Fallout
"Stars"
by Nan00k

Barns contemplates the heavens and his place among them. Thundercracker and Bluestreak offer some advice. Existentialism at midnight! So poetic.

School is being a real bummer so hopefully I can keep this weekly update thing happening. Apologies if I start to slow down, but I think I'm making good progress so far.

Chronologically, this is happening any time before "Eyes," really, so the mechs still have different optic colors.

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Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.
Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

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Southern Europe
2051

They went to bed approximately an hour and half after dinner. It wasn't a planned thing, but the routine had just sort of evolved over time. The humans slept together near the fire or on really cold nights, inside a transformed mech. The Transformers themselves would recharge in their vehicle modes to conserve energy—well, most of them, at least. Barnaby never felt it was fair to always stick the mechs with watch duty., but the humans needed more sleep than the average transformer.

Barns wasn't sure how the Transformers decided who went on watch duty every night. They had two on duty at all times, each pair taking a watch for half the night. Another pair would wake up literally like clockwork and take over.

How they picked who went with who seemed to be well organized… very well organized. Vortex and Bluestreak, for example, were never to be placed together on duty. The same could be said about Arcee and Wildrider. The mix of those particular couples was always volatile and everyone wound up being awake at three in the morning after a typical argument broke out.

The humans were never involved with picking who stayed up, so Barns had no idea who would be on duty that evening in particular. He had a feeling it would be Thundercracker, considering he hadn't remained next to Jazz. Barns forced himself to lay down on his sleeping bag for a while longer, until he was sure the girls were asleep. The Transformers had immediately put themselves into recharge, so Barns stood up without fear of waking any of them.

They had made camp in a quiet, green spot in the higher hills of the land they were traveling through. Barns thought it was Italy or France, not that the actual political designation mattered anymore. He was amazed that the grass was actually green here. Life was returning. It was uplifting and a peaceful place for them to rest at.

Perhaps that's what set it off.

It was not difficult to find the mechs who were on duty—Thundercracker could hide only when it was pitch black out and they were covered by foliage. Tonight, his massive form was unprotected by the trees, considering he was sitting on the outcropping, just a few feet from where the small wooded area stopped. Even in the dark of night, the stars were just bright enough to illuminate his figure against the night sky.

Beside him, Barns could just barely make out the form of Bluestreak. He was easy to identify from behind; those "doorwings" as Danny called them stuck out like a mock smaller version of Thundercracker's massive wings. Seeing them sitting side-by-side was amusing, at least from behind.

Creeping up as quietly as he could, Barns moved to the side. Bluestreak was unusually quiet, but perhaps Thundercracker was just an intimidating conversation partner. Tiny whispers from the smaller mech died off when Barns stepped out behind him. Both mechs froze but upon seeing it was just Barns, both became surprised rather than alarmed.

"Who—oh!" Bluestreak exclaimed, cheerful. He kept his voice lower than normal as he turned to face Barns, who walked up casually to his side. "Barns, what are you doing up? I thought organics needed a lot of sleep."

"I couldn't sleep," Barns replied, smiling wistfully. He sat down on the grass with a quiet groan. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Bluestreak's optics twinkled against the backdrop of night. "That's not good!" the mech said, now worried. "Do you need Wheeljack? I could wake him up for you. It's not normal for you to have a disrupted sleeping pattern, is it? I know back in the caves they had specific sleeping schedules and I couldn't make any noise when the rest of the cave was asleep."

Barns chuckled. "I'm alright, Blue," he replied, smiling softly. "Humans can't just turn off our brains. I have a wandering mind tonight. I'll get to sleep eventually."

"Only if you're lying down," Thundercracker rumbled. He leaned forward, catching the young man's eyes, his own red optics narrowed slightly. "You should lay down anyway. Sleep will come to you."

Shrugging, Barns looked out at the empty field they were overlooking. Tall brown reeds had stood bravely in the breeze that evening, but now, Barns could only see vague outlines of the plants. They were like ghosts, catching the light only once in a rare moment.

But the sky… Barns could see every star. The moon was behind them, but the stars shone brightly enough to make the moon's presence unnecessary. Barns found himself gazing up at the stars, his mind wrapped up in so many different things—doubts, worries, a pessimism he rarely felt himself feel—

He heard Bluestreak shift closer and Barns found himself wondering why he had walked over to the mechs. He didn't want to bother them and he wasn't sure if he could really voice what he was thinking about—his thoughts were far too jumbled to make a coherent conversation out of them.

But the company, as always, was appreciated. The stars were beautiful, but the empty expanse between him and them made the entire world seem far colder and lonelier than it was.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked again, concern bleeding into his every word. Barns smiled, despite his own turbulent feelings.

"I… am thinking of large things. Like the stars. The planets." Barns sat back suddenly, pointing upwards. "Où est votre planète—ah, where is your home, Cybertron?" He wondered if that was the actual name, or just a translation. He was sure that was just a translation.

Obviously, it had occurred to all of the humans to ask about Cybertron. Many of the Transformers spoke fondly of it, those that had been born and raised there before the war. Wildrider and Vortex had been military projects, created off-planet, but Jazz and Wheeljack would regale the whole group with tales of the Academy—a place Barns would have died to get a glimpse of, from the sound of it—and the nightlife of the more vibrant cities. Thundercracker didn't speak much about it, but he talked of Iacon and the wonders of their advanced world. Arcee and Bluestreak were younger and only knew life on Cybertron during the war. Bluestreak's stories of his city-state, Praxus, were sometimes too painful to listen to, however.

His sudden inquiry surprised his companions. "You mean, where in the sky?" Bluestreak asked. Barns nodded.

Thundercracker's engines rumbled softly. "I have no idea what galaxy you'd call it," he said. "Our galaxy is very close to your own galaxy. It's similar in size and proportion. It is moving towards this one gradually, if that helps."

Barns hummed, considering. "…The Andromeda Galaxy?" he ventured. His knowledge of astronomy was sadly lacking.

"Perhaps." Thundercracker sent him a level stare, red eyes burning through the darkness. "You should be asking Wheeljack these kinds of things."

Yes, he should be. But Wheeljack wasn't awake and Barns didn't think it was that important to know. Besides… he preferred this method better. "Where?" he asked at length, pointing at the sky. "Can you point it out?"

Bluestreak tilted his head. "It's not shining, Barns," he said, probably smiling; Barns could barely tell in the dim lighting.

"Just the general direction," Barns said quietly. He stared back at the sky, hoping to find something. He wondered what.

Bluestreak hesitated, before (thankfully) turning back to the sky. "I think it's that way," he said, which struck Barns as comical – such an answer was so completely unbefitting to what he might have expected a robot to say. He laughed. Robots were supposed to be so precise, yet he was continually learning just how human these beings were.

"It's approximately in that direction," Thundercracker added, scowling.

Barns smiled, staring at the vacant black area Bluestreak had pointed. Somewhere, beyond the inky void… another broken world existed. One of metal, one where his friends had once lived in peace.

"What was it like?" he asked quietly, his thoughts running in all directions.

"Cybertron?" Bluestreak asked. He was surprised; this was not a new question and he thought that by now Barns would know the answers by heart. "Well, it's not any different than what we said before. It's a little smaller than Mars—you know, that red planet Wheeljack showed us pictures of before—but it wasn't rock. It was made of metal."

"The Earth is also made of metal," Thundercracker murmured. He was looking up at the sky now, too. "However, our planet had no core and no crust. It was solid metal all the way through, until we developed the mines."

"That's hardly natural," Barns chuckled. He had often wondered how that would work, but then again, he was used to the physics of the Earth. Who knew the real limits of this universe, if one could only see it from one tiny section?

The jet shrugged, the noise of the gesture quite loud. "We do not know how it was formed. Some scientists said that Cybertron was deficient in a variety of elements required to form a rock crust. Others theorized that it was built by another race, the one that made us."

"Which do you think happened?" Barns asked, curious.

"I don't care what happened. I was sparked by Vector Sigma and given life. I lived it there before the war. I lived through the war there and in space. And now I live here, in refuge," Thundercracker said, his voice betraying no feeling. He glanced down at Barns. "That is enough to know."

Barns could relate to that philosophy.

But curiosity would be the death of him, he figured. He laid down on the grass and took in the vast sky. "What were the cities like?" he asked.

"The cities? Well, they were like…cities. You know," Bluestreak replied, peering over at him. "They were way bigger than your own cities, or at least Praxus was. I never really visited anywhere besides there, since that was where I grew up, and then I moved into the military bases." He paused and looked over at Thundercracker, hopeful. "TC, you're older than I am. Did you ever visit Iacon? Or Kaon—though that wasn't really such a nice place, I don't think, to visit."

"It was home for me," Thundercracker replied, deadpan. However, beneath the blank visage, Barns thought he could see a teasing smirk lurking. Perhaps the jet had learned a thing or two about joking around from Jazz.

Bluestreak, apparently immune to the concept of sarcasm and jokes, immediately reacted. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sound—I was just repeating what I heard!" If robots could blush, Bluestreak would have been horribly red. Barns laughed as the hyper mech continued to wail about how sorry he was and how he didn't want to insult Thundercracker's home.

"Forget it," Thundercracker finally said, snapping. He looked away, probably hiding a smirk. "It was a horrible place. All slums. But yes, I visited Iacon. Once, I even went to Praxus."

Barns smiled. "Did you guys have your own form of cars? You know, transportation?" he asked, curious. "Or did you just drive yourselves places?" A car driving a car—that would have been a sight to see, he mused.

Thankfully forgetting his previous social blunder, Bluestreak perked at the question. "Oh, no, we just drove ourselves," he said, cheerful. "My creators would just transform when they were transporting me around places, before I had my transformation cog installed."

"It is not an innate thing?" Barns asked, surprised. He would have thought it to be a natural part of their biology.

"We are born without form, Barns," Thundercracker interjected. "These bodies are not who we are. They are adaptations, shells." He glanced down at himself, his red eyes illuminating his chest. "Our sparks are who we are. Whoever made the first of us gave us this way to protect our sparks, as well as the ability to transform and become fully functional – as we are now. The transformation cogs are just part of the shell. Another defensive mechanism."

"Ah. So the armor and metal forms were added when necessary, not at birth," Barns repeated. Well, that made some sense. He couldn't really bring himself to picture a pregnant robot. Awkward. "But I thought your race came from the All Spark. What is Vector Sigma?"

"A way to tap into the All Spark's power," Thundercracker replied. "Similar to a mainframe computer."

"Yeah, it was a large Transformer, one who wasn't sentient. It would funnel the power from the Cube into protoform shells, making a new Transformer," Bluestreak added. He sounded wistful. "Without the All Spark now, it's useless."

Barns frowned. "You were one of the last generations to be born, I imagine." He himself was a member of the post-attack population, if one only considered the Decepticons as the attackers. He was smack-dab in the middle of the drone infestation, unfortunately.

Bluestreak paused—for just a moment too long. "Yes."

Too close, too close…! "Do the parents—creators, sorry—pick out which protoform they get?" Barns asked quickly, trying to step over his mistake. Some questions were just too close to ask some people. "Or is it at random?"

A curious look crossed over the mech's face, much to Barns' relief. "They pick the shell, of course," Bluestreak began, sounding confused, "but no one knows what kind of spark a mech or femme will have."

"And gender comes later?" Barns asked, trying to remember what Wheeljack had said about the differences between mechs and femmes. It got confusing at some points, but he could at least pretend he understood.

"Yes," Bluestreak replied, becoming cheerful once again, now that he could share more of his culture with the human. "After they show a decent display of personality. They get a name then, too."

Barns choked on a laugh. "You don't get names at birth?" he exclaimed, laughing. What did they call their children then, before they did?

Neither Bluestreak nor Thundercracker seemed to understand why he was laughing. "Of course not," Bluestreak said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "How would they know what to name them if they didn't have personalities yet?" Barns chuckled. "We have state designations. You know, serial numbers. The new name is a personal one, you know?"

It did make sense, to a degree. In fact, it was almost logical to keep the names to a bare basic until they could give the sparkling a name that fit it specifically. "…Huh. That's… interesting," Barns said at length, nodding slowly. "Human names mean things too, but the parents pick them out at birth, before the meanings can really be applied to the infant. Or sometimes in hope that they will apply to the child."

"What does Barnaby mean?" Bluestreak asked, instantly curious.

Hmm. "Ah, I'm not sure." Barns scrunched his face in concentration, the stars disappearing into vague blurs of light as he did so. "I think my grand-mère once said it meant, 'son of encouragement.'"

Bluestreak just stared at him, uncomprehending. "…But you're not the son of someone called Encouragement, are you?"

"Ha, no, Blue. You see what I mean?" Barns asked, grinning at him. Humans did get the short of the end of the naming stick, it seemed; at least the mechs had names that suited them. He rolled back and folded his hands underneath his head. "Thanks, by the way. For listening to all of my questions."

Bluestreak rumbled in amusement. "It's okay! But, are you okay? You seem kinda down." The mech leaned forward, optics wider. "What brought all this on?"

Barns opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know quite what to say. Thundercracker was looking at him curiously now, too, both mechs waiting for an answer.

"I…" Barns began. Some ill fluttered in his stomach and he forced his gaze back toward the sky. "There are so many stars, Blue. Look." He held a hand out, letting his arm balance towards the black abyss. "It's hard to imagine we are part of the same sky." Cybertron and Earth… so different, and yet, very, very similar. It was boggling to realize that they had existed almost side-by-side for so long and no one knew.

His philosophical commentary fell on uncomprehending audio receptors, it seemed. "We are, though," Bluestreak replied, smiling brightly. "We're all part of the same universe. Now we're on the same planet!"

Barns stared upward and felt the loneliness in his heart increase. There were so many worlds, stars, places—but they were trapped here. On Earth.

"…Humanity won't recover from this, will it?" he asked quietly, the words escaping him before he had any time to think.

He heard the mechanical sounds of both Thundercracker and Bluestreak going physically still and then looking down at him with new attentiveness. Barns smiled gently and looked back at them.

"What do you mean?" Bluestreak blurted out, optics shining brighter than they had before.

Barns sighed gustily. "Oh… this," he said, motioning vaguely out at the landscape around them. "It was only a matter of time before something caused my species' end. Earth may survive, but I have doubts about humans. We… we will probably not see the end of this upcoming century."

The refugee camps were becoming fewer and fewer in between. The populations within the remaining ones were dropping.

Humanity had a countdown now. Barns didn't know why he wasn't as terrified as he should have been.

Thundercracker's engines made a loud rumbling noise. "Humanity's only been on this planet for a few hundred thousand years," he said bluntly. "That's nothing."

"Yes, but how long did your kind have before your war?" Barns asked, tilting his head. "You live much longer lives, thus having smaller populations. Despite being millions of years old, your population is probably on par with humanity's timeline, I think."

Bluestreak squirmed, or at least did the mech version of uncomfortably moving in his seat. "Maybe, but why are you talking about this?" he asked, sounding pained. "It's… not pleasant."

"I don't know." Barns closed his eyes, feeling out of control. "It's been on my mind. I can't stop thinking…"

He stopped himself, afraid to hear his own concerns. He tried to be the positive one. It was so easy to fall into despair and doubt. Every day—every day there was another reminder that life was short and that they could very easily lose their life—or each other.

Barns thought he handled it well, perhaps better than the other humans, but today… today, he was not so lucky.

"About what?" Bluestreak asked, breaking into his thoughts.

The innocent, unintentionally abrasive question broke down Barns' resolve to keep his thoughts hidden. Those treacherous thoughts became words—and suddenly, Barns couldn't stop himself.

"What is the point?" he heard himself ask. Since when did he speak so quickly—or so emotionally? "We are here, we are born, and we are going to die. If there is a God, why am I here? What was the purpose? I can no longer preach His word if there are no listeners to hear it." Because that's what believers did, even if there were so few things left to believe in. He hadn't heard a Bible passage since his grandparents died—he had not seen the inside of a Catholic church for even longer.

He sat up, motioning out at the vast emptiness of the land, where nothing that mattered lived anymore. "There are no more cities to build, no temples to construct. Society has shrunk down to camps and scattered shelters. If we had a purpose, why have we been pushed to the brink like this? I believe miracles can happen—but we need more than a miracle now.

"Our time is up. All species end eventually. Our time has come sooner than we had expected—but who expects such things?" Barns laughed, the sound tinged with the hysteria building in his gut. He couldn't stop himself now. "I am alive, but perhaps, if I have any, my children will face a smaller population. And the generations after that will become smaller and smaller… until the Earth is bare and empty of human life."

Barns inhaled, gripping his arms. He had to calm down. He shouldn't have been throwing all of that out, not at Bluestreak, or anyone, really. Doubts were normal, but freaking out did nothing. Still… "Be it the drones, the environment… the end will be the same regardless," he said quietly, dipping his head to stare between his knees.

Silence fell over the three. Barns closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He really shouldn't have said those things. But he couldn't help it.

"…Those are heavy thoughts to think of when you should be asleep," Thundercracker finally said lowly. Barns looked over at him and saw the jet was giving him a guarded look.

Chuckling, Barns rubbed his arms—and the goosebumps that had appeared during his panic. "Hence the reason I am not asleep, TC," he said mirthlessly. "I am not bitter or afraid, because I know that I will be dead and buried when this all happens."

That was the truth. None of them in good conscience would try to lie to the others, even to make themselves feel better. They all knew the dangers, and ultimately, their fate. Barns smiled to himself; now he knew why they focused on their day to day problems. Thinking of the far future was terribly depressing.

Unfortunately, Bluestreak was last person to be able to honestly talk to about that far future. "Please… don't talk like that," he said, a faint mechanical whine somewhere in his voice. "I don't want to think about it." If he were a dog, the mech would have been cowering with his tail between his legs.

That image certainly sobered Barns. "I… je suis désolé, Bluestreak. I did not mean to upset you," he said, meaning it. He felt bad about upsetting the sensitive mech. He laughed, looking away awkwardly. "I used to be jealous of you, you know. You guys have very long lives, probably because of what you said, that your physical shell is replaceable and not your true self, while these organic bodies are all we humans have. But…" He smiled at the ground. "Perhaps I am the one who lucked out. I will not have to see the end." Glancing over, he met Bluestreak and Thundercracker's optics. "I'm sorry for that."

He did not want to see any of his friends die. He was used to death, but only the concept. To lose people, to lose friends, family even—it was worse than the threat of losing his own life.

Bluestreak still looked upset and withdrawn. Thundercracker rumbled lowly. "You shouldn't be concerning yourself over this," he said at great length. He shrugged. "Death happens. Populations die out." Red optics pierced Barns' organic eyes. "Now is what is important, not tomorrow. Forget about it."

Smiling softly, Barns nodded. "Yes. That sounds like the best option."

Perhaps tonight had been unavoidable. Everyone had their moments to react to their situation. Barns wondered why it had taken so long for him—and why it had happened now. There was no point in wondering; there probably wasn't an answer, not a good one.

He just had to go with it.

"Besides…" Bluestreak began, his voice stronger. He smiled nervously. "I've seen how you humans grow and adapt! You guys are really tough, so who knows what will happen in the future?"

"You think?" Barns asked, tilting his head.

Bluestreak beamed, his eyes like candles in a dark room. "I hope so."

"Ha… " Barns smiled back at him, feeling just slightly lighter. "I do, too." How could anyone wish for anything else?

Thundercracker moved his legs, the sound loud and mechanical. "You should get to bed," he said. He was so good at hiding his emotions; he spoke only when needed, but it was always enough to get the message across. "You'll slow us down if you're dead on your feet tomorrow."

Nerves worn and body exhausted, Barns had to agree. It wouldn't do for him to be too tired to get up the next day. They had to move quickly. That was just the way it was. "Right, right…" Barns got up and turned, smiling at his friends. "Thank you. Both of you. I… don't know why I've been thinking like this recently."

Bluestreak reached down and patted Barns on the arm, comforting. Thundercracker glanced at him.

"Hold on to it. Hold onto Earth. Don't let go of it so easily," the jet said. Perhaps it was the exhaustion playing with Barns' hearing, but Thundercracker sounded more distant than usual. "When we lost the All Spark, we lost Cybertron, because there was no hope. Maybe… we should have had more hope than we did. Perhaps we could have found a way to fix things. But we didn't." He turned away, looking at the sky. "It was all we had, just as Earth is your legacy. Keep it."

Perhaps humanity had lost supremacy over Earth, but at least they were still on the planet. Barns smiled sadly.

"You still have a home, Thundercracker. You have a home with us," he said, meaning every word. "We all have lost our previous ones, but we have one here now. After all, the human saying is, 'home is where the heart is.'" He paused and then smiled sheepishly. "Ah… or Spark."

Thundercracker and Bluestreak stared at him, surprised. Bluestreak recovered first, smiling happily. "Thank you," he said. "Do not worry over things out of all of our control. We are alive, Barns. Focus on that and only that." He leaned down, poking the man in the chest. "It's what matters most."

Chuckling, Barns nodded. "You're right." He waved at the two, walking back to the sleeping group. "Good night, both of you."

Thundercracker rumbled and Bluestreak replied fondly, "Good night."

His blankets were cold when he finally got back to the campfire, the flames dying down slowly. Barns put more firewood onto the embers, sending sparks dancing upward in the air. Barns watched them fly higher, blending in perfectly with the night sky.

Smiling, he curled back next to Danny, his hand finding hers, and he gazed upwards, knowing he was surrounded by family.

It would never be over—the running, the fighting, the violence—

But neither would this.

Barns was content to live with that.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep.

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Stars end.

Next: The mechs make a new friend! This is not a good thing.

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