THE DESERTERS
Chapter One
"Designation: Tantrum"
20,000 leagues under the sea, there was no giant squid lurking in the shadowy deep. There was, however, a beast of equally enigmatic origin, as equally dreaded, and of equally horrific murderous tendencies. The creature's sole purpose on the planet Earth was to drain it completely dry, depriving it of every last ounce of energy that could be collected, and to brutally murder any native fauna that attempted to hinder him in this ambition. He was self-interested, unfeeling, bestial, and sadistic. Every organism unfortunate enough to meet him in person and live to talk about it never looked upon the world the same way again because of the ugly imprint left by the horrid totalitarian creature.
Soundwave, the navy and white radio-transformer, was not that creature.
Anyone might have been deceived, though, had they not met the real villain. Standing at four times the height of the average human and displaying no visible facial features, Soundwave possessed the highly convincing appearance of a heartless tyrant, by and large due to the aloof manner with which he carried himself and his seldom-broken silence. This moment, as he leaned against the bright violet wall within the raised docking bay of the Nemesis, was not an exception. His cohort Skywarp had learned better than to waste his efforts attempting to engage the radio-transformer in conversation. The resulting customary silence allowed Soundwave the time to gather his thoughts.
A Decepticon satellite had detected an extraterrestrial object hurtling toward Earth at a frightening speed. Despite their scientists' best hurried efforts to figure out what it was, nothing had been discerned. As time was running out and the object flew ever closer, the task of gaining insight fell to Soundwave, for his cassette spies, and Skywarp. The radio-transformer had dispatched Laserbeak to the sky, and was now leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed impatiently as Skywarp lingered behind him, restlessly pacing. Already, the space object's fiery tail was visible in the growing twilight.
Suddenly the red condor swooped out of the sky, squawking feverishly. Soundwave pressed the eject button on his chest, and Laserbeak instantly assumed his cassette form, soaring into the radio-transformer's open tape deck. Leaving the docking bay raised and opened, the navy Decepticon turned wordlessly to face Skywarp, and the next move was understood. The black and lilac jet seized the radio-transformer's arm, and the seeker warped them out of the docking bay in a flash of blue light.
Appearing at their destination in an opposing flash of pink, Soundwave quickly surveyed the room. There was Thundercracker, facing the computer monitor and pointedly ignoring the scene behind him. There was Starscream, cowed against the far wall, body language completely at odds with his dark grey face, which was contorted in a snarl of rage. And there, towering over him, was the silver and black form of the Decepticon commander. The figure's fusion cannon was aimed directly at his subordinate's face, only inches away from picking Starscream's nose in a rather ugly way.
"Not defying me, my exhaust port!" the silver tyrant was shouting menacingly. "I did not send Skywarp because he can fly; I sent him because, as his name suggests, he can warp. Do not question my judgment, Starscream, especially right now – I do not have the time for your useless whining!"
Skywarp cleared his throat insistently. At the sound, the silver commander whirled, and an involuntary shudder passed through Soundwave's spark. This was the creature that every being, robotic or not, dreaded to see; this was the true monster of the deep, the certain future ruler of the universe. The commander forgot all about Starscream and swiftly approached the two new arrivals.
"Skywarp, you are finished for now. Soundwave," the cold voice ordered, pointing a black finger in the radio-transformer's direction as the dismissed seeker gave Thundercracker a nod and left, "play back Laserbeak's recording. I want to know what that space thing is."
"As you command, Lord Megatron," the navy Decepticon replied in a mechanical drone, transforming into his alternative mode and plugging into the computer monitor. Images, sounds, and data streams flashed over the monitor until the radio located the appropriate files in Laserbeak's storage – a highly magnified image of the object, with a statistical readout overlaying it. There was a sudden hushed silence until Starscream, who had picked himself up from the wall and followed on his commander's heels, blurted in confusion.
"What is that?"
Megatron squinted at the air commander as though he had the intelligence of a sparkling. "That is our incoming celestial object, you ignorant sack of lug nuts."
Starscream shot his commander a look of pure loathing. "Contrary to popular belief, o fearless leader, I'm not actually stupid. I realize that is the 'incoming celestial object.' But what is it?"
"Screamer, just read the statistics," Thundercracker groaned exasperatedly. The air commander turned his glare of loathing to his fellow seeker, probably irked at having been referred to by that hated nickname, but complied without further outburst. There was a short but loaded silence as the three Decepticons processed the data being shown to them, trying to connect it to the image of the object. Soundwave watched them with condescending amusement. It didn't seem that difficult to figure out; it was clearly a robot, folded into a cocoon, and based on its alloy density, it had to be Cybertronian in origin. He didn't understand the need to hash about and marvel over this information.
At last, the commander spoke. "Where is it supposed to land, Soundwave?"
The radio whizzed through the cassette's data, pulling up Laserbeak's anticipated trajectory for the object. "Projected landing site: American historical location 'Meteor Crater,' within Arizona, Sonora Desert," the navy Decepticon stated monotonously. "Estimated time until landing: T minus thirteen minutes and five seconds."
"Excellent," the commander replied. "Starscream, Thundercracker –we will leave now, so that we will reach the site as this thing is landing."
"But I can't fly as fast as Screamer can," the pale blue seeker objected, wanting to stay as far away from that thing falling from the sky as possible. His commander merely shot him a look similar to the one he'd received from Starscream moments ago, and the jet tried a new tack. "Why do we have to go pick it up anyway? What's so special about yet another robot?"
The commander's optics flared scarlet, and Thundercracker recoiled. "We don't know what's so special about it, cretin," the cold voice growled, "and that's why we're going after it. You had better watch your step, because in questioning my orders, you are treading on very thin ice." Thundercracker nodded; he knew better than to take another metaphorical step. "Starscream will transport Soundwave," Megatron continued, "and you will transport me. Not being planes, we cannot fly fast enough alone. Starscream, you will follow Soundwave's direction and lead the way." With that, the silver commander transformed, and the blue seeker had no choice but to follow his lead, catching the gun in his cockpit as he chased Starscream's trail through the Nemesis and out the open docking bay.
The pair of jets blazed through the sky, Thundercracker lagging behind his air commander by a few meters, making fast time to Arizona. Very soon, however, Thundercracker's sensors indicated an incoming entity – closing in fast. Before he could give the other Decepticons any kind of warning, an object burned over their heads, tearing straight past them and heading for a large crater visible below. "Follow it!" the commander shouted, and the jets began to dive. As they neared the ground, Starscream opened his cockpit hatch, and the other seeker followed suit. Megatron and Soundwave hopped out of their rides, and the four robots transformed into their respective humanoid shapes, using the afterburners in their feet to soften their landing. The object had blown up a huge cloud of dust and left a long skid mark in the otherwise flawless crater.
The Decepticons approached the end of the object's long tract, and as they grew nearer, the object became more and more recognizable as the subject of the image Laserbeak had taken. Now, though, it had been scorched by coming through the planet's atmosphere, and the metal had been badly warped and even broken from the impact of landing. Regardless, it was still quite plain that the Decepticons were staring down at a fifth robot, curled into a fetal position, looking rather like a human mummy.
Starscream regarded the smoldering lump of twisted, charred metal with disgust. "What is that?"
"Haven't we been through this already?" Thundercracker sighed, light blue shoulders slumping in frustration. Megatron ignored the seekers, taking an uncertain step closer to the smoking wreck of a robot, and Soundwave joined his leader, standing by his left side.
Without removing his ruby optics from the mess before him, Megatron inclined his silver helmeted head slightly toward the navy radio-transformer. "Has it been destroyed, do you think? Could Hook repair it at all?"
"Current scan reveals the presence of numerous operative weapons," the radio droned. "We have no knowledge of its origins, nor do we know its purpose. Salvaging it could pose too serious a hazard."
"Well! If it's truly that dangerous, Soundwave, we cannot give the Autobots the chance to seize it!" the Decepticon commander exclaimed, stepping onto the edge of the long ditch that the space robot had created. Soundwave rolled his optics; that the tyrant would fail to heed his subordinates' advice was not only common, it was a frequent source of Decepticon defeat. He squatted to gain a better view of the crumpled heap, muttering absently, processor racing. Soundwave's shadow appeared over his left shoulder. "I wonder," the commander murmured, "if it can still even function…"
The mellow male voice made everyone, even the imperturbable Soundwave, jump in surprise. "Energon converter and cerebral processor: functional," it said. "Commencing analysis of systems. Central processor: ten percent and stable. Navigational system: enabled. Oral circuits: enabled. Stasis lock chip: activated. All other systems temporarily disabled."
The Decepticons took a moment to process this turn of events. The robot, who had just been nearly incinerated in Earth's atmosphere, was alive and functioning. It could talk to them – well, no, that wasn't quite right. Its central processor, which was at its lowest possible input, could talk to them, but the robot was temporarily locked in stasis, which meant its consciousness, its personality, was not engaged. Its brain was talking to them while the robot itself was in a coma.
Taking this new development in stride, Megatron began to question the unconscious robot. "What is your name, your rank?"
"Rank: uncertain," the robot replied in a voice almost as monotonous as Soundwave's. "Is yet to be obtained. Designation: Tantrum."
A feral gleam passed through Megatron's optics at the name. "Tantrum," Megatron queried, relishing the sound as if tasting it, "where are you headed?"
"Navigational processor indicates destination: Earth has been achieved."
"Yes, but where are you going now that you have landed?"
"Subsequent destination: unknown," the smoldering pile of metal replied coolly.
Hm. A dead end. Frag. The commander took up a new sequence of questions. "Where do you come from, Tantrum?" he inquired of the charred metallic form.
"Origin: Vector Sigma, Cybertron."
The commander exchanged glances with the two seekers, whose bright red optics were widened in a silent surprise similar to Megatron's own, but without the commander's brutish twist. Soundwave continued to stare forward at the newcomer through his stoic crimson visor.
"You were made by Vector Sigma? Hmm…" Vector Sigma was the supercomputer that, according to legend, had created all sentient life known to Cybertron, including the planet itself. Megatron's processor began to whir with ideas. "Who programmed Vector Sigma to create you?"
"Sentient creator: Designation: Primus."
And that was the hot material. They were on a roll now. Megatron's questioning became more fervent. "Why? Why did Primus create you? What is your purpose here on Earth?"
The answer from the unconscious robot's processor was aggravatingly brief and enigmatic. "Function: weapon."
Turning to squint confusedly over his shoulder at Starscream, who answered with a nonplussed shrug, Megatron demanded, "Weapon? What do you mean, 'weapon'? Whose weapon?"
"Designation of intended commander: unknown. Allegiance of intended commander: unknown. Processor's current limitations are uncertain of response expected of additional inquiries."
"He doesn't know what you're asking," Starscream translated.
Megatron whirled irately. "Yes, I understood that. Contrary to popular belief, I too am not actually stupid." The air commander snarled but said nothing. "Perhaps, if you are so intelligent, you can get it to say something that makes sense."
Starscream uncrossed his arms to place his hands on his hips, raising an optic ridge and sustaining his cold silence. Conversely, Soundwave, in one of his occasional moments of voluntary speech, stepped forward and crouched down beside his commander. "State the purpose for Earth being your selected destination, under the conditions of your function as a weapon."
"Purpose for voyage to Earth: ensure victory of the proper allegiance by serving as primary battle force."
This time it was the radio-transformer who exchanged a glance with the leader of the Decepticons, and Megatron looked sadistically pleased. "Thank you, Soundwave," he said, pointedly placing emphasis on this rare display of courtesy to rub it in his air commander's face. "We are taking him with us. We have learned all we need to know."
"Elaborate," Soundwave requested, and Thundercracker stepped closer to better observe the charred metal form lodged in the ground, hardly believing it was capable of speech in its present state and wondering how they were going to transport it. Starscream maintained his detached façade, but listened intently as Megatron spoke in a very hushed voice, as if afraid the robot's remains would hear him.
"This robot was created by Vector Sigma, by Primus himself. Primus – the being whose processor constitutes the core of our home planet. Now which side, Decepticon or Autobot, do you suppose Primus would want to win the war?" This question hung heavy in the air, the answer so evident it did not need to be spoken aloud. Megatron nodded as if to confirm this obviousness. "Exactly," he said, even more quietly than before. "The reason this robot is strong enough to survive the crash, the reason he is equipped with so many deadly weapons, is because he is programmed and designed to eliminate us, and to do it quickly and efficiently. But he has no idea that he is right now talking to the party he is intended to defeat. Were we to take him right now, he would never know the difference; all he knows is this basic programming." Megatron gave a bestial grin, the likes of which would never have been exhibited by any being that called itself Autobot. "Primus has, in this ignorance, just sealed his own defeat… and we have just gained the ultimate weapon."
