishes to join us. We'll simply wage war until the political leadership decide to finally relent to our demands. Any being may join us. Whilst we say the Decepticons are the supreme form of life, it is completely wrong to assume that means ‘All Cybertronians with that purple badge thing’. Simply whoever follows the orders of the Empire, is a Decepticon. You could join today, as a number of your terran siblings have."

Melinda raises her eyebrows. "How many Terrans have joined the Empire?"

Diktat takes a sip of his energwine.

Melinda leans forward, interested, wine, cheese, and bagels forgotten. 8)

Diktat shakes his head sadly. "Not many, unfortunately. Most are duped by the persuasive EDC and Autobot propaganda, or join in the mindless hatred of Militants. I'm only close friends with one, a young lady called Nicole."

Melinda leans forward, and mutters to Diktat, too low for the recorder to pick up, "Off the record, could you arrange a meeting for me with her sometime? I would love to hear her take on the Autobot/ Decepticon conflict."

Diktat smiles slightly, muttering back, "I was to bring her along to the interview, but she was working in the Medbay, helping heal those injured in the crusade, and offering succor to refugees. I'm sure it can be arranged."

Melinda smiles. "Great!"

Diktat smiles back, "My pleasure." He leans back, his hands supporting him, "So, what else may I talk about to entertain you?"

Melinda sits back, and collects her thoughts, taking another sip of wine.

Diktat sips his energwine, savouring the bouquet.

Melinda says, "So how long do you think it will take for the Decepticons to achieve their goals?"

Diktat strokes his chin thoughtfully, "It all depends. These things are based on momentum, and whilst there has been little progress up to now, this is purely due to the Autobots dragging us down. As Cybertronians, they *are* a capable force. Once we defeat them, with the fresh energy of Earth we will ride across the galaxy in a rush. Think of a chain reaction...that's what I expect to see.”

Melinda says, "So, Earth will be a colony then, exploited to increase the power of the Empire?" She grins.

Diktat shakes his head, "That's isolationist speaking, is it not? It'll be an essential part of the Empire, and its resources will be used for the crusade, but in an entirely non-parasitical way. As a part of the Empire, it will profit as the rest of it does. Thinking of it as ‘your’ planet is exactly the sort of thinking that leads to the eternal war."

Melinda replies, "I speak based on historical precedent. The whole purpose of colonies is to further the aims of the Empire. But you are saying that Earth will become part of the central Empire, rather than an isolated colony?"

Diktat nods, "Of course. The point is to make the entire universe one Empire, not a giant selfish monster drinking the blood of its slave workers. The aim is to make the most enriching, intellectually stimulating and safest universe possible. One universe. One Empire. One ruler. It's the only way."

Melinda smiles. "Well, thank you. You've expressed the goals of your people very eloquently.” She picks up the tape recorder. "Anything else you wanted to world to know?”

Diktat smiles, "That I'm particularly fond of a number of your authours." He grins.

Melinda smiles. "Oh, really? Who? She unfolds her legs, and stretches them, careful not to kick over the wine.

Diktat relaxes backwards, looking at the Spire in the distance. "Oh most of the Classics. Shakespeare. Milton. Chaucer. The usual drill. A number of the poets, too. Some of the political thinkers were *very* astute." He sips his energwine, and looks at Mel, optics glinting, "I would have loved to meet Machiavelli."

Melinda smiles, not at ALL surprised at the Machiavelli remark. 8) She asks, "You a Marx fan?"

Diktat smiles, "Out of the three I prefered Groucho"

Melinda snorts, almost spilling her wine. She says, "KARL, silly," grinning.

Diktat picks up a large twig and does a cigar-twiddle Groucho Marx impression, then drops it, grinning.

Melinda almost chokes on her wine, laughing so hard.

Diktat says, more seriously, "Of course. An astute being, but a shame the application of his ideas was so badly played."

Melinda nods in agreement. "No $#!+!" she agrees.

Diktat smiles, nodding, sipping his wine again, "That's always the problem...ideas get corrupted. That's the reason we sometimes seem harsh...the faith must be pure. We can't afford to become merely what the Militants think we are." He seems to be just chatting now, basically thinking the ‘Decepticon interview’ stuff is over.

Melinda's professional manner (what that there is) is gone also, and she is back in conversation mode. She puts down the notebook and tape recorder, signaling the end of the interview portion, but doesn’t stop the tape, which is still recording. She nods in agreement with Diktat. "I think eternal war has made BOTH sides seem harsh and callous.”

Diktat ponders the suggestion. "I tend to agree... ‘though since I returned to Cybertron, I have noticed a huge upsurge of the *real* Decepticon spirit. We are returning to the Golden Heroic age I think... which is *why* we are more vital than the Autobots. Let's be honest...they're the *real* parasites. They would have no purpose if it wasn't for us." He smiles, ruefully.

Melinda grins. "They can't be the heroes if you guys don't play the part of the villains?"

Diktat smiles, "I prefer to think that they play at heroes, whilst we actually are."

Melinda says, "What about terrorist attacks, like Gridlock blowing humans up indiscriminately? How does THAT further the cause?"

Diktat pauses, "We feel as bad for that incident as you surely do. It was purely caused by Edward Bryant’s rampant egomania, I'm afraid."

Melinda raises her eyebrows, wondering by what logic Diktat reached THAT conclusion. "Oh, really?” she asks. “How do you see it that way?" She rubs the back of her neck, looking up at Dik.

Diktat shakes his head sadly, "I was told by Vortex, before his sad demise, that Bryant was cautioned by his advisors not to execute Vortex, saying there was a strong chance of reprisals. He said he didn't care at all... he simply wanted to be seen as a tough leader. And Gridlock previously made a deal for his release, which was also broken when they attempted to slay him for a crime he didn't perform. Those people died for Bryant’s PR.” Diktat smiles, noticing Mel’s sore neck. "I could rub your neck if you so desired, Word-weaver."

Melinda looks up. "Oh, that's okay. Got any aspirin in with your pickinick stuff?"

Diktat activates a small place in his armour, a metal patch drawing back. A vial of pills come out. He tosses them to Melinda, "These should work. They're Nicole’s."

Melinda looks at the pills.

Diktat smiles, "They're just aspirin." He explains, "They're synthesized by our labs. Getting human medicine is difficult at times."

Melinda smiles. "Eh, better not. That and the wine will mess up my stomach." She tosses the pills back, explaining, "I've got an ulcer you could drive a truck through. I shouldn't even be drinking the wine." She grins, and pours herself another glass, regardless, stifling a yawn.

Diktat nods. "A problem I've been lucky enough to avoid. I drink enough Energwine, certainly." He grins. "Tired?"

Melinda smiles, eyes heavy-lidded. "It's the wine.”

Diktat nods, "I should be getting you back to San Francisco, eh?"

Mel looks up at Diktat, not immediately answering. She asks instead, "So, how do they make enerwine, anyway? Little energrapes?” She giggles drunkenly.

Diktat pauses, and grins, "An ancient secret. I could tell you, but I would have to kill you." He winks. Suddenly, he slaps his head, "Oh yes...did I tell you about how Miss LaFaire attempted to kill me?”

Melinda smiles widely. "No! Do tell!" She looks in no hurry to get up.

Diktat smiles, "Well, you saw our little disagreement. We parted shortly afterwards, and I made my way to the stands to watch the games."

Melinda nods, listening.

Diktat waves his hands to exaggerate the tale. "Anyway, halfway through the hand-to-hand events, a plasma blast came at me." He grins, "Of course, Decepticon training allowed me to roll out of the way."

Mel grins. “Of course!”

Diktat continues, "Anyway, I turned around and couldn't locate a raised weapon, so called for help. A basic scan of the area with anti-stealth devices revealed a single cloaked figure.... our beloved Carbon Fascist."

Melinda smiles. "Oh, right, I heard about that. Monacus security had to escort her away, right?"

Diktat nods, "Of course, all the evidence was circumstantial, but, let’s be honest, she did it." He winks, and Melinda smiles.

She says, "Well, she certainly made no secret as to her intentions!"

Diktat smiles, "I don't know... I thought she might have found me attractive." He winks, then shrugs. "Of course people who speak the truth eventually get a backlash. I'm surprised I lasted this long without at least one assassination attempt. I've often thought you only *really* know when you're doing your job right if someone’s aiming at you through their sights."

Melinda giggles. "Well, there is certainly precedent to THAT."

Diktat raises an optic, "Do tell, Miss Melinda."

Melinda giggles, a bit drunk. "Oh, I meant the assassinate the truth-tellers part. King, etc. Not that you aren't one of the most charming people I've ever met…."

Diktat smiles, and adds, mock-lounge-lizardly, "Oh, you're not the first to make that accusation."

Mel covers her mouth, giggling, and finishes off the wine. She suddenly looks around, and notices Silverbolt gone. "Well, our color guard finally left.…" She giggles suddenly, and yawns again

Diktat looks around, "A shame. I do enjoy an audience."

Melinda smiles, and waves her cell phone a bit. "Well, I could call them all back...."

Diktat tuts, "Oh, don't bother. I'll have killed you and fed you to the Sharkticons before they could get here." He winks Melinda adapts a high-pitched voice. "Help! Help! The big, bad Con's gonna attack me, and I, the poor widdle human girl can't defend herself.”

She pauses, then snorts, “HAH!" She looks around, then asks, "Sharkticons? Like on Monacus?"

Diktat chuckles in a deep, bowel-rumbling voice, "I will eat your soul, little girl." He sits back, laughing, "I suppose so. Not the smartest of creatures." He pauses, "So... who else has had the pleasure of being interviewed by you?"

Melinda smiles. "Oh, lots of people. Chikome-Ollin, NightAngel, almost Soundwave, hee hee.…"

Diktat raises an optic, "Now *that* would have been one... Soundwave is so delightfully expressive." He pauses, "What's Chikome actually like?"

Melinda smiles and hiccups. "Um... well, I went with the EDC when they warned him to always report his whereabouts when in North America. He was pretty pissed."

Diktat smiles, "He does seem to have a pretty little temper. Of course, having no soul I would say that." He rolls his optics.

Melinda nods, at nothing. "He went on and on about everybody he'd saved, and how the EDC was doing him wrong..." She suddenly shrugs. "I published the story, and the EDC withdrew their edict." She grins, reveling in the power of the press.

Diktat frowns slightly, and sighs, "A shame. He is, after all, a bigoted fascist." Frbie retracts himself, until he is 2 feet tall.

Melinda nods. "Yes, but at least I made them treat him like all the other bigoted fascists."

Diktat claps a couple of times, "Good point! Well made, Seeker of Truth."

Melinda nods, commenting, "That'sh me, Watchdog of the EDC."

Diktat smiles, "I'll be intrigued what you write about this conversation..."

Melinda nods. "Well, it'll probably be a special supplement. Anyway, it'd BETTER BE. I'll send you a copy when it's published."

Diktat grins, "Will I get a photosession?" He points to his left side of his face, "This is my good side, by the way."

Melinda smiles. "Of course! Good background, too." She whips out her camera – her black bag is better than subspace.

Diktat stands up, striking a complete copy of the pose of the Thinker.

Melinda giggles, and starts taking photos. She directs, "Now, stand and look heroic."

Diktat smiles and slides into a series of completely perfect, relaxed confident poses. Somehow every angle of his body seems to imply Thought, Composure, and Honesty.

Melinda shoots a whole roll, changes film, shoots another roll.

Diktat's last set of poses is him sitting on a rock, hand supporting his chin, staring off at some far off point, optics glowing wistfully, mouth set in a determined stance, as if he sees something of ultimate worth and is planning to get there

Mel smiles. "Thanks a lot for your time, Ambassador. It's been great."

Diktat grins back, replying, "It's been a pleasure. I just hope that this helps bring this sad conflict to an end.” He takes Mel’s hands, and bows deeply, pressing them against his forehead, "A Thantian sign of friendship," he explains.

Melinda eyes Diktat seriously. "So is that sign of friendship because you see me as a friend, or does it fall under the ‘professional liar’ bit?" Melinda smiles a bit, but the question is obviously serious. She remarks, "I'm just curious... won't affect the story either way." She smiles again, to underscore her professionalism.

Diktat smiles, "Does it make a difference?"

Melinda looks serious suddenly. "Well, to tell you the truth, I would be seriously interested. At this point, you could say, ‘No, actually, I'd as soon kill you and look at you’ and I'd write the exact same article as if you said, ‘Well, actually, it's nice to have a few human friends who don't judge me immediately by my allegiance.’” She shrugs, then continues, "NightAngel, I know, was my true friend. I am just wondering what you honestly think, I guess for insight into your true character." She says, "I'm asking Diktat-the-person, not Diktat-Representative-of-the-Decepticons." Melinda clicks off her tape recorder and puts it and her notebook away, symbolically.

Diktat smiles. "Professional distance. I approve. It's something I've always strove to do in my career. I've spent eons disguising my emotions, dripping sycophancy into beings of absolute vileness for the greater good. Even sadder, I have been forced to act in a negative way towards creatures of such good spirit, even my will sometimes trembles." He smiles, "And that's why, at times like this, I can actually act in a charming way to someone who actually is even more fascinating than most of her species." He pauses a moment, smiling sadly, and adds, "And I'm not sure that Diktat-the-person even exists anymore."

Melinda smiles through most of Diktat’s pronouncement, but her smile fades at the last statement. She nods, in COMPLETE understanding, then smiles again, a bit reservedly. "So, was that last statement, about the species, a complement or an insult?" She looks at Diktat frankly.

Diktat makes eye contact... and Mel is painfully aware this being has lived longer than her entire species. "A compliment. I find humanity a puzzle of infinite beauty. I was on Earth four million years ago, and you were walking around in furs...now you're creating machines that can equal us in combat. You are a beautiful species. And you are more beautiful than most."

Melinda nods, accepting that.

Weeks later...

Article clipped from yesterday's San Francisco REPUBLICAN byline: Melinda Lossman

In light of the recent voting over whether the UN should accept the Decepticons' peace proposal, Decepticon Ambassador Diktat of the Decepticon Empire discussed what plans the Decepticons have with Earth, peace treaty or no. According to Diktat, the Decepticons are on “a holy, sacred crusade. We do not wish to mindlessly destroy... We simply wage a war to end all wars, uniting all kingdoms and worlds into a perfect, eternal Empire."

According to Diktat, the Decepticons do believe that democracy has its merits, but that it cannot achieve universal peace. Only the Decepticons, he states, have the moral fortitude to do what it takes to stop war on Earth. The Autobots, he claims, are "moral cowards... who can't bring themselves to perform the deeds required to stop their eternal slaughter." (continued on page 2)

In response to these claims, Matthew Sharp, Commander of the EDC base at Alemeda, pointed out that the last time the Decepticons took control of the Earth, they enslaved most of the human race for the duration. Says Sharp, "If the Decepticons aim to free the universe from war, they are going at it from an odd angle. I know of few peace movements that involve wholesale destruction – at least, not at their level." Double-Take, an Autobot tactician, agrees. "If the Decepticons gain control, the first thing they're going to do is strip the Earth of all its fuel, then its natural resources." Double-Take went on to postulate that the Earth's geothermal energy would be next, probably followed by the Decepticons making Sol supernova.

Diktat strongly opposes this assumption. "The point is to make the entire universe one empire, not a giant selfish monster drinking the blood of its slave workers. The aim is to make the most enriching, intellectually stimulating and safest universe possible. One universe. One ruler. It's the only way." Apparently most humans and Autobots disagree, and are willing to remain fighting to keep the Decepticons from achieving their