CHAPTER EIGHT
"All hands abandon ship!" Thunderclash announced. "I repeat, all hands abandon ship!"
Clamp Down oversaw the evacuation process while Nightracer and Roulette hurried to their pre-assigned escape pods. Sounds of hurried footsteps mixed with the unmistakable whispers of uncertainty while the alarm continued to echo throughout the ship. History would later record that of the twenty-six crew members, all but one survived the ordeal.
Chromia stood at the door exiting the bridge and waited for Thunderclash to join her. After a few moments of observing his stance, she realized he would not be following her. Still, despite understanding his reasons, she still made an attempt to persuade him. "You're needed," she said, already accepting what was about to happen. "You don't have to do this."
Thunderclash turned to his long time friend and most tenured officer. He offered up a defiant smile and took hold of the ship's navigational controls. "The captain stays with his ship," he smoothly stated. His fingers quickly entered in a new course, one that would lead the heavily damaged ship directly into Monstructor's handicapped frame. A slight crackle could be heard in his tone as he addressed Chromia for the final time. "You better get going," he said, never taking his optics away from the screen. "Not much time left."
Chromia felt a surge of emotion beginning to overtake her. Rarely had she seen such bravery in the face of certain death. "It's been an honor to serve with you," she stated.
"Chromia," Thunderclash responded, himself fighting off emotions of the soul. "The honor was all... mine."
The ship crashed into Monstructor, destroying both the angel and the demon it struck. It was a mighty explosion with debris launched in every direction as far as the eye could see. Fragments of the ship and of the individual Pretender Monsters were hard to salvage, although a few scraps were recovered. In a tasty morsel of justice, a recently re-awakened Roadbuster cast a look down at his feet and found the head of Slog. It was badly damaged and missing nearly half of its original size. The one remaining optic still showed a dim light, an obvious sign of impending death. Roadbuster bent over and tore the optic from its compartment, extinguishing the final flicker of life still pulsing through Slog's remains. The Autobot commando paused to take in the recent events and admired the courage Thunderclash had shown in making the ultimate sacrifice; and also offered thanks to all others that had fallen in recent times. Before walking away from the battle, Roadbuster again bent over and scooped up what was left of his once sworn-enemy.
Not since the Underbase possessed Starscream and the coming of Unicron had one being caused so many lives to be lost as Monstructor. The recent body count which started on Dag and found its way onto Hoofum's soil was finally halted. An absolute sacrifice made by one so that many may continue on. In the universe, there remain countless giants left unchecked; their horrendous and barbaric actions thrive unchallenged. But for a small corner of creation, at least for the time being, their dragon had finally been slain.
No one may ever know how many Autobots and Decepticons were still dwelling on Cybertron when it exploded. Beings from both factions departed and returned in secret on a seemingly regular basis, and the number of Transformers involved in various long-range special missions only helped to cloud the actual total of lives lost. Blame was tossed back and forth between any and all who bothered to debate; for many however, a silent acceptance was the majority reaction. Sadly, the destruction of their home world only proved to be the catalyst for reinforced hostilities and brutal acts of violence on a much grander scale. With Cybertron gone, so too was whatever power the Peace Treaty once held.
Conclusion
Slog's mangled remains, now shaped into a makeshift amulet, swung from a chain around Roadbuster's neck. As he walked through the doors of The Diaclone, he noticed a familiar face sitting at a corner table in the back. Being waved over, he decided to go join his inviter. "Been a while," Outback stated. "What've you been up to?" It was a question that Outback already knew the answer to, but felt it would be a good conversation starter.
Roadbuster took a seat and caught a server's attention, ordering himself a much needed energon mug. "This and that," he answered, checking out their immediate surroundings to ensure there wouldn't be any surprise trouble popping up.
"An Autobot of few words, as always," Outback replied. The master of surviving rough environments had only recently returned from a special mission to the planet Charr. A small group of displaced Autobots had been looking into settling a colony on its soil.
Roadbuster took a swig from his drink and felt its immediate effects. "What about you?"
Outback smiled and kicked his feet up on the table between them. "Same old, same old." They both couldn't help but grin at the short exchange. Secrecy was alive and well in the Autobot ranks, despite the monumental tragedies that had happened recently. "The 'ell is that you're wearing?"
"This?" Roadbuster asked, knowing full well Outback was wondering about the amulet. "Just a little souvenir I picked up while on my latest outing."
Outback detected that there was more to this souvenir than his larger friend was letting on, but he decided against probing him further. He chose to accept the explanation. "You? With a keepsake?"
Roadbuster took another swig from his energon mug and waived for the server to bring another. His joints ached and a slight dripping of fluid on his left side began to amass a small puddle at his feet. The smell of death and destruction was strong on his body, almost to the point of making himself and others nearby nauseas. Still, he realized that it was all part of the life he had chosen. It was, after all, the way of the beast. "Something like that," he answered.
The End.
