Fifty points to anyone who knows the origins of the word 'tarball'. ;)
Chapter 2: In which the boss saves a life
The cubefarm went dead silent as darkness fell. All that became visible in the darkened cubicle offices now were a host of glowing optics, some vanity decals and alt-mode lights shining dimly. There was some puzzled shuffling, and some people groaned aloud. "Oh for Pit's sake..."
Suddenly, a dull, distant thud reverberated through the walls and floor. The sound was quickly followed by muffled screaming from one of the offices a few doors down.
Rush's circuits ran cold.
The tension was palpable. In the dark, small sounds like shifting gears and twitching gyros became more pronounced. With a roaring boom, the ceiling and walls shuddered again, shaking dust from the pillar and arch supports. Terrified shrieks strained thinly from overhead.
"What was that?" someone whispered.
Through the open office door, the sounds of heavy footsteps could be heard running up the outer corridor. As large, bulky shadows flashed past the doorway, a small, glowing object was tossed in through the doorway and into the offices. Struck dumb and bemused - for nothing like this had ever happened in the history of Targa-7's existence - all the employees could do was watch stupidly as the object bounced off a desk and skittered across the floor, trailing tiny, dotted lines of flashing red lights. The lights flickered rapidly.
"What the-" BigJaw began, but someone was already yelling.
"GET DOWN!"
In a lightning nano-klik, Rush dove under his desk just as the thing detonated with a deafening blast. Rush's desk lurched as the shockwave ripped into the first two rows of terminals bolted to the floor, and sent Staff-Sergeant BigJaw sprawling backward across the surface of the desk. Huddled behind the relative safety of BigJaw's bulk, Rush just stared in mute horror as gooey, purple energon sprayed out over the edge of his desk overhead.
People howled in panic as those standing further back began racing for the emergency exits. However, their stampede was anticipated, so the fire doors slammed open before anyone could get to them. Then came the machine laser fire.
Cries of panic turned to dying scream as gunners mowed down the office workers. All around him, Rush could hear them scrambling in the dark to get past each other, climbing over furniture to escape, and then dropping abruptly as laserfire tore right through them.
Terrified, Rush clutched his head in his hands and pressed his face to the floor, reminding himself dimly that his desk was not so much cover as it was concealment, which meant that the sizzling hot laser bursts would pass through his desk like so much tinfoil. Zark, zark-ZAPP-
It took only a few cycles for the harsh shrilling of the laserfire to diminish, pausing only to erupt now and again in spurts. At every strangled cry, Rush imagined one of his coworkers twisting about at the impact in a shower of sparks and spattering fluid. Who was that? Was that Carbide? Was that Firestoker from accounting? Maybe that new intern, Jumpstarter? Did Artemia manage to get away...?
Rush just couldn't think. Today was officially the worst day ever.
"Zone Three cleared," a voice suddenly grunted from elsewhere in the main cubicle farm. "Pylon, Whetstone, I want you two to secure this area and then rendezvous with the rest of us in Zone Five. Is that clear?"
"Sir, I think this is just... accounting, or something. Buncha data entry types. I mean, look. That guy's wearing a tie."
"Doesn't matter. Everyone in this place is considered armed and hostile."
"Yeah, but... office workers?"
"Quit your whining, Pylon, and get to it! Everyone else, out, now!"
Footsteps shuffled out of the room, and soon everything was quiet again.
For a long time, Rush remained hunched over beneath his desk with his hands on his head, flattened to the floor. He imagined that the faint rattle he could hear was just his chassis shaking in fear, but the longer he listened, the more he realized it was coming from somewhere else. Cautiously he unfolded himself and crept out from beneath his desk...
Immediately he was met with the acrid smell of smoke and burnt powder, and the ozonous stink of spilled energon. He tried to wave away the clinging fog of smoke, but it was pointless, for the room was still dark. But what light was afforded by the sparking components of ruined terminals allowed him to guess at shapes in the dark, and what his imagination painted for him out of the silhouettes was probably worse than what was actually there.
The concussion grenade had ripped apart anyone standing near the entrance, along with furniture, flooring, and light fixtures. Thick spatters of energon dripped from the ceiling, glowing faintly. Everywhere else, bodies lay at awkward angles, half-draped over desks and office chairs, flung across one another, and all of them smashed and riddled with holes. Smoke and steam rose up from the fresh wounds of the newly dead, mingling with the muzzle smoke left behind by the attackers.
Now Rush was shaking. He backed away from his desk and turned around to see Staff-Sergeant BigJaw sprawled backwards over it with half a chair embedded into his face. The liquid coolant contents of his open braincase oozed over the desktop and onto the floor, and it took Rush a moment to realize that his hands and knees were covered in it; he had been kneeling in BigJaw's congealing coolant and internal fluids for the past several cycles and hadn't realized it.
And then there was that faint rattle again. Rush spun around, optics huge.
The rattle turned into a heavy clunk, and Rush watched as an arm fell out from behind a desk. He recognized the greasy palm; it was Tarball.
In an instant, Rush had scrambled over burnt, smoking debris and was on his knees next to Tarball's arm, which was fortunately still attached to its owner. But Tarball didn't look well. He lay with his back against the side of his desk, but his head tilted at a strange angle, and he was twitching.
"Tarball!" Rush whispered harshly as he crouched nearby. "Tarball, are you all right?"
"Urgk... algcch," Tarball gurgled. "Is... is there something on my face...?"
Rush just stared at him. "No, Tarball," he said quietly. Empty holes, several of them, stared back. "Nothing's there."
"Feels like it. Hey... hey, I'm shot," Tarball wheezed, moving his arm. He clutched at Rush's wrist, fingers closing over it like a vice. "I'm shot. They got me, Rushly. Got-got me. Just... just wanted to say-say-say..."
"I'll go get help!" Rush whispered back. "Just stay here, okay?"
"Say-say... say I haven't been-been the b-b-b-best-est-est persssson I could be-eeee," Tarball went on, slurring as his lipless mouth moved. "Haven't-haven't been a-a good Con, I mean, I just want-wan-ttt-eddd to run out into a battlefield with a gun and just die-ie-ie-die like a hero, but thissss is total bullscra-ag-"
"Tarball, shut up," Rush muttered, as he tugged at his arm for Tarball to let go. "I don't want to hear your life story, I just want to get out of here."
"Oh Primus, Rush, it's the Autobots, I just know it," Tarball moaned in defeat. "Just kill-kill me now! They hate us-us-us, they're gonna tie us up and drag us from the back of one of our own trans-trans-transports and then they'll take-take-take turns running us over-over-over-"
"Shut up," Rush hissed. "Shut up, shut up! Stop talking! Let me go already, or I swear to Primus I'll-"
"D-don't wanna die," Tarball began sobbing. As he tried to move, his head flopped forward onto his chest with a hard thunk. "Oh Primus, what was that? What's happening? I can't see! D-don't lemme die here, Rush! Don't go! Ohh- don't-"
Rush began to panic. He tugged on his arm, and then began trying to pry Tarball's fingers off his wrist. "Let go, Tarball! Leggo!"
"Gun-gun-gun in my desk drawer," Tarball was saying. "Drawer. Drawer. Drawer. Drrrr... use it to put me out of my misery...!"
A gun? Rush's gaze darted up towards the closed drawer just under Tarball's desk, and hesitated. Then he immediately snatched the drawer open, crammed his free hand into the mess of office supplies and datapad replacement screens until his fingers closed over something cool and metallic. Then he yanked it out, scattering plastic report covers, and found himself holding the muzzle of a small but practical-looking laser pistol.
"It's over man, it's over," Tarball moaned, as his head lolled about on his grease-slicked chest. "Just-ust shoot me, I-I-I don't wanna deal with-with BigJaw anymore... Primus, just let me go...!"
"No, YOU let me go!" Rush snarled at him, as he tried to bash Tarball's hand off his wrist with the butt of the laser pistol.
"Hey, Rush?" Tarball sniffed. "Don't I owe you fiiiive..."
The lights on Tarball's altmode chassis dimmed, sputtered, and went out. The remainders of his optics also went dark.
Rush went still. "Tarball...?" he whispered, but there was no reply. "Hey... you okay? Tarface?"
But there was no reply.
Rush swallowed the urge to moan in despair. Instead, he continued hammering at Tarball's fingers, which remained clamped around his wrist.
"Primus alive, even dead you can't let go of slag," he panted, as he tried to wedge the muzzle of the laser pistol in between the fingers. "Let go, Tarball...! Let... go...!"
Suddenly there was a bright flash, a sharp crack, and Rush fell over onto his back with a yowl. Immediately he scrambled up to sit upright with the laser pistol still in one hand, and his other hand freed! The only trouble was that he had accidentally shot off Tarball's arm, but the hand was still attached to his wrist, smoking with a faint bubbling noise.
"Frag!" Rush swore, as he set the muzzle of the laser pistol to the back of Tarball's dead hand.
There was a bright flash. A moment later, Rush was hurrying away from the desk and from Tarball's body, shaking stray fingers from his arm as he went.
He tried to keep down the rising bile in his throat. The smell, the carnage - it was E-Stalsem all over again.
What was going on? Was Tarball right? Were Autobots raiding the station? Rush could feel his fuel pump racing, and it was making his hands shake. Even his chassis was rattling - dammit, he thought he was over this - and this was just not happening, it couldn't be Autobots, it couldn't be...
In the dark, Rush's optics gleamed as he came to a stop near the open doorway, now abandoned by the invaders. So, two more troops were ordered to stay behind...?
His hand tightened on the coolant-slicked handle of Tarball's laser pistol, and the shaking gradually stopped.
It really was E-Stalsem all over again.
