Chapter 14: The Sky is the Limit
Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers. They are a product of Hasbro and their affiliated companies. The only characters I own are my previously mentioned OC's. No profit is made from this fanfiction. It is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Note: Like with my last chapter, this one too, has been revised by my beta reader, KayDeeBlu. Thanks for all your help and guidance Kay. You've been a great help, and I gladly consider you one of my online friends. :) I also apologize for the wait; this would have been uploaded a good 24 hours before now, except Doc Manager decided it didn't want to work.
Without further ado, we return to the story.
"Skywarp!" Starscream shouted.
Thundercracker chimed in through the trine's link. "Skywarp, you've got to teleport!"
"Why isn't he answering?" Starscream pondered aloud.
The Elite circled the energy emission dangerously close. The green waves lapped the fleet in every direction. They struggled to stay airborne, their turbines whining in effort, but it was in vain.
"Decepticon Elite, prepare to land!" Starscream ordered, as he and Thundercracker led them to safety through the savage winds. Debris was flying around more precariously now, large branches and slabs of aluminum cutting through the air like so many knives. The Air Commander only had to guess where the the metal siding had come from.
I guess it is reasonable to assume the cloning facility no longer stands. He mused, blasting detritus out of his line of vision with laser fire. On his other side, Thundercracker was doing the same, ensuring that none of the larger, more harmful pieces would hit them, or the Elite recruits. If not for their thousands of vorns of flight longevity, their descent toward the ground unscathed would be impossible. As it was, they were lucky the cross winds hadn't resolved in them crashing into one another.
"What about Commander Skywarp?" Mach Three queried, transforming as he landed.
"He's not responding." Thundercracker answered, his optics locked on the ebony seeker as he began to plummet toward the ground.
C'mon Skywarp, you can't quit on us, now… He silently begged.
Slicer followed his superior's gaze. "What if he's been knocked out?"
Thundercracker ran forward. "We've got to help him!" Just as he was about to transform, a steady blue hand caught him by the wing mid-stride.
"No, TC. If we go out there, we'll be destroyed. What good can we do for him, then?" Starscream pointed out, his optics locking on the other's pained expression.
"Well we can't just stand here and do nothing!" Thundercracker argued, baring his dentals in agitation.
Before either of them could argue further, Warp-Clone 1 jumped into the air, transforming as he did. His thrusters roared to life, and with a loud pop! he teleported, leaving the rest of the Elite to gape in horror.
Warp-Clone 1 arrived just in time, catching Skywarp by one of his ankles just before he hit the ground. The emerald waves of energy were dissipating, the rising magma receding back to the earth's core. As it went, it sealed up the fissures that had formed, the ground becoming stable once again.
Warp-Clone 1 teleported back to where the Elite stood, still transfixed by what they had witnessed. He gingerly lowered the still unconscious Skywarp onto the soft earth, and landed, reverting to his bipedal mode.
"You…saved him." Thundercracker said, his optics wide with astonishment.
"How…could I…not? I was…created from…him." Warp-Clone replied. "I wish…to…put my existence…to good…use, as he…has."
"Well, you have accomplished that perfectly." Starscream said, his tone carrying gratitude.
He turned his attention to Skywarp, the teleport lying half on his front, his legs twisted slightly to the side. The Air Commander decided it was time to attempt a wake-up call, and knelt next to his wing-mate.
Good thing it's a fairly simple procedure. He mused, opening the panel that ran adjacent to Skywarp's cockpit. He gave it a cursory glance, and began reconnecting wires that had come loose during the teleport's mission. He noted there wasn't a great level of damage, and was relieved. Retracting his hand, a small soldering tool took its place, and he began to weld the few minor breakages that had occurred in some of the gyros.
Satisfied with the results a low-level jolt was sent into Skywarp's spark, the panel being closed afterward. Skywarp's optics came online, the rest of him following with a groan. "What happened?" He rubbed his helm, looking around. His vision began to clear, and he was able to see his wing-mates and their Elite recruits, their faces a mixture of uneasiness and relief.
Thundercracker helped him up, explaining as he did so. "Your mission was a success. The Weather Inhibitor counteracted the effect of the Apocalypse Cannon."
"Yes, you did quite well." Starscream added, clapping a hand on Skywarp's back. "The blast packed quite a punch though. It rendered you temporarily offline. Your clone rescued you."
Skywarp turned to face the colour-inverted version of himself, a grin spreading across his faceplates. "You saved me, eh? Thanks."
He gripped the clone's hand appreciatively, the other returning his quirky smile. "No thanks…necessary."
"How did you do it?" Skywarp pondered, the rest of the Elite going into fits of laughter.
"Oh, didn't you know, sir?" Rapidfire chuckled. "He can teleport, just like you!"
Thundercracker playfully smacked the side of Skywarp's helm, guffawing as he did. "Now, what was it you said about us being dense?"
~Several Days Later~
After the success of counteracting the Apocalypse Cannon's affects, a temporary truce was put in place, so that each faction could focus on their own versions of rest and relaxation.
The Decepticons returned to the Nemesis, presumably to lick their wounds and concoct more diabolical schemes.
The Autobots, on the other hand, expended all their efforts into revitalisation projects. Most of the Amazon Rainforest had been razed, so they set to work on planting more of the indigenous plant life that had once been so abundant there. They helped build safe houses for humans until their own homes had been repaired, and did all that they could to aid the wild life, most of which revolved around relocating them, if only temporarily.
Other regions around the world, too, had been affected. It was most fortunate that the Autobots had muscle to spare. What they couldn't return to its natural state, they left to time. If not for Perceptor's Acceleration Ray, the plant life would take decades, maybe even centuries to reach its former state. The device, most fortunately, could grow saplings as thick as Optimus Prime himself, within a month.
The Decepticon Elite, having lost the cloning facility that they had used as a base of operations, constructed new headquarters along the Canadian border, on the very edge of Ontario, just on the outskirts of Niagara Falls. This put just enough distance between them and the other two factions, and the climate was temperate.
Though their new base was nowhere near as large as the cloning facility, it was more than enough to accommodate them.
From its entrance, a short corridor led to a large, heavily fortified elevator. This elevator descended underground three levels. The first level housed (from front to back) a recreational room, complete with a modest energon bar, communications console/GPS and map database, and television broadcast centre. There were stools and tables in various places around the large, open-concept room, along with large, comfortable sofas, made of the most pliable alloys and a substance that could only be defined as memory foam, though it was far more superior.
The second level held the sparring room, which was down the left of a long corridor, littered with practice weapons and landing mats. A few doors up from this was the battle simulator, a large room with a high ceiling. Large constructs of metal jutted out from the floor, spaced haphazardly to provide cover. It also contained a holographic projector, which created enemies-some of which were actual scans of Decepticons or Autobots, whereas others were created from scratch-for the Elite recruits to practice against.
On the same level, down to the far end of the right corridor, was the medical wing, where Stinger had been transported after the construction of the base had been completed.
Despite his great dislike for the Autobots, Starscream had to admit, they had taken care of Stinger quite well.
The Air Commander had just finished checking up on the recruit, and boarded the elevator. He waited patiently as it made its descent, not even lurching as it picked up speed.
When the elevator stopped and the doors hissed open, Starscream's audios were disrupted by the sounds of a scuffle.
He rolled his optics. A wry grin twitched at the corner of his mouth as he strode out of the elevator. Given that this was where the Elite's private quarters were kept, he wasn't surprised one iota.
From the third door down on the left, he could hear a scattering of thumps, accompanied by raucous laughter and shouting. This was followed by the sounds of furniture being overturned, the resounding crash giving way to yelps of surprise.
Ah, so they're at it, again. He mused. He didn't bother to stop at the third door, however, and continued to his own, further down on the right. It wasn't uncommon to hear Slicer and Rapidfire rough-housing in their room; they were brothers, after all, not much different from the trine themselves, and no actual harm came from their wrestling matches.
Starscream stopped in front of his door and pressed the door lock, which opened with a whoosh of air. He stepped inside, and made his way over to his berth. He shared a room with Thundercracker and Skywarp, just as he had in their days aboard the Nemesis. The only difference was, the room was comfortably large, with sections to allow each of them privacy. Familiarity bred contempt, after all, and there had already been enough of that under Megatron's command.
The week had been long, so it didn't surprise the Air Commander to see both of his wing-mates already on their berths, deep in recharge.
He made his way to his own berth, which sat in the far left corner between Skywarp and Thundercracker. Since Seeker's didn't care much for low ceilings, there was plenty of room on either side of the each berth complete with full height dividing walls.
Along the same wall as the recharge berths was the decontamination shower, sectioned off by a frosted wall. Continuing down the right of the room was a small television broadcast console, along with a low table and a small couch. A mini fridge sat in the far corner, and the rest of the room was dedicated to shelves, in which Starscream's scientific findings were labelled on data pads.
A few of these belonged to Skywarp, concerning building schematics, power sources and maps, since these went well with his particular talents. Only the odd data pad belonged to Thundercracker, but that was fine by the cerulean seeker; owning less meant he wasn't tied down by material possessions.
After casting a cursory glance around the room to make sure everything was still in order, Starscream exhaled a weary sigh and lay down, slipping into the first peaceful recharge he'd had in vorns.
The next day was dedicated to working on the four clone members of the Elite. It had been decided they would be given new designations; this also encompassed personality/central processor modification, and new paint jobs.
"T-Clone 3, you're up first." Skywarp called, leading the vibrant pink seeker into the med bay. He lay on the available berth, where Starscream began the necessary procedure to individualize the clone.
Shortly after they had returned Earth to its natural state, Starscream had sent Thundercracker to Cybertron. Rather than stealing personality components of defective Decepticons-as Starscream had done, creating the Bruticus incident-Thundercracker managed to salvage personality components of neutral Cybertronians, whom had been abandoned at the height of the war.
Starscream tweaked the components slightly, erasing the memories of the mechs they had belonged to, allowing the clones to retain their own memories. T-Clone 3 was in a light stasis, which allowed Starscream to work efficiently, rerouting the neural pathways into the new components, wiring them to the central cortex. He worked delicately, his nimble fingers never faltering in their task. Once he was done, he ran a diagnostic scan, checking that everything was running smoothly.
A few kliks later, T-Clone 3 came back online. Skywarp helped the mech on to his feet and led over to where Thundercracker stood. The blue Seeker waited at the far end of the med bay, ready to put on the finishing touches, paint and spray nozzle in hand, his face holding a slight relieved smile.
Finally, I won't have to endure anymore jokes about him being pink!
T-Clone 3 stepped forward, allowing the cobalt seeker to start his own delicate work. He started painting around the seams of the armour, the clone jolting slightly from the slightly ticklish sensation. He relaxed soon after, allowing Thundercracker to finish his limbs, and going on to his wings. The paint felt comfortably cool, the clone closing his optics and letting out a sigh.
Once Thundercracker was done, T-Clone 3 no longer resembled the pink seeker he'd once been. His main colour was a deep green, accented with yellow and black stripes running perpendicular on his wings. From the forearm down to his hands were black, his toe plates the same, with yellow on his knees, chest and shoulder vents. His cockpit had become translucent silver, finishing the physical modification from clone to individual seeker.
Thundercracker arched an optic ridge. A quirk of a smile was on his lips. "Well, now that your paint job is done, what is your designation?"
"My name is Cloudstrike," the former clone said boldly, his voice a deep baritone, "for in battle, I shall emerge from the clouds, and strike fear into our enemies' sparks!"
Thundercracker chuckled. "Welcome aboard, Cloudstrike. You are to be chief of your unit, once their maintenance is complete."
"I am honoured, sir!"
And so it continued with each clone, Cloudstrike soon joined by the others. In T-Clone 2's place stood Solar Eclipse, who remained teal, but had gold and royal blue striping; the gold also was along his chest, knee joints, and vents, the royal blue on his hands and toe plates.
Where Warp-Clone 1 would have stood was Espionage, now almost entirely black, except for red and blue striping. Last, but not least, was Super Nova-formerly S-Clone 2. He was turquoise, with white and silver accenting him much the way his fellow seekers paintjobs were coordinated.
All, like Cloudstrike, bore silver cockpits, their faces white with black helms, resembling two of the three seekers that had created them (for Starscream's face was several shades darker).
Once they were all assembled, Starscream briefed the foursome, Skywarp and Thundercracker on either side of him, waiting patiently.
"As you have no doubt been informed by Commander Thundercracker, you now form a squadron within the Elite faction."
Each one of them nodded in response, the Air Commander continuing on. "Cloudstrike, you are to be leader of your squadron, code-named Night Assassins."
This was met with cheering, each former clone eager to prove their mettle.
Skywarp stepped forward, taking over. "As you might've guessed by the name, your missions will be executed at night."
"What is our first mission, Commander Skywarp?" Espionage asked eagerly, bouncing on his thrusters in anticipation.
"I'm glad you asked." Skywarp chuckled, putting a steadying hand on the other's shoulder. "The time has come for us to prove the strength of the Decepticon Elite."
"Yes," Starscream picked up the thread again, "it is time to prove that we, not Megatron, are the true Decepticons! We shall take our place in Decepticon hierarchy, and be unstoppable!"
He cackled then, the rest following with hearty laughter and cheering. Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanged an amused look, and chuckled to themselves.
"If I didn't know any better," Thundercracker murmured, "I'd think Starscream has completely lost it."
"Heh. What else is new?" Skywarp shrugged.