This was supposed to be another present for the Beast Wars Bed and Breakfast forum's second birthday, but I posted it late. Better now than never though, right? I figured I needed to give the Azalon's crew a back story for the current story arc we are on, so here it is. Constructive criticism is loved.
The sister ship to the Axalon and Avalon models is the Azalon. While the Axalon was purchased by the Cybertronian government for space exploration reasons, and while the Avalon was purchased by the P.E.L.M. academy to be a space transport to bring their students on field explorations, the Azalon was purchased by the Cybertronian police force of Betacron. To date, it is one of the better known flagships for the police forces on Cybertron.
~Lady Shockbox
i
Not long after the Golden Disk was stolen and mere days after the Axalon and Darkside were deemed missing in action, Cybertron erupted into civil war.
It had been abrupt, though it was far from being unexpected on the part of the public. The Predacon second class, living in run down slurs and on the streets, were ecstatic to hear the Disk had been stolen. When the relic had first been discovered by Maximal explorers in Iacon's ruins, the artifact was claimed to have been of Autobot descent and created by Optimus Prime himself. Predacon archivists were enraged by this accusation, claiming the legendary Golden Disk had been created by Megatron's hands. Since Optimus Prime's untimely death following the Swarm threat to Cybertron, not only was the Autobot leader not around to settle the matter of what faction owned the Disk rightfully, but he wasn't there to let the lower class see justice. The Maximal Elders ruled against the Predacon filed lawsuit claiming the Golden Disk had Decepticon origins and the Disk was placed inside the Maximal museum just below the Elders' citadel.
So, not only had the Elders taken away something that was rightfully a relic of Predacon past, but their freedom as well.
During the creation of the Pax Cybertronia, Optimus Prime himself insisted on freedom being the right of all sentient beings, whether they be Predacon or Maximal. This originally meant that equal rights was supposed to play in the rights of both factions but, after Prime's untimely demise, the seven Elders amended the documents saying that the rights of the Cybertronians were only what the laws didn't prohibit. Because the Elders were all Maximals and very obviously racist, this was instantly bad news for the Predacons. That was why Predacons claimed that the theft of the Golden Disk was a good thing: It meant that they might see justice served.
When the Elders claimed marshal law against the entire Predacon faction on a planetary scale, the response was just as violent as instantaneous. A rebellion.
Though not nearly as big and with a population was slightly less than Cybertropolis, Betacron was Cybertron's second largest city and was the place many young Transformers went to obtain an education. Before Mother - the late city mayor - died in her own mansion from a fire that ravished the otherwise lovely home, she had made it her duty to make Betacron the most educated city on the entire planet. She succeeded. There were over four hundred major schooling facilities all over the city ranging from military to art school. The one of the seven Maximal elders who was from Betacron was very much the most brilliant mech among the seven and it was also for that reason that Betacron was named the intellectual capital of the world.
It was not as if Predacons could go to the schools though. After all, a proposition passed by the Elders stated that Predacons did not have the mental capacity to learn. It was for that reason that none of the planet's schools accepted Predacons.
Regardless though, Betacron was not just the intellectual capital of the world. The Supreme Maximal Police base - or SMP headquarters - was located in the city as well. The tower that served as the headquarters was the second tallest structure on Cybertron, second only to the Elders' citadel. After the organization was set up prior to Mother's murder - the fire that killed her was purposely started by an outside force, more than likely a Predacon - Betacron was also the city with the lowest crime rates.
Metallic hide gleaming under the light of Cybertron's twin suns, Consel approached the base of the tower with her briefcase in hand. Summer on Cybertron was pleasantly warm and the weather could not have been nicer after the week of mild acid rain that they had to endure. The scientists were ecstatic nonetheless though. The acidity of the rain had dropped sixty-seven percent in comparison to how it was a stellar cycle earlier and the imported plant life exported from Earth were surviving with suburb colors. The green house gas eating nanites that the planet's top scientists had released into the atmosphere were certainly doing their job and it was for that reason that the Elders applauded the researchers for bringing Cybertron one step closer to being the pure planet that it was before the Great War.
That also included wiping out all evil. That was that the Elders called the Predacon faction when they proposed a new proposition to the Supreme House of Representatives, which was a selection of randomly selected Cybertronian civilians that would vote on a yes or no ballot if there was no time to set up voting booths around the planet. The selection of civilians were all Maximals however - this was because Predacons were no longer allowed to serve after another law was passed against them - and the Elders were asking them to pass a proposition that would allow the Elders to launch a full scale assault against anyone who was Predacon. Quite literally wanting to wipe out all what they considered evil, the Elders wanted to completely eradicate the Predacons. Total extinction.
Consel found the idea flawed for many reasons. For one, even she could understand that not all Predacons where what the Elders perceived to be evil. While she was young, she had been walking home from school when two other classmates had approached and harassed her. She had backed up against the wall of a store corner and was scared for her life even when a shabby and homeless Predacon had grabbed the two boys hassling her by the scruff. Tossing them behind him and letting them fall to the ground with a clatter, he told them to quiet harassing the young femme and scram. Both boys, shaken and bawling from the scrapes they received when the Predacon tossed them aside, ran home crying. The Predacon asked her if she was all right.
"Fine mister," she said in a somewhat teary, trembling tone. Her mother had warned her about Predacons and her father raved about them being the scum on the bottom of Cybertron's grand boot.
She had been holding money at the time. The Predacon saw it, gestured, and asked her if she wanted him to buy her something. The building the two boys from school had backed her up against was a convenience store. That was probably why the boys were harassing her. Her mother had given her a credit that was the rough equivalent of five dollars in human currency and told her to get herself a treat after school. The boys had probably wanted her money but, regardless though, she didn't have the willpower left to keep herself from handing the money over to the Pred. The Predacon took it, walked around the corner, and was seemingly gone. Terrified and upset over the apparent loss, Consel slid to the ground and cried for several cycles until someone tapped her on the top of her head. Snapping her head up to look, the Predacon had returned with three bars of energon biscuits. It was her favorite snack food.
The Predacon shrugged. "Sorry it take so long. Grouchy-bot working over counter not like Predaconzz." He knelt down to her level and held out the three treats. "Terminator walk kiddie-bot home? Is getting late."
Even though she knew damn well that she was not allowed to talk or mingle with strangers, let alone homeless Predacon ones, the way the green and yellow mech's blue visor sparkled was far to benevolent to say no to. Taking the treats, she took his hand he walked her home. She'd point out where they were supposed to go and he led her in that direction. The energon biscuits were good and had a freshly baked taste to them, but it was when she was on her last one that she decided to hand it up to the Predacon.
He looked down at her with a confused look. "Kiddie-bot give?"
She nodded. "It's okay. You can have it, mister."
A nervous look flashed behind the older mech's visor glass and it was for that brief second that he looked almost afraid. He did take the cookie after some hesitation before he quickly popped the entire thing into his mouth. Stretching out his form when he arched his neck to down the food, she realized just how emaciated he looked. Scratches reached up and down his body in ranging depths of deepness against his somewhat faded armor and there were even dents against his plating. His form was spindly and it reminded her briefly about someone who had been malnourished for a long time.
When he turned to look back down at her, he saw the confused look she had plastered on her small, innocent features. "Kiddie-bot okay?"
"Did someone hurt you?" She asked it in the friendliest tone possible. Her mother and father had told her not to stare at people if they had scars but she could not help herself when she asked. She looked both ways to make sure no one was listening before she whispered. "Did other Predacons hurt you?"
Another look flashed in the Predacon's optics hidden behind his visor. He bit his lower lip. "No. Maximalzz hurt Terminator."
Consel could not help herself when she gasped. "Maximals! Oh no mister, my mommy and daddy say Maximals don't hurt nobody! Predacons…" But she suddenly found that she could not say anything bad about the Predacons. Not after this stranger had helped her.
The Predacon shook his head sadly. "Some Predaconzz bad, but some good. Some Maximalzz good, but some… Bad. Very, very bad."
He had walked her all the way to the street she lived on. It was late and the later of Cybertron's two suns - Unima - was already beginning to set into the distance that served only as a prelude to night. Consel smiled and was about to run down the street towards her home, though she stopped short when the Predacon didn't follow. Consel stopped and turned to face him with a frown. She had hoped to bring him home and introduce him to her mommy and daddy! Her little heart spark hoped that her mother and father would see how kind this Predacon was, though the homeless Transformer seemed suddenly apprehensive. He looked down at Consel with sad optics and he shook his head.
"Terminator can't go any further," he said sadly. "Curfew coming up soon for Predacons, so Terminator needs to hide so police-botzz don't arrest him. Kiddie-bot understandzz, right?"
Consel nodded sadly. "Will I ever see you again, mister?"
The Predacon didn't immediately respond. He looked sad before he looked away from her. "No. Terminator drifts around a lot. No hard feelings?"
"No," Consel smiled sadly. "Take care mister Terminator."
The Predacon smiled at her and gave a goofy salute in her direction. She giggled and, by the time she recovered, he had already placed thirty of so feet between them. She watched him until he was out of sight. Her mother claimed that she was worried sick about her daughter but, regardless, she never told her parents about the Predacon that helped her that day. She knew they would scold her for it either way, so she kept his memory her secret. Even as a young adult in the police force, she still remembered him.
Walking up to the SMP tower base, she flashed her ID card at the guard and he let her pass without batting an optic.
The main floor of the building was usually desolate in the morning, though most of the cops registered to Betacron were present due to the fact the House of Representatives was in meeting. Consel herself was supposed to have a day off though - she had special clearance because she had done so well leading a raid on a drug trader's factory earlier in the month - but her partner had called her in for an emergency meeting of sorts. She wasn't entirely sure as to why she was being called in, but she knew it had to have been for something worth her while.
The main room had a large widescreen television at the front of the room. It was occasionally used in conference meetings but, as it was, Consel caught sight of Gearzellia seated towards the back of the chairs watching the news coverage on what would happen if the Elders got their way with their new proposition giving them legal clearance to eradicate the Predacons on a whole. A news anchor was interviewing a representative for an equal rights group and Gearzellia was otherwise completely engrossed in watching. Consel tapped her on the shoulder and the smaller femme nearly jumped out of her own casing whipping about face to see Consel.
"Consel? What are you doing here? I thought you had the day off." The smaller Maximal femme sounded surprised.
"I did," Consel said with a groan. "Berserk called me in at the last minute though. He said it was important."
"Does if have anything to do with this slag," Gearzellia said with a hiss. She gestured towards the screen. "They've been talking about the Elders wanting to destroy the Predacon faction for the past three mega cycles. Its sick right up there in the head, Consel. All the equal rights groups, and I mean all of them, essentially joined forces with each other to try convincing the public how horrible it would be if the Elders got what they wanted. I can't believe this is even happening. It makes me sick."
Like Consel, Gearzellia also had a positive Predacon experience. She had befriended a Predacon named Scrappernok while she worked as a medic in a homeless before he left the shelter without saying as much as a goodbye. Gearzellia thought that maybe Maximals had threatened his life because he was so close to her. She was torn over the fact that she never saw him again, although Gearzellia ended up being a major supporter of the equal rights movement in Predacon favor.
Gearzellia's voice brought Consel back to reality somewhat. "Did you know the Elders want to open up concentration camps? They want to eradicate the Predacons, yeah, but they want to do it brutally and in the worst way possible."
"Concentration camps," Consel said outloud with disbelief pricking her voice. She shook her head. "The Elders really have flipped their caps with this one, Gears. There's no way the Supreme House of Representatives will vote on that. Making the Predacon faction extinct is extremist as it is, but using torture as a method is borderline… What was it called? It was a historic event on Earth several hundred years back…"
"World War II," she said sadly. The smaller femme's eyes never left the television. "It was started in the country Germany by a man named Adolph Hitler. His minions were called Nazis. They captured people who Hitler didn't like and they put them through concentration camps similar to the ones that the Elders want to open now."
"If only Optimus Prime could see what's become of his beloved Elders," Consel hissed. She moved away to leave. "They're corrupt now. I still don't understand why no one had tried to get them off their thrones yet. I wouldn't worry about this too much, Gears. The House would have to be a group of sadistic monsters to let this pass."
"I hope you're right," Gear said just barley out of Consel's hearing as she left to go her meeting upstairs. Before she got on the elevator, Consel heard the small police medic's voice shudder. "By Primus I hope you're right."
ii
Her meeting was on the twentieth floor. When the elevator door opened, her partner was already waiting for her.
Berserkerbomb was only her senior by a year or so, but his experience as a police officer went beyond her for nearly an extra ten years. As a young Maximal sparkling ambitious enough to be the best cop on all of Cybertron, he had participated in a summer camp for youth police camp and he served on junior jury duties nearly every week his entire life growing up. He knew the court rooms inside and out just as well as the alleyways of Betacron, and it was no surprise that he really had managed to become one of the best cops on all of Cybertron. He was even offered a position to be the head police chief of the SMP, though he turned the offer down. Berserkerbomb claimed that he wanted to wait awhile longer before he permanently retired to sit behind a desk for the rest of his career. He said that he liked pursuits and being right where the action was over an office setting. His heart was at the scene of the crime.
Consel walked off the elevator and walked past her partner. The creamy purple mech followed behind her wordlessly and Consel's address to him was made in a professional tone. "Who's the client, who's the suspect, what's the crime?"
Berserkerbomb laughed, a deep sound that was almost humorless. "The client is the only surviving daughter of Mother. You remember her don't you?"
"Rightside," Consel groaned. "She's the one who's been calling us for the past three years about the death of her mother and sister, right?"
"And niece," Berserkerbomb added absent mindedly.
"Is she complaining again that we're not supposedly doing our job? We told her that we're doing the best we can to bring her sister's and mother's murderer to justice."
"I know," Berserkerbomb said.
"Did she threaten to sue again?"
"No actually," Berserkerbomb responded. Consel turned her head to look at him with surprise and Berserker looked at her with his crimson optics brightening. "She says that she has proof that her sister's missing husband is responsible."
Again, Consel groaned. The two of them rounded a corner that lead towards the meeting rooms. It was a long corridor that stretched on for the entire width of the building, enough to hold twenty or so conference rooms on either side of the hall all the way down towards the end of the passage. Consel's voice echoed somewhat when she spoke. "We know Terrorsoar was a suspect for the crime, but there was no evidence pointing that he actually committed the murders. We told Rightside that. To top it off, he went missing after the murders took place. Who's to say that he wasn't a victim as well? Why is this stubborn femme so adamant about her brother in law being the killer? Did she hate him or something?"
"The word 'hate' by itself might be too weak of a word. This is Rightside we're talking about after all. Besides…" Berserkerbomb made a gesture. "Terrorsoar was a Predacon and his wife, Rightside's sister Jailbird, was a Maximal."
Because Rightside's mother Mother had been a huge political figure, it was only natural that Rightside be too. As it was, it was no secret that Rightside despised Predacons. Consel sighed. "Explain to me why you took me away from what was supposed to be my day off to address this issue. Does she really have actual evidence that Terrorsoar committed the killings?"
Berserkerbomb didn't immediately respond. He stopped just outside a meeting door, number three twenty-seven, and Consel turned to face him with raised optic ridges. Her yellow optics met her counterpart's bright crimson ones and what he said shocked Consel deeply. "Yes."
He pushed the door open.
The room's walls were white and the meeting table was a circle instead of the standard long tables that were in the other rooms. This was probably because this wasn't a large meeting. Two femmes sat in the room already furthest away from the door and Consel recognized the black one being Rightside immediately. The Maximal femme was dark ebony with grey highlights and icy cold eyes that were like nitrogen. She didn't look menacing by her overall body structure, though the way her eyes bore straight into Consel's when she looked in the cop's direction was enough to momentarily intimidate Consel. As it was, even though she wasn't the mayor like her mother had been, Rightside still had a great deal of political power.
The femme beside Rightside was larger and slightly more rounded around the edges. Her blue eyes were far more cheerful looking in appearance, though Consel didn't recognize her at all.
"About damned time," Rightside muttered darkly.
Beserkerbomb walked into the room and Consel followed behind him, closing the door to the meeting room in the process. With a friendly smile, Berserkerbomb gestured towards the woman already seated. "Well, it's a pleasure to have you here, ladies. Since we all know why were here, I'm going to go straight down to business." Berserkerbomb sat and Consel seated herself beside him. Berserker gestured towards Rightside without skipping a beat. "Ms. Rightside, if I may, do you have the evidence that might point us towards a lead on the Mother murder case?"
A gleam that had nothing to do with general benevolence glowed in her cool optics. She reached down beside her and hoisted a leather briefcase onto the table. The leather, Consel thought absently, had probably been an expensive import from Earth. Rightside reached inside it and pulled a file out. "Right here. Terrorsoar killed them just like I've been saying for the past three damn stellar cycles, except now you can't tell me I'm wrong. The picture are genuine."
"Please, don't swear in this office. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave," Berserkerbomb said to the femme with a stern tone. He took the file from her and opened it to look inside.
"Try to make me," Rightside hissed dangerously, "and you'll be on the street jobless faster than you can debug your processor."
The mech didn't even acknowledge the statement. He glanced at the photos inside the folder before he handed them over to Consel. The Maximal femme took the folder and looked inside. Within were data files - written documents on a mech named Terrorsoar - but there were two photographs as well. One was of a mech and two femmes, one of them older and the other one just an infant. The mech and woman were holding the baby between them with wide smiles on their faces. The mech looked especially happy, scarlet optics gleaming while he seemingly watched his bondmate and his daughter lovingly. Consel recognized the male's body structure being a Predacon standard build.
Then the second picture made her circuits run cold. She recognized the photograph being shown on the news when security camera images surfaced of the Darkside being stolen around the same time the Golden Disk was. The picture was zoomed in on a scarlet Seeker built flier and Consel recognized him as being the mech from the picture of the happy family.
"Terrorsoar stole the Darkside with Megatron and his crew. He was part of the Golden Disk theft," Rightside snarled. "He's just as evil as the rest of those Primus damn Predacon scum. There's no way he wasn't the one who killed my mother, sister, and niece," she said hatefully with her optics flashing.
"Language," Berserkerbomb snapped. His tone took on a much more commanding one and, in response, Rightside shut up. Her small mouth closed and her jaw hardened, though she didn't look happy about being commanded.
Berserkerbomb looked over Consel's shoulder to look at the pictures, though Consel could tell he was looking at the family photo more than the security camera shot. Terrorsoar was a tall mech from the looks of the picture, perhaps six foot three at most, but the way he smiled in the photograph made the only mech in the group of femmes raise a red optical ridge. "He doesn't look like a killer. If I remember correctly Rightside, you were directed to the head detective agency here because of your immediate accusations that Terrorsoar committed the murders and arsons to your home and Mother's mansion. Are you positive it was in fact Terrorsoar and not a random crime?"
The black femme slammed her fist down onto the table. "Who else would have it been! He's a Predacon! The fact he was involved with the theft of the Golden Disk should solidify my claims regardless! I demand-"
The larger female beside the last living heir to Mother's estate raised her arms and gripped the dark Maximal's shoulders. "Calm yourself, dear! You should know better than to raise your voice to an officer."
"Forgive me for interrupting, but allow me to butt in for a moment," Consel interjected finally. She looked past the enraged Transformer at the other end of the conference table with a curious look. "I fail to see how you're involved with this. If Rightside is making the complaint, then who are you?"
The larger woman's pale green eyes flashed and he leaned forward, bowing her head a moment that reminded Consel about maids addressing a superior. "Forgive me, ma'am. My name is Snowfall… but I do most certainly prefer Nanni. It was my maid name while I worked in Mother's estate."
So she was a maid. Interesting.
"I see," Berserkerbomb intoned. "So, Mrs. Snowfall-?"
"I do prefer Nanni if you wouldn't mind, officer. My husband has been dead for several stellar cycles too, so you don't need to be technical with the Mrs."
"What is your role in all of this then," Berserkerbomb asked.
Nanni stumbled over her words out of apparent nervousness. "Forgive me, sir. I knew Terrorsoar just as well as Jailbird. He was like a son to me, almost. He was a gentleman and sweetheart! The poor soul wouldn't hurt a fly!"
Rightside turned her head to face Nanni. Her expression was furious. "Nanni! I told you the only reason that I brought you was to verify the ID of the mech in the pictures! Not to shoot your blasted mouth off!"
"At least she didn't swear," Consel thought absently. "Berserker would have kicked her right out."
Berserkerbomb's expression was calm. "I see then… So tell me," he said handing off the pictures to Nanni. "Is this Terrorsoar in both pictures?"
Nanni seemed hesitant. "I… well, yes…"
"What is the percentage in your logic processors?"
"Ninty point three percent, sir." She handed the pictures back to him.
Berserker took the photographs from her and put them in the file. "Would you mind if I took this, Rightside? I'll need to have the pictures scanned by our crew in forensics in order to make sure their not manipulated and that our supposed Terrorsoar matches Terrorsoar from the family photograph."
"Not at all," Rightside said smoothly. A gleam flickered in her optics that Consel didn't like. It reminded her of a serpent. Before Berserkerbomb or Consel could stand to leave though, the dark femme spoke again. "And Berserkerbomb, you know you can't ignore me anymore now. Your crew in forensics will see the photographs are real and that the ID on the mech in both pictures is identical. This is both a murder case and a matter of national security, so you have to do something about it. If you don't I can and will have your head in a courtroom."
Berserker looked at her firmly. "Understood, Rightside. My partner and I will debate this outside if you don't mind," he said gesturing to Consel to leave. Good. Consel was glad to get out of there and away from Rightside's vicious glaring. When they were both out after Berserkerbomb shut the door behind them, he started to speak again. "I apologize for dragging you into this. I'm going to go to the chief's office to see if I can organize for a crew to leave in pursuit of the Darkside immediately."
"Are you serious?" Consel's voice was disbelieving. "We're only police, Berserker. The FBI and secret service have been working on finding the Darkside around the clock and they haven't even come close to finding it. What makes this uptight femme think that we'll be able to find it, let alone Terrorsoar?"
"My hands are tied with this one, Consel," Berserker said with a sigh. He pinched the bride of his noise with a thumb and forefinger, and that was when Consel saw how exhausted he looked. He had probably been dealing with Rightside longer than anybody since she started threatening the SMP with lawsuits because they weren't 'doing enough of a good job' on her mother's murder case. Berserker was talking again a moment later. "Consel, if I do end up having to go on this goose chase, would you come with me? You've been my partner long enough that I'm sure you could do a good job."
"So much for my day off," Consel grumbled. She shook her head. "For you Berserker, I would do it."
Consel's personal radio went off, though the young police officer was greatly disturbed to hear Gearzellia's hysteric cries through it. "Consel, get DOWN here! It passed! Sweet Primus in the Matrix, the House of Representatives PASSED IT!"
iii
Gearzellia's blue eyes were wide and misted over with tears when Consel ran downstairs to see her. The elevator had malfunctioned and Consel had to run down the stairs. When she got down there, the young officer was half convinced that Gearzellia was going to break down sobbing.
On the news, a bar graph was being displayed and news anchors were discussing it. Apparently, the House had passed the Elders' proposition with a ninety-nine to one 'yes' vote. Consel wondered briefly what lies the Elders told the House of Representatives to make them pass such a horrible proposition against the Predacon faction. A part of her wondered if it was just as corrupt as the Elders. In the room around her, Consel could see that most of the Transformers looked more shocked than anything. A good portion of them were pro-Maximal and anti-Predacon, but even she could tell that they were greatly disturbed.
Gearzellia was barley keeping herself from sobbing. "How could they do such a horrible thing!"
Consel shook her head. "I don't know. I'm just as lost as you are." A mental image of the Predacon that helped her while she was a young sparkling, Terminator, popped to mind and Consel felt absolutely horrible.
On the news, one of the anchors was suddenly handed a sheet of paper from someone off screen. The anchor looked at it and his optics went wide.
"I'd hate to cut this debate short," he said somewhat shakily, "but we have this emergency broadcast coming live that our studio is making mandatory that we show you."
The emergency broadcast covered downtown Cybertropolis. The camera output switched from showing the news room to showing the camera shooting streets below from the top of a building. By the look of the buildings, it was the only way Consel could immediately tell it was Cybertropolis. What she saw disturbed her forever. In the streets, thousands of robots were running in one direction in a stampede. Without order and without a go, they charged headlong in panic as they went. Consel absently realized that the charge consisted entirely of Predacons.
"What are you doing? Point the camera at me-POINT IT AT ME!" The cameraman seemed to finally snap out of his horrorstruck daze from watching the chaos below and they swiveled it around to face a shaken female reporter. "Firecracker here, reporting from on top of one of the main office buildings here in Cybertron's capital. The city is out of control! Stay away from the Cybertropolis! With the announcement of the Predacon concentration camps being put into full effect, the Maximal Elders have launched a full military arrest of any and all Predacons caught within the city limits. What had been an otherwise calm street below ten cycles ago has turned into a full blown massacre!"
There was an explosion both audible and visible by the way the camera trembled. The cameraman abruptly swung the camera to look down at the chaos below and what was caught onscreen was disturbing. A street tank with a large turret fashioned to the top fired its massive cannon at a group of fleeing Transformers in the street below. They looked to be Predacons, yes, but they looked very little like the rogues that the Elders had made them out to be in one of their press conferences regarding the theft of the Golden Disk. From what Consel could see, she could make out the forms of sparklings among the crowd.
Gearzellia let out a high pitched scream beside her. It was cut off by, what Consel realized, to be cheering.
She turned sharply on her heel to see two cops pointing and jeering. One of them cackled. "Look at those filthy 'Cons, run!"
Listening to them laughing at the expense of the Predacons made her want to be sick.
Gearzellia grabbed Consel's arm and the cop Maximal was drawn away from the attention of the robots around her. Gearzellia was shaking horribly, her entire form shuddering like she was in shock, and Consel briefly wondered if she was going to be sick. The way the femme's blue eyes were glazed seemed to be an indication that she was going to vomit sooner than later, though she didn't. Instead, she spoke and her voice trembled. "The Maximals Elders said that we needed to eradicate all evil," she said slowly. "If that's the case, then someone had better assassinate the Elders."
It was a horrid thing to say, Consel knew that much, but she also knew it was true. Then another pitched scream passed through the speakers of the widescreen television.
The cameraman suddenly zoomed in the direction of the shriek. A tank had sent a blast out into the middle of the street to make the fleeing Predacons panic, though it had effectively killed several of the more unfortunate ones. While some had lived, Consel caught sight of a small sparkling girl. She was purple with white highlights and, for the briefest moments, Consel saw herself as a child being harassed by school bullies before she was rescued by Terminator. The image of the little infant girl on screen made Consel's coolant run cold, more so when she saw the little girl's leg was mangled. Screaming and crying, she tried to crawl away with no avail. At the same time, a tank was slowly lumbering towards her.
There was another scream, this time from a mech.
A Predacon was trying to force himself through the stampeding crowd, calling out a name that Consel realized was being addressed towards the sparkling. His similar color scheme was an indication that he was probably the little girl's father.
The news reporter's voice cut through. "Oh my Primus. Oh my Primus, is he gonna make it? Are you recording this?"
The cameraman's voice cut through as well. "Yeah. I hope he makes it, Fire. This slag it just plain fragged in the head."
"You can't swear on camera!"
The cameraman's voice trembled violently. So did the camera. "You can't show massacres on camera, either!"
Either way though, another voice managed to slice through the chaos so it reached Consel's audios. This time it was from the two cops laughing like they were drunk. Part of Consel wondered if they were drunk. One of them laughed. "Hope the little brat gets run over. Serves her right for being a Pred!"
"Somebody shoot the dog," the other one said, more than likely referring to the father.
The father was starting to weaken against the stampede of people forcing him away from his daughter. He screamed out for her and reached desperately forward in an attempt to make his way through the crowd, but by then it was too late. The tank was coming closer to the little girl and the father was too far away. The army vehicle, showing no signs of slowing or adjusting its path, continued to move straight for the little girl.
Firecracker suddenly screamed. "Cut the transmission, Gasket! Cut it, CUT IT!"
The cameraman, Gasket, could not move it in time. The tank started to run the young girl over and, with a monstrous scream, she wailed as it started to crush her. The video was suddenly cut thankfully, though the audio didn't stop. The news reporter started to cry hysterically in the background.
Gearzellia's hands moved to cover her mouth just as the sparkling's agonized scream filtered through the speakers off screen. It was cut horridly short, but the sound of her father's screams replaced it. "Primus, it's a Predacon holocaust."
Consel was moments away from purging her fuel tank from mortification before something stopped her. The two cops started laughing at the sparklings screams and Consel could not control her actions when she crossed the room to address them. She slugged them both and, with her rank being high enough, she stripped them of their badges and had the guards kick them out. Watching the two jobless Maximals stand there in the street like they were too stupid to absorb that they were fired, she heard one of the guards next to her mutter. He had been the same one who let her into the complex earlier in the day.
"If freedom was supposed to be the right of all sentient beings, Optimus Prime is rolling in his grave."
iv
"Stasis pods?"
"It'll be like a two click nap for you," Berserkerbomb offered. The Azalon sat almost proudly in the shipyard, prepared and ready to launch, but Nanni and Rightside were more than nervous about it. Nanni was slightly miffed and a tad bit apprehensive about entering the capsule, but Rightside had completely thrown a temper tantrum.
"This was not in the contract," the black femme spat at the white tinted amethyst officer. The icy eyed Maximal braced her legs and stared up at the taller man with all the blistering irritation whose heat was reminiscent of a large furnace. "Explain this immediately."
Berserkerbomb shook his head and looked past her towards his assigned ship. It was a sister ship to the Axalon and Avalon models - the P.E.L.M. owned Avalon had gone missing when it was in pursuit of the exploration ship Axalon - that wore similar but differentiating colors. While the Axalon had been a dark desert tan and while the Avalon was a lighter shade, the Azalon was a dirty gold. Its flanks were painted with its name in an almost royal fashion. Berserkerbomb spoke up idly. "Only four crew members can be functional on the ship until we land and, since Gearzellia is coming with us, you two are required by state law to be in stasis."
"Well then," said Nanni, "I suppose we can't argue with that, Rightside. This is out of our hands, dear-"
But Rightside, a near reflection of her mother regarding her behavior and overall demeanor, did not budge on the subject. "Then there's another open spot."
"But you're not a certified member of this crew. You're only a passenger."
"Then who else is coming?" Rightside's tone was exasperated.
Berserkerbomb narrowed his optics at her. Patience thinning, he gestured toward the pod nearest to the black and dark grey Maximal femme. "While you have your links with high public figures, may I remind you that I have my own connections. Unless you get into the pod, I'm afraid I'll have to scrap this mission."
Rightside glared. "You wouldn't."
Berserker smirked. "Oh, I would."
Gearzellia's voice rose over the tense remarks going between the two. "Berserker! Consel!"
Everyone turned to see the smaller femme coming up to meet them, but Consel did a double take when she saw who was behind her. Two mechs, both of them large and standing around the same height as Berserkerbomb, trailed behind Gear with beaming smiles on their faces. The larger of the two, bright red with a very bold air, has his arm draped over the mech beside him in a friendly manner. The other mech was a dark black not too much unlike the hue of Rightside's armor. His was thinner and somewhat shorter than his crimson counterpart by maybe a few or so inches.
'They're bondmates,' Consel thought absently. 'I can tell by the way they're looking at each other.'
Berserkerbomb laughed. "Crismshine, Darkshine, so good to see you two."
"It's always a pleasure," the red one, Crimshine, said with a beaming smirk. He took his arm away from Darkshine to lightly punch Berserkerbomb on the arm. "How goes working in the police force? As boring as always?"
"How goes being a prison guard," Berserkerbomb asked with as much playful fever as he could. It only half worked seeing as Berserkerbomb wasn't that much of a playful mech.
Darkshine spoke up, his voice smooth. "Far more interesting than not, I'm afraid. Especially so with Crimshine around. There's never a dull moment with him."
There was a tight, strangled noise from behind and all of them turned to face the source. Consel was surprised to see Rightside at the center of it. Her optics were wide and her fists were tightly clenched in both agitation and what appeared to be uncomfortable nervousness. It dawned on Consel that she could tell Darkshine and Crimshine were mates. It also dawned on the Maximal cop that Rightside was homophobic.
"If I loose the properties of this alternate-mode," she started with a hiss, "I'll be sure that all of you end up jobless." Without as much as another word, she climbed into a pod and the lid closed down behind her. The pod activated immediately. It whirred to life, beeped, and Rightside was in stasis lock.
Berserkerbomb breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Primus. I thought I would never get her to stop with her complaining."
"It's usually worse," Nanni breathed. She looked just as relieved. With a hesitant glance at the others, she peered into an empty pod and shuffled her feet. "Dears, I don't think I'll fit. Could someone maybe…?"
"I'll help," Gearzellia said in a cheerful tone. She walked past Consel to help the older, somewhat larger woman into the pod. Consel could tell better though when she walked by. The underneath of her eyes were dark as if she hadn't gotten any sleep. It was an indication to her that Gearzellia hadn't slept well knowing the entire Predacon faction was being exiled and executed.
Deep down, Consel was glad to be leaving Cybertron. She wasn't sure if she could look at her home again when they had to come back though. She felt sick thinking about it.
v
It took a megacycle or so to shove Nanni into a pod that she could actually fit into. Crimshine and Darkshine retired to their own pods and the loading crew put all four of the stasis locked passengers into the pod hold. Gearzellia, Berserkerbomb, and Consel entered the ship to check it over. After checking to make sure they had all the necessary supplies and energon stocks to last them, a system check lead to show that the autopilot had malfunctioned. It took another three megacycles to fix it, but it was finally after that was taken care of when they finally managed to launch. With a green light and a good luck from the police headquarters over the communications link, Berserker launched the Azalon for its first official mission. They had left Cybertron's atmosphere and, just as Consel thought, Gearzellia refused to look back at their planet. She said it made her sick to her stomach.
They followed the Darkside's energy trail for sometime before Gearzellia said she was going to retire to her room for recharge. When she was gone, a silence fell over the room.
Consel glanced at the console and brought up Terrorsoar's image from the computer's uploaded databanks. "He loved his daughter and mate. You can tell just by looking at his eyes."
Berserkerbomb laughed dryly, a sound that lacked humor and rasped in the quietness of the room. "You can never judge a book by its cover."
"But isn't that what the Elders are doing," she snapped back. She hadn't meant to raise her voice but, the way her partner turned to face her with an inquisitive look on his face, it was obvious she had. She quickly recovered and went back to staring aimlessly at the console. "Just because the Predacons are the descendents of the Decepticons doesn't make them Decepticons. Berserkerbomb… Primus, those Predacons that were being killed today were scared. That wasn't a common emotion for Decepticons, and neither was the sorrow. That father that lost his daughter… Gods, we're not better than the Decepticons doing this to them! It's… It's reminiscent of what Hitler did to Jewish and homosexual humans during Earth's second World War!"
She could not continue. She pressed her fists to her forehead in frustration and, slowly, her partner sighed beside her. Berserker looked towards the picture of Terrorsoar as well, seemingly scanning over how happy Jailbird and Moondance looked with him. "I suppose you could be right. His bonded looks happy."
Jailbird, sporting a mostly black form with gold and red, smiled back with her blue eyes alit with sheer joy. The pair's infant, nestled between both the Maximal and Predacon's body, looked elated as well. Consel hissed. "The Elders… what could they possibly hope to accomplish by exterminating a minority?"
"Nothing," Berserkerbomb said, "except maybe to keep people from rebelling against them. I suppose the next group they'll go after will be the one wanting to sue the P.E.L.M. academy for kidnapping sparkling fraud. I heard the Elders want to set up a hundred more schools around Cybertron based off the original. Now go to sleep and try to get some rest. If we find Terrorsoar, we can see if we can finally settle this case. As members of the police force, it's out duty to see to it."
Fin