Love and Monsters
A Transformers: Armada Story
By William Rendfeld
Space. Quiet, peaceful, inescapably vast and grand. Despite all of the planets and stars and loose bits of debris scattered about the cosmos, it is empty, the voids between its internals far too immense to be filled. So is the way of things; no matter how matter was distributed, it could not fill the space between the stars.
Even if the big chunks were made much, much smaller.
Powerful blasts tore through a lone asteroid, its remnants going about in all directions. As he gazed upon his handiwork, loose bits of matter bouncing against his purple armor, Galvatron smiled.
Ever since his early days, when he was Megatron, he'd known this above all else to be true – power governed the universe. The power generated by stars warmed their orbiting planets, fueled or denied the start of life in the galaxy. In their death throes the grandest and most massive of stars displayed their true power, exploding and destroying all things in their path or, even more rarely, becoming black holes, devouring anything that came too close. Literal power forged life – physical power forged governments, shaped lives. Why consider the power of a god, when one single individual had enough power within him to change the universe? Even as Megatron, he'd intended to make the universe his.
Power was why he'd joined the Decepticon army; soldiers had power, the higher-ranking ones moreso. It was when he reached his peak, gained his greatest influence as a general, that he realized he could go no further...and began to consider rebellion. A general still needed the authorization of his ruling government to act after all. If he was the government, then he'd sidestep that little dilemma nicely.
The Outsider Wars had given him that chance. The constant attacks upon Cybertron had given him the opportunity to see the finest troops in action, gauge their abilities and skills, and mark out the ones he needed for his empire. Berserkers, strategists, those who enjoyed the fight and those who had no qualms about opening fire upon others. He found them, and a few besides, and when he was ready, he stroke. Many Mini-Cons sided with him, many more were captured and enslaved. He had the power, and nearly took Cybertron. Were it not for the actions of that self-righteous old fool Jhiaxus and his sniveling siblings, he would have succeeded.
That the Mini-Cons would be freed had never entered his mind. That the ones who supported him would be incarcerated was a possibility. That they would leave the planet, flee in an old starship...it was unthinkable. And yet it happened. While his supporters fluctuated in number over the years, they were forced into the shadows, hidden underground from prying eyes. The Mini-Cons' return had changed things; their signal, their beacon from that begotten ball of mud, was just what he'd needed after all those meta-cycles. The Eclipse Team was returned to him, his Mini-Con supporters restored, even a new body all to his own...
...But the foul stench of betrayal hung around him like a fog. Now he and his few remaining soldiers were once again in the shadows, only now in the shadows of planets and moons rather than buildings and roadways. They were forced to eke out what they could on scraps, tearing apart asteroids to retrieve minute traces of Energon, like the one he had just destroyed.
But it mattered little. Soon enough, he would regain the proverbial high ground. Now, with his new body...his new identity...he had more power than ever before. No one, not the traitorous Starscream, not the glorious Optimus Prime, would defeat him. He would have the power he sought, and nothing in the universe would stop him.
As his vessel loomed behind him, he said into his comm.-link, "Galvatron to Nemesis; release retrieval drones. I am returning now."
"It's your move."
"Don't rush me. We're still figuring this thing out, and I don't want to do something stupid."
"Learning is all about mistakes my friend."
"Yeah, but I'd rather not give someone an excuse to take a potshot at me over it. Jokes are only funny when you aren't the butt of..."
Terrorsaur snarled impatiently. "Just make a slagging move already!"
The eyes on the wolf's head replacing his right hand staring angrily at the pterodactyl, Frostbite gave a low growl before making his decision. With his left hand, he picked up a small figurine, the familiar red emblem forming its base, and moved it on the board. "Check."
Predacon smiled; it wasn't a smile of victory, but one of keen interest. He was enjoying himself. "Patience is a virtue, Terrorsaur; one which serves you greatly in this game. Careful analysis of your opponent's actions can lead you to victory; overlook one detail, and you're left in defeat."
The Decepticon flyer crossed his arms defiantly. "Like you need it anymore. We haven't done anything in the last six months but sit on our afts in this blasted hunk of rock and metal. We haven't even gone home to Cybertron."
"Patience brother!" their fourth urged, his voice echoing through the small steel grey recreation room. "We will return home!"
"When?" the green and orange Decepticon snapped. "When is that going to happen Reptilion? Answer me that! Bad enough we were all locked away on that ship..."
Predacon's face turned to them, emerald optics leveled on the more boisterous of the two. "I'm not surprised that you're eager to return however; your freedom secured, your sentence carried out in full aboard the Acheron; the fact that you no longer need to fear being hunted by Autobot authorities for your previous allegiance to Megatron and the activities you committed while under his leadership no doubt helps. But rushing back home is unnecessary. Cybertron isn't going anywhere, Terrorsaur. We shall return soon enough, no need to be concerned." His charge silenced, he returned to his game of chess, moving a small piece with a familiar purple base into position to counter his opponent's check.
"Y'know, this irks me a bit," the tech-org wolf admitted. "No offense to the humans, I appreciate them making this for us. And I really like this 'chess' of theirs; fun game."
"You simply object to them marking the 'white' pieces with Autobot insignias for bases, the 'black' ones likewise with Decepticon ones," the leader of the Decepticon tech-orgs reasoned.
"Exactly." Frostbite moved again, this time one of his bishops. "Their hearts were probably in the right place, I won't fault 'em for that. But the way they look at us, it's like the sides are literally black and white; the Autobots are good, the Decepticons bad, no room for grey. If it were me, I would've removed the bases entirely, just given us plain pieces, no modifications. Not as cute, but a lot less hassle."
"Can't you just cut off the bases?" Reptilion suggested as Predacon countered.
"Nah; the figurines are glued to them somehow." Frostbite moved a pawn forward one square as he elaborated, "Plus the figurines aren't balanced. Without the wide bases, they'll just fall over all the time. That's not much fun, is it?"
The Decepticon frilled lizard ran a hand along the projection on his head, his beast mode tail. "Maybe you could carve the bases, paint them with something, then supplement them with weights of some kind."
"That sounds like a good idea actually." The brown and lime Tyrannosaurus moved another piece as his opponent continued, "A programmed laser should do the job fine; narrow enough beam. Then some adhesives to support the added weights, and we'd be in good shape. Add a nice neutral grey, and we'd have some very agreeable chessmen. Speaking of..." He moved once more and said, "Check."
Predacon allowed himself a smirk and retaliated one more time. "Checkmate."
The cool-colored lupine looked upon the board in surprise, understanding slowly dawning on him as he laughed. "How did I not see that?"
"You distracted yourself, my friend." A clawed finger tapped one of the knights to help illustrate his point. "Always maintain focus on the task at hand; distraction can defeat you."
Frostbite gave a bemused grin on his muzzle. "I'll keep that in mind."
Humble in his victory, Predacon rose to his taloned feet and activated his communicator. "TACHI, would you be kind enough to bless us with a weather report?"
"We've got a thunderstorm raging outside Predacon," the base computer informed him. "Looks like you'll miss out on your meditation."
"It doesn't matter where one goes to seek calm, merely that they do so," the Decepticon replied. "Thank you dear." He deactivated his communicator, then departed with a gentle, "Excuse me everyone."
As Predacon stepped out of the room, Reptilion followed behind him. Terrorsaur shook his head as the last of the four packed away the chess pieces. "You're not actually going to try that idea, are you?"
"Nothing happens if you just stand around and do nothing." The chess pieces packed away, Frostbite walked off purposefully and said, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to see an Omnicon about a cutting laser."
His last fellow tech-org gone, Terrorsaur sneered and shook his head. They were worthless, the lot of them. He had better things ahead.
"Something bothering you Kicker?"
The young man snapped back to attention and asked, "Sorry?"
"You've been staring out into that thunderstorm for the last thirty seconds," his date replied. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were fascinated with it."
Kicker managed a small chuckle. "Something like that." He took a sip from his drink, then explained, "Sorry Misha. It's just been a while since I've seen weather like this...up close, I mean."
The petite young woman allowed herself a laugh. "It's fine." Misha Miramond slowly sorted through her salad with her fork, going over her own thoughts. "Kicker, there's something I've been wondering about."
"What's that?"
"Well...you're living with your aunt, Doctor Masters. When I heard she was going to be teaching at UC Boulder, I dug up all I could online."
Kicker cast his brown eyes towards her. "And?"
"She has a sister, Dr. Miranda Jones, who has two kids...one of them has your name, but he's way too young to be you."
"And you're wondering how there could be two people with the exact same name and the exact same aunt, born ten years apart?"
Misha bobbed her head eagerly. "Pretty much, yes."
Kicker exhaled sharply, casting his eyes away before turning back to face her. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"You sure about that?" she asked, pointing out a familiar red and blue Veyron driving by outside of the restaurant. "Plenty of unbelievable things have been happening lately."
Kicker shrugged; she had him there. "Good point. Well..." A familiar buzz from his pocket caught his attention.
"Saved by the bell?" Misha quipped gently with a raised eyebrow.
Kicker shot back with a silent, irritated look, then answered his phone. "Yes?"
"Hey kid; just calling to check up on you," came the familiar voice of his aunt.
The young man huffed. "Perfect timing; Misha and I were just discussing something important. About me."
"Have you told her the truth?"
"Was thinking about it, but wasn't convinced it was a good idea," he admitted, somewhat flustered.
The line was silent for a second, before Diana's voice replied, "Tell her, Kicker. I think she can keep a secret. Anyway, I'm on my way back to the apartment; see you when you get there."
The line clicked off, and Kicker slowly pocketed his phone. Tell her the truth? That he was a refugee from an alternate universe, one where the Earth had been devoured by the Transformer equivalent of Satan and he'd spent ten years floating around in asteroid belts looking for Energon scraps?
If he didn't tell her the truth, then he'd have to come up with some elaborate cover story which most likely would not hold up to proper scrutiny. And he'd never felt comfortable lying about anything; the fact that he was a poor liar didn't help. On the other hand...she might think he was crazy.
Though a lot of people would say that robots transforming into cars and planes was also crazy, and yet their existence was now common knowledge. Plus, he trusted his aunt...and she was a bit more experienced than he was.
"Misha, I'll try and explain this as best I can..."
He remained silent as he leaned against the window, watching the retrieval drones gather the chunks of all-important Energon from the destroyed asteroid. He shook his head, irritation running through his circuits.
Before, he'd been Tidal Wave, the largest and most powerful of Decepticons and the central cog of the Eclipse Team. Now he was Mirage; smaller, faster, more powerful than before...but no different, aside from his circumstances.
"Mirage, attention!"
Which, unfortunately, included a new XO.
The massive seagoing Decepticon turned, glowering down at the coneheaded warrior before him. "Something up, Thrust?"
"Galvatron has returned, and it is time to begin proper refueling." The F-35 looked up at him, his arms crossed. "While the Mini-Cons are engaged in preparing our resources, you are to assist me in maintenance checks. This way."
The little skidplate-kisser was enjoying himself way too much, but that wasn't what Mirage was so irritated about. "Why are we still doing this, Thrust?"
The conehead turned back to face the larger Transformer. "We are loyal to Galvatron; wherever he goes, whatever he orders, we follow and do."
Optics dimmed and lit back up in an eye-rolling gesture. "Please. I served under him way back when, before we took up arms. You aren't here out of loyalty; you just want a nice piece of the pie if he wins.
Despite his lack of a mouth, the curving of Thrust's facial plates suggested a small smile. "I'm not one to turn down a perk," he admitted. "But that's beside the point; we have a job to do, and a cause to follow."
Mirage followed sullenly. Several had left the ranks when Starscream turned against Megatron on Earth, and they had no idea where Brushguard was. The Autobots had the advantage on Earth and Cybertron, and they were stuck roaming the cosmos. Some cause this was.
"I still don't get how you can be so happy. There's nothing to do, nothing going on!"
The purple Mini-Con allowed herself a chuckle. "You make that sound like a bad thing. There's no explosions, no one getting shot at, no one getting an arm ripped off..."
"Exactly! No fun!"
Cliffjumper groaned. "All those cycles without me and you still have this obsession with action. I'm never going to understand you, Cheetor."
The Autobot tech-org laughed. "Hey, I spend a lot of those cycles in cold stasis. The way I see it, I'm way overdue for some action." A familiar smell caught his olfactory sensors, and he sniffed at the air. "Speaking of action..."
The tiny pickup could only shake her head and groan as Cheetor transformed, leaning against the very computer terminal she was checking as the familiar form of Crystal Widow walked towards them, her eye-like optics cast downwards.
"Hey Crystal," the Autobot cheetah greeted her, trying to sound macho. "How's it hanging?"
The arachnid Transformer stopped in surprise. "Oh...hi Cheetor." She continued on her way glumly. "Don't mind me, just passing through."
As she passed down the corridor, just exiting hearing range, Cheetor slumped. "I don't get it. How can she be like that?"
"Aside from blaming herself for the fact that she, you, and several other Autobots, Decepticons and Mini-Cons now possess organic components?" Cliffjumper posed. "In addition to others being dead thanks to Quintesson experiments? Experiments which they gathered test subjects for thanks to a tracking device found in her body?"
The cheetah sent his partner a harsh look. "I remember all that, CJ, I was there." He glanced at his arms and inner thighs, the points where his cybernetic components meshed with organic flesh. He immediately cast aside his own memories; it wasn't him he was worried about after all. "But that was ages ago, and it's not like anyone holds it against her."
"No one has to." Cliffjumper closed the panel, then explained, "Guilt's a tricky thing kid; it doesn't take much to feel it over one thing or another. I'd probably feel the same way if...well, if something happened to you."
The feline Autobot stared at her. "Really?"
"If Nightscream could feel that way over what happened to Airazor, you think the rest of us would feel differently? As big of a lugnut as you are, you're still my partner, and I'm in no rush to lose you." As a surprised smile grew across Cheetor's face, the Mini-Con covered herself, "Besides, we owe each other a drink at Maccadam's once we get back to Cybertron, and no way am I going to let you weasel out of that."
Cheetor smirked. "Fine, Little Miss Excitement. But the same goes for you, got that?"
"Wouldn't have it differently." She picked up her toolkit. "Come on, we've still got some work to do. Maybe you'll get your excitement after all."
Diana Masters stretched as she exited her bedroom, safely home in her apartment. She looked out the window just in time to notice the sun coming out. "Perfect; it stops just when I'm home." A familiar presence against her legs, she knelt down and scooped up her cat. "You don't mind one way or another, do you Abby?"
Abby mewled in reply, stretching out as she did so.
Diana sighed. "Just hope I didn't embarrass Kicker too much, calling when I did. Lord knows I'd be mortified if one of my relatives called while I was on a date." She shook her head, then noticed her reflection in a nearby mirror. "When was the last time I was on a date?"
She gently set her cat down on a nearby table, then studied her reflection. She brushed away a bit of brown hair from her face. Diana was no supermodel, but she was far from ugly or unsightly; slender, in good shape...with a nice butt, she admitted only to herself.
She'd been content without a relationship before...why was she suddenly thinking about one? The fact that three people close to her were either married or beginning to date probably didn't hurt to point out her current state of singleness. She sighed; if she kept this up, she'd be drowning herself in romance novels before the end of the week.
With an irritated groan, Diana collapsed into a nearby chair then turned to her cat. "I'm hopeless, Abby. Well and truly hopeless."
Abby simply slunk off, leaving Diana to scoff. Typical cat.
"Finally, some glorious Energon! If I'd gone without some for much longer, my joints would crack!"
"I don't think that'd be possible...I mean, your armor's too well-made to..."
"Shut it, Shortround."
"Yes ma'am."
Mirage didn't bother to suppress a chuckle as he worked. He liked Thunderblast; always had, ever since she joined the Eclipse Team. Sure, she came off as some flighty, spoiled brat, what the humans would call a 'valley girl'...but as quite a few Transformers had learned over the years, she wasn't someone to cross under any circumstances. Her behavior was little more than a mask for the true Thunderblast within. She was tough, surprisingly smart, and damn proud.
And he liked proud girls who knew how to watch their own backs. If only he wasn't convinced she'd blast him for showing his interest, and if only she weren't attracted to bigger fish.
"Take minimum requirements, Decepticons," Galvatron ordered. "Sensors have detected small amounts of Energon in this asteroid field, but I am in no rush to empty our stores."
"No way would we do that," the Decepticon femme answered her leader. With an approving look, the larger Decepticon turned away, leaving her to swoon.
Mirage grumbled under his breath, then took his allotted ration of Energon and left for his quarters, Shortround following behind. "You're pathetic, you know that?"
"Oh, like you don't look at her the same way?" The small hovercraft looked up at him with the same elation he had over some recent acquisition from an alien toy shop. "I saw you catch her during the big battle back on Earth. Admit it, you like her."
The larger sea-faring Decepticon gave his smaller ally a look harsh enough to have melted titanium. "And that matters? Not like she'd care; Thunderblast's more interested in our illustrious leader, and I doubt he cares that much."
"Then one of us has got to get her attention off Galvatron and onto us!" A disbelieving glance from his senior, and the small Decepticon hastened to explain. "I've been listening to this show on Free Radio Cybertron...the 'con on there's been giving plenty of advice about relationships..."
"And what good's it done you so far, hmm?"
"Hey, I haven't been listening for long!" the tiny hovercraft shot back defensively. "And it's not like it'll hurt, right?"
Mirage cast his optics upward, contemplating his options. Should he really follow relationship advice from some egocentric disc jockey, recommended by an annoying little nerd of a Decepticon?
Eh, not like it'd be a big sacrifice.
"Fine runt, you've got me."
Shortround gave an elated cry, distracting him as he nearly tripped on an exposed bit of wire. His ration went flying, but was quickly caught by a snickering Mirage. "Smooth."
The tiny nerd simply shrugged nervously before getting back up.
"Don't believe me, do you?"
"Barely," Misha replied, part of her brain concentrating on the road as she drove Kicker home. "I mean, I won't deny that time travel's possible; it certainly explains how there can be two of you existing at the same point in time, with one older than the other by a decade. And I can see Energon having enough juice in it to power time travel...and your father coming up with the idea..." Noticing Kicker's downcast look as she drove, she quickly said, "Sorry."
"No, it's alright." The young man slumped a little into his seat. "Dad's a great scientist...but no one thinks about how he got to be so great. If he wasn't forgetting about us, he was sending me out with him...or for him. You should try scavenging for Energon all by yourself, nothing but a tether line separating you from floating into deep space."
"Science isn't without sacrifice Kicker..." Misha gently countered. "I'm not arguing with you, I'm just pointing that out. Marie Curie died of cancer after years of experimenting with radioactive elements."
"Yeah, but she wasn't ten years old and alone in an asteroid belt," Kicker replied bitterly. "If my dad was so smart, couldn't he have rigged up a sensor or something, or gone out with me? I was his only son, Misha; doesn't that make me valuable?"
"I don't think he thought you weren't important Kicker, it's just..." She groaned as she pulled the car into a parking lot; try as she might, she couldn't defend her hero's actions. "Okay, you've got a good point. Still, that was then; this is now. You should at least try to put it aside, try to bond with him again while you have the chance. Not everyone's that fortunate."
Kicker sighed. "Not as easy as it sounds."
Misha gave him a comforting nudge. "Nothing worth it ever is." A stray thought crossed her mind. "Do you know much about how it worked? The time travel, I mean."
The young man shrugged. "I'm just glad it did. Why?"
"Well, every time I've seen something where a person traveled back in time, was in the same place as their past self, interacted...well, the results weren't pretty."
"I've seen the same episode of 'Doctor Who', don't worry." Kicker took a sip of his drink. "Besides, it's fiction. I doubt it had the same effect." A quick pause before nervously noting, "At least, I hope not."
"Skid-Z? Are you still online?"
The darkly-colored Mini-Con couldn't take his optics off the meditating forms of Predacon and Reptilion, even for his fellow Mini-Con partners.
Ironhide groaned, rubbing her covered optics in irritation. "Can't you get his attention?"
"Not when he's like this," Side Burn admitted, shrugging helplessly.
"They look so...content..." Skid-Z said in reverence as he looked upon the two Decepticons. "As if they've not a care in the world. Primus has blessed them, well and truly."
"You're going a bit far for me," the Mini-Con femme muttered irritably.
"Also, it would be wise for you to remember that we can hear you quite easily from in these chambers," Predacon's voice echoed, impressively calm. "Don't walk off, by the way; I would appreciate an audience with the three of you."
As Ironhide and Side Burn exchanged surprised glances, Skid-Z madly rushed into the chamber, slipping as he went but quickly regaining his step. Not knowing what else to do, the remaining two Mini-Cons followed.
The burgundy two-door Mercedes slid to a halt as Predacon relaxed his posture, looking benignly down towards his Mini-Con partner and comrades as they approached. "I hoped to find a better time for this conversation, Skid-Z, but now is better than never. It is fortunate that Side Burn was here as well; we each have much to discuss."
"Truly, Predacon?" Skid-Z asked, eagerness barely contained in his frame. "This must be of...great import!"
"It is, to I as well as you." The Tyrannosaur collected his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. "My little friend, you have been with me for some time. You have followed me, worked alongside me, and stood steadfast at my side. While I admire and appreciate that devotion, I feel that you may do so for the wrong reasons."
"But, what reason do I need?" Skid-Z countered. "You live a blessed life, Predacon! And your organic components have given you balance unlike anything others possess!"
"My organic components give me many things, but not the blessing of Primus." Predacon's optics dimmed as he recalled those unpleasant memory files. "I remember well how I came to have these accoutrements; a Quintesson experiment upon Transformers. I don't pretend to know why this occurred, or where they happened upon the idea. All I know for certain is that the process was painful and terrible...such that I would refuse to force it upon anyone, or even recommend it."
"But it has given you many advantages," Skid-Z countered. "Your heightened resistance to Energon radiation, your processing of local foodstuffs. Does that not make you superior?"
"Superiority is merely a lack of proper weaknesses or minimized ones," Predacon countered. "I have resistance to Energon radiation, not immunity. I've the ability to process resources such as food and drink, but I must still remove waste materials. There are reasons why we techno-organics immerse ourselves in liquids to bathe and attempt to retain Energon in our diets; if we did not, the smell would be horrendous."
"Not to mention the messes," Side Burn noted.
Both Predacon and Reptilion nodded sagely; neither was too happy about the detail of waste products.
"But how can you be at such peace?" Skid-Z asked. "Surely this has given you some of that?"
"My peace comes from knowing that I have not purposely caused more trouble in the world, and actively sought to reduce pain and suffering," the Decepticon Tyrannosaurus said firmly. "Reptilion's comes from his faith in Primus, our Creator; the fact that we still function gives me little reason to question his perspective. Frostbite's peace comes from his attitude and outlook on life; his presence is enjoyed, his attitude appreciated by his friends. Our organic components did nothing to aid our states of mind, and in the case of others, has only hindered them."
"The Autobot Crystal Widow," Reptilion said at last, supporting his leader. "She blames herself for what happened to us. And despite the fact that none blame her for the Quintessons' actions, she still thinks of herself as less than nothing."
"The prime example of the pitfalls of this process." Predacon looked down towards Skid-Z, but not unkindly. "I understand your pain, Skid-Z. You feel cast out, adrift. Many can sympathize with that. I care not that you are purely mechanical; you are my friend and my partner, and I see no reason to consider you otherwise."
The burgundy Mini-Con looked up to his partner with newfound awe. He dimmed his optics and whispered in reverence, "Thank you." He then turned away and departed.
Ironhide shook her head as she watched him leave. "I'd better go keep an optic on him."
"Go then, we shall be fine." As the orange Mini-Con left, Predacon turned to Side Burn and said, "That leaves only us." As the red sedan looked at him in surprise, the Decepticon mystic explained, "I've long suspected why you came to me long ago, Side Burn."
The interrogated feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"
"It seemed likely that there were those among the Autobots and Decepticons who were uneasy about us, despite our peaceful activities," Reptilion noted. "For all they knew, we plotted to take over."
"Were this another lifetime, I may have done so," Predacon said without a hint of pride. "However, this is not another lifetime, but this one. And as recent events have shown, such an idea was unwise, following Deathsaurus's example."
Side Burn gave both Decepticons an uneasy look, which slowly faded into a relieved smile. "How'd you know it was me and not Skid-Z?"
"No one's acting is that good," the Tyrannosaur noted. "Also, Optimus Prime was kind enough to declassify a few records pertaining to us; it seems King Atlas saw fit to have a file on every techno-organic among the Transformers, regardless of faction. Now that he is among the dearly departed, Optimus saw little reason to maintain its secrecy. You weren't named, but you appeared the obvious choice."
"And now that they know we can be trusted, no reason for you to continue to keep watch on us," Reptilion said happily, trying to make his eerie smile as pleasant as possible.
"Indeed," answered the other Decepticon.
Side Burn collapsed to the ground in near comical relief. For a moment, he let himself relax in Primus knew how long. "It's about slagging time."
"Just give me a second here to get the receiver up and going...flip a switch...come on..."
Mirage kicked the radio receiver hard, bringing it to life and surprising Shortround in the process. He held his arms up in false apology as the speakers cracked to life.
"Tempest tossed love, always the same sad story, but love is ever strong; this is Doctor Looooovebyte, here to help you all with your relationship troubles. Can't work up the nerve to ask out your favored mech or femme? Turn to no one else but I, the top shark of romance! Let's take some calls from the love-lost."
"You listen to this scrap?" the larger Decepticon sarcastically asked before his smaller compatriot shushed him into silence.
"Doctor Lovebyte?" came a nervous voice. "There's this femme I've got the hots for; she really makes my pistons pump, if you get what I mean. Trouble is, I don't think she even knows I exist. What can I do Doc?"
"Ah, the nervous lover and the object of his affection. Young mech, you must take initiative! Make yourself known to this femme, present yourself proudly and with confidence! Confidence will do more to win admiration and affection than anything else, dear listener."
"But what if-hey!"
"C'mon Ransack, I want to use the comm.-line too..."
"CZ, this is important, I-!"
The telltale "CRZH" of static echoed from the receiver, prompting the radio host to humorously note, "We seem to have lost connection. Taking another comm.-line now!"
As another young mech spoke about his attempts at a relationship with a femme who'd been terribly guilty and forlorn, Shortround nudged his fellow conspirator with a transmission mike. "C'mon, we can make a call!"
"Have you lost your diodes?" Mirage shot back. "Calls can be traced!"
"Like the Autobots are monitoring transmissions to Brasta all the time," the smaller Decepticon replied dismissively.
"You do it, this was your idea."
"I can't do it, I don't have a voice for radio! You do; you're all authoritative and commanding; you say something, and 'bots notice!"
Mirage glowered at his diminutive partner, then snatched the microphone and declared, "Send out the signal already, before someone notices."
"...the young femme must sort through her own difficulties before she can engage in a proper relationship; you must give her time, but help her if you can. Taking another comm.-line now!" A small chime sounded off from the transmitter, and the radio host's voice returned, "Welcome to the program!"
Already regretting this and boring Energon daggers into Shortround, Mirage began. "Thanks...first time caller. First time listener, in fact."
"Such bravery, such valor! I admire you sir, but surely one such as you does not have troubles in the noble pursuit of love?"
"You'd be surprised..." the Decepticon muttered before speaking louder. "Here's the deal; there's a femme that a friend and I work with. We know her, she knows us, we work together on a regular basis. Problem is, she treats said friend like scrap, all but ignores me, and swoons over our...supervisor."
"Ah, romance in the workplace, always a sticky situation. Tell me friend, what sort of femme is the object of your affections?"
Despite himself, the Decepticon warrior leaned against the bulkhead, trying his best to come up with as good and accurate a mental image of Thunderblast as possible. "Well, she's an impressive fighter...eager, strong-willed, skilled in the art of deception. She's a crack shot, and an excellent swimmer; really knows how to have fun and enjoy herself. And...when she flies, the air charges behind her; it's like she's lightning, arcing through the air and leaving a blazing trail in her wake." A sigh. "But she's attracted to mechs with power...tough, strong-willed, the kind that tend to not be so subtle about what they want."
"Ah, the classic predicament. Tell me, does the lady know of your affection for her?"
Mirage scoffed. "No, I'm not that dense."
"And that of your friend?"
"Yeah, and she isn't all that impressed."
"My friend, you have what all lovers need to win the objects of their affection; confidence. Now you must be patient, act in subtle ways, be clever in your wooing of this blazing femme fatale. Only through careful planning can you properly find your way into her Spark. Take an interest in her activities, show her loyalty, give her reason to respect you good sir, and she will find her way to you. But you must take the first step; do not shout your intentions from the heavens – be subtle."
Blink. "Subtle?"
"It cannot fail you," the host assured him.
An odd sound of amazement. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Doc."
"Thank you, good sir, for being an excellent example for lovers everywhere!" A second chime sounded, indicating that the connection was cut, and the receiver went off, "Taking another comm.-line now!"
Shortround was awestruck at his larger companion as he deactivated the receiver. "That...that was incredible! The way you described her, it was like poetry..."
"Yeah, don't get all sentimental you little..." Mirage began before the receiver reactivated, sirens going off. "What the...?"
The hovercraft quickly took a seat as Galvatron entered the command deck, Thrust following. "Incoming high-powered transmission. Looks like a retrieval signal of some kind, coming from Earth."
"Must be Brushguard," the former carrier figured. "Wondered where the plant lover had gotten off to."
"Perhaps," Galvatron thundered. "Thrust, Mirage, take one of our high velocity shuttles back to Earth, and retrieve whoever is sending out that signal. If it is indeed Brushguard, he is far too valuable, and far too dangerous, to leave to his own ends. If it is someone else, we will see what they have to offer. If I find it useful, then they will remain. Otherwise...well, space is rather hazardous to one's health."
"At once Galvatron," Thrust said obediently. He motioned quickly to Mirage, then swiftly departed. The larger Decepticon followed.
As his two subordinates slipped out of sight, Galvatron leaned in close to Shortround and whispered into his audio receptor in a way that would've frozen his hydraulics. "Also, Shortround...if there is another transmission sent out from this vessel without my authorization, you will discover for yourself just how hazardous space is. Am I clear?"
The tiny Decepticon gave his leader a sideways glance and nodded slowly, if a little jerkily.
A razor-sharp smile. "Excellent."
"Autobase, this is Wirejack reporting in. On my way back from Peterson."
"Thanks for the heads-up Wire," Sideswipe reported. "Opening entry...wait a nano, something's up."
"Problem?" came the reply over the comm.-line.
"We've got a transmission going out from the base," the blue Nissan reported as his CO came up behind him. "It's a private channel, but it's coded; I'm not familiar with it."
"Patch me in," the Autobot computer specialist instructed sharply, no hint of his usual shyness. "I should be able to figure out what it is."
"Do it," Scavenger ordered. "TACHI, we have a situation. Base is on lockdown; repeat, Autobase is on lockdown. No one comes in or out." As status monitors flashed red, the massive bulldozer immediately scanned the details. "Anyone off-base?"
"Wire's circling overhead, Smokescreen's on his way back from Boulder, Terrorsaur and Beachcomber are outside," Nightbeat reported from a separate console from his partner. "So that leaves a small list of 'bots who'd be putting out that signal."
"No list, just one," the F-14 corrected. "The signal's a Decepticon code; the point of origin is Terrorsaur's quarters."
The motorcycle Mini-Con's reaction was prompt. "Airazor, Nightscream, Zapmaster and Thundercracker are closest."
"Jam that signal, and send them in just in case," Scavenger snapped. "Get word up to the Axalon, and tell Rodimus that if anything shows up, blast it to scrap. Inform NORAD and Boulder that they'll be expecting some fireworks. And tell Smokescreen and Beachcomber to find Terrorsaur and contain him, now!"
"You don't understand Ironhide." Skid-Z exhaled through his filters. "All my existence, I've wanted a place to fit in, a way to belong. How can I truly be an equal, a partner to Predacon, if I'm pure technology and not a mix?"
"There's more than one way to belong," Ironhide assured him. "You know what the story is with me and Terrorsaur right? He scrapped my Autobot partner a long ways back, and I've been stuck with him since. I hate his guts for what he did, no argument, but at the same time, he's the only one left that I have any major connection to."
The two-door Mercedes gave his femme companion a look which suggested that she'd not had proper maintenance.
"I know, it sounds kooky to me too," the orange Mini-Con agreed. "But if it makes you feel any better, Predacon is concerned for you; he values you. No way is that going to change."
Alarm klaxons suddenly blared around them as four sets of footfalls rang through the ground. The two transformed and weaved to one side, the familiar forms of Airazor and Thundercracker barreling down the hallway, their Mini-Con partners following close behind.
"Whoa, where's the plasma fire?!" Ironhide asked.
"Your Decepti-buddy's phoning home," the Persian indigo Mini-Con sports car shot back darkly.
For several moments, nothing but shock and disbelief ran through her systems before she shook herself out of the stupor and burned rubber, Skid-Z quickly following. After a few seconds, the group reached the door to Terrorsaur's quarters.
"It's locked," Sideswipe informed from the command center. "Can't override it from here guys."
"Blast it down?" the Su-27 Flanker suggested to his fellow flyer.
Airazor was about to reply before Ironhide punched a small access panel. The door slid open as the Mini-Con whispered in denial, "No way to keep secrets between partners."
As Thundercracker and Zapmaster rushed in, Airazor knelt down and said softly to the orange dune buggy, "I'm sorry."
"We've got an active computer terminal tied into the base's communications grid," the blue and grey fighter jet conveyed. "Must've put out the signal automatically. Don't know how he managed it; Terrorsaur's not that smart."
"We'll worry about that later!" Zapmaster declared, his arm rearing up before he smashed down hard on the terminal.
The terminal, in turn, blew, sending the black and silver Mini-Con flying through the air. Thundercracker barely caught him in his hand and long cannon, huffing in relief.
"Always the direct approach with you, isn't it?" the Seeker quipped with a half smirk.
"It got the job done," the F-1 countered with a smirk of his own. "Now put me down before I scrap you."
As Thundercracker obliged, the falcon immediately switched channels. "This is Airazor; good news, signal is dead."
"Bad news," came Tow-Line's voice over the comm.-link to the Axalon. "The signal got through; we've got a TransWarp shuttle coming in hot, registered with the Nemesis."
"Slag," Scavenger cursed bitterly. "Beachcomber, Smokescreen, Wirejack, the ball's in your court. We've got a flight of F-18s coming in, but they won't be here for a few minutes. Detain Terrorsaur, and bring that shuttle down!"
"No pressure," came the smirking reply of the blue and red Bugatti as he transformed to robot mode, running to meet with Beachcomber on a slick and rocky bit of terrain. "Please tell me we've got him in our sights."
"No luck..." came the larger Autobot's reply before he was interrupted by a massive bang. "Nevermind."
As the two watched, a green and orange blur blasted skyward. The familiar grey form of Wirejack moved to intercept, his wings sweeping back for pursuit and his thrusters and afterburners kicking in. Before he could begin proper pursuit however, a rumbling sound shook through the air.
High above, a reddish blur was thundering down, coming in hot.
"You realize this is suicide, right?"
"We had to come in this fast, or that Autobot ship in orbit would've had us in their gun sights!" Thrust explained to his nervous passenger.
Mirage narrowed his optics. "If we get slagged, I blame you, Deputy Commander!" He spat out the last word, emphasizing each syllable with venom in his voice.
If he'd notice the irritated words from his subordinate, Thrust paid no attention. "Target is in sight; stand by to open the hatch on my word!"
The large seafaring Decepticon staggered over to the hatch controls, keeping a firm grip on the shuttle's inner guard rail as he went. He could feel the ship realigning, spinning about for the exit attempt – if he was like those tiny humans with their weak stomaches, he might just be hurling right now.
"Alignment set!" the conehead at the controls bellowed. "Open hatch...now!"
Mirage obliged, punching the hatch controls with a little more force than needed. Seeing his opportunity, the quickly-slowing Terrorsaur cut his engines just as he entered the shuttle, transformed, and grabbed hold of a second guard rail as the hatch closed behind him.
"You'd damn well better be worth it, or we're having ourselves some Pterodactyl hot wings!" Mirage growled as the shuttle lurched again. "Thrust, live up to your name and gun it! No way in the Pit am I ending up a crater in someone's backyard!"
"Scavenger, this is Rodimus; we've got them in our sights." The Axalon's commander stood over his gunner's station, crosshairs aligned on the Decepticon shuttle. "As soon as they clear the thermosphere, we'll tag 'em and reel them in."
"Assuming they don't do something crazy and go to TransWarp in Earth's atmosphere," Cliffjumper noted, his optics pinned on the targeting scope.
"That'd be near suicide lad, trust me," Bulkhead countered.
"They're coming in!" Cliffjumper announced, disregarding the experienced Transformer's comment. "Coming into range in ten nano-kliks...five..."
A blue flash shot onto the screen, and the shuttle vanished from their scopes.
Realizing just what had happened, Rodimus turned to his subordinate, glowering. "You had to jinx it, didn't you?" He reactivated his comm.-link and groaned, "Scavenger, this is Rodimus. They got away."
"So, you told her."
"Yeah." Kicker couldn't help but smile. "She believed me."
Diana smiled back. "Nice going kid; you might've just netted yourself a girlfriend."
"Yeah." The smile faded. "I told her everything, Aunt Diana, including about my dad. You won't believe this, but she nudged me towards trying to contact him, despite everything."
"That's not surprising." As Abby leapt into her lap, Diana gently stroked her cat and explained, "Lucy told me a little bit about Misha; she's an orphan. Both her parents are dead Kicker; have been for several years."
The young man looked at his aunt in shock. "She never mentioned that."
"Can you blame her?" The professor thought over what to say, then exhaled. "I can't tell you what to do about your father. You already know how I feel about him, about what he did; and the way he reacted to you all but confirms that his priorities aren't entirely on you or your sister. But...if you want to try and reconnect with him, mend that particular bridge, I won't stop..." A familiar chime sounded off. "I'm getting to hate being popular," she grumbled before answering her communicator. "Yes?" Her eyes went wide as she listened and cursed. "Aw hell. Sorry Scavenger. I'm on my way in."
"What was that?" Kicker asked.
"Terrorsaur just flew the coop, joined up with Galvatron," Diana explained as she put Abby aside. "And there's a good chance he took some intel with him."
"Like what?" he asked, immediately worried upon hearing the Decepticon leader's name.
An apprehensive look and a worried shrug. "Maybe everything."
A smug look rested on Terrorsaur's techno-organic face as he marched through the halls of the Nemesis into the command deck. As Galvatron turned to face him, he said in heavy praise, "My thanks to you, Galvatron, for retrieving me from that mudball of a-HRK!"
The tech-org pterodactyl found himself slammed against a bulkhead by his neck.
"There had best be an excellent explanation as to why we retrieved you, Terrorsaur," Galvatron said calmly, just a hint of malice in his voice.
His vocalizer barely working as Galvatron's fingers tightened about his throat, the tech-org croaked, "GGK-I HRK-ave GKH information!"
The grip about his neck loosened, but just scarcely. "Do tell."
Terrorsaur gulped. "Those upgrades that some of the others got when you attacked Autobase Earth? They were caused by an artifact, called the Key of Wisdom. It's part of a set of seven; the Autobots have three more where it came from."
"And this artifact reformatted so many Transformers?" Red optics narrowed. "Increased their power?"
"It's also what Thunderblast, Shortround and Brushguard are getting the power for their special weapons from," Terrorsaur quickly confirmed. "It's like the Matrix of Leadership! Gives life, generates a lot of power, all that stuff!"
The hand tightened again. "And the other artifacts, where are they?"
"Two of 'em are on Cybertron; the Matrix of Leadership and Vector Prime's sword," the tech-org squawked as fast and as best he could. "One of 'em's on Earth in the Autobot base, something called the Omega Lock. The key thing's somewhere in one of Earth's oceans. But there are three more keys out there, and the Autobots don't know where they are."
Galvatron's face remained neutral before a small, cold smile crept onto his face. He released the tech-org from his grip, and let Terrorsaur fall to the floor with an ungraceful thud. "Well done, my techno-organic friend; you've given me much to consider."
Ironhide's hand smashed into a wall, leaving a noticeable dent in it as she leaned against it.
"I should've seen it coming," she wailed. "I could've stopped this, could've...could've..."
A crimson hand found itself on her shoulder as Side Burn's soothing voice drifted into her audios. "It's alright. None of this was your fault."
"Yeah, you know better than anyone Terrorsaur's a rat," Cheetor offered, trying to help. The hard stares that greeted him from the other tech-orgs and their odd Mini-Con partners prompted him to click his mouth shut, lest he wanted to suffer future punishment.
"What Cheetor's trying to say is that Predacon brought Terrorsaur into the fold to try and reform him," Frostbite soothed. "The only reason the three of us went with him on the Acheron was as a sign of solidarity. We hoped that was enough."
"But sadly, it looks like he may have been mistaken in his judgment," Skid-Z noted, realizing just what he was saying and noting the slight irony in his words.
If the orange buggy had heard them, she wasn't showing any sign of it. "Now I've lost two partners now...I'm alone again."
A second hand found itself on her other shoulder. She turned in time to see Armorhide smiling back at her, his deep blue face beaming.
"You're not alone," the blue snow plow told her. "You lost a partner...but you've still got a family."
Ironhide looked around her, many of the various techno-organics among the Autobots and Decepticons standing over her, their faces ranging from compassionate to kindly. The only notable exceptions were Predacon and Crystal Widow...and the latter of the two was a distance away, her eyes reflecting the most sympathy of all. She glanced first to Side Burn, then to Armorhide, and wrapped her arms around both. "Thank you..."
"I am sorry, my friend." Predacon apologized gravely following the gathering with Ironhide. "This is my fault. I could have prevented this."
"No one holds you responsible," Scavenger assured his friend. "Right now, I'm more worried about what he knew."
Doors to the command center barely finished opening as Wirejack slipped in sideways, Thundercracker following behind. "I've got good news; no sign of the system being hacked or the firewall being breached," the hacker reported, still disappointed at being unable to apprehend the traitor. "Terrorsaur didn't make off with anything encrypted, I'll tell you that right now."
"Which leaves what he could have heard about." The purple and green bulldozer crossed his arms, deep in thought. "What's the one thing we've managed to keep secret from Galvatron up until now?"
"The Artifacts of Primus," the T-Rex reasoned. "The legends concerning them are public record, but you've made no secret among us that four have been located."
"That means that Galvatron knows that three of them are still unaccounted for." The Autobot commander rubbed shuttered optics. "Wonderful."
"Then finding the remaining ones is now paramount," the Decepticon tech-org decided. "We have clues to their locations, correct?"
Thundercracker was about to speak up before Scavenger interrupted. "Little more than circumstantial evidence. We can't send troops on wild goose chases."
"Wild geese might just be our only leads right now," Predacon argued.
Both commanders continued to throw scenarios back and forth before the Su-27 finally let out a high-pitched whistle in frustration, startling the F-14.
The others' attention on him, the Decepticon seeker cleared his vocalizer. "What I'd like to know is, how did the signal get to the Nemesis? No debating that Terrorsaur put it out, but no way could it have picked it up by chance that quickly, not with the general frequency. Someone, or something, must've intercepted it and beamed it directly to them."
The four looked to one another, leaving Scavenger to say at last dryly, "Who do we all know that can do that?"
In the depths of space, just outside sensor range of the Axalon, two familiar craft, one black and orange-red and one blue and grey, disappeared.
The End