The Ruby Starjewel: Shortround's Tale, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

TFPirates

Shortrounds Tale

One day, several stellar cycles ago, there stood a little blue robot, with wide yellow optics, staring out into the middle of a bustling city street.

"Hurry up, you Lazy Slagger!" A voice demanded of him. Our little friend turned, groaning, and with all his strength, managed to pick up the stack of boxes he'd been lugging around for the Quintesson since he had gotten there.

His name, as you may have guessed, was not 'Lazy Slagger', though in the Quintesson's eyes (all 10 of them), it was a perfect descriptor. Rather, his name was Shortround - short due to his size, and round due to his hovercraft-like vehicle mode - and he was the bravest Pirate in the quadrant.

Or so he wished. For indeed, our friend Shortround was not very brave at all. Nor was he mean, tough, or imposing, all titles he fervently wished he could adopt. In fact, he only barely qualified as a Pirate. To his credit, he did serve one of the fiercest Pirates in the quadrant, the Dread Pirate Mirage. To little Shortround, Mirage was his idol, his hero, and his role model. This fact was as obvious as Shortround's oversized and clumsy hands. Unfortunately for Shortround, Mirage barely seemed aware of his existence, and he certainly didn't care.

Arc, however, was all too aware of little Shortround's existence. Arc the Quintesson also served under the Dread Pirate Mirage. Now, as a general rule, all Quintessons are nasty, ill-tempered, and just plain mean. Though Arc often disguised that for the courtesy of his Captain, he had no such compulsions for little Shortround. It was a well known fact that Arc disliked our Cybertronian friend, but lack of botpower in Arc's department forced the two into service together often. Arc kept the main engines of the Sword of the Fallen - that is, Mirage's ship - running at peak efficiency. Shortround kept the main engines clean enough for Arc to mechanically maintain them with efficiency. It seemed that Shortround had a special talent for cleaning, one born from the fact that he had no other useful skills - and aided by the fact that nobody else on the ship would do the job. So thus, it became Shortround's fate to spend his days with Arc aboard the loud and uncomfortable engine room.

It was a fate our friend bemoaned often and, when he was drunk, loudly. He was not drunk now, so his bitter thoughts remained mute for the time being. Instead, he simply obeyed Arc's harsh orders, carrying with him a stack of boxes that he did not understand the need for.

They were currently on a small little planet called Radion, in a city called Radion Alpha - for, despite its small size and smaller population, it was the largest and busiest city on the planet. But it hardly compares to the great cities, the likes of Iacon, Quinsorria and Tella Novia. For unlike those grand metropolises, even on a busy day on Radion, you can still see the street. And that street was getting a lot of observation by our little Shortround, when he wasn't looking at the stack of boxes.

Arc ducked in and out of many small shops, frowning as always at the wares they provided, and quickly dubbing them unsuitable for his illustrious needs. Arc was accustomed to only the finest quality engine wares, and he would accept nothing less, much to Shortround's dismay. It took him some time to find another shop where he was pleased with the quality, long enough for Shortround to drop his boxes, and rest for a moment.

Our little friend sighed again, gazing through the store's window as Arc began to argue about the price of some copper tubing, skilled negotiator that he - and all Quintessons - was. Then, Shortround cast a quick glance around, making sure no eyes were prying into his affairs, and carefully removed his greatest treasure from a small compartment on his back, and admired it fondly.

It was a golden pendant, circular, with writing he couldn't begin to comprehend etched along the sides, illustrated with grand, illuminated patterns. In its center was a jewel that glowed bright red, red like a thousand suns.

It was Shortround's greatest treasure, and the only thing he truly owned. Of course, that was on a technicality, for it had not been his to begin with. He had stolen it. It was a long time ago, when he was living on the street without a future. Our friend remembered that day well, his first daring and great heist, his first attempt to prove that he was adept in the arts of thievery, so that he could find a niche in the underworld, and be accepted among them. It was on this very planet, in fact, that he made his grand heist, sneaking into the fortified mansion of a very wealthy Quintesson. He had made his getaway with only a few small hitches, none of which left permanent scars, and this small medallion as his prize. But despite the great effort he went to obtain it, he couldn't bear to part with it later. It had a sentimental value to him, and he deemed it worthy of keeping for himself.

It was the only thing he had, and that heist was his only real accomplishment in life. It was a sad fact for our Shortround that that his first heist was the only one he ever pulled off successfully - all other attempts had ended in disaster. Now, his only means of living was to be the lowliest member of a pirate ship. A lucky accident had thrown him in with Mirage's crew, and there he stayed, trying his best to prove himself a useful member of the crew. That feat had, sadly, yet to be be accomplished.

Our friend was startled by a sudden yell. "Lazy Slagger!" Arc's voice called, causing Shortround to jump, and grab his boxes hastily. Arc was glaring at him, but didn't say anything more. With a dejected sigh, our little Cybertronian friend packed up after the Quintesson, and followed him into yet another shop.

It is at this point when a second member enters our story. Unlike Shortround, this second 'bot is calm, cool, and collected. He is by no means the bravest 'bot in the quadrant, but he does not need to be. His name is Lockdown, and he was also on Radion, on the same street, sitting in a small Energon bar, calmly polishing off a mug. As always, his optics roamed the streets, searching for a target.

Because you see, Lockdown belongs to the one profession more feared than Pirating. He's a Bounty Hunter - he finds wanted 'bots, and tracks them down and drags them in. He pursues criminals and innocents alike - it doesn't matter to him, so long as the pay is good. As always, his eyes were scanning the streets, special adapters receiving signals from an Intergalactic Network that keeps tabs on all Bounties currently posted.

It was random chance that he happened to glance at Shortround - and to his surprise, found a hefty bounty on our small, unimposing friend. Lockdown was so surprised, he couldn't believe it, and had to check it twice more.

Lockdown, often given to talking to himself to pass the time, as he often had no one to converse intelligently with, said to himself, "Now, this is surprising. Nobody's called the bounty on this wuss? This much for that little glitch?" He smiled faintly to himself, and leaned back. "This might be a good cycle after all."

While the Bounty Hunter was planning his attack strategy, our little friend Short Round continued his frustratingly dull task of carting around what amounted to Arc's groceries. Arc waltzed in importantly to yet another shop, this one a maker of fine weaponry and engine coolants (they are more related than one would think), and began another experiment into the owner's bargaining skills. Shortround, again, sat outside and moped. So involved was he in his grumblings, that he entirely failed to notice Captain Mirage standing next to him.

Captain Mirage, though he carries a reputation for mercilessness, in actuality takes great interest in his crew. He values loyalty above all else, and makes sure to keep his crewbots happy. Mirage had been headed for the same shop Arc was now negotiating with, but when he saw Shortround slumped on the ground next to the stack of boxes, he naturally felt a small amount of pity for his youngest crewman.

After watching for a moment, and catching several utterances of 'not fair', 'why me', and 'useless', Mirage announced his presence with an "Ahem."

Our little friend was so surprised, that he jumped up twice his height, and landed in a confused heap. Mirage glared down at him as he struggled to get back to his feet and salute. "Aye Captain?" He said weakly.

Mirage looked him over for a moment, and quickly decided that what Shortround needed at the moment was a good word. "You're doing a fine job, Shortround." He said kindly. "Keep up the good work." Deciding that was enough, Mirage turned, and marched inside the shop, where Arc was currently yelling at the manager about starway robbery.

Unfortunately, the Captain, wise as he often was, had failed to see the real problem our little friend was facing. Shortround stared at the Captains retreating backside, and sighed, even more dejectedly than before. "It's not a good job." He muttered sadly. "This is all I'm good for... carting boxes. It's not fair!" Poor little Shortround... in his mind, he felt more miserable than he had for all those stellar cycles he lived on the street.

He entirely missed what happened inside the store - Arc threatening the manager with Mirage's presence, Mirage calmly telling Arc to shut up, and the Manager needlessly begging for his life - which is why he was a little disconcerted when Arc stormed out suddenly, and began yelling at him at the top of his voice. Mirage, apologizing to the distraught manager inside, missed it entirely. Many words were thrown at Shortround - lazy, stupid, dimwitted, and slagger among them. It took very little time before Shortround was seeing red. Anger and frustration overwhelmed him as Arc continued his verbal abuse, and caused little Shortround to do something he had never done before.

He yelled back.

Arc was stunned by Shortround's response - one involving the worlds 'Ugly five-faced freak' - that he reacted by lashing out, striking young Shortround across the face with one of his tentacles.

Shortround took the blow, as he had so many times beforehand. But something was different this time - the pain made him see red, the humiliation made him shake, and his own feelings inside made him do something he never thought possible. Before he could realize what was happening, his own arm, seemingly on its own accord, leapt out and struck back. Arc yelped in surprise, and lashed out again - but this time, Shortround fought back. A struggle ensued, and when Arc began calling for help, Mirage, finally noticing the commotion, ran out just in time to see Shortround running away in anger, and Arc lying in a surprised heap next to his stack of boxes.

"What happened?" Mirage asked, more with annoyance than concern.

"That lazy slagger tried to kill me me!" Arc cried, eager to offer his own - and clearly correct - version of the events. "I told him to get to work, and he attacked me with murderous intent! How could I fight back against monster! He was going to kill me!" As we know, he was omitting a few details, and Mirage suspected as much as well. He knew young Shortround better than that, and knew enough about Quintesson's to know that they were not always honest. But he also knew enough to realize that contradicting Arc would only make him angrier.

"I'll go find him." Mirage offered. "And talk to him."

"And beat him." Arc added.

"I doubt it." Mirage answered good naturedly, and then turned, off to find his wayward deckhand.

Poor little Shortround ran, because he didn't know what else to do. He had attacked Arc, struck his boss, and violated the chain of command. Though the incident was not his fault, he could only see what he had done, and guilt overran his little spark. In his mind he had betrayed his duties, his hopes - and worst of all, his hero, Mirage.

He ran blindly down an alley and collapsed in a heap, wanting to scream and cry at the same time, and simply shaking in rage. He drew his knees up and stared at the ground, rocking back and forth, trying to calm the feelings of anger, despair and guilt that overwhelmed his circuitry. Optics clouded with the mixing of unfamiliar emotions, he reached back and pulled out his pendant, hoping the bright red jewel would help him calm and focus his feelings. Whenever he was upset, it helped him, and now, it worked yet again. He stared lovingly at the jewel, so wrapped up in its brightness, that all else - the pain, the emotions, the bot sneaking up behind him, all faded away.

It worked so well that he didn't even realize that a sudden burst of pain was what made him go offline.

When our little friend awoke, he immediately began wondering why his head hurt so much. He didn't remember hitting it against something, yet still it hurt. He also wondered why his stabilizers felt so unbalanced, why he couldn't remember where he was, and why he couldn't move his arms. The last question was answered fairly quickly, as he looked down and saw plastisteel bindings wrapped around his body.

He looked up in alarm, a saw a face that looked almost skull-like grinning back down at him. "Good morning, sunshine." The face said, in a tone that frightened little Shortround more than the worst of Arc's tirades. "Have a nice little nap?"

Shortround tried to speak, but found quickly that he had nothing he could say. No words would come out.

"I've got to admit, you surprised me." His captor continued, walking off. "Bounties this size are usually reserved for serial killers and kidnappers." He turned back, eyeing our friend. "You're not a kidnapper, are you? I hate kidnappers."

Shortround quickly shook his head, several times, to make sure the message got across.

"Good, then we're all friends here." The robot turned away again, a smile crossing his face. "'Least, till I hand you over."

Shortround tried to speak again, but again, found he had nothing he could really say. So he silenced himself, and looked over his captor. As you might have guessed, it was indeed Lockdown, a name that Shortround wouldn't learn until later. And to little Shortround, he was a scary looking robot. He was incredibly tall, and unusually lanky. His arms and legs were both long, but somehow didn't seem to match. All his limbs looked like they came from different robots - one hand was even missing, replaced by a nasty looking hook. Spikes ran down his back and shoulders, and his he was slightly hunched forward, large chinned skull-like face jutting forward from his head. In Shortround's optics, he was the single scariest thing he'd ever seen.

Lockdown paced around for a moment as Shortround attempted to take in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a dark warehouse, still stocked with canisters and boxes taller than he was. Any sunlight remaining outside was blocked out by heavy window guards, and the only light came from dim glow-lamps in the ceiling. Heavy pipes ran from the ceiling and into the ground - the same pipes that Shortround was tied to. Lockdown was in the center, fiddling with some dials on his arm.

"Slagging interference." He muttered. "Can't get through to anybody to tell them I found you. Looks like you get a momentary reprieve." He directed the last comment back at Shortround, who shook nervously.

After a few long moments, Shortround finally found his voice. "Excuse me?" He squeaked, attempting diplomacy despite his terror, "Umm, what do you want with me?"

Lockdown stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You're funny!" He said through his laughter, "I like you!"

"I didn't do anything!" Shortround protested. "You've got the wrong guy! I swear!"

Lockdown frowned at him, then flipped up a little panel. "You're Shortround, right?"

Shortround was too nervous to do anything but answer truthfully. "Yeah..."

"From Ursa Canderous, right?"

Shortround gulped. "Right..."

"Remember a certain Calad?"

"No!" Shortround protested. "I never heard of him!"

"Says here you broke into his mansion and stole something awfully valuable to him." Lockdown said smoothly. "Right when he was about to sell it for a major profit, looks like. He wasn't happy about that."

Shortround gaped at the Bounty Hunter, surprise and horror crossing his face. "The red jewel?"

"Matches the description." Lockdown answered.

"I still have it!" Shortround cried. "I'll give it back! Just let me go!"

Lockdown laughed again. "You idiot, he's a Quint. He could care less about the trinket - he just wants you punished." Lockdown grinned, and put his face right up close to Shortround. Our little friend grimaced and shrunk back. "But don't worry, I'm sure he'll take good care of you. Reaaaalllll good care."

After almost a cycle of searching, Mirage's usually endless patience was beginning to wear thin. He was frustrated - at Arc for abusing Shortround, at Shortround for running off, and at himself for not noticing the problem sooner. It was doing little to help his mood that he could find no trace of Shortround anywhere. So he decided to let someone else do the searching for him.

A couple quick taps on his comm brought him in communication with Sharkticon, who promptly demanded to know what the slagging heck was taking Mirage so long and there were very important things to be dealt with on the ship - like Repugnus trying to behead Snowcat for the third time that orn - and yelling about engine problems and generally being a rather unpleasant person to talk to. He became even less pleasant when the Captain asked for a tracer signal on little Shortround. After a tirade lasting a good 10 clicks (which Mirage noted could have been better spent searching), Sharkticon finally acquiesced and fired up the ship's sensors. It took them all of half a cycle to pinpoint Shortround's signal in the warehouse district.

Mirage cordially thanked Sharkticon, then headed toward the signal, wondering only slightly what Shortround was doing down there.

Meanwhile, our friend was huddled up and miserable. Lockdown had disappeared, leaving poor Shortround alone to wallow in his fear and unhappiness. He thought of his plight, and of his little trinket stored in a compartment. That same trinket that now put him through all this misery. Even the one thing that ever brought him happiness ended up bringing him disaster. It made our little friend want to cry.

He didn't even have the strength to struggle against his bonds. He just felt himself wallowing in self-pity and despair - and let me tell you, it's not the best place to be. Little Shortround was beginning to wish he had never come online.

And then, he saw hope again! A trickle of light came into the room, and Shortround looked up, expecting to see his captor - but instead he saw salvation! His Captain entered the room, walking casually in as though nothing was wrong. Joy flooded little Shortround's spark, and eagerly he called out, "Captain!"

Only after the words left his mouth did he realize what a mistake that was.

"Shortround, what are you doing in here?" Mirage demanded, but before Shortround could answer, cords wrapped themselves tightly around Mirage, knocking him over. He struggled against the bonds as Lockdown waltzed up, kneeling down to look at his new prize.

"Well, well, well." The Bounty hunter chuckled. "What do we have here? Let's get a look at the database..." He paused for a nano as he accessed the intergalactic network, and then frowned. "No way." He said, followed shortly by, "This can't be right," and then an addendum, "Really?"

He glanced down at the Captain and smirked. "It isn't often that the biggest bounty in the quadrant throws itself on my doorstep. It must be my lucky day."

"Mine too." Mirage answered, and then kicked straight upward, catching the Bounty Hunter completely off guard and sending him careening backwards. Mirage rolled to his feet, bringing himself up, and threw himself into Lockdown, who was already charging for another counterattack. The two tumbled in a heap behind a stack of cargo containers, which promptly collapsed on top of them.

From our friend's vantage point, all he could see of an undoubtably epic and heroic fight were a jumble of moving boxes. In his mind, he could see the captain struggling valiantly against his bounty-hunting opponent, with a left jab and a right cross - and then Shortround remembered that the Captain was bound just as he was.

But little Shortround's imagination was determined to make Captain Mirage the victor of the fight. Sadly, Shortround's imagination, I'm sorry to say, does not define reality, for only a few moments later, Mirage's body clattered to the floor in front of him. The captain was dented, beaten and nearly offline.

It wasn't encouraging to Shortround.

Even less encouraging was Lockdown's form emerging from the mess, his jaw set in grim determination, and a nasty looking laser rifle clasped in his good hand.

"I hate shooting a downed opponent." Lockdown grunted. "It isn't sporting. But I'm not about to let a bounty this big get away - especially one where the pays the same dead or alive. Sorry Mirage. If it's any consolation, I admired your work."

Shortround's optics widened as he realized what was about to happen. He struggled against his bonds, jerking hard against the still pole, so hard that his one treasure clattered to the floor. He ignored it, willing to sacrifice all for the strength to break free and overwhelm his captor - but it was to no avail.

Lockdown fired his laser rifle. Once. Twice. And again.

And to his surprise, Mirage, though still offline, was completely unharmed. The only one more surprised was Shortround, whose bonds had now been severed by the rouge laser shots, which had arced wildly past him, singing his arms but otherwise missing him.

"My aim isn't that bad!" Lockdown protested, and took aim and fired again. This time he saw his laser shot redirect, arcing for a small object lying on the ground next to Shortround, again whizzing harmlessly past the bot. Shortround whirled and grabbed his treasure - the small medallion he had stolen from the Quintesson, all those years ago - and held it in front of him, like it would protect him. And protect him it did.

"I don't believe this!" Lockdown cried, severely agitated now, and letting loose another group of shots - all of which arced toward the medallion, smashing into the ruby in the center, which glowed brightly as it absorbed the shots. Neither little Shortround or Lockdown fully understood, but the jewel was more than just a trinket - the Quintesson who designed it had created it as a personal shield to prevent assassinations - able to attract and absorb any laser discharges, rendering them worthless. It would have been worth a fortune.

"No wonder the Quint wanted you." Lockdown snarled, tossing his weapon aside. "Well, I'll just do it the old fashioned way." He charged at Shortround. Our friends courage - which had been a mountain a moment before - shriveled up and disappeared, and with a squeak, he dove out of the way. Lockdown barreled right past him, unable to stop him his momentum, and slammed into a wall. Cursing, he whirled, advancing toward Shortround who backed up in fear. Shortround yelped, and threw the only thing he had available - his little jewel. It caught Lockdown right in the face and shattered, sending Lockdown stumbling backwards as pieces of the jewel rained down, some imbedding in Lockdown's own armor. Lockdown cried out, clawing at his face.

Though the action had been born of fear and instinct, little Shortround suddenly hit upon an idea - a rare occurrence to be sure, but a brilliant one, definitely.. He turned, stumbling over Mirage's body, and grabbed the cast away laser rifle. He swung it around, and with a shaky, timid hand, pointed it at Lockdown, who was whirling to face him, rage in his eyes. Shortround opened his mouth for some brave and fearless speech - the kind Mirage always delivered in these situations - but the best he could come up with was 'Leave us alone!"

Lockdown laughed. "Are you kidding me? I'm not about to let some little punk 'bot take my bounty. You probably can't even aim that thing."

Shortround closed his optics, knowing that was the truth.

But it didn't matter. He pulled the trigger anyway.

Laserbolts arced out, and then scattered, separating and flying out in random directions - a good number of them heading straight for Lockdown's face. Lockdown roared and stumbled backwards as his face alit with the shards of the jewels drawing the lasers right to him. Shortround pulled the trigger again and again, and Lockdown stumbled to his feet, fleeing toward the back of the warehouse. He might have called out 'I'll get you for this!', but the burning in his face was so great that it came out as garbled nonsense.

And if it hadn't Shortround wouldn't have heard it anyway. He was still firing the weapon off wildly, sending the bolts raining everywhere in spastic patterns caused by the shattered jewel. It was only some time after Lockdown had fled when he finally realized he could stop.

He stood there, panting for a moment, then little Shortround collapsed, thoroughly exhausted by his little ordeal, and staring up sullenly at the warehouse ceiling.

"Was all that really necessary?"

Shortround yelped at the voice, and I'll be a crankcase if he didn't jump straight into the air, and tumble down in a heap, only to find Captain Mirage watching him with amusement in his optics.

"Captain, forgive me!" Shortround stammered. "I-"

"Saved my life." Mirage answered. "Thanks. Now, if you wouldn't mind getting these bonds off me."

Shortround jumped immediately to action, unclasping the bonds and dropping them free. Mirage got up and looked around. "That's quite a mess you've made here. Dragging me all over the city to make me find you, then getting caught by a Bounty Hunter to boot."

"I- Captain..." Shortround trailed off, suddenly remembering why he ran off in the first place. His entire demeanor drooped over in unhappiness.

Mirage smiled and gently lay his hand on Shortround's shoulder. "You also saved my life. That alone will earn you a place among my crew."

Our little friend Shortround, looked up at the Captain, quivering. If he were an organic, you might say his eyes were leaking, or something like that. "Really, Captain?"

Mirage looked toward the ceiling, his eyes staring out into space. "I've never told you Shortround, but I have high hopes for you. You've got a good spark inside you. It's just a matter of bringing it out. Like today. You've surprised me twice today, and both times in good ways. Shortround, one day I'll make a Pirate out of you yet." Mirage never fully realized how much those words would shape little Shortround's destiny. At that moment, with his little speech, Shortround's entire future - his hopes, and his dreams, changed. For the Captain - and this little misadventure - had given Shortround the one thing he had always lacked. Confidence. Shortround never did truly express how thankful he was to the Captain, standing there tall and proud of his little deck-bot. Then he glanced down and winked at Shortround. "But try to do it without hitting Arc. He gets crankier than usual when you do. And then I have to deal with it."

"Yes sir!" Shortround saluted.

Mirage turned, ready to leave and beckoning Shortround to follow. After all, they still had an angry Quintesson to deal with. But as they left, Shortround paused, and knelt down, spying something on the ground. It was a shard of his medallion - the largest remaining piece of what he had once put his hopes and dreams in. He looked at the shard sorrowfully for a moment, and then put it down.

Our friend knew he didn't need it anymore. What it meant, what it represented, was in the past. He left the shard there, and moved on, following Mirage back out into the city - and into the galaxy.

I'm happy to say that eventually, Shortround achieved his dreams. It took a long time, a lifetime for a Cybertronian like him, but thousands of Cycles later, he became the Captain of his own crew, with his own ship. He called it the Ruby Jewel, and he built a reputation to rival Mirage himself. How that came about, and how long it took, well my friend, that's another story entirely.

And how do I know so much about Shortround? Well friends, let me tell you. The highly successful Pirate Shortround, and the Cabin Boy who once served under Mirage - well, you're talking to him. I never forgot that day - and neither did Mirage, for that matter. But that, all of that, is for another time. Buy me a couple more mugs of Energon, and I might tell you about it.

Maybe.