(c) Hasbro/Takara
This chapter became more exposition heavy then I'd originally intended, but I tried to wrap it up in such a way that moved it forward. From here on out, I've gotten most of the background exposition out of the way and I've tried to separate it out in spaces to not dump it all in one spot. In the future, there will be very little background descriptions.
With this chapter I've taken a lot of liberties in explaining Cybertron and the dynamic between the Autobots and the Decepticons, a lot of which has been pulled from the lore of Transformers Animated. For the most part, my characterizations and the world I'm creating falls into that realm, or at least, what I've intended. I've also added a lot of stuff from my own imagination, so be warned, this is entirely just one person's interpretation.
And this is a long chapter. Have some coffee ready.
The time had passed easily since making it back out onto the road, and it was the first time in a while that Wheeljack's topic of conversation didn't pertain to their current situation. He was beginning to sound more like his old self, which was a much needed comfort. Allison decided she liked Wheeljack best when he was in silly mode, for those were also the times that he was the most forthcoming. There was definitely a different overall feeling of relief, as if the conversation they'd shared earlier about their emotional states had lifted some kind of symbolic weight that had hung over them. It had stifled their interaction, pushing them in the direction of polite evasion of anything personal.
Of course, Wheeljack had never treated her as anything other than a friend, but he certainly seemed more comfortable sharing more personal musings with her about himself than he had before. Allison had always felt a little disconcerted with the amount of personal information pertaining to her that Wheeljack seemed to be in possession of, all while carefully guarding his own secrets. It created a decidedly uneven balance of trust that she found a little bit uncomfortable. All that had apparently changed after goading him to splurge his feelings to her, finally, and it had only opened the floodgates to more personal discourse. It was all on the basis of friendship of course, and Allison trusted that she'd never have to worry about fending off any romantic advances of a 30 foot tall robot, which would have been odd.
For a while the two spoke about mostly inconsequential things. Wheeljack had taken to browsing the radio stations, an activity he had only briefly had the chance to experiment with while busy stalking her, and every once in a while he would inquire about the particular song he stopped at. Most of them were current pop songs, and some weren't always literal and used verbal symbolism that was beyond Wheeljack's immediate, alien comprehension. Wheeljack interpreted things very literally, as Allison came to understand, so she found herself explaining the different terminologies used and what the artists were trying to say. Some were more embarrassing than others, others were simply alien in concept. Trying to describe a weepy ballad was not the same as trying to describe the lyrics of an obscene hip-hop song to an extraterrestrial robot. Wheeljack wasn't totally clueless as to certain biological functions, and the concept of romance appeared to be familiar, but humans had their own, entirely unique way of dealing with these matters that Allison was curious to find were more universal than she had thought.
Inevitably Wheeljack got bored with channel hopping, and ended up silencing the radio after Allison had cleared her throat, expecting the question that was obviously to come. Allison realized that there was still a lot about Wheeljack's past that she didn't know; maybe now was the best time to ask certain questions since he seemed to be in a generously talkative mood. Her most prominent curiosity came from simply wanting to see his face uncovered, despite knowing that it was obviously something that he didn't want to show. If he was modest enough to hide his face even from other Autobots, comrades he'd known for generations, he probably wasn't to the level of comfort yet that would grant Allison such an opportunity. She wasn't even sure why she was fascinated with such a romanticism, like seeing his face was some kind of dramatic crescendo to their friendship and it would finally mean that Wheeljack had dropped all his personal barriers of pride. After all, it wasn't like she had any expectations, except from seeing Ratchet, who's face was clearly open. She'd never seen Ratchet deploy a battle mask whenever he'd been a part of a scuffle, so all she had were assumptions he had one at all.
All the subtle nuances and hints of emotion when he spoke were clearly there, despite having a face made entirely of metal. In fact, for all his blustering and self-proclaimed haughtiness, the old Autobot was an open book when it came to displaying emotion. Maybe it was more of an age thing, but in any case it only made her slightly wistful to actually see the emotion on Wheeljack's face. Until now, the only real clues she had were hints from his eyes. She didn't want to pressure him, however. If Wheeljack ever intended to tell her all about it, he'd do it when he was ready. It wasn't exactly the sort of question you asked someone. Some scars ran deeper than others.
Still, there were other things she wanted to know.
"What did you do before the war began?" she ventured curiously. Wheeljack had only spoken briefly before, mostly in passing, of things he'd done in the past, but he'd never elaborated on what his actual job had been. Allison was assuming they had "jobs" on Cybertron, and that whatever Wheeljack's had been, he had probably been really good at it.
"An interesting question, though my job was hardly what you might call dazzling. Incredibly exciting and scientifically interesting, if you're interested in that sort of thing. In fact I remember the great Alpha Trion once said to me that..." He must have noticed the straight smile on Allison's face, one that she couldn't quell when Wheeljack was derailing his own train of thought. "Actually, ah, I spent most of my time researching more efficient ways to produce and distribute Energon throughout Iacon's main power grid." Wheeljack fumbled back into place. There were more words that followed, but the more crucial parts of his dialog were completely lost to Allison's limited understanding of robotic alien techno-smithing. Eventually Wheeljack noted the lost look on her face. "It's occurred to me just this moment that I've never told you what Energon is."
"Nope."
"Energon is... well... It's many things Allison. It is our main power and fuel source. It's a chemical of a very complicated nature, but very rich in the chemical bonds that can be broken to release energy. We've been able to reproduce it on Earth, but it's a much more complicated, and slow-moving process… one of the many things that started the war…" he mumbled scornfully, trailing his words out to eventual silence. He seemed to be thinking. "This is something that I believe is familiar to your species."
"Oh you have no idea," Allison said, grimly. She rested her chin in her hand to stare out the window. Outside it was the same endless expanses of grass that had rolled by when she was Ratchet's passenger, and it was just as dull as it was before. Watching the same scenery go by sparked up memories of Ratchet the day before, and with a start, she found herself actually missing the miserable old man. Thinking fondly of the brief, but fulfilling conversation they'd shared earlier about something as mundane as cows, it made her heart sink just a little wondering what he was doing all alone.
With a great sigh, Allison tried to shove those thoughts aside, and instead focus on her current conversation with Wheeljack. She hoped that if anything, Ratchet wasn't mad at her.
"Except we fight over something we can't seem to replace…" she said with just a little disdain.
"Indeed," Wheeljack said knowingly. "I know you might be thinking why haven't we shared this knowledge with you… after all, Energon burns as clean as water, and it does not take a lot of resources to produce. Actually, by manipulating water we were able to engineer the new chemical structure quite easily, but it takes a long time to produce, and it's not so simple to just give it away and expect all the world's problems to be easily solved. There's a lot of politics involved, something I've found quite frustrating, and it would be a very large, difficult cultural shift for the entire world," Wheeljack said profoundly, and despite it being a miserable prospect, Allison knew his words were true. Something like that would indeed take a great deal of thought. "Of course your government is aware of us. Prime has been working with them very closely through our human liason, but as for what I cannot say…" Wheeljack seemed to sigh, engine rumbling softly. Truthfully the prospect of their shared technology had never actually crossed Allison's mind, but she was grateful that he'd been concerned enough over the state of the world for it to cross his.
"That's okay, I'd assume you can't share top secret things with me anyway," she said, watching a field of mournfully spinning windmills go by. Wheeljack grumbled.
"No, I mean I don't actually know. Like I said, Prime doesn't always share everything with us. He has a lot of things going on, and generally we have our own business to attend to… it's very unorganized sometimes… but oh, we don't even know if Energon would actually work with your technology. I've tested it as a power source for various human devices, usually with rather dramatic results…" Wheeljack was babbling, again, and Allison rolled her eyes with only and inkling of what these dramatic results actually were.
"And those are?" she said, tapping the dashboard knowingly. He rumbled pleasantly, knowing he was being teased.
"Only small amounts of destruction," he countered defensively. "The first was what you humans call a television. That really didn't work, and glass ended up everywhere making quite a mess. A few other various appliances, then I tried a small sport utility vehicle-"
"That's hardly small!" Allison blurted, trying to imagine how that would work.
"Well it didn't so much as blow up, but it was more like an extravagant melting process… That made a little bit of a mess too. Ratchet wasn't entirely pleased seeing as I'd decided to test it in his infirmary…" Allison couldn't remember ever seeing a car actually melt, and wasn't even aware such a feat was possible. But as exciting as that sounded she wasn't sure she actually wanted to. "The point I'm trying to make to you Allison, is that I've been trying… and while Energon works to keep us alive, much like your own blood does, I'm not yet certain that it will be of any use to your planet."
"Its alright, we've been trying to solve that puzzle for years Wheeljack." Allison cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. "What did you do during the war? I mean...Did you fight?" What she knew she meant was, did you kill anyone? But that wasn't an easy question to ask, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. Wheeljack was silent for a few moments, which made Allison think she'd crossed the line. She was about to try and change the subject again, to anything, but before she could Wheeljack finally answered.
"I tried not to," he began. "For a while I was able to avoid combat by volunteering to join the Cybertron Defense Research Division, which was commissioned by the Autobot Elite Guard. It was there I was able to provide assistance to my fellow Autobots in a more passive role."
"Were you scared?" Allison asked, feeling Wheeljack tremble nervously around her.
"Terrified, but only with the notion of killing another being. I wasn't afraid of being involved in the resistance, and I wanted desperately to be. But I'm not a fighter, at least, I wasn't at the time. I felt my expertise would be more suited to working on our defense network. Unfortunately that meant I was also responsible for engineering weapons, something I wasn't particularly fond of doing. The moral tests of inventing devices for dealing death and destruction was not something I'd cared to do, but I had no choice. It was either that, or risk getting drafted by the Elite Guard and being sent to the front lines, only to be forced to directly kill or be killed. I…" Wheeljack faltered, choosing his words carefully. "…Didn't have the stomach for that sort of violence. But after a while you accept that you do what you must, and the death around you becomes so commonplace it desensitizes you. The reasons for fighting became so blurred and distorted that eventually you forget why your race is killing itself into extinction…" He sighed. "You must think I'm a coward."
Allison rested a hand on his door handle, in lieu of an arm to touch.
"No, I don't. There's nothing cowardly about wanting to avoid killing. Besides, you had a much greater use, and it would be terrible for all those brains to go to waste in some barbaric battlefield..." She chanced, feeling brave and impassioned with the knowledge that her guardian had never been some mindless killing machine designed for war. It was both a relief and something so welcoming it was hard to describe, but filled her with such a warmth and new found affection for him. "Besides, I don't think I could ever do what you did."
He was silent for a long time, and Allison wondered if he was possibly remembering something from the past. Perhaps, something he had done, or witnessed, and it made her wonder with the type of "brain" he had, how fresh and real those memories would seem to him. With humans, memories could be distorted, distant and fuzzy, and most of the time disjointed to the point that you couldn't remember much of anything at all.
With Wheeljack, were his recollections as clear as the moments they actually happened? Memories from tens of thousands of years ago? Allison didn't think that bearing that kind of weight through experience was something a human could handle. She wondered if speaking about this to her, a relative outsider, was his way of coping with what he'd had to live with in his head for so long. She was only too happy to let him share if that was good for him, and didn't want to dare disrupt him with the dizzying amount of questions that were on her mind. There was just too much to take in. A whole other race, species, that had been carrying on with their lives and their troubles for so long. It almost made everything her planet had gone through seem so trivial and unimportant.
"The Autobots were not prepared for war. We weren't built to be. That was what the Decepticons were actually designed for; we were merely designed to keep things on Cybertron running. When the Decepticons rose against us on Megatron's command, we were outnumbered and unprepared, so it was urgent that all of our resources were shifted to counter that threat. Megatron was hell-bent on taking everything, including Cybertron itself. He was willing to lay the planet to waste if needed, and build a new empire on top of its ruins. We had to prevent that, regardless of what it cost us." Wheeljack said darkly. Speaking Megatron's name was apparently something of great difficulty.
"Perhaps the Autobots knew this, and maybe that's why most of us left. We knew that in the end… because of our own petty insecurities and treatment of our own military, in a way, we were at fault for the war in the first place…but the Autobot High Council would have never admitted that in the comfort of their own Assembly Halls. The truth is Allison, in the beginning, the Decepticons had fought for a cause, fair treatment, the need for respect, the imbalance of resource distribution among the classes, for something. All noble things. But over time, that taste for combat and the honor found in battle, the very nature of their design, became so integrated into their instincts that they could not be stopped. It was a moving behemoth that could not be held back. They wanted Cybertron for themselves, and they would not rest until all who opposed were all dead."
That certainly was a surprising revelation. In a way, it made the story not so completely split into sections of black and white, or to put it more bluntly, good and evil. The morale ambiguity was fascinating to her, and it only accentuated just how human Wheeljack really felt to her despite the obvious physical peculiarities. Apparently the petty, arrogant pride and satisfaction of political whims was not entirely a human invention, but had very nearly destroyed Wheeljack's entire civilization. It painted their presence in a whole different light; in war, sometimes there is no true good side, but a clash of differences of opinions, thought, culture, that drives those to sometimes do unspeakable things for the sake of survival.
Could it have been prevented? Likely. But it was obviously far too late for that now, for once the steam engine gathers momentum it takes nothing short of an impenetrable wall to stop it. She couldn't fault Wheeljack for doing what had been necessary for his own safety, and the safety of others. In the same situation she wondered if she would have done anything different.
"What happened to Cybertron?" Allison finally asked. It was a question she'd wanted answered for a long time.
"Nearly uninhabitable. What remains of the Elite Guard and the High Council continue to flaunt their own arrogance and refuse to acknowledge any of the problems from the beginning. They stubbornly remain on a planet that dies around them, while what remains of the Decepticon army continue to struggle for dominancy."
"Optimus Prime was never one to embrace persecution from the basis of mere class differences. Regretfully, I had always been so absorbed in my work that I had never had the time to acknowledge there was a problem until it was too late. I would have sympathized with them, had they not threatened those I cared about, and Prime has always been one of the same mind. I believe that's why he convinced the High Council to allow him clearance to command a crew off the planet, under the guise of Space Bridge repair… all for the "greater good". To them, we were ensuring the movement of resources and even seeking out new ones. To Optimus Prime, while yes, that partially was true to an extent, we were also outcasts; Refugees from a planet that was no longer our own. He was protecting those he cared about, and was in a position of power among the Guard to be able to get away with such a fib. I was with him, and that is how we ended up here."
Allison was silent for a long time, staring out the window but not actually seeing what she was looking at. She was too distracted, turning everything over that she'd just learned in her mind, trying to make sense of it. It was a lot to absorb, and hard to still picture that somewhere out there, on another planet perhaps galaxies away, they were still fighting. It was fascinating in a morbid way, but also very overwhelming. Wheeljack continued.
"The Autobot Elite… they are not evil Allison, they are merely disillusioned. It is hard to shatter the Status Quo, and when one in power become so accustomed to their lives and comforts how they are, sometimes it is hard to change them. They felt that in their Sparks they were doing what was right, and in the beginning, so did the Decepticons. They would have done anything, even monstrous things to win the war and preserve our race using means that they felt were justifiable. They were forced along with the same disastrous momentum that carried the Decepticons, and in turn both sides committed very serious acts of violence against the other… Things might have changed for the better, but when you have seen war as long as I have, after a while it turns into a very unattainable dream."
"I understand." Allison said quietly, and truthfully did, but she honestly didn't want to think about it anymore. It brought things rather close, uncomfortably so, to her own planet in a way. Allison was thinking it was probably a bad idea to bring up the war in the first place, possibly stirring up dormant feelings that Wheeljack had long since hidden away.
She remembered seeing Wheeljack fight for her. There had certainly been no hesitation as he'd thrown himself at Soundwave, wrestled and grappled with Starscream at the construction site, throwing himself in even greater danger in the line of fire. All this despite claiming that it was not something that he set out to do, nor had ever wanted to do in the beginning, but along the way he'd been forced to adapt in order to survive with the rest of them. It made her wonder exactly how long they'd been struggling with each other on Earth, and just how deadly Wheeljack could be. Was what she'd seen just the tip of the iceberg, the terrifying battle scenes she'd bore witness too nothing in comparison to full out conflict of an entire military of them?
They had left to escape all of that, to escape the war and escape being killed. Had it been cowardice? Maybe not. Perhaps the motivations for leaving the planet had been for their own sanity: a begrudging acceptance that all decency and chance for redemption had been lost, even amongst their own faction, and it was best to back down when you had a chance; a chance to start over.
But on Earth? And Megatron was here… so that part of the puzzle was still unanswered.
"So… how long have you actually been here?" Allison decided to begin her questioning through that avenue, hoping to casually segue into how exactly they had all ended up on Earth without anyone knowing. Something like that would more than likely make the news.
"Approximately Fifty-million years ago… give or take a few thousand years-" Wheeljack began, without even a beat of hesitation.
"W-what?"
Well that certainly explained how nobody noticed them arrive. There wasn't anybody alive to see them.
"About ninety-five percent of that time was spent in emergency stasis lock Allison," Wheeljack laughed. "Our arrival wasn't exactly intentional. We were shot down, our ship too damaged to fight the insatiable pull of your planet's gravity." Wheeljack said, swerving expertly to avoid a ridiculously slow car in the lane in front of them.
"And who shot you down?" that was the most obvious answer but she asked the question anyway.
"Well, for starters, Megatron had decided to chase us, leaving one of his most trusted on Cybertron, who's location I'm afraid, has long been lost to wherever Shockwave decided to disappear to. The last we heard from Cybertron was that he had been killed during a raid, but frankly I believe that statement to be a load of slag." Allison was a little shocked to hear him sound so frank, and had no doubts that "slag" was obviously some kind of Cybertronian cursive. "There was no physical evidence left behind, so in my opinion his whereabouts are as much a mystery as Megatron's sense of honor. He's still alive though, I can guarantee it. And I'll bet my Gyro-Inhibitor that Megatron knows exactly where he is too."
"Shockwave is obviously another Decepticon, I'm assuming." She was trying hard to remember all the bizarre names, but at some point she knew she was going to lose track of who was who. But figuring she'd never meet this Shockwave, and being a Decepticon, it wasn't exactly a total loss if she forgot who he was.
"That's correct, and a trickster at that. He's sneaky. They are all of course, very good at deception, obviously. But Shockwave is far more than that. More so than the rest of them, perhaps even Megatron."
"Really? Wow, I'm impressed." Allison replied, her eyes widening with faint surprise.
"Shockwave is impressive. He's intelligent, ruthless, and about as strong as Megatron. But what makes him potentially worse is he is completely without emotion. All Cybertronians are built on logic and circuitry, but like all sentient lifeforms we have the benefit of self awareness. Somehow, Shockwave seems to completely bypass any moral and emotional stimulus. It doesn't seem to be a part of him, or at the very least he's good at hiding it. He's ruled by logic. Megatron, on the other hand, is fueled by emotion, and emotion can lead to mistakes. And he's made many. What makes Shockwave ultimately so sinister is he also embodies the literal translation of the Decepticon name. He's good at hiding, but he's brilliant at deceiving and disguises. He initially served in the Autobot High Council, where he unfortunately had access to lots of important information. It was a long time before anyone caught him out. But, you'll likely never cross paths with him." Wheeljack finished.
"Did you ever meet him?"
"Once or twice, but never on the battlefield, thankfully. Megatron could not have left a more capable Decepticon in his stead while he decided to pursue Optimus Prime and the rest of us. He has a long-standing disagreement with Prime, and whenever they are in each other's vicinity it generally does not end civilly. We were doing a fine job outrunning them, and in fact, were never aware that they were following us. We were docked at a malfunctioning Space Bridge when Megatron attacked. In the chaos of the moment the Bridge was initialized, and our ship, the Ark, was sucked into a trans-warp, which I suppose is what you'd call a 'worm hole'."
Allison remained silent as Wheeljack continued, the scenery suddenly inconsequental.
"Megatron's ship, the Nemesis, was thrown into the trans-warp as well, and as fate would have it we ended up in Earth's orbit," Wheeljack said, weaving in and out of a pack of cars in an effort to avoid the obstruction. He clearly wanted to be back "home" just as much as she did, and Allison wondered if Wheeljack was tired. She certainly would be if she'd had to ferry herself around all over the state for an entire day.
"But why would Megatron have followed Optimus Prime, when he could very well just take the planet with a major part of your forces gone?" Allison continued, now thoroughly intrigued.
"I couldn't say Allison, perhaps it was just one of those things. Megatron is smart, but he's also impulsive. If he is maddened enough by someone, such as Prime, and sees a chance to take them down, well, he'll shut everything out and do it. We were on the unlucky end of that hand I'm afraid," Wheeljack said. Allison was gnawing on her lip, thinking.
"And when you crashed here, what happened to you? Wouldn't Megatron just come down and finish the job?" she asked, chewing on a finger nail nervously. If there had been a ship of them, then there were certainly more than just Starscream and Soundwave running around.
"Our ships were both damaged beyond control, but we crashed in different parts of the planet. The Nemesis crashed in what you know as the Atlantic Ocean. Our ship ended up beneath what is now the Great Lakes, but at the time of the crash they weren't lakes yet," Wheeljack said thoughtfully. "Out of nearly two hundred Autobots that we had on board, only a few handfuls of us survived the crash. Knowing we were going down, we initiated emergency stasis to hopefully survive the impact. You have a very hard planet Allison…" for a moment Wheeljack sounded as if he was joking, but his voice hardened again almost immediately. "Ratchet had a lot of work on his hands when we were all reactivated, and I think that was the final blow to his temperament. He was grumpy and unbearable before, but after that he was never the same. There were a lot of bodies, Sparks long extinguished, and without any other course of action they were dismantled after proper respects had been paid..."
There was a pregnant silence where neither of them spoke. Allison didn't think it appropriate to question this news, but it did help answer the questions as to why Ratchet was the why he was.
"He will never talk about it though." Wheeljack continued. "He was quiet and withdrawn for a long time afterwards, years even. Eventually he calmed down once we knew the Decepticons had joined us on the planet and had awakened nearly the same time. There were a few skirmishes here and there, but Megatron's tactics have changed. He's not satisfied with just having Cybertron, and with our ships damaged beyond repair, he will try and take this planet's resources too."
"Oh…" Allison said, partially stunned. That certainly didn't bode well. Optimus Prime's team was now the only thing that was protecting the planet from Megatron, and that was an uncomfortable thought. Not that she lacked faith in the Autobot leader's abilities, but if they were truly alone and something were to happen, say, this Shockwave deciding to rock up out of nowhere with reinforcements, that had the potential to be disastrous.
"We won't let that happen. Optimus Prime will lay down his life before he allows that to happen, and I would effectively do anything to see that you do not suffer what would become far worse than your ideas of Hell." His voice was stone-cold serious, and it instigated a chill through Allison that was not pleasing at all. It made her very uncomfortable. She'd never really believed in a Heaven or Hell, but knew the concept enough to be aware of how terrible it would be. Now she felt all moody.
"Hrm…" was all she responded with, leaning her head heavily against the door frame below the window. She hoped, that a car wouldn't linger near them long enough to see what she was doing, but Wheeljack's windows were dark enough that it wouldn't stand out too much that the driver appeared to be snoozing rather than driving. "Why did you wake up?" she asked after a few moments of silence between the two of them.
"Our ship's security systems aborted stasis lock once it started to pick up significant radioactive disturbances in the atmosphere and on the ground level. I believe, that's what you would refer to as nuclear testing," Wheeljack said, the subtle change in his voice notable, for Allison was sure he knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Wow, our nuclear bombs woke you up…" she said with no subtle amount of bitterness. Their own weapons of mass destruction had effectively activated an entire alien race, that inherently was, one giant weapon of mass destruction. The paradox was maddening. "So that would mean you woke up in the mid twentieth century. My history is rusty-"
"The year was 1945," he said swiftly, making a sound almost as if to clear his throat. "Called 'Trinity' on July 16th, 1945. Rather primitive in engineering, but effective for what was needed I suppose..." Wheeljack scattered off wistfully, but he didn't offer anything more. Allison was wondering if she should feel mildly offended by that, after all, those "primitive" bombs ended up killing a very large number of people, despite not being up to Wheeljack's level of specifications. She had to force herself to remember it was the technologically advanced alien talking, and not necessarily Wheeljack...
"Thanks, now did you actually know that or did you just look it up on the internet?" Allison asked, sounding a little more irate than she actually intended to be, but the subject of war she supposed had put her in a foul mood. It was possible that Wheeljack noticed this, because he was quiet for a few more moments.
"Maybe? Have I said something to offend you?" he said tentatively, and all at once Allison knew her error and tried to relax.
"No, I'm sorry," she sighed, petting the dashboard lightly. "I think I might just be tired.. it's sort of been a long day, and generally speaking sitting in a car for long periods of time tends to make people sleepy…" she said, blinking heavily and yawning. She could feel Wheeljack shift subtly, without losing even a second of momentum. Wheeljack's backseat was starting to look rather tempting. "Um, do you mind?" she asked, pointing to the back hoping that he'd know what she was doing.
"Of course not," he said, and even before he finished she was awkwardly trying to climb into the back seat. She heard gears shifting, and if she didn't know any better she could have sworn that the front seats moved to allow her easier passage. Surprisingly the back seat was cozier than it actually looked, considering what it might actually have been, but there was hardly another moment of thought before she was huddled against the elbow of the cushions.
It was easy to slip into a doze, where she dreamt of, what she could only assume was her mind's interpretation of Cybertron. It was covered in mushroom clouds, over endless planes of searing, molten metal and stone. It was only a dream. Allison was aware enough to know that it was, but she could feel the heat of the radiation against her skin as if it was real. It was hard to place where she was or what was happening, for the panels of metal seemed to shift and change before her eyes around her. Before she could get accustomed to the scenery and make sense of where she was it would all change again, and this repeated over and over again. Even with this confusion of activity the environment was lifeless, hellish even, and in no way appeared as if a soul had ever inhabited its expanses. Or perhaps, had been so effectively erased from existence that it was now barren. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she heard voices-no-only one voice. It was saying her name, but the sound was scattered and seemed to bounce along every surface around her, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Confused, she tried to shift, to will herself awake and out of such a curious, but horrifying dreamworld. The voice persisted, and she thought she could place who it was, but for some reason the name escaped her. Struggling, she tried to go to the voice but there was no clear direction for her to go. It was all around her, echoing and hard in tone, but persistent, like it wanted something and knew exactly what it was...
"Allison!" Wheeljack's voice shocked her out of her snooze so quickly that she nearly lept up out of the seat, managing to stop herself before cracking her head on the low roof. Gasping, and just a little disoriented and confused, she looked around while blinking the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.
"What is it?" she cried, now more conscious of what was going on around her. It took her another second to register that Wheeljack was no longer driving, but was actually parked. Looking around quickly, they'd stopped at a highway rest stop, which was eerily deserted. The low-roofed buildings were dwarfed by surrounding pines. They were parallel to the highway, sandwiched between it and the sloped mountainside that was thick and lush with evergreen woods. It would have almost been pleasant, if Wheeljack didn't seem so outwardly tensed. "Where are we?"
"I need you to get out, I have to transform..." he said smoothly, and it wouldn't have taken a genius to know by the tone of his voice he was upset about something. When that happened, his voice lacked the bouncing inflection that had always reminded Allison of some kind of pseudo-alien east-coast accent. It was the kind of voice that told her now was not a time to argue with him.
"Wheeljack... is something wrong?" she ventured hesitantly. The frequency in which he seemed to enjoy terrifying her only to not tell her why, was beginning to be alarmingly frustrating. Did he really think her fragile little heart could take so much stress? "Is now really the best time? Won't someone see you?"
The freeway at this point was decidedly much emptier, being an odd time of day and a more remote spot just outside the city limits. In fact, she could see Sealth City looming off into the distance, faintly hazed over with a sheet of grey mist: the sure sign that there was likely rain in the city. Rotating the shoulder she'd been lying on to get feeling back into her joints, Allison moved to crawl back into the front seat. Wheeljack's door was already open and waiting, and as she managed to scramble her way back to the front she could almost feel Wheeljack's anxiety as he subtly assisted in pushing her outside. Practically falling, she caught herself against the cement, brushing her hands against her jeans just as Wheeljack started transforming.
Without a second look at her Wheeljack made a beeline for the trees, quickly disappearing amongst the branches as the packed down dirt and low-lying brush became full, grassy forest floor. Looking around, Allison tried searching for anything around the highway and the restroom that would stand out to her, but it was just as empty as her well of ideas. Realizing that she was alone, and that Wheeljack had expertly lost himself in the trees she turned and huffed after him in an awkward climb up the hill. The ground was far from flat the further she got into the woods, and the stumpy, jagged lumps of dirt and rooting soon turned into thick, rugged mountainside. She found she nearly had to scramble on all fours just to pick her way up after him. She didn't have quite as much leverage as he did, and while his steps were heavier than hers, his gait was much larger, allowing him to take an entire section of hill in minimal steps.
They were going up, but to where, she had no idea. Wheeljack clearly knew where he was going as he continued on with purpose, which Allison found to me mildly irritating that he was leaving her to fumble along after him. She was about to comment to him, until her foot slid on a loose bit of dirt. Swearing loudly, Allison readjusted her grip on the root she'd been clinging too, looking down at the footing below her before she heard Wheeljack stop. He whirled around, weight shifted onto one leg for his own support against the soft ground, and deftly picked her up from the hillside to hold her body against his chest. It wasn't exactly the assistance she really wanted, but once Wheeljack started moving up the hillside again it was all she could do to keep from collapsing against the smooth plates of his lower arm in exhaustion. It wasn't exactly a warm bed, but it would have to do as Allison was now too exerted to actually care. The stitch in her side was starting to make its presence known, and it made being slumped against his arm that much more comfortable considering that now Wheeljack got to do all the work for her.
The ground finally leveled into an open clearing, about the size of a football field from Allison's guess, and it granted a rather lovely view of the mountainsides. A lovely view that she'd have to try and enjoy some other time, because Wheeljack didn't appear to be nearly as enchanted as she was with the scenery. They were higher than she anticipated, the air much cooler and brisk with that distinctive clear feeling of high-altitude. Wheeljack set her down and moved out into the clearing, bringing his hand to his head and pressing a finger against his temple. He was looking around, expression shifting between confusion and annoyance, and Allison felt it was best to watch him patiently from the side. Besides, there was a nice, smooth rock she could lean against to wait for him to do whatever it was he was doing.
Finally Wheeljack dropped his hand and looked at Allison sullenly, who had her hands clasped in her lap. She frowned at him, waiting for the explanation as to what exactly had just transpired.
"I can't get a hold of Ratchet," he admitted, looking frustrated. Allison could feel herself go pale, the blood draining from her face in an instant of subdued panic. She gaped at him.
"What do you mean, you can't get a hold of him? It isn't like you guys go out of service range, right?" she asked nervously, trying to mask it with a joke. Not knowing the details, she had enough sense and experience around them to know that wasn't a good thing. If Wheeljack couldn't contact Ratchet, then what did that mean? Was that just a harmless coincidence, and Ratchet would be off taking a nap somewhere.. or was he not responding because something was keeping him from doing so? Or was it possible he was just pissed off at them for making him go ahead? But, in all of Ratchet's grumpiness, she couldn't picture him resorting to something quite that childish, like, ignoring them for the sake of making a point. But that only left the far less desirable alternative.. that Ratchet was hurt, or even worse, dead. Maybe he was just occupied...
"I mean, he's not responding to his comlink... now, that either means three things... I'm being blocked somehow by Cybertronian interference. Option two is that it's entirely possible he could be out of range, but Ratchet isn't stupid enough to leave the area now. Or there's the final possibility that Ratchet simply can't respond because-"
"Maybe he's just angry we left him behind..." Allison interjected with blind, irrational hope. Wheeljack looked at her pathetically, shaking his head at her in denial. She flushed with embarrassment.
"Ratchet is a big boy, he can take care of himself. Allison I'm afraid this is worse. We must prepare for the possibility that something has happened to Ratchet and we are now alone. Furthermore, we have to assume that what happened to him, will likely be waiting for us,"
Wheeljack suddenly started pacing, walking long stretches through the grass before turning around and retracing his path, fingers worrying at his faceplate. He was muttering to himself incoherently, words that Allison couldn't decipher or understand. The noise was maddening, and Allison shifted her eyes around the clearing, looking for a visual distraction other than a flustered Wheeljack. She knew better than to interrupt him when he was thinking. Her stomach was in nervous knots with worry and guilt. Eventually he stopped.
"Now I have to make a very important decision here, because this very well could be the one that decides what happens to us at this juncture. We have what they want, or at least what likely holds the key information." Wheeljack tapped the portion of his chest where she remembered seeing him store the old weathered journal.
"We don't even know what's inside it yet, or if it's even what we were meant to find..." she started to say, but Wheeljack turned a gaze on her that was so piercing she immediately lost her train of thought. Swallowing hard, she waited for him to speak.
"We have to assume, for it's all we have…" he began, trailing off. "But we must not be hasty, if we have Decepticons waiting for us then we will need to be expecting them, and in turn be unexpected…" Wheeljack started pacing again, deeply immersed in thought.
"You're talking about being unpredictable." Allison watched him pace, his heavy steps making a light boom at every turn, and if that wasn't frustrating enough his constant switch in direction was enough to make anyone feel edgy. "Well I suppose we could paint a giant red target on you, they certainly wouldn't expect that," she said, half sarcastically, and in truth wasn't even expecting Wheeljack to react to her comment at all. What never crossed her mind, was that Wheeljack might be considering just that.
"Precisely!" he cried suddenly, stopping. Allison jerked, turning up her eyes at him in horror.
"What?" she blanched, face incredulous. "I was joking…"
"And therein lies the brilliance… Soundwave will expect us to run, possibly return to our little hide-out which at this point has likely been compromised, as that would have been the first place for Ratchet to go.. No, instead, we will let them come to us.." he was shaking his head absently. "It is time to stop hiding, for it may only result in us now getting cornered… You must never do what your enemy expects you to do, for that is how we will all fail." Wheeljack was looking at her knowingly, although whatever he apparently knew must have been assumed that Allison knew as well. Frankly, she was petrified, and didn't know what to actually say to him.
"Are you saying that we just walk right up to Soundwave and flag Starscream down? That seems a little bit dangerous…" Allison raised an eyebrow at him, trying to mask her fear by appearing obstinate. He shook his massive head at her, appearing to frown.
"Not we Allison, I will draw them out and... end this." he mumbled deeply, cycling air. "Before we separated from Ratchet we were discussing just this. Ratchet insisted that we could not keep hiding... and eventually they would corner us, and at the time I didn't want to think that hiding you away and keeping you safe was not the best course of action," Wheeljack's voice was low, almost to the point of a whisper. "But if Ratchet has been apprehended then it may be time to take his advice. We should stop running, and I will face the threat to you and end it."
Allison felt her lip start to tremble, and she bit down on it to keep her fear from playing across her face like a book. What was he saying? And what did he expect her to do?
"You're talking about turning yourself into a decoy. I don't know if I'm comfortable with you doing that..." she breathed, running her hand across her cheek, rosy with emotion. The prospect of being alone without him, was now very terrifying. She was afraid she no longer knew how to take care of herself, with the very real threat of bodily harm and death so precariously close. What if it didn't work? What if Wheeljack was killed? What if Soundwave was just more clever than Wheeljack was giving him credit for and wasn't fooled, only to hunt her down and kill her anyway? The questions, and everything that could go wrong with this plan were running circles in her head making her dizzy with terror. Just what on Earth did Wheeljack hope to accomplish by turning her loose and running off to wrestle with Decepticons? "And what the hell do you expect me to do, hide and pretend it never happened?" She was feeling her temper flaring again, her face growing hot.
"You still have information that is important Allison," Wheeljack said, coming towards her and kneeling. His eyes were very hard, their glow lost in his fervent need to convey, what very well could be, his final instructions to her. "What you are going to do is run... leave the city. You will go to Detroit, Michigan by any means possible, and as discreetly as possible. You will not fly, and you will not take a train, unless you want Decepticon Seekers or Astrotrain hunting you down. You will do this and once you are in Detroit, you will find the tallest tower, go up to the front desk, and you will ask for a man named Sumdac. You will tell the receptionist that you have been sent by 'Jack'. Do you understand?" His voice was cold, and Allison could feel the sting of detachment in his words, like he was trying to pull away by throwing up verbal walls of indifference. His eyes said only one thing: Don't expect me to be following you.
"Wheeljack... no..." she breathed, taking a step away from him. "I can't let you do this... Jack... I'm not running... I can't-"
"Yes you can Allison. You will use the advantages given to you as a human. You are small, you are light on the move, and you can easily slip by undetected. I am confident you can do this. The longer we linger in hiding, the more likely that we are both killed, and I would rather not take that chance..." he reached out a hand, as if to brush it against her, but she moved away from him angrily.
"No! You can't leave me alone, not like this.. I can't do this anymore Jack I can't r-run from them without y-you," the hysteria was rising, and Allison continued to step back, as if fleeing from Wheeljack would help her escape the sudden panic that was bubbling up her chest like boiling water. Shaking her head, she had no idea what she was doing, walking around in frantic circles with her hands in her hair. "You can't, you can't-"
"Allison I have to!" Now Wheeljack's patience was wearing thin, temper rising in his voice. "If you die, then this will have all been for nothing. Ratchet could very well be dead...It is time to change tactics, for what we were doing before clearly is not working!" He was practically in her face now, and Allison found herself rooted to where she was standing, feeling numb to the air around her, and numb to Wheeljack's stinging rebuke. "This is what I need to do, and if you're under the delusion that I am enjoying this decision then you are sadly mistaken girl." Allison flinched as his words hit her, biting into her resolve and shattering it. She couldn't argue with him. It was impossible. At least, she thought with grim acceptance, she could hate him for it if she was still alive when it was all over. As the bitter defiance washed out of her, she was left with a dull, painful consent she was forced to swallow.
With hands trembling, Allison finally put her hands at her side in defeat. She turned her back to him, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
"And what exactly do you plan on doing?" she said with a shaking voice. She was surprised to see Wheeljack's hand sneak around to her front, blocking her direct line of sight. With a gentle shove, she fell backwards. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to make you realize that this is only because I care deeply for you, and this is what I will do to take care of you," he said, temper sated. His voice had returned to its normal candor. "You can hate me all you like, but it isn't going to change the fact that... we must work together on this."
Allison eventually turned, feeling calmed down enough to face him. He'd pushed her back towards him, so that they were once again face-to-face. He was so close that she could catch the multitude of spinning colors in his gleaming eyes, which were now heavily drooped. It was indescribable.
"If we have no choice, I know there's no getting around it." she frowned, feeling her lip quaver with the trepidation of what was to come. Swallowing, she reached out and rested her hand against his heated face that seemed to be buzzing with tension. Wheeljack nodded slowly in agreement. "Alright then. What exactly are we going to do about this?"
Wheeljack murmured an assent, then began to recite the plan.
02/27/2011 - Some edits here, although I do feel Allison's reaction is warranted in this situation. The idea of suddenly being left alone and left to your own devices, while someone else could very well be getting themselves killed for nothing, I feel would instill a mild bit of panic. Especially if it's a plan that comes out of nowhere.