Chapter 10

Orange walls

Iacon, Military Academy, Special Unit SKR-1000, fifty thousand vorns ago.

"Designation: unit TC-10893… City of creation: orbital torus state of Altihex…"

The words sounded hollow and indifferent. The bulky black robot continued reading in a loud voice the contents of the datapad he had in his hands.

Steelcrank remained motionless, his stare fixated on the small notch on the wall above the head of the arrogant mechanoid sitting in front of him. Beside the young soldier, Turbocharger, his protector and immediate superior officer, also waited.

The black robot's glance froze upon reading some line on the screen. Something had called his attention.

He got up and faced Turbocharger.

"A working robot?"

Turbocharger hesitated. He was about to respond when his superior spoke again.

"A working robot??" he repeated.

"Affirmative, sir… But soldier Steelcrank has been in the military practically since he abandoned the sparkling status…"

"And since when does a working robot dare to look like a Seeker?!" the black robot yelled, punching the desk before him with his fist.

"S… soldier Steelcrank was reformatted as a Seeker by instruction of the Military Ministry itself. General, I can assure you that…"

"The caprices of the Ministry won't become our failures!"

It was obvious that Turbocharger's arguments to defend the position of his protégé would be useless against common intolerance, so well represented by that close-minded but powerful General.

Steelcrank remained motionless, not even a fleeting shine in his optics betrayed his frustration. He had the urgency to talk in his defense, but he wasn't allowed to address the highest ranked officer of the Military Academy.

So it would end like that… His dream of becoming an elite warrior, shattered by the prejudices of an era as golden as it was unfair. If he was lucky, he would finish as a transportation aircraft, or perhaps as some second class Senator's bodyguard… or maybe he would return to guard factories, the glorious start to his career as a military robot.

A small light blinked on the General's wrist. His bulky frame didn't move as he accessed the message he had just received. Long, tense astro seconds followed. The hard grimace on his face seemed to soften.

"Captain, you are dismissed."

Turbocharger's optics narrowed in confusion, but he was intelligent enough to not question the order. He walked toward the exit, sending Steelcrank one last glance of support. He also knew they would probably never see each other again.

Steelcrank would have liked to have returned the gesture to the mech that had been his flying instructor and guide for vorns, but he wasn't allowed to break the protocol. Besides, friendship bonds had no place in the military. Soldiers came and went, anonymous faces that eventually disappeared.

However, his worries in that moment were more important than some simple sentimentalism he had inherited from his non-military origins. His destiny was about to be decided, his dreams only a klik away from being totally severed. Everything was in the hands of that big black robot, to whom he owed blind obedience.

"Unit TC-10893?" the General said with his cold voice.

"Sir," the young Seeker responded with all the firmness he could give to his voice, being able to speak now that his superior was directly addressing him.

"Your designation will be Thundercracker from now on. Your origins will never be mentioned again, under any circumstance. Is that understood? You will also be assigned to Unit 000."

It was done.

His fate had been dictated.

And he had no choice in the matter.

Steelcrank made an immense effort to keep the expression of his face stoic. Maintaining control of his inner storm was the priority, it didn't matter that his life had just taken a twist so abysmal that calling it drastic would have been underestimating it. However, his confusion was so great he couldn't help but stare at the General's optics, breaking the military protocol.

"Unit 000? I wasn't aware of its existence, sir," he said.

"That's because it doesn't exist," the black mech replied dryly. "You won't talk about this with anybody. If you are questioned, you will say you are in basic training with the rest of the Seekers in this Academy. Report at once to your superior officer at the coordinates being sent to your data banks right now. You are dismissed, soldier."

That was it; no questions, no further explanations. His past had been denied in a matter of astro seconds and his future was an enigma.

Steelcrank made a rigid military salute and walked toward the door.

Thundercracker… he was still repeating that strange name to himself when the door closed behind him.

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Once he was left alone, the General stood up and activated a small screen on his left wrist. The image of a narrow hexagonal head appeared; he had no features on his face, only a single optic that watched everything.

"Commander Shockwave," the General saluted the Supreme Commander of the Alfa Quadrant, the one that included the most important city states of Cybertron. "Permission requested to speak."

"Conceded."

"A working class robot is no material for the triple zero unit, sir."

"Logic dictates that Unit 000 must only include the best fighting jets."

"Precisely… this soldier is a beginner. He just finished the first phase of his military education and his aerial training is basic. Considering him a candidate for the power chip rectifier seems to be a rash decision."

"An alteration on the core of his spark was detected at the moment of his reformat operation. Ability to produce sonic booms detected. That makes him a perfect candidate. You will keep your opinions to yourself, General. Prejudices don't compute."

The black robot hurried to close his vocaliser. He had known Commander Shockwave for millennia, and it wasn't difficult for him to realize what was happening inside that cold and composed processor.

The efficiency of a soldier was measured by his achievements and, even though cadet Thundercracker had excelled from the very beginning of his military career, he remained a working robot, with the mentality proper of his social class.

His ambition, though, didn't belong to his origin; it was as strange as his peculiar ability to produce sonic booms, something no other Seeker of the Cybertronian Army was able to do. Logic dictated that, in an authoritarian society, subjects would limit themselves to the primary function given to them at the moment of their creation; the sacrifice of their individuality in benefit of the majority. But perhaps young Thundercracker could be one of the few exceptions to the rule.

He would sacrifice his individuality as well, but if he proved himself, he would receive a prize that would be worth the loss of his identity. The power chip rectifier would turn his unique sonic boom ability into something extraordinary; it would make him a deadly machine.

"You will deliver me reports of soldier Thundercracker's performance every ten cycles. Shockwave out."

The subordinate hurried to salute his superior. The imposing purple figure disappeared from the screen as fleetingly as he had appeared.

It was then when the black robot returned to his seat. He didn't ignore the purposes of his Commander. Changes were starting to happen on Cybertron, after all, and Shockwave also had a master to serve.

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The Ark, the present.

It was one of those tacit things that war was so full of.

The walls of every Decepticon base had a purplish tone, just as the insignia that gave a name to all the anger, discomfort, the hunger for justice…

Thundercracker began to question himself long before activating his optics again. He knew what was waiting for him once his processor was able to register external images again.

Orange walls, warm and welcoming… An insignificant detail, perhaps, but one of many that challenged the convictions that had ruled most of his life.

Perhaps his strongest memory was those purple walls, the first ones that killed the bonds he had with his childhood, his home, his creator… The walls had always been there, since his distant days in the Military Academy. Fellow soldiers came and went, but the walls remained. They had been the first ones to welcome his new Seeker figure, tall, strong, winged… They had been silent witnesses of his triumphs and ambitions; they had also sheltered him when he had fallen, when the bitter taste of failure had brought him to the dangerous path of anger.

Purple walls had also been the first ones to welcome him when he returned for the first time with his hands soiled by the vital fluids of others… Unlike his own conscience, the walls didn't call him an assassin.

When he finally onlined his optics inside his foreign quarters in The Ark, he wondered if those new orange walls would accuse him, pointing at him for his treason.

But shadows were the only things he saw when his vision adjusted. With the lack of light, the metal of the walls of The Ark seemed like they were sleeping.

Thundercracker activated the lights, killing that ghostly aura of his new and reduced personal quarters. He dimmed the intensity to barely fifteen percent of its capacity; he had never liked excessive illumination and he wasn't going to change an old habit only because he had stopped being a Decepticon.

He sat on his recharge berth and grabbed his head. Changing an old habit? He had changed much more than a simple habit in less than a solar cycle. And there he was again, avoiding his own demons and hiding them behind some insignificant detail such as the light thing…

He was a deserter, a traitor, and he had to deal with that. The question about his new loyalties, however, was still far away from being answered. Perhaps he could be some sort of cadet again, a student, someone who could open his mind to new teachings, something that could destroy all those beliefs he once dared to call honour.

It had taken him very little to become a Decepticon. He wondered if the inverse process could be just as fast. Brainwashing was so much more benign if the subject submitted by own will. And he was doing it; he was ready for his voluntary reprogramming.

His identity had been snatched from him so many vorns ago, his past erased like a gust of wind. Could he gain that back? Could he be Steelcrank again? Impossible… but perhaps he could turn into someone else, someone better.

But he would have plenty of time to torment himself with his own thoughts later, his biggest defect according to Skywarp. For the moment, he had to focus on the present, on what was awaiting on the other side of the door. More orange walls, that was for sure, and certainly many hostile faces… Nothing he hadn't dealt with before.

He knew he was facing a more meaningful change than the one he had had so many vorns ago, when he renounced to his origins and the name given to him by his father to pursue a dream. Somehow, adjusting to the schemes designed by others was something that couldn't be avoided. He had hated that tacit rule since the moment of his creation, but he had adapted as well, always believing he was doing it to forge his own fate. And now he was being forced to face one change more, one that hadn't been imposed on him, but that he had chosen himself. Perhaps that was the difference. Perhaps this time there was a real clear sky before him…

Thundercracker shook his head and did a fast scan of his status. His self-repair circuits had done a decent job with the minor damage to his structure; only his left hand would need specific repairs. The thought of being forced to submit to Ratchet's contrasting personality again made him frown.

He consulted his internal chronometer. 0445 terrestrial hours… He had rested very little considering the fatigue of his body, but he wouldn't have been able to remain offline one astro klik more. The infamous orange walls, the fact he was grounded, his claustrophobia… Suddenly he was feeling more and more caged, forced to struggle against that uncomfortable feeling that was fighting its way through the core of his spark itself. He didn't belong there, those orange walls were not for him…

0451 hours. He had to get rid of the heavy burden of pessimism. If Dead End had never existed, perhaps he would have been the one to carry the stigma of being the most taciturn and somber Decepticon.

Not that he cared. He wasn't a Decepticon anymore after all. He didn't even know what the slag he was.

He stood up. He couldn't stand spending an astro second more inside that confinement, even less if all he had to keep him company were his own thoughts, which seemed determined to torture him.

He looked at his body, still marked by some dents, but especially dirtied by mud. In that moment he would have given anything to have his personal cleaning unit, just as he had in his former personal quarters, but all signals pointed that the time for obsolete luxuries was over for a once proud member of the Decepticon Aerial Elite.

He entered his security code and the door opened silently. The corridor outside was still half dark, barely illuminated by the weak emergency lamps that were on the ceiling.

He had seen very little of the real inner distribution of The Ark, so he decided to follow his instincts. Logic indicated that there had to be a cleaning unit close to the personal quarters area, and it would have to be on the opposite side of the Command Center because, as was the case with the humans, a cleaning session was something intimate for a Cybertronian.

He had walked some corridors when he suspected with contempt that he was lost. The Autobot base was more tangled than he had thought, and the inner diagram he was elaborating as he walked through it showed many practical incongruities. It was obvious that that huge space ship of orange walls hadn't been built with military purposes in mind; it wasn't a habitat made for soldiers.

Distracted by those thoughts, he didn't notice the presence approaching from an adjacent hall until he crashed against one mechanoid, smaller than him. Bumblebee, the weakest Autobot according to the Decepticon data banks, but also one of the sneakiest.

Instinct made Thundercracker raise his weapons, but he lowered them almost immediately. You are expected to have a respectful and cooperative attitude, Optimus Prime had said, and Thundercracker would honour those words. Not activating his shoulder-mounted incendiary guns was not the hard part; what followed was.

"I apologize," he brusquely said. His voice sounded rougher and more aggressive than he would have wanted.

"I… it's ok…." Bumblebee replied, obviously as surprised as Thundercracker by the random encounter.

The unavoidable moment of uncomfortable silences happened next. It was the first time that Thundercracker had an Autobot in front of him outside the battlefield. The old Decepticon code beat hard inside of him, trying to force him to see an enemy before him, small, weak, defenseless and lonely… It would certainly cost him a huge effort to eradicate such well established instincts.

"Do you have problems recharging too, Thundercracker? I have them all the time. I like to walk alone during the night cycle, just to think."

It wasn't his attempt to engage in conversation, but the expression on the Autobot's features that amazed Thundercracker. There wasn't rejection on that face, not even contempt… even less hate; just some sort of foolish kindness.

"Eh…" Bumblebee continued, "Prowl told me you and I are neighbors now. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to knock my door, as humans say."

And now a smile. That was too much. An Autobot smiling at him? Thundercracker had thought he was ready for all those differences he certainly would find during his new phase as a deserter, but obviously he was wrong.

"The cleaning area," he said brusquely.

"What?"

"The cleaning area," Thundercracker repeated. "Where is it?"

"Corridor 6-A, at the end," Bumblebee said, pointing with his finger toward his right.

Thundercracker said no more and headed toward that direction, but he stopped after four steps. Respectful attitude… That meant having to pronounce some forbidden words.

"Thank you," he said dryly, and resumed his walk. He didn't wait to see the Autobot's reaction. It would have been too embarrassing, almost as much as having thanked one of those he had called an enemy just some breems ago.

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The common cleaning unit of the Autobot base had no peculiarities. It was nothing more than a big esplanade with many sprinklers on the ceiling. There were some half filled lubricant cans scattered over the place, and that was it. Very different from his own private cleaning unit, in which he had had the biggest luxury of all: privacy. But at least the place was empty, and if he wanted it to remain that way he had to hurry. It would have been very embarrassing to be found washing himself.

He walked toward the farthest sprinkler and activated it. A warm and relaxing liquid fell generously over his body. The contact with the pleasant substance started to tranquilize him. Thundercracker dimmed his optics as he placed both hands on the wall and leaned his head between them.

He felt the dirtiness abandoning his structure. He would have liked for his worries to vanish that way too, as diluted mud between his feet. But that had proven to be a difficult dust to get rid of. Once again he would have liked to be more superficial, to not think too much…

Despite his need to hurry the cleaning process, the Seeker gave up to the warm hug of the different solvents that caressed him, forgetting that time was a unit that never stopped running.

He didn't hear the footsteps, neither did he feel the invading presence. When the voice of the newcomer resounded in his audio sensors, it was already too late to pretend.

The nightmare had begun, officially.

To be continued.

Another flashback, yes. As I said, I won't abuse of this resource but a couple of them more will be needed to specify some things about Thundercracker's past.

The power chip rectifier appeared on the G1 episode "Heavy metal war". It was the device that allowed the Transformers to perform their special abilities. For this story, I'm considering these chips as something much more exclusive, a special device that just a few selected had, which allowed them to increase the special abilities they were created with.

Thank you very much for all your support and comments, please keep them coming. Big hugs to my sis iratepirate for beta reading.