Chapter 2
"No, Zeta! You always block, then counterattack! Never forgo a block to slash or cut! But don't give your opponent time to rest, either!" I yelled. Kumi backed off for a moment, blade raised in case Zeta tried to attack. He didn't. Instead, he remained where he was, breathing heavily.
"Sorry, Leora," he called once he'd gotten his breath back. Both Colonials were probably exhausted from all the combat exercise I'd been piling on them. Zeta was doing much better at his etiquette lessons, so I'd decided to change up the schedule and give him extra swordsmanship practice. Kumi and I had been working his skidplate off every chance we got. It was fun, really.
"You better slagging well be. Again!" I ordered. With clearly audible groans, Kumi and Zeta faced off yet again, swords ready. They hesitated, though, and I saw Zeta give Kumi a slightly mischievous grin and tell her something in an undertone. Kumi Prime snorted in reply, but nodded. I got the feeling they weren't exchanging the usual pre-battle jibes I'd come to expect; those were traded in carrying voices, so any spectators could also enjoy a laugh at their opponent's expense. Still, maybe it WAS a taunt of some kind; Kumi's expression now mirrored Zetas. This made little, technorganic me just a little bit nervous. I shrugged it off and called, "Begin!"
The clash of sword on sword rang out, reflected back to us by the high canyon walls. Good thing the Counsel had already ordered all the Heralds not officially involved with the Transformers to stay away; they might have been frightened by the huge metal monsters attacking each other with swords as long as any of our tallest houses. I was suddenly drawn back to the fight by a strange realization; Kumi and Zeta seemed to be working together rather than against one another. They were moving differently, somehow….Almost as if they were edging to one side of the training area….The side closest to my position…. Slag!
Without a visible signal, Zeta, leader of the Colony at that point, and Kumi Prime, my guide to all things big and alien, whirled and advanced, blades held high. If I were any other small, vulnerable Herald, I might have run away screaming. But I wasn't any other small, vulnerable Herald. I was me. I stood my ground. I lifted one eyebrow (really, Kumi? Really, Zeta? I mean, just, really?). They didn't stop. Their swords were still at the same angle, and I knew they would remain there until just before they actually carried out their little prank.
With an inward sigh, I triggered my little friend Stunnie. NO, I did not voluntarily nickname my stun gun. My peers back in training at the Oasis did that for me. See, some Heralds think its cute or cool or a good idea to name their weapons. I know for a fact that it is not. It's crazy, dumb, and incredibly pointless. Unfortunately for me, my classmates (this was years and years ago now) decided it would be funny to name my high-end and fancy stun gun. It stuck.
"Very good, Stunnie," I muttered. Although Zeta and Kumi didn't know it, their arms would not descend when they wanted them to. This was because their arms were now (ever so conveniently) frozen in place by my stun ray. I quickly accessed my defensive mainframe and activated my medium-strength force field. Yes, medium, not full power. That might have shattered their swords on impact. If not, the blades would be severely damaged.
See, a low-powered, defense-grade personal force field could hold off anything short of a rockslide. Medium could stop anything up to a Heraldic Excess-class bomb at bay, and then make it sit up and beg. Full power was capable of easily stopping a spaceship in its tracks – a Cybertronian-sized spaceship, flaming and crash-landing. Don't ask how I got the experience to know that, please.
The two Colonials were finishing up their pre-attack maneuvers and were trying to begin the actual attack. I could see the wicked, mischievous grins on their faces. They thought I was too scared to move, probably. Or maybe they assumed I assumed they wouldn't actually go through with it. They were wrong either way. I hadn't moved because (as you already know) I was fully prepared to deal with them. So, let them think whatever they wanted for the moment. They'd find out soon enough.
And they did. I watched their expressions change from proud and excited to surprised and horrified as they tried (and failed, for obvious reasons) to lower their blades. The motion of their identical lunges caught them off balance as said lunges failed. They staggered, then flew backwards as I inflated my shield, sending their surprised persons all the way across the practice arena. Obviously they had absolutely NO idea what they were getting their sorry skidplates into.
While they were still flat on their backs from the impact, I stunned their entire bodies to keep them from giving me any further trouble. Down they went and down they stayed. I hovered over and landed between them.
Oh, sorry. Didn't I tell you about hovering? Well, nearly every battlesuit has a fully functional set of anti-gravity boosters built into it. We can't spend all our time trekking up and down canyon sides, especially when we could simply float right over.
Anyway, back to the arena. I drew my two hand-and-a-half swords and laid one next to Zeta's throat, the other at Kumi's. I grimaced, then let my shield fade away to nothing.
"Tut, tut, tut," I scolded. "You'll have to do better than that. WAY better than that, if you expect to hold your own against a Herald."
"Sure, Herald!" Zeta agreed. A small snick alerted me to Zeta's next trick. I flipped one sword behind my back and twirled it, skillfully deflecting the laser bolt the Colonial leader had fired. I sighed and tutted again. SO not a challenge. When would these robots ever learn?
"Still not impressed yet," I informed the two of them. I sighed (yet again) and sent an anti-stun pulse into them.
"Ow…" Kumi muttered. "Zeta, did you get the number of that bus?"
"I wish," Zeta replied before turning to me. "Wow. I never knew you Heralds were so tough." I couldn't hold back the smirk that wanted to decorate my face.
"We have to be." Otherwise, the Counsel would stomp all over us and use us for floor mats, I added silently. But (as I'm sure I've said before) things are better now. The Counsel declared official borders as part of the treaty, and Tovinia land was the Tovinia family's to govern. Also , we Tovinias could apply for citizenship under the Counsel (blech. Like we'd do that) and the Tovinias (which was ours by birth).
"Leora? Are you all right?" Kumi Prime asked worriedly. I shook off my thoughts and shrugged.
"I'm fine. Let's hurry and get the grime off your armor, or we'll be late for the ceremony," I added as an extra incentive for her to get off my slagging case.
Swordsmanship was dirty work at the best of times. Even watching a sword match got you covered in dirt and sweat. Whipping two Colonials into shape (like I'd been doing today) got you (hypothetically, unless you were me) into the 'filthy' range. This, of course, meant roughly an hour of battlesuit cleaning for me. That did not take into account the cleaning of two Cybertronian combatants, however. THAT meant another several HOURS of cleaning work, just to get one of them cleaned up. This is why I told Kumi we might be late for the evening Passing ceremony, even thought it was still only late morning.
As I'd thought, it took until far into the afternoon to get all the dirt off three sets of armor (even considering two of those were Cybertronian-sized) clean and shiny. I hurried back to the Oasis (which most of the Colonials would be seeing for the first time) to get my formal-wear upgrade for my battlesuit.
Okay, how do I explain this…I know! I'll use those pesky Human things as an example. They wear different battlesuits (soft, flimsy ones) each day, because they're purely organic. When a Human goes to an event, he or she will simply change to a more formal battlesuit. Well, in my time on Heer-olde, we modified our genetically bonded battlesuit to something I guess the Humans would "dress armor".
For Warria Prime's Matrix-receiving ceremony, I was giving my battlesuit a pretty big change. The armor color itself could not be altered by much, like hair didn't change colors (not naturally, anyway), but the style and details could be changed easily. My battlesuit would have a tunic to mid-thigh, with an under gown with wide, billowing sleeves and a skirt to my knees. Leggings and knee-high boots completed the look.
My hair, usually in a serviceable ponytail, would hang loose around my shoulders. At the last minute, I decided to have my battlesuit surface on my hands to make soft gloves. It would be cold – desert evenings were always just as chilly as the nights.
I met Kumi and Gyps at the entrance to the Oasis Clearing, where all important events took place. Zeta was at the far end, looking all calm and at ease among those slagging Counsel delegates. Beside him was his mentee/daughter of sorts, Warria Prime, and her Counterpart, Sentinel. They both seemed nervous and eager at the same time. I knew that usually the Matrix accepted whoever the previous Prime (or, if she was dead, the Magnus pair) chose as a successor. Still, there were some who were rejected by the Creation matrix of Leadership. These few were sent into exile.
And now, a bit about Warria and Sentinel. Warria was tall for a Cybertronian, with two hand and a half blades (one over each shoulder). Her pearly armor, tinted gold, shone in the dying sunlight and reflected the brilliant reds and oranges of the sunset. Beside her, yellow-armored Sentinel kept an eye on the Counsel delegates, lest they get too close and pose a threat to his Counterpart. That would have been intolerable. Sentinel was almost exactly the same height as Warria, but with just one sword: a huge, two –handed broadsword. The pommel alone was bigger than the poor Smith who'd forged it.
All around, Heralds and Colonials were gathering for the ceremony. We Heralds weren't sure quite what to expect (this because we'd never seen a Passing before, and the Colonials were extremely tight-mouthed about the previous ones), but the Cybertronians seemed excited – giddy, almost. I heard snatches of conversation, but was still in the dark about what was supposed to be happening.
"It's kind of sad, actually," Kumi confided. "Usually our Magnus Pair – Canis and Ultra Magnus – would present the candidate – Warria – with the Matrix. But Ultra Magnus stayed on Cybertron to look after his little brother, and Canis is too injured. Some say the Magnus Pair bonding is even tighter than the Prime Pair bond for Counterparts. I wonder how they are…"
"Magnus and the others back on Cybertron?" I asked. Kumi Prime gave me a sad, knowing smile.
"My little brothers – Ultra Magnus and Optimus. Optimus is so young. I hope he's all right…" she confided. I gave her what I hoped looked like an encouraging grin. Inside, I was flailing. Ultra Magnus was Kumi's brother? Why in the Forge hadn't anyone mentioned this phenomenon before? Cybertronian siblings? How did that happen?
"I know what you mean," I managed at last. "I've got family at home, too." I was going to say more, but Zeta rose, and the crowd fell silent. I held my breath as he began to speak.
"Citizens of the planets Heer-olde and Cybertron, I call you together to witness a momentous occasion: the naming of our new Ruling Prime!" the cobalt-armored Colonial announced. I found myself running through Zeta's part in my head, making sure he was saying it right. Hmph. As if I could correct him here.
"The ceremony went on, with a speech from Warria, another from Zeta, then the actual Passing of the Matrix. In an astonishing turn of events (well, I was astonished, but obviously Zeta, Warria, and Gyps knew what was going on), it was Gyps, not Zeta, who bore the Matrix to Warria Prime.
The new casing gleamed. The main body (a sphere with a small, circular window of sorts so the Prime could interface with the Matrix) was burnished gold. There was a ring of blue-white firemetal around the whole thing, with Cybertronian-sized finger grips gouged into the surface. The blue fire of the Matrix itself burned within the beautifully and decoratively carved shell. There were gasps of awe, wonder, amazement, all that stuff from the watching Colonials and Heralds as Warria received it, then held it high above her head for everyone to see.
At her touch, blue flames encased both Matrix and Prime. Warria carefully, almost tenderly, placed the artifact within her chest. The blue light flared, bathing the whole Clearing in its warm glow before it faded. Shouts of surprise from the Heralds made the Colonials smile. Or maybe that was just the beauty and sacred quality of what they had just seen, and what they were witnessing now.
Warria's pearly armor had turned a glittering silver-blue. The gold highlights on the plating shone, and her large amber optics were now a pale, fiery blue. There was a pause as everyone tried to take in what had happened. Sentinel stepped forward, hand raised for quiet (a deafening babble had broken out), and the audience gradually silenced.
"Hail Warria Prime, Governess of the Colony!" he called. Everyone in the Oasis Clearing cheered. Once the roar had died down, the Counsel of Heralds hovered forward.
"We have an announcement to make," the Speaker announced. The Speaker was the leader of the Counsel, and (in case you haven't figured this out yet) he or she Spoke to the Heralds, representing the whole Counsel. "The Heraldic Counsel has decided to join with the Cybertronian Colony. We will be posting the details as they emerge and are relevant." Well, that was why I don't like the Counsel, above and beyond being a Tovinia. 'As they emerge and are relevant'? That meant they weren't going to tell anyone the details until someone got in trouble for disobeying something they didn't know existed. Typical Counsel. With that, though, every last Counsel Member vanished, drawing strangled shouts from the Cybertronians, who weren't used to their habits yet.
"No matter how many times I see it, I'll never get tired of the Passing ceremony," Kumi sighed happily. I nodded, speechless for once. At last I found my voice.
"Is it always so…spectacular?" I whispered. I'd never seen anything like that before.
"Well, Bathilda's ceremony wasn't quite so dramatic," Kumi Prime admitted. I nodded; I doubted anything could be more dramatic than the Counsel when they were scheming.
"They – the Counsel – really shocked everyone, not just the Colonials," I told her softly. "Especially the visiting Tovinias in the crowd." That made her give me a sharp, questioning look as we slowly left the Oasis Clearing. Most of the attendees were still milling about, so we were alone.
"Why Tovinias in particular?" Kumi wanted to know. I sighed heavily, trying to play for time. I'd been avoiding this conversation for a long time, and I didn't like the direction it was headed: Confessionville.
"Because Tovinias and the Counsel…don't get along too well," I said finally. This was the biggest understatement I'd ever uttered in my entire life (that last, in and of itself, is a huge understatement as well). I was hoping she'd take the hint and quit prying, but no such luck.
"Why not?" she asked. Kumi was NOT getting my 'drop the subject NOW' thought waves. I added a little 'please?' on the end. Still no luck. Maybe Colonial brains run on a different frequency than Heraldic brains. Though I don't know why they would….
"We just don't, okay? The Counsel tried to take over our places, and they took our capital and made it theirs. Now, with our fine and shining truce and treaty and all that slag, we have a tiny country on the other side of Heer-olde from where we want to be." Oops. I didn't actually mean to say that much….
"What was your capital?" was al Kumi asked, though. I guess she realized no one knew why the Counsel had done it, not really. I swallowed hard.
"Here. The Oasis. The Forge was our home, our work, our lives. Now all we have to remember those days is the Smithing class. Armor and weapons made in other fires could never match what we used to make here, though." I blinked against the hot sting in my eyes. Maybe I had sand in them or something.
"I wish Cybertron's war was over already. Even if I did have to lose my home to a Faction," she murmured at last. Grateful for the change in subject – even if only slight – I became the inquisitor.
"Tell me more about the Factions. I only know that they're fighting, and that's why you Colonials decided to come here – or get away from Cybertron for a while, anyway," I prompted. Kumi Prime nodded sadly.
"At first we were one big, happy Cybertronian family. But then people began to be…unhappy…with other members of the family." She hesitated.
"They must have been REALLY unhappy if they started a war!" I exclaimed. Kumi nodded.
"We – the guard, under Bathilda and Zeta – tried to hold them together, keep the peace. But our Cybertronian Council of Elders split. The Decepticons used wanted total control of our home world, and the Autobots refused to give it to them, or let it resolve peacefully. Zeta and Bathilda both suffered from assassination attempts, so we left our planet to the mercies of the Factions." Kumi sounded forlorn. I didn't know what to say. Man, this must be a record for me: speechless twice in one night!
"Leora! Psst! Leora!" someone hissed. I turned, calling for Kumi to wait.
"Who's there?" I demanded. I had the nagging feeling that the voice was familiar. This was not a good thing.
"Leora, I need your help," the voice whispered. I rolled my eyes (though whoever it was probably couldn't see this, seeing – or not – as dark had well and truly fallen).
"All right, fine, but who ARE you?" I was really getting a bad feeling by now.
"A friend of Gyps's. Please, just follow me!" I shrugged. Voicey sounded desperate. I could handle anything anyone on this planet could dish out, I was sure. I didn't realize my danger until the electric current tore through me, disabling my battlesuit.
"Molten slagging crap," I muttered. "That's not good."
"No, Leora Tovinia, it's not. Not for you, anyway," I heard before I blacked out.