Transformers: Fractal Web (section: 4)
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Legalese: Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, Cybertron, Energon, Vector Sigma, the Matrix, Primus, Metroplex, Springer, Rodimus Prime, Arcee, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Unicron (or Unicrom), Perceptor, Sweeps, StarScream, ThunderCracker, Charr, Prowl, the Arialbots, Spike Witwicky are all property of HasKen and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Buster Witwicky, Mutants (Homo Sapient Superior), and the Mutant Registration Act are properties of Marvel Comics and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Mara Benedict, Sarai Benedict, Anthony Benedict, Marcus Benedict, Charles "Charlie" Reagan, Lourdes Maria Maza, FlameDancer, WhirlBlade and NightShade are copyrighted to me 1992-2000. This story is not to be redistributed in whole or part without my permission. Nor are my characters to be used without my permission. Reviews, questions and critiques are always welcome. Happy bidding, er.. reading. :D
(Part 4)
Leadership - wearing a yoke while balancing precariously on a pedestal. Springer could imagine Rodimus Prime's dilemma. The weight of power could easily crush anyone's sense of sanity, making one want more or less than what one had.
In one of her in-depth studies of Earth social-political histories, FlameDancer had discovered a parallel between human and cybertronian government structures. Decepticons followed a form of totalitarianism as opposed to the Autobots' divine monarchy. The Kingship marked by baring the Matrix.
The Autobot Leader could choose his second in command, or Heir Apparent . Yet it was always the wisdom of the Matrix that would realize the new Leader (i.e. Hot Rod), or reject him (i.e. Ultra Magnus).
Springer, finding FlameDancer's analogy, had asked, half jokingly, if the Matrix would accept him as the next Leader. She knew the answer, being the Priestess of Vector Sigma, and held her tongue. Springer didn't push for an answer, dreading the implications of silence, and even more, any answer. He only hoped that Rodimus Prime's leadership would last as long, or longer than his predecessor, Optimus Prime.
Intrigued, Sarai listened to FlameDancer's thesis. The female Autobot was magnetic, and animated as she spoke of the richness of human heritage and its similarities to her race's history. Charlie listened with half an ear as he doodled out some new idea that had recently hooked his attention.
Springer lounged back, just glad to take a break from the mundane routines of life. It was pleasant to have FlameDancer so alive and emotionally unbarred . The short-lived repose was broken by the booming wail of Metroplex's alarms. Springer was on his feet.
Metroplex, report!" he ordered.
"Decepticon activity, three hundred miles to the east." Metroplex calmly said, a strange paradox to the nerve-wracking klaxons that had rousted the group. "There is an estimate of ten entities."
"Notify the Arialbots, have them meet me at the runway!" Springer commanded, as he ran out of the room. Sarai caught up with him in the corridor. She stopped short at the receiving end of Springer's quizzical glance, realizing that she wasn't even in power armor, certainly not prepared for battle with transformers. She smiled sheepishly.
"Save a dance for me later, okay?" she said, watching him transform to helicopter mode.
"Don't worry," he called back, "the tango isn't over yet!" As he took off to join the arialbots.
***
(Part 5)
Mara shared the responsibility of loading the precious cargo of energon cubes onto the transport. She was absorbed with her recent ordeal, when some strange sixth sense deep within her flashed with insight. She wasn't sure why; she just know. ~Autobots!~ She broadcast to her fellow Decepticons. Dropping the energon cube she pointed towards the western sky.
Cyclonus looked, confirming the impending danger. "NightShade, Mara," he ordered, "secure the energon we have and retreat! We'll catch up to you." As he gestured the sweeps to engage the enemy. NightShade rushed to obey.
Mara felt the submerged with a strange draw; something primal was vying for her attention, calling to her. It was over-riding any inclination she might have had to follow Cyclonus' order.
In a spectacular blaze of blue, Mara transformed. Not by modular re-arrangement of body components, but on the molecular level. Launching herself into flight, as a sleek aerofighter, streaking past the pack of Sweeps. On an intercept course with the green helicopter, the object of her sudden and strange obsession. This was becoming a game of chicken, she had the speed...
*
...He had the maneuverability. Springer veered to the side, just avoiding the collision. He had never seen the red jet before, it must be the new Decepticon. Her recklessness startled him. He couldn't afford to give her an advantage like that again. He had to act, to neutralize her before she could pull the foolhardy stunt again. Bringing his weapons to bare on her, he fired.
The barrage hit full on, absorbed by a field that surrounded her. She disappeared in a flash of blue lightning. His collision warning went off again as his gyro-sensors were jolted by the sudden shift of weight to his left side. Pain needled though his hide as the female Decepticon anchored her claws into him.
*
Mara clung to the green metal hide. She gloried, finally, she could stand toe-to-toe against these juggernauts. She was tempted to gore the robot beneath her with her knee-spike, but resisted, choosing instead to be satisfied with knowing she had the power to dispatch him easily by striking a vital function.
The helicopter dove head long for the earth below, attempting to shake her off of him. She released him at the last moment, as she felt him beginning to transform. Landing gracefully on her feet.
*
Springer managed to throw her. Transforming, his legs absorbed the shock of impact. Turning to face her, his sword drawn. It was surprising to him how alike she looked to Sarai; it was like looking at a negative, with this robot's dark, sinister appearance.
The female backed away from him, her optics warily watching his wickedly long, sharp blade. Her hand shot up, aiming towards his head. The air shimmered around her, then crackled, as an arch or lightning bolted forth. He dove, his back tingled from the energy as it shot over him, barely missing him.
*
Mara didn't like of the blade in his hands, it was capable of cleaving her quasi-biological flesh. Her powers only protected against energy attacks. And there was something about this Autobot that prevented her from lashing out at him, almost as if to strike him was to strike at herself. Before she could begin to fathom these feelings, she had to get rid of a distraction -- the upcoming sweep was in for a nasty shock. Mara smiled sadistically, as she raised her hand and bolted the sweep. It fell, internally fried.
*
Springer rushed forward, tackling her before she could fire again. They made optic contact as she fell back. He stood over her, his sword poised. He hesitated to strike the deathblow, as she watched him unflinching as time seemed to stop. The confrontation took on a surrealistic feeling as she smiled, then vanished in a flash. His skin crawled with the sensation of the residue energy of her departure.
He tried to make sense of the feelings she had invoked in him, dawning on his consciousness in the aftermath of battle's end. The Decepticons had retreated. Leaving the Autobots to assess the damage they left in the wake of their raid. Springer was surprised to learn that the only casualty of this encounter was a plant worker, both arms and several ribs were broken. A minor incident when it concerned the Decepticons.
The scattered energon cubes indicated that the Decepticons were trying to replenish their dwindling supplies. They were pitiable in their pride. Even starving, and desperate, their egos refused to beg for aid; rather they chose to help themselves like wolves to a sheepfold.
Silverbolt pulled Springer aside, saying, "you know that female you were fighting? She downed one of her own to save your hide." Seeing Springer's conflicting feelings rise up, Silverbolt shrugged, "just thought you may want to know."
This female Decepticon, 'Mara' as he confirmed that was what she was called, was strange, inconsistent, intriguing in her refusal to be pegged so easily. It baffled him. Why would she attack him recklessly, then defend him? She had also been identified as the one that inflicted injury on the hapless human. Crushing him in her hand maliciously, then quite unexpectedly putting him down gently, before it became fatal. Why? What internal conflicts did she suffer from? And why, for that matter, was he drawn to her?
***
(Part 6)
NightShade sat at the helm. The transport would make planet fall soon. Its precious cargo only a third of what was required for mere survival. Sensing she wasn't alone anymore, NightShade spun around, her pistol drawn. Seeing that it was Mara, shouldering the burden of a wounded sweep, NightShade relaxed her guard, holstering her gun.
Mara ignored the pilot, as she eased the dying sweep on to her lap. The sweep's red optics flickered weakly, as his blue hide began to fade to grey, losing its natural luster. He was having a massive systems failure, the grievous injuries inflicted by Mara. She gently placed soothing hands over his mulled chest.
NightShade watched the two as they began to glow with a golden inner-luminance, centering on Mara's hands. The burns on the sweep's chest ceased to exist. As the healthy gloss of his hide returned, his color scheme more vivid than it had ever been in his life. As the aura subsided, Mara looked up at NightShade, addressing her for the first time.
~Fetch an energon cube.~ Mara's request was calm, the insistence not a harsh demand. NightShade understood the necessity, and rushed to get an energon cube. Returning she handed it to Mara.
Mara helped the sweep sit up to receive the nourishment of the shimmering energy. ~Welcome back, ThunderCracker.~ She projected to the sweep as she set aside the drained container.
His vitality restored, the sweep sat erect, studying his arms, his hands, his surroundings, they were unfamiliar to him. Turning to Mara he said, "No one's called me that for a long time. I--?
~I restored your memory banks,~ Mara smiled warmly at him. As if gripped by a demon, her face distorted in pain, as her body spasmed, throwing her to the ship's floor. Fighting the sudden chaos of the situation, the sweep rushed to hold her capitulating form.
"What's happening?" the sweep demanded, anxiously.
NightShade, helping to hold Mara's struggling body down made no answer, at this point, she had no clue, though suspicion reared its head, as NightShade's optics risked a glance at the sweep. His behavior had become a-typical of his kind.
*
~Return him to me!~ Unicrom's order rode in on another wave of nerve-rending fire. Mara railed against the Dark God.
~Never!~ she countered though gritted teeth. She was damned, but that was by her own choice. She refused to see another enslaved against his own will!
Their wills locked in battle, the Bloated God, and the infidel slave. The stake she gambled upon was not her own soul, but that of an innocent's, this gave her the fortitude she never suspected herself of having. Unicrom would have to kill her before she would give in. She could feel herself slipping under, being washed away by his acid onslaught as it scoured every nerve.
Unicrom angrily relented, withdrawing her battered, but unbroken spirit. He had no desire to destroy his precious slave by quibbling over a useless pile of scrap, like the sweep. ~Do not interfere with me again, Mara, I'm not so forgiving a second time.~ he warned as he faded from her mind.
*
The convulsions eased, leaving Mara frail and worn thin by the ordeal. ThunderCracker helped her to stand, steadying her quavering body with his own as he asked, "are you alright?" Concerned about the greying tone of her hide.
Mara grimaced though the residue ache, attempting to smile. ~Never been better,~ she lied. What a stupid question to be asked after being given the package tour of hell, she thought. Still, ThunderCracker seemed to care, and that was a rare experience for her.
***
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Legalese: Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, Cybertron, Energon, Vector Sigma, the Matrix, Primus, Metroplex, Springer, Rodimus Prime, Arcee, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Unicron (or Unicrom), Perceptor, Sweeps, StarScream, ThunderCracker, Charr, Prowl, the Arialbots, Spike Witwicky are all property of HasKen and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Buster Witwicky, Mutants (Homo Sapient Superior), and the Mutant Registration Act are properties of Marvel Comics and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Mara Benedict, Sarai Benedict, Anthony Benedict, Marcus Benedict, Charles "Charlie" Reagan, Lourdes Maria Maza, FlameDancer, WhirlBlade and NightShade are copyrighted to me 1992-2000. This story is not to be redistributed in whole or part without my permission. Nor are my characters to be used without my permission. Reviews, questions and critiques are always welcome. Happy bidding, er.. reading. :D
(Part 4)
Leadership - wearing a yoke while balancing precariously on a pedestal. Springer could imagine Rodimus Prime's dilemma. The weight of power could easily crush anyone's sense of sanity, making one want more or less than what one had.
In one of her in-depth studies of Earth social-political histories, FlameDancer had discovered a parallel between human and cybertronian government structures. Decepticons followed a form of totalitarianism as opposed to the Autobots' divine monarchy. The Kingship marked by baring the Matrix.
The Autobot Leader could choose his second in command, or Heir Apparent . Yet it was always the wisdom of the Matrix that would realize the new Leader (i.e. Hot Rod), or reject him (i.e. Ultra Magnus).
Springer, finding FlameDancer's analogy, had asked, half jokingly, if the Matrix would accept him as the next Leader. She knew the answer, being the Priestess of Vector Sigma, and held her tongue. Springer didn't push for an answer, dreading the implications of silence, and even more, any answer. He only hoped that Rodimus Prime's leadership would last as long, or longer than his predecessor, Optimus Prime.
Intrigued, Sarai listened to FlameDancer's thesis. The female Autobot was magnetic, and animated as she spoke of the richness of human heritage and its similarities to her race's history. Charlie listened with half an ear as he doodled out some new idea that had recently hooked his attention.
Springer lounged back, just glad to take a break from the mundane routines of life. It was pleasant to have FlameDancer so alive and emotionally unbarred . The short-lived repose was broken by the booming wail of Metroplex's alarms. Springer was on his feet.
Metroplex, report!" he ordered.
"Decepticon activity, three hundred miles to the east." Metroplex calmly said, a strange paradox to the nerve-wracking klaxons that had rousted the group. "There is an estimate of ten entities."
"Notify the Arialbots, have them meet me at the runway!" Springer commanded, as he ran out of the room. Sarai caught up with him in the corridor. She stopped short at the receiving end of Springer's quizzical glance, realizing that she wasn't even in power armor, certainly not prepared for battle with transformers. She smiled sheepishly.
"Save a dance for me later, okay?" she said, watching him transform to helicopter mode.
"Don't worry," he called back, "the tango isn't over yet!" As he took off to join the arialbots.
***
(Part 5)
Mara shared the responsibility of loading the precious cargo of energon cubes onto the transport. She was absorbed with her recent ordeal, when some strange sixth sense deep within her flashed with insight. She wasn't sure why; she just know. ~Autobots!~ She broadcast to her fellow Decepticons. Dropping the energon cube she pointed towards the western sky.
Cyclonus looked, confirming the impending danger. "NightShade, Mara," he ordered, "secure the energon we have and retreat! We'll catch up to you." As he gestured the sweeps to engage the enemy. NightShade rushed to obey.
Mara felt the submerged with a strange draw; something primal was vying for her attention, calling to her. It was over-riding any inclination she might have had to follow Cyclonus' order.
In a spectacular blaze of blue, Mara transformed. Not by modular re-arrangement of body components, but on the molecular level. Launching herself into flight, as a sleek aerofighter, streaking past the pack of Sweeps. On an intercept course with the green helicopter, the object of her sudden and strange obsession. This was becoming a game of chicken, she had the speed...
*
...He had the maneuverability. Springer veered to the side, just avoiding the collision. He had never seen the red jet before, it must be the new Decepticon. Her recklessness startled him. He couldn't afford to give her an advantage like that again. He had to act, to neutralize her before she could pull the foolhardy stunt again. Bringing his weapons to bare on her, he fired.
The barrage hit full on, absorbed by a field that surrounded her. She disappeared in a flash of blue lightning. His collision warning went off again as his gyro-sensors were jolted by the sudden shift of weight to his left side. Pain needled though his hide as the female Decepticon anchored her claws into him.
*
Mara clung to the green metal hide. She gloried, finally, she could stand toe-to-toe against these juggernauts. She was tempted to gore the robot beneath her with her knee-spike, but resisted, choosing instead to be satisfied with knowing she had the power to dispatch him easily by striking a vital function.
The helicopter dove head long for the earth below, attempting to shake her off of him. She released him at the last moment, as she felt him beginning to transform. Landing gracefully on her feet.
*
Springer managed to throw her. Transforming, his legs absorbed the shock of impact. Turning to face her, his sword drawn. It was surprising to him how alike she looked to Sarai; it was like looking at a negative, with this robot's dark, sinister appearance.
The female backed away from him, her optics warily watching his wickedly long, sharp blade. Her hand shot up, aiming towards his head. The air shimmered around her, then crackled, as an arch or lightning bolted forth. He dove, his back tingled from the energy as it shot over him, barely missing him.
*
Mara didn't like of the blade in his hands, it was capable of cleaving her quasi-biological flesh. Her powers only protected against energy attacks. And there was something about this Autobot that prevented her from lashing out at him, almost as if to strike him was to strike at herself. Before she could begin to fathom these feelings, she had to get rid of a distraction -- the upcoming sweep was in for a nasty shock. Mara smiled sadistically, as she raised her hand and bolted the sweep. It fell, internally fried.
*
Springer rushed forward, tackling her before she could fire again. They made optic contact as she fell back. He stood over her, his sword poised. He hesitated to strike the deathblow, as she watched him unflinching as time seemed to stop. The confrontation took on a surrealistic feeling as she smiled, then vanished in a flash. His skin crawled with the sensation of the residue energy of her departure.
He tried to make sense of the feelings she had invoked in him, dawning on his consciousness in the aftermath of battle's end. The Decepticons had retreated. Leaving the Autobots to assess the damage they left in the wake of their raid. Springer was surprised to learn that the only casualty of this encounter was a plant worker, both arms and several ribs were broken. A minor incident when it concerned the Decepticons.
The scattered energon cubes indicated that the Decepticons were trying to replenish their dwindling supplies. They were pitiable in their pride. Even starving, and desperate, their egos refused to beg for aid; rather they chose to help themselves like wolves to a sheepfold.
Silverbolt pulled Springer aside, saying, "you know that female you were fighting? She downed one of her own to save your hide." Seeing Springer's conflicting feelings rise up, Silverbolt shrugged, "just thought you may want to know."
This female Decepticon, 'Mara' as he confirmed that was what she was called, was strange, inconsistent, intriguing in her refusal to be pegged so easily. It baffled him. Why would she attack him recklessly, then defend him? She had also been identified as the one that inflicted injury on the hapless human. Crushing him in her hand maliciously, then quite unexpectedly putting him down gently, before it became fatal. Why? What internal conflicts did she suffer from? And why, for that matter, was he drawn to her?
***
(Part 6)
NightShade sat at the helm. The transport would make planet fall soon. Its precious cargo only a third of what was required for mere survival. Sensing she wasn't alone anymore, NightShade spun around, her pistol drawn. Seeing that it was Mara, shouldering the burden of a wounded sweep, NightShade relaxed her guard, holstering her gun.
Mara ignored the pilot, as she eased the dying sweep on to her lap. The sweep's red optics flickered weakly, as his blue hide began to fade to grey, losing its natural luster. He was having a massive systems failure, the grievous injuries inflicted by Mara. She gently placed soothing hands over his mulled chest.
NightShade watched the two as they began to glow with a golden inner-luminance, centering on Mara's hands. The burns on the sweep's chest ceased to exist. As the healthy gloss of his hide returned, his color scheme more vivid than it had ever been in his life. As the aura subsided, Mara looked up at NightShade, addressing her for the first time.
~Fetch an energon cube.~ Mara's request was calm, the insistence not a harsh demand. NightShade understood the necessity, and rushed to get an energon cube. Returning she handed it to Mara.
Mara helped the sweep sit up to receive the nourishment of the shimmering energy. ~Welcome back, ThunderCracker.~ She projected to the sweep as she set aside the drained container.
His vitality restored, the sweep sat erect, studying his arms, his hands, his surroundings, they were unfamiliar to him. Turning to Mara he said, "No one's called me that for a long time. I--?
~I restored your memory banks,~ Mara smiled warmly at him. As if gripped by a demon, her face distorted in pain, as her body spasmed, throwing her to the ship's floor. Fighting the sudden chaos of the situation, the sweep rushed to hold her capitulating form.
"What's happening?" the sweep demanded, anxiously.
NightShade, helping to hold Mara's struggling body down made no answer, at this point, she had no clue, though suspicion reared its head, as NightShade's optics risked a glance at the sweep. His behavior had become a-typical of his kind.
*
~Return him to me!~ Unicrom's order rode in on another wave of nerve-rending fire. Mara railed against the Dark God.
~Never!~ she countered though gritted teeth. She was damned, but that was by her own choice. She refused to see another enslaved against his own will!
Their wills locked in battle, the Bloated God, and the infidel slave. The stake she gambled upon was not her own soul, but that of an innocent's, this gave her the fortitude she never suspected herself of having. Unicrom would have to kill her before she would give in. She could feel herself slipping under, being washed away by his acid onslaught as it scoured every nerve.
Unicrom angrily relented, withdrawing her battered, but unbroken spirit. He had no desire to destroy his precious slave by quibbling over a useless pile of scrap, like the sweep. ~Do not interfere with me again, Mara, I'm not so forgiving a second time.~ he warned as he faded from her mind.
*
The convulsions eased, leaving Mara frail and worn thin by the ordeal. ThunderCracker helped her to stand, steadying her quavering body with his own as he asked, "are you alright?" Concerned about the greying tone of her hide.
Mara grimaced though the residue ache, attempting to smile. ~Never been better,~ she lied. What a stupid question to be asked after being given the package tour of hell, she thought. Still, ThunderCracker seemed to care, and that was a rare experience for her.
***