Maelstrom 40
Bound: Part A
Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http/ illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there...and believe me I am a better artist than writer.
Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!
"This is mutiny, plain and simple," Rodimus growled.
Magnus simply laughed at him. "I will do brig time gladly. Millions of vorns have come and gone without an opportunity like this and I'm sure millions more will pass before another presents itself." The City Commander composed a huge and seldom seen grin of pure glee.
"Jazz?" Rodimus asked a bit desperately.
"Man, even if I HAD any actual experience with this, I wouldn't help you. I'm with the Major General on this one and I'm diggin' seeing you squirm!"
Rodimus groaned and thumped his forehead painfully to the table. The pain slowed down the buzzing in his brain so he did it a few more times for good measure. Maybe if he knocked himself out they'd let him off the hook.
As if reading his mind, Magnus said, "It's fine if you knock yourself out, we will just wait and laugh at you."
Another fine plan shot to hell. Damn them both.
"I don't know what you're worried about," Magnus lied, still grinning. "You did fine by us."
"Totally different circumstances." Rodimus' voice was muted and deepened by the table he spoke into. He kept his forehead on the surface and laced his hands behind his head.
Jazz snickered. "Crash position! Kiss your ass goodbye!"
"Keep it up and you'll kiss yours goodbye too...along with several other major bits of you," Rodimus growled sullenly.
"Ouch!" Jazz said. "Just jokin' with ya Man!"
"OK...enough," Magnus said. He eyed both of his friends warily. Like most of the council, Jazz and Rodimus were rebuilding trust and friendship with each other - friendship Vector Sigma had methodically eroded with implanted ideas and emotional torture. That Jazz felt comfortable enough with Rodi to even tease him was a good sign, but Magnus could easily see it devolving into a fight. "Rodimus, really. What's the big deal? You and Optimus seem much better with each other the last week or so."
"This is different. It's not the same situation it was with you either," Rodimus groaned. "I'd rather fight slavers or deal with diplomats."
"Why, Man? Optimus' easy. He doesn't even respond to caffeine!"
"Because at least with you two all I had to do was keep you from hurting anyone or making too much of an ass of yourself. The assumption was your partner would do the bulk of the teaching. Optimus does not have an experienced teacher in that respect now does he?"
"Optimus and Elita have been partners a very long time Rodimus," Magnus pointed out. "I'm sure they know how to handle each other."
"Precisely the problem, Magnus. There will be assumptions no matter what I say. This is totally different and you know it."
"Well, it isn't all THAT different," Magnus mused. "The Jabez made us similar on purpose. Just point out to them where the distinctions are and it should be fine."
Rodimus glared at him.
"What?" Magnus asked. "You've got enough experience with human sex to explain that much at least."
Rodimus arched an eyebrow. "The human end of it isn't the problem."
Magnus and Jazz both looked at him blankly for a long minute. Rodi just let them figure things out.
"You never interfaced?" Magnus finally asked slowly.
"Not with an Autobot," Rodimus sneered. "So I am uniquely unqualified to point out the differences as it were."
"But...I can't believe..." Magnus muttered. Jazz said nothing, but his shoulders shook.
Rodimus glared at his Specialist and punched Jazz's arm with two knuckles - aiming for the funny bone.
"OW! Man! That was unnecessary roughness!"
"But..." Magnus went on. "But..." All the rumors of Rodimus' philandering ways made this truth a bit hard to wrap his processor around.
"Magnus...I was under your command from the moment I was activated. Who exactly was around for me to pair up with?"
"Arcee..."
"Was taken," Rodimus noted. "And Huffer wasn't my type."
"But...once we regained Cybertron...?"
"Most of the girls were still missing, and I had this new job and all to keep me busy," Rodimus hissed a bit bitterly.
"But...none of them?"
"Oh...I had offers, especially after we liberated Paradron, but I took most of those about as seriously as you took Neon. Honestly the way some of them acted all I wanted was a sand-blaster to get the slime off. They wanted the title. They really had no interest in me."
Jazz's shoulders shook. Rodi hit him without even taking his eyes off Magnus, but this time Jazz cracked and laughed out loud.
"You mean to tell me every gossip rag on two worlds has you pegged as the biggest Casanova the Bots have ever seen and you never once..." Magnus mused, eyes glazed over. Jazz's laughter mutated into uncontrollable seizures.
"Which makes YOU the best qualified to teach them," Rodimus averred, "You're the only one of us who's got the experience in both forms."
"Ah..." Magnus said vaguely. His eyes were staring off into space dreamily.
Rodimus scowled. "You still aren't going to help me, are you?"
"Of course not! This day just gets better and better!" Magnus stated. Then he joined Jazz in complete hysterics.
Char:
Rivet turned off her chronometer. Somehow the steady, accurate measure of time made the way Char's unsteady rotation varied the cycles of light and dark even more confusing. Certainly, the even count of cycles conflicted with her emotional sense that time had been suspended.
If her fear never varied what good did it do her to know time was passing?
Her last chronological reading claimed they had been on Char for three days. In that time, she and Tocsin had been mostly forced to move energon and supplies around the warehouse that was also their prison. There were no doors, no bars, and mostly no Decepticons to keep them there. They were free to step outside the cave mouth whenever they wanted...but there was no shuttle parked there anymore, and neither of them could fly. The message was clear. "Do as you like Autobots. There is nowhere to go, and you will never leave this place." Even the weapons the Decepticons were hoarding were there for them to pick up if they liked but what would just the two of them do against so many captors?
She saw Tocsin looking over the arsenal once or twice, and then shaking his head in defeat. Perhaps he might have tried to make a break for some kind of transport if only they could have gone home. That was the worst part. Even if they did escape, Cybertron wouldn't welcome them, not after Tocsin murdered an Autobot.
No wonder the Decepticons held them in such contempt.
Looking over at her mate with new optics, Rivet found, to her amazement, she shared some of that contempt as well. It didn't change anything though when he turned his fear into violence and struck her until he aroused himself enough to use her. This time though, at least she didn't tell herself she deserved it.
When he was done, she went back to her assigned chore of setting up an area for the creche to do its work. Viper's offspring would arrive in a few short days and Rivet has been told to make the area ready. The fact that she had never seen a creche in action, let alone a sparkling, apparently made no difference to Cyclonus or Galvatron. They expected everything to go smoothly and Rivet would be to blame if it didn't.
She tried to anticipate anything and everything, but was merely reduced to clearing an area around the creche of debris and weaponry. It dawned on her at some point that her life's goals had been greatly simplified - all she wanted was to get through with as few beatings as possible.
In some sick way - it was a relief.
X
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X
Cybertron:
Rodimus left Jazz and Magnus melted all over the table and raced off for the less annoying hell of his job. His friends listened to his straining engine and snickered weakly. They were both out of breath.
Jazz finally sat up and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Not to take his side or anything, but he does have a point Major General. It would be low of us to let Op or Elita get hurt just to needle Rodimus."
Magnus grinned. "I know. I'll talk to Optimus about it, and Marissa can help me with Elita."
"Aw...it's a shame really, but it's got to be done," Jazz said, pouting a bit.
"Jazz! Give me some credit!" Magnus cried, whacking his friend lightly on the arm. "I DO plan to talk to Optimus and Elita, but I do NOT plan on telling Rodimus!"
Jazz's eyes widened and gleamed. "You mean, you plan on giving them 'the talk' but you're going to make Rodi go through with it anyway?"
"Definitely," Magnus chuckled.
"You think Optimus will go along with that? I mean...that's just MEAN!"
"Optimus will love every minute of it, believe me!" Magnus vowed. He and Jazz roared themselves sick again, and then Magnus got in touch with his senior leader.
Magnus was right.
X
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X
"Tell that over-heated moron if he is too stupid to realize we didn't have schools planned in advance because we didn't KNOW WE COULD BREED in advance that he's too stupid to father a sparkling!" Rodimus roared over the com-links. Anger at Magnus for being unhelpful was good for something. His voice was positively demonic to those listening on the other end. "He is just going to have to find a new site for his spa! I am putting a school there and if he gives me any more grief about it then his new location will be on Unicron's head! I'm sure his clients will love the ambiance!" He saw the Pardonian he was talking open his mouth to protest and shut down the com-link.
End of discussion.
"That explosion really set the school back and we need one by the end of the week!" Chromia muttered at the blank screen. "You'd think they'd be more understanding."
Rodimus muttered something unprintable about Paradronian capacity for understanding.
"Are you really sure the school wasn't blown up by protestors?" Chromia asked fearfully. She could hardly stand the thought of such an event at an occupied school.
"Absolutely," Rodimus said icily. He was staring fixedly at a list of dates and names. Solstice was about to gain a great number of playmates. The first "planned" protoforms would greet the world in just two short weeks and there was nowhere to send them for an education and safe care during their parents' work shifts.
Chromia was once again taken aback by his certitude. Preliminary public reports indicated yet another old stash of energon gone unstable. Some suspicion also fell on the rebel Bots who'd stolen a creche and blasted their way off Cybertron. The only thing that was certain in that case though was that they had murdered an Autobot security officer. Both stories bothered Chromia though.
Of all the citizens of Cybertron, Elita's old team was certainly the best informed about old stashes of energon. They had become experts at both locating and handling forgotten fuel - over millions of lean years, such finds were a welcomed, if dangerous, source of sustenance. Chromia herself had searched the area around Central for the least morsel of power. She would have sworn there wasn't enough juice in the lower levels to run a chronometer, let alone leave a crater big enough for Metroplex to stand in.
The rebel Bot theory made somewhat more sense to her, but where would a bunch of factory workers and techs get so many explosives? Even the security officer Tocsin didn't have access to that kind of weaponry and careful inventories had been made of official arsenals. It was all accounted for.
Decepticons? Maybe. Chromia frowned at the young Prime reading his lists so intently. Why would he lie about that? Besides, it was well known the Cons were low on resources. Perhaps they might blow up the school, but this crater went down for levels and levels.
Something wasn't adding up and it gave the femme officer the surges.
x
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x
"You are giving me surges!" Ratchet raged futilely.
"Not on this test Ratchet," Perceptor muttered. He had Ratchet's crystal and an un-imprinted Matrix crystal side by side. Of all the gems Rodimus had brought back with him, this large stone was the closest in size and quality to Ratchet's.
"Fascinating," the scientist mused, oblivious to Ratchet's ire. "There are natural flaws in the structure of each virgin stone, as there would be in any crystal, but the ones that are 'coded" for a job seem to have none. It is as if they have healed themselves or maybe even adapted to their purposes. The changes are all in the sub-atomic structure - on the molecular level they are all the same."
"That's impossible," Ratchet frowned. "How can a crystal heal or adapt? They aren't alive!"
"I think we may have to change that assumption Ratchet! I think we have indeed found a new class of life form!"
"So what does that make me? A parasite?!" Ratchet demanded a bit shrilly.
"There is no indication that you are harming your host," Perceptor said calmly. "Indeed I think you are shaping it's evolution. Think of yourself as a symbiotic partner."
Ratchet glared. "I am not finding much comfort in that Perceptor!"
x
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Char:
Galvatron's throne room buzzed as it always did. Decepticons announced themselves with their feet long before the presented themselves before their lord. Onslaught marched. Motormaster hammered. Swindle shuffled. Viper slinked. Cyclonus stalked. Even the Predacons who moved so lightly the other Decepticons were constantly surprised to find them there announced themselves to Soundwave.
Soundwave heard everything.
He heard the grinding of their joints before they even knew themselves they need lubricating. He could have shared that information and spared the repair bay some use, but he didn't.
Listen. Say little. Reveal less. Soundwave's personal code of conduct, reinforced by years of observation. The loud-mouths never had his respect. They had no refinement. No finesse.
Soundwave prided himself on finesse. He doled out information in a miserly fashion...revealing only what was necessary and storing up everything else for when it was fortuitous to reveal.
The other Decepticons despised him for it. He knew their plots, their indiscretions, and their mistakes. His silence only frustrated them because they knew he might expose them to Galvatron whenever he liked. Soundwave liked that. Finesse worked. He knew there were surely things he didn't even know about - but they would assume he did.
Of all the Decepticons except the leader, Soundwave was the only one who never went hungry. He didn't demand a share of anyone's rations, but somehow they all understood what to do. During lean times, Megatron had always announced a garnishing of the troop's rations to suit his appetite, but what the leader never realized was that Soundwave enjoyed the same treatment. All without saying a word. He was careful though...much more careful than that idiot Starscream. He never let his secrets build up more stress than they were worth. He never let the resentment surpass his usefulness either.
Finesse. Discretion. It kept Soundwave alive in spite of the millions of years of loathing and hatred of a band of brutish cut-throats as well as the abhorrence and indignation of the Autobots.
Normally Soundwave didn't dwell on these things so much, but he was busy studying the work of two others who also walked a delicate line. It made for more interesting times around the command center than there had been since Starscream died. Cyclonus and Viper. The communications specialist never smiled but he found the body language and the thought patterns... amusing. They each stood on one side of the throne with Galvatron balanced in between them like a fulcrum. Cyclonus' thoughts were ever on the improvement of their circumstances - an attitude many Decepticons shared. They cared most for themselves and their survival. On the other side, Viper. Impatient for the destruction of the Autobots. There were plenty of Decepticons who sided with attitude as well. Bored, sadistic, or only able to distinguish themselves in combat, many of the Cons were itching to have a crack at Cybertron sooner rather than later.
Neither side was necessarily in conflict with the other; it was merely a matter of priorities.
Still, Soundwave found this little tug of war for Galvatron's attention very entertaining because Galvatron was so hard to predict. One trouble with being a mind-reader was you pretty much knew the outcome of any conversation before it started. Not so with Galvatron. His mind was such an intriguing whirlwind of possibility - Megatron had been so much more predictable. At least he had regained enough of Megatron to actually think. When he was truly out of control he hadn't done any of them any good at all, no matter how much fun it was to spy on his thoughts.
They were making progress again. After stagnating since moving to Char, they were moving towards reachable goals. Soundwave saw that was to his benefit and sometimes wondered how the balancing act between Cyclonus and Viper had somehow balanced Galvatron too when Cyclonus alone could not.
It didn't matter to Soundwave why it worked, only that it did. He monitored it and resolved to maintain it if he could.
These were his thoughts when he heard the noise.
Static.
Insignificant.
Minuscule.
Wrong.
Where was it coming from? It interfered ever so slightly with the transmissions he was monitoring from Cybertron.
He dismissed it for a moment as noise from somewhere in the long stretch of space between himself and the signal's source and tried to ignore it.
No. The signal strength from Cybertron suffered its usual ebbs and surges as the planet rotated. The static remained constant.
Something in the wiring of his console? Char was so frustrating with its make-shift construction. Even the reception in the Cons' old undersea headquarters on Earth had been better. And there weren't even any Constructicons left to complain to. That meant the next best qualified to find and fix the problem was Soundwave himself.
He began with a series of ultra-sonic pulses that made simple sonar seem like child's play. He wouldn't have seen any more clearly if he'd torn open the console. He wanted to anyway!
What he found was simultaneously astounding and terrifying. The beauty of the work gave him surges. Refinement! Perfection! The flawless precision of what he found almost overrode his shock and horror that it even existed.
Woven in and out of his workstations innards was a nearly microscopic vine of wiring that didn't belong. He realized to his fascination and fear that if he, or any of his fellow Decepticons HAD opened the console in the usual way to repair it, that the fragile filaments would have torn and fallen away - almost certainly to be overlooked in the process.
There he sat, in the midst of noisy Decepticon business, surveying an elaborate installation of unknown origins. He scanned beyond his own workstation to follow the wiring and found it extended to every system in the room. Once in a while he came across actual foreign circuitry - as delicate and exquisite as the lines which connected them.
No weld marks. Not one clamp or joint or anything that he could find at any juncture that would have been normal for a system that had been built by any manufacturing means Soundwave had ever heard of.
It was almost as if it had been...grown.
"...port!"
Soundwave held himself motionless. Scanning deeper and deeper into the system entwining his own gave him yet another surge of unfamiliar fear. There was absolutely no way a network of this complexity could have been installed on Char without tearing apart the walls. The lines traveled out of the command center and into other parts of the base he couldn't scan from where he stood. Since obviously no one from off world had stopped by to ask to do a little remodeling, the Communications Specialist was at a loss.
Who could have done this?
WHY had they done this?
"Soundwave! For the third and final time! Report or suffer the consequences!" Galvatron's deceptively calm voice somehow cut through Soundwave's reverie.
The stoic audio expert opted not to explain that he hadn't heard his leader's command. No one would believe that anyway. What was he supposed to report anyway? Fortunately he recorded everything in the Command Center as well as the frequencies he was monitoring and an quick review told him what he needed to know.
"No data on the location of Optimus Prime has been released. Ultra Magnus has been seen at Metroplex. Projections for the population growth indicate 5.21 percent in the first year."
"Why did you delay in answering me?"
"The relevant broadcast was not concluded."
This appeared to satisfy Galvatron. Cyclonus raised an optic.
"See to it you do not keep me waiting again Soundwave," Galvatron smiled.
"Affirmative," Soundwave acknowledged, and he did, but he continued investigating the invading wires as much as he could without leaving his post.
Continued In Maelstrom 40
Bound: Part B