Summary: There's more to loyalty than following orders.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, however much I might wish I did.
Author's note: Season 3 short-short Deceptific snippet. Just me playing with the Unicronian triad because this silly little image wouldn't leave me alone.
"Semper Fi"
"Get out of my sight! You will never be welcome among the Decepticons again!"
The words cut him deep, striking unerringly to his spark like a lash of fire. There was no justice to it, no reason, no cause; unwarned and undeserving he found himself cast out, sacrificed without mercy to the wrath of his liege. A lesser being might have protested, might have sought to reason with the Emperor's ungovernable temper; but not Cyclonus, Decepticon warrior. Loyal to the last, he simply bent his proud head in acknowledgement.
"As you command, my lord."
Turning upon his heel he strode from the throne room, his face set, and the others present watched him go in silence, none daring to pass comment. Of all Galvatron's soldiers and courtiers, only one even dared to spare a glance for the exile; Scourge the Tracker, his features impassive behind his sweeping moustachios and forked beard, looked up and caught the gaze of his brother-in-arms as Cyclonus walked away. A single look passed between them, wordless, unreadable to any Transformer outside of their private bond; and then the door slammed behind the disgraced champion, and none dared speak for fear of following him into whatever fate awaited him.
The Emperor raised his clenched fist, his crimson gaze sweeping the room, and was satisfied to see that his underlings cowered before him. "Well? What are you all looking at? Get back to your duties!"
XXXXX
The exile sat on a broken wall high in the ruins of ancient Charr, staring up at the cold emptiness of space above him. A thousand thousand stars glittered icy bright in the void, and he knew that he was free to choose his next destination from any of them; and yet he could not leave this dark, frozen ball of rock and metal, not yet. His life was bound to a commitment that ran too deep for all the spaces between stars to strain its bonds. Not for eternal darkness and death itself would he abandon his duty, far less for a mere act of injustice - but then, who was he to disobey an order that had been far too plain for misinterpretation wilful or otherwise? Go he must if it shatter his spark for grief, for so his Lord had commanded; and yet also he must stay, faithful as a shadow to the one whose word was his only law. Caught between duty and duty he knew he had to choose, knew he could not.
And so he neither stayed nor went, but waited on the threshold like a lost soul seeking sanctuary. Time stretched out and then stood still as he sat in frozen indecision, torn by fear and doubt and faith; the stars looked down unkindly and offered no counsel.
How can the universe be so wide, and yet still be too narrow to hold both of us?
XXXXX
"Cyclonus?"
Pause.
"CYCLONUS!!! Where is that worthless lieutenant of mine?!" Galvatron glared at his followers, as though expecting one of them to produce the errant jetwarrior from a spacefold pocket. There was an uncomfortable shifting of bodies and scuffing of feet, no one daring to remind the Decepticon Emperor that he himself had dismissed his chief councillor. The silence drew out, laden with menace.
Unobtrusively one of the onlookers turned aside and activated his internal comm, sending a quiet message into the ether of Charr: "Cyc? You can come back in now."
Soft laughter over the link, and then a moment later the door slid open and the prodigal returned. Cyclonus strode into the throne room as proudly as he had left it, but now a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth and his optics were bright with assurance. He came to a stop before his Lord's throne and crossed his fist over his chestplate in salute,dipping his head in a military bow. "Your wish, mighty Galvatron?"
"And about time! Where were you?" A powerful fist struck out, and steel cracked resoundingly on steel as punishment was summarily administered. Cyclonus shook his head and straightened up, a picture of disciplined obedience, waiting as ever on his liege's command.
Privately, however:
"Scourge?"
"Mm?"
"How long?"
"One point seven six three cycles." The tracker paused, hiding a smile behind his moustaches. "Is that a personal best?"
Cyclonus answered the smile in his thoughts, though his visible expression remained unmoved. "Indeed. It's usually at least two."
"Heh."
Cyclonus dropped into step beside his commander as Galvatron rose to his feet to prowl the room, feeling the familiar warmth of contentment as he resumed his accustomed station. As always, he could feel the others watching him and wondering, for the hundredth time, why he was still there. He knew they were all waiting for the day when Galvatron's most loyal servant would take one of his recurring banishments at face value.
And that, Cyclonus thought, was what separated himself and Scourge from the common run of Decepticons. Loyalty, contrary to popular belief, was more than a matter of following orders.
"Cyclonus?" Galvatron was watching him narrowly. "What are you grinning at?"
Cyclonus hastily straightened his features. "Nothing, my Lord."
"Hmph! And they call me crazy!"
Though he badly wanted to, he somehow managed not to smile at that.
Fin