Dishonor
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, or the fantastically awesome universes that gave birth to them. All rights belong to Hasbro and Microsoft.
Prologue
UNSC
Office of Naval Intelligence
Section III
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WARNING. RESTRICTED MATERIAL. TOP SECRET. EYES-ONLY CLASSIFICATION.
… Appropriate evidence of sufficient clearance has been accepted.
FILE ENCRYPTED: ULTRA-VIOLET DELTA-SIX
DECRYPTION KEY: BRAVO-WHISKEY-SEVEN
From: Rear Admiral Davin Leland
Subject: Civil-war of the newly identified alien species 'Cybertronians'
Summary:
This report is part of an ongoing investigation, utilizing experimental versions of recovered Forerunner translation software to decipher the complex Cybertronian language that traditional methods have proved ineffective at accomplishing, to discover the truth wrapped inside of what is being called the Starscream Record. Recovery of information from various sources predominantly related to this individual have led to the decision of the name becoming official.
Chronicling his involvement in events leading up, during, and after the conclusion of the aeons-spanning civil war waged between the Decepticons and the Autobots will shed some light on their motives of today. Other notable figures feature quite prominently which allows us to gain insight into them as well. (Some argue that hostilities continue under the Decepticon Separatists)
This race of alien life-forms, giant machines with the capability to transform into any vehicle they catch a good look at, has raised some alarm among members of ONI and the UNSC Security Committee when they first appeared through the Rift. What we are hoping to achieve through the examination of these files is an understanding of who we are dealing with.
The project is under examination and being pursued with all due urgency, as the recent situation continues to escalate, any useful data will be of great value. And —** REDACTED** - - —** REDACTED**
INFORMATION ABOVE TOP SECRET.
Processing…additional decryption code accepted.
*And the possibility of Flood infestation escaping from/through the Rift may warrant the deployment of Spartans. NOVA bomb requisition has been approved. God speed, people.
Translator's Note: This Forerunner software is still light-years ahead of us, and actually seems to adjust itself to the reader species and personal experience, inserting references that the reader will understand if a direct translation can't be made between the original script and the target language.
** Summary ends here**
Chapter One
Many cycles ago…
Starscream observed the glittering surface of Cybertron from his place out in the stars with a fierce longing that refused to be dampened. Only transparent panels of duraglass that formed the outward facing wall of the passage kept the infinite blackness of the void at bay.
It reminded him of the day he arrived, a Lieutenant fresh out of the Iacon Military Academy on a drop ship with no one telling him its destination, so many years ago. Being sent to a quiet post on one of the planet's twin moons hadn't seemed that bad to him. Station Arretium had become old long he'd craned his neck to look in wonder at the starry sea that danced around them. Though he'd nearly been drummed out of the service during his time at the Academy for insubordination and disorderly conduct, Starscream had finished at the top of his class.
An old soldier by the name of Magnobolt had found the troubled, but promising young officer before taking it upon itself to become the young bot's mentor. After beating some sense into him, anyway. He grinned at the memory of the grizzled old man roaring at him alongside the other new recruits. A terror whose mere presence had inspired anyone in the proximity to charge headlong into live fire rather than tempt his wrath. His reverie was interrupted when Jetfire loudly set foot on the catwalk, the ringing reverberating throughout the observation deck. "The address is starting. Come on, you know this gonna be fun to watch."
Starscream laughed. "The High Council solving a problem? I'll believe that the day somebody finds the Matrix." Turning to greet his comrade, both of them clasped forearms warmly. Despite not having seen any serious action, the Seeker had no doubt that Jetfire would be able to look out for himself in a fight.
"Oh, ye of little faith."
"Shut up."
Making their way towards the elevator from where his friend had only recently emerged from, his friend suddenly lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "Do you think this will be it? Will they change?" They were alone so Starscream just smiled bitterly.
"They're more likely to drag us into a civil war. If anyone is stupid enough to start one, which I'm not doubting, then I bet it would go on damn well near forever. There isn't a Cybertronian alive who's seen combat besides those gladiators or the odd riot here and there." He took a breath as he punched in the code that would take them to the level that contained the heart of all operations on the otherwise barren rock. "Why would they change anything? Right now, everything plays in their favor. Primus forbid any of them remember that serving the people is what they were put there to do in the first place."
Starscream regretted the harshness of his words, but he knew that Jetfire knew him too well to take offense. Politics was a sore subject with him and he avoided any discussion of it like the plague. Things had fallen into such a sorry state that the mere mention of the High Council and its Senatorial underlings achieving anything of significance sounded like a bad joke.
Despite that, he had found a sliver of hope. What was happening today was unlike anything the world of Cybertron had seen in countless ages. Two representatives of the commoners had actually been summoned to a meeting in the Senate Hall Gama Complex that sat in the very center of Iacon City. Tapping Jetfire on the shoulder, he said, "I'm just a cynical scrap heap. Don't listen to me." Starscream felt that his friend deserved that much from him.
Before he could reply the doors hissed open in front of them to allow the senior officers of the small lunar garrison entry onto level 17-C. It housed, among other things, the Command Center for Station Aurretium that either controlled everything from incoming transmissions to the temperature of the reactors that powered the shielding that protected it from harm. Only two doorways lead into this vital area, and fittingly was heavily guarded. Armored stalls extended outward from the wall, inside of which three soldiers stood with large rifles in front of a dimly glowing screen.
Though seemingly flimsy, the booth had been rated to withstand the force of an anti-tank grenade. Recognizing their commanding officers, the energy barrier was deactivated to admit them into the CIC. Around them, on more than a dozen liquid crystal plasma displays, live feeds blazed with images fed to them from the planet which was streamed throughout the station.
Nobody wanted to miss the big show. A brief chorus of "Officer on deck!" accompanied by crisp salutes filled the interim as the procession of delegates slowly filed through the grand entrance to the Central Government building. Over the years, the High Council had become more concerned with celebrating its status, over the years bogging down any semblance of governance with countless ceremonies that held no actual importance. It was telling that many now considered these pompous declarations more critical than even pretending they were leading the people.
Rites that, as Starscream observed with irritation, were further delaying the beginning of the greatly advertised meeting between peasants and kings. Several feeds zoomed in on a pair of rather simply adorned bots, sticking out like sore thumbs amidst the sea of gaudily dressed nobles who surrounded them.
The Representatives. Making the long walk along the richly crimson carpet with golden filigree dancing along the edges, they approached the vaulted gate that led within. One of them looked like a gentle soul who'd lived a quiet life inside the confines of a sheltered existence. His companion, however…that one was larger, thicker about the chest, with the scars of a veteran gladiator illustrating a life full of pain and struggle. He must have killed hundreds, even thousands, simply for the right to breathe another day.
Together, they came before the Senate and High Council of Cybertron to talk them into remembering the duties the duties they'd sworn to uphold.
Soon, the view was switched to a point somewhere inside, with a lone podium having been erected at the center of the vast domed chamber for the 'honored guests'. Isolated. This didn't deter the gladiator from striding ahead of his friend, who looked momentarily surprised, in a brazen display of confidence. Without preamble, he said, "I am Megatron, and I speak for the oppressed people of Cybertron! For too long you've sat in your gilded cages, slaves to your own greed and corruption." Gasps filled the air at the boldness of the insult.
Right to the point, eh? Interesting. This was going to be fun.
"Do you not care for the suffering of your people? The weak cry out for their leaders to aid them! Things have fallen to the point where bots like me must murder our brothers just so we can stay alive. I've been told you gave us this hearing so that we can plead our case." A cold laugh escaped him. "We are not pleading for ourselves, or just for our friends. Our kin have chosen us to speak for them. It is on their behalf that my companion and I have come here today. You must do what you were elected to do, and lead us!"
Hushed whispers quickly filled the air as the haughty bots recovered from their shock. Who is foolish enough to challenge us here? They wondered mutely. Chests were puffed out, a good number snorting derisively, this has to be a joke. Others were less sure.
The relative quiet was shattered when a voice said, "Why should we listen to you? The, ahem, people," the word dripping with disdain, "are clearly satisfied with the current state of affairs. Are you sure this isn't a personal trip, scum?"
Megatron turned to his opponent, who quailed as the deathly cold smile he turned on him melted through the false bravado. Sinking into his chair muttering an apology, the bot tried to wriggle out from under the gladiator's merciless glare. "I've had to fight every day of my life since I could walk, just so that I could keep it. I'd agree that I am scum, but I understand the problems we face a lot better than you do."
"It's a sad day when I am the kind of bot they turn to in times like these. All of you should be ashamed." He pointed an accusatory finger at the assemblage, and swept it over the rest of them. "From the time I was old enough to know about the world, you've lied to us. You said that you would keep us safe, to serve us, and help us make a better future than today. What you've done is disgrace us all, disgrace the soul of Cybertron!" His words rang throughout the hall with an undisguised anger, restraint evident in his bearing as that piercing gaze swept across the Senators.
"Do any of you have the strength to repair the damage you have wrought?"
Only one of them rose to his challenge. It was a voice of wisdom, sounding as if rusty metal at rest for so long was grinding to life once more. "You may be right gladiator."
As a single mind the Senate turned to regard the old bot who had risen from his seat to stand and answer the impassioned cries of Megatron. With shock they realized it was one of the High Council, the Lord Protector himself, who stood inside of the small balcony fringed with gold and green. "But what would you do to help our people? Do you possess the qualities, the strength of will, to lead them through the trials we face? You can't fix the system if you don't try to -"
Megatron cut him off. "Your system is broken. If you can't see that, then maybe it was a mistake to come here in the first place."
With that, he departed the chamber without another word. His large frame lent a powerful echo as each of the heavy footfalls hitting the thin path that would lead out into the open air, away from the perturbed Senators. The bot who'd faded from the common perception reminded the world he existed when he, as his companion departed, stepped up to the podium. As he composed himself, it seemed the silence that currently reigned would stretch into eternity before anyone made a sound.
Finally, he said, "August and honored members of the Senate and High Council," his pitch low and respectful, his penetrating eyes catching the few who flinched as he began to speak, "I hope you can forgive my friend's brash comments. We did come here to figure out if we could, in fact, save this government from collapsing upon itself before the system fails. Make no mistake, it is falling apart every day, every hour we stand here and debate the finer points of who is qualified to lead us." Starscream noted his calm and measured demeanor soothe those who'd shied away from the unrestrained anger of Megatron. "My name is Orion Pax. I am librarian at the Iacon Archives that are just a few kilometers from where I stand."
Pausing to take a breath, he shook his head ruefully. "In the past several months I have co-founded a movement to give our people a spark of hope, to show them that we are committed to finding a solution. That we are here to haul them back from the edge of the abyss that we are teetering on the edge of." The kind voice hardened. "The provosts that are meant to keep the peace terrorize and extort the citizens of our greatest cities, even here in Iacon!, whilst our military has been reduced to so few but pretty [wind-up toys] to face any real threat that might come against us wouldn't be more than a joke.
"Most of you haven't given a thought to anything but yourselves in so long the concept to you is as alien as the life our ancestors encountered exploring the cosmos so many cycles ago. Our followers range across all sections of our fractured society, and they want the justice that has so long been denied them. Will you deny them?" The question struck like a thunderbolt, and left all of them speechless.
Orion possessed a gravitas that demanded respect despite his youth. Starscream could see the fire that had burned in Megatron just as clearly in the bright gaze that met every stare with complete faith in his own truth. As he prepared to leave, he stopped to make one last remark. "This government is weak, and I promise you if no action is taken there will be consequences beyond anything we can imagine. Please heed this warning…for it is the last one we will give you."
No one knew how to respond to the implied threat. Jetfire muttered under his breath, "Revolution? No way." The summit had exceeded the Seeker's expectations, but for something just didn't sit right with him. He was down there, even though Starscream had asked him not to go, and a [pit] started to form in his gut.
There was something wrong, something out of place. He decided to place a call to encourage an early exit from the building when an eerie sense of destiny gripped him, forcing him to watch the last of the feeds as the others slowly shut down. Winding down from the tensest session of the Senate in who knew how many cycles, and the network was eager to squeeze every last drop from of coverage from it. "So, Senator Ratbat, what did you think about the, eh, visitors you had today?" asked a reporter eagerly.
Ratbat huffed. "Those two are dangerous, but I think that 'librarian' if that's what he really is, is the one we need to watch out for. The gladiator was angry and confused, and he was probably overwhelmed by the majesty of his surroundings!" He said, pointing a portly arm that shone with implanted platinum to display his wealth. "That other one, as I said, he was threatening us! With an uprising, I believe that one's planning something—"
Somehow, everyone knew. Additional news casters had come to give their own opinions as they interviewed members of the Senate as they filed out of Gamma Complex, and by chance each of them had the background of the old symbol of Cybertronian democracy glittering in the sunlight. These multiple points of view provided excellent portrait of the historic structure.
At the very same moment, as if a law so basic that it found itself written in the will of the cosmos, every Cybertronian fell silent. They knew of no danger. Yet, for an instant, terror seized them.
That moment would be scarred into the racial memory of those who witnessed its horror. For at that moment, as Starscream went rigid, as a second sun was born in the heart of Iacon. Rending the great work of the Last Primes to dust, a wall of flame, smoke, and debris came rushing towards each of the cameras before the broadcasts were cut off.
No one moved. Jetfire finally mustered the will to say something, anything. "Get that feed back online." His order had been to no one in particular. All of them continued to be transfixed by the white noise that had taken over the screens. "I said get that damn feed back online!"
Snapping out of catatonia, several of them began to slowly return to normal. One operator of a communication channel kept trying to properly tune in the dials and give the security codes, but her hands were shaking too badly. Only then did it occur to Station Arretium's executive officer that its commander was no longer there. "Oh scrap." Jetfire whispered.