Liraz: Hey! Heeeeeeeey!
Me: What?
Liraz: It's time for the next chapter already!
Me: You realize I have a life besides writing your story, right? And you're just a figment of my imagination, in a world from someone else's imagination, right?
Liraz: Your point is…?
Me: Never mind. Anything to get you to leave me alone.
Liraz: Sadly, I am the only thing in this story so far that Lynn Johnson owns, including Riella, who belongs to T'Reilani.
Chapter 3
(Liraz's POV)
Earth may have been colder than the vague impressions of heat that were all I had left of my home, but one thing it did right was sunsets. This particular sunset painted the sky orange, red, pink, and gold, like someone had taken the blue Earth sky and sprayed fire across it. I, of course, was not outside in the cold-and-getting-colder evening for the sunset. I wasn't even outside in said evening for the stellar company. Every Autobot on base (more than I would have expected, honestly, considering how small roughly half the base was compared to the bots in it) was assembled at the landing point where the new mech was supposed to land. I had refused to perch on the shoulder of the huge black mech that was Ironhide, instead preferring to stand on my own two feet on the ground. Most of the Cybertronians gave me a wide berth, but Ironhide stayed relatively close, and so did the blue femme that was Riella's true form.
"Why aren't you over there with your pal the motorcycle?" I asked irritably, jerking my head to indicate the black and gold mech who was Prowl, the motorcycle Riella's organic form had ridden on the way to the base. Riella looked down at me with narrowed optics for a long moment.
"First of all, my pal the motorcycle has a name – Prowl. Second of all, you may have convinced Ironhide and Prime that you're not a threat, but I still don't trust you," she told him finally. I tilted my head and considered her.
"How can you transform into an organic form?" I asked suddenly – and unexpectedly, if her expression was anything to go by.
"I used to be organic," she answered automatically.
"So you're technorganic, like a Herald, but you have a true spark," I mused. "I didn't know that was possible." Riella frowned.
"If it hurts your tiny little orange head to think about it, pretend it isn't possible," she snapped. I laughed. A mitilu with humor. At least she was smart enough to not trust me. No Factionist should trust me, especially considering what I had been convicted of.
"Autobot energy signature incoming," called a greenish mech who stood next to Optimus. I focused on the sky again. An oblong fireball was streaking through the sky toward us, mush too small to be a full spaceship. I watched it curiously. Factionists traveled without starships? That would be an interesting fact to add to Skikous's files on the Factions. I blinked. Skikous again. But just a name, and now apparently she…frag. I couldn't remember what I'd just thought. Something about…about…frag it all. Frag it all to the Pit, I thought fiercely.
The evening dimness suddenly brightened as the fireball drew closer. Beneath the coating of flames, I could see a strange metal object with Cybertronian runes inscribed on it. I waited, watching it calmly. The Autobots started to back away, giving the mech (if that's what it was) room to land. I didn't move. Riella back away from me swiftly, leaving me alone in the face of that huge, fire-wrapped object. I did what any self-respecting Herald would do.
I stayed where I was, and activated my shield.
And, all in all, what happened next was disappointingly anticlimactic. The huge, fire-wrapped object streaked closer, filling the sky, filling everything…and bounced off the front of my shield, to land behind me in the field.
Of course, I'm sure it seemed much more dramatic to the watching Cybertronians: huge, fiery entry pod or whatever drops out of the sky, right at the seemingly tiny and defenseless Herald, who doesn't even twitch. Is she paralyzed by fright? Is she stupid? And then she shield shows up, but that doesn't mean anything, the pod must be about to smash her into an unattractive orange smear on the ground…and then, miraculously, it doesn't.
You don't give them enough credit, the ancient voice whispers. I grimace and ignore it for once. Sometimes, advice is necessary, even welcome. But an ancient voice telling me how I underestimate the stupid Factionists? No, thank you.
And then I realize that I can hear roaring.
Hm. That sounds like mitilu, I thought absently. Then I groaned.
"LIRAZ!" Ironhide was bellowing. "Are you all right?" I sighed and deactivated my shield as the ginormous black mech pounded up to me.
"I'm fine! I had my shield up! It's not like that pod or whatever was going to bust through it," I snapped.
"You could have been killed!" Ironhide was shouting. I scowled.
"No, I couldn't have. My ancestor's shield held off a whole fragging ship full of you giant metal idiots, and they've only gotten better since then. You think my shield can't handle a little space debris? I'm insulted," I replied.
"Who are you calling space debris, human?" I looked up. Oh, boy. Prowl and Riella were approaching. Just what I needed.
"That rust-headed moron who just bounced off my shield," I answered. "Did you think I was talking to you?" Riella was scowling – which, I have to admit, was slightly more intimidating than when the mechs scowled at me. Something tickled the back of my mind.
Femmes are always the ones to look out for. A mech will step on you. A femme will make you wish the mech had stepped on you before you got your battlesuit. And where that lovely piece of advice came from, I had no idea.
"Not only are you from some unknown planet, you're reckless and stupid as well," Riella snapped. I forced a grin.
"Aw, Riella, I didn't know you cared," I positively cooed. She snorted.
"You think you're funny, but you're not," she informed me. Then she and Prowl walked away, leaving me with a still-steaming Ironhide.
"Why didn't you get out of the way like everyone else?" the big Autobot demanded. I shrugged.
"Maybe because I'm not as helpless as everyone else seems to think I am. I held of a crowd of Decepticons with my shield, remember? I know my limits, and space debris etched in ancient Cybertronian glyphs is well within my limits," I told him tartly.
"And how do you know what ancient Cybertronian glyphs look like, human?" inquired a crisp, businesslike voice I'd never heard before.
"I'm not human," I practically shouted as I whirled around…and found myself face to foot with the new mech. I looked up and found that the new mech didn't have an alt mode yet. His gray-black protoform wiring was all that concealed his inner circuitry…and his spark.
Speaking of which…I could almost hear, almost feel the pulsing warmpth. I missed the heat of my home, the only thing I could remember of it, and suddenly I could feel…not the scorching heat of the desert, but the soft, comforting warmth of a friendly spark. I started to reach out and make contact, but then the mech spoke.
"If you're not human, then what are you?" he asked. Then he held up a hand. "Hang on. Let me guess. Not a Nebulon; wrong skin color. Not a Vulcan; wrong facial features. Let me think…" I started to frown, then looked up and saw his blue optics shining. His spark pulsed happily. I mock scowled.
"You know very well what I am, you rust-brained scrapheap," I said cheerfully. He grinned, and his spark flared.
"Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do, my dear Herald. Would you be a Master or a Cadet?" he asked.
"Cadet," I answered. He nodded wisely.
"The Heer-oldec are an unusual people. And Heer-olde is an unusual planet. I know something of your traditions – enough to know that where there is a Cadet, there should be a Master, a hata," he told me. I nodded automatically. Hata. Teacher. Master. Mentor. Responsible for a Cadet's training. Then I felt my expression start to fall, and I forced it back to cool regard. But this new mech was good. He saw it. "No Master? Then either he died, or…"
"I wish," I muttered, without quite knowing why. The mech crouched down.
"Then you're…" he trailed off.
"A sancalu," I whispered. "A Forgotten One." I blinked, my eyes burning with tears. I forced them away. "But I didn't do it," I hissed. "I didn't do it, I swear by the Forges! I just need to prove it!" I blinked. Prove it. This was what I needed to prove: my innocence. His spark pulsed warmly.
"Then I'm your bot. I'm a detective. My name is Nightbeat."
That's this week's chapter! I'm trying to upload every weekend, but I still need reviews!
