Chapter Six
That night…
Alone in her quarters, Deirdre spoke, "Lights."
Bit by bit, the room brightened. She glared at the bare, dull gray metal walls. I've got to get some decorations for this place. And maybe that chair in the storeroom…
Planning the changes and looking about the small area, the human's eyes were drawn to the mini holo-projector, which was resting on the solitary table along with the rest of her equipment. Unable to stop herself, she reached for it.
The woman flipped quickly through the 3D pictures, stopping at the last one. Her face twisted into an expression that was half-smile and half-grimace. The hologram had been taken on Earth only a few days ago, the night before the disk raid.
Knowing how difficult this next assignment would be, Dierdre had given her squadron the night off, letting them do whatever they wished as long as they didn't breathe a word of the mission to anyone. To her surprise and delight, the squad had unanimously opted to spend their rest time with their commander, and with each other.
They had gone to one of their favorite haunts in New Manhattan, a quiet little hole in the wall with a reputation of serving some of the best liquors in the city. They had spent hours there just lounging about, discussing old times, laughing and joking around with an ease only those of long acquaintance could accomplish.
About halfway into the evening, there had been a somber moment as the older members of the squad, Dierdre included, recalled the names of those beings who had died since the formation of the group so many years ago. There had been three, all within the first four years. The last had been her commander, dead by a massive blow to his spark casing. With his demise, leadership had been passed onto her. She still missed him, disagreeable old goat that he had been.
Since she had taken command, no more lives had been lost. An occurrence brought on by good leadership on her part, an exceptionally talented squadron and a lot of luck. On that night, although it was never spoken, everyone had known that would all change the next day. Someone, probably several someones, in this group, the only family most of them had, would be dead within the next twenty-four hours.
However, they did not allow themselves to dwell on such things for long. There had been no more talk of death that night, only a celebration of life.
Some time later, knowing that everyone needed sleep if they were to function properly the next day, the squad leader had been forced to bring the evening to a close. Before they had gone their separate ways, however, Dierdre had asked the bartender to take a holo-picture of them all.
After a few prerequisite mutters and a little grumbling, the squad had all congregated in front of the bar. Instead of waiting until everyone had settled down, the bartender had snapped the picture when the group had been in the height of chaos. Dierdre actually preferred it that way.
The hologram showed them all:
James --who could build or repair any machine and kept up the group's morale during tense moments with his quick wit and ready laugh-- was lounging on a bar stool. He had a drink in one hand with his other around Cassie's waist. His face was spread into its customary smirk. Cassie --an incredible fighter pilot and one of the gentlest people Dierdre had ever known-- had her arm draped casually over her husband's shoulders. The camera had caught her as she was leaning forward and scratching Nightflash, in his German Shepard beast mode, playfully behind his ears. Flash --a cynical bot and a remarkable hand-to-hand combat fighter-- was obviously in seventh heaven, his tongue lolling out and a goofy expression on his canine face.
Cyteese --a brilliant technician and the squadron's resident miracle-worker-- and Silver Star --a good-humored intelligence expert-- were engaged in a verbal brawl. Cy had her hands on her hips, glaring up at the much taller Silver. They both looked on the verge of killing each other; an image marred only by the smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.
Anthony --a quiet and world-wise demolition specialist-- was a little off to the side of them, a half-empty glass clasped, forgotten, in his scarred hands. The holo caught the silent yearning in his expression as he stared at Angela --a skilled medic whose sweet voice had earned her the affectionate nickname of Angel-- who was smiling brightly at the camera, oblivious to him.
Chang --a battle-weary weapons master-- and Grace-Weaver --an exceptionally beautiful femme bot who was also one of the best sharp shooters in the Fleet-- had been sharing a tender moment; his arms wrapped around the femme's slender waist, her hand entwined with his black hair. Love was etched onto their features.
At the center of the chaos, Dierdre and Jamal --her second in command and best friend since the Academy-- each had an arm draped over the other's shoulders. Jamal was laughing helplessly at the expression on the normally dignified Flash's features, while Dierdre grinned as she spoke with Quickblade --a Liberator Predicon skilled in melee combat, who had once called her his spark-sister--. Blade had made a gallant effort to comply with Dierdre's teasing order that he loosen up and smile, but the look on his face seemed to ask, 'Why me?'
The small hologram distorted as a drop of warm, salty liquid fell on the holo-projector clutched in a shaking organic hand. Dierdre pressed the octagon in the center, turning it off. She couldn't look at it any longer.
In a sudden bout of anger, she threw the holo-projector across the room, reached up and ripped the bandage off her forehead. She probed the area with her fingers. The cut was completely healed, leaving only a small scar, which she knew would fade away to almost nothing in a day or so. She dropped the bandage and clasped her hands tightly together, trying futilely to stop their trembling. She suddenly felt very tired.
Maybe she could sleep….
They stood before her, awaiting their final orders. They were her squadron of fighters, her friends, her family. She wondered if they knew how much she cared for them…how proud she was of them. She felt a wave of sadness hit her as she watched them, knowing this would be the last time they would be together as a whole unit.
Don't cry; don't cry. No emotions; give them only reassurance. You are the leader; they are strong because you are strong. Don't fail them.
"You are the best squadron in the Fleet," Dierdre began, smiling softly and locking gazes with each of them in turn. "And the finest group of people I've ever had the privilege to associate with. Fight well, watch your comrade's back and don't get dead." After a short pause, she ran her fingers through her hair and spoke in a more business-like fashion. "We launch in five cycles, so say your goodbyes now. That's all."
The commander watched as her squadron broke up into smaller groups.
It was several moments before she was able to tear her gaze away from them to face the two beings who meant more to her than anything in life. She clasped wrists with Quickblade in the traditional warrior's fashion and placed her hand on Jamal's broad shoulder. He returned the gesture along with a small crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Blade stared intensely at her for a moment and squeezed her wrist. Words were inadequate, and unnecessary. Many years of friendship and memories washed over the three.
Oh, Infinity, if anything were to happen to them…
Suddenly, and without warning, they faded away, slipping from her grasp and vanishing like fog. Dierdre felt an intense wave of vertigo and she screamed as her vision dimmed to nothing.
Her sight abruptly returned: she was in her battle-damaged ship, plunging through the atmosphere of an unidentified planet; the view screen showing nothing but white-hot flames of friction. The panel in front of her flashed frantic warning messages and sparks rained down from overhead.
It was agony to breathe. Smoke filled the cabin and her chest heaved in an effort to get oxygen to her aching lungs. She activated her Personal Shield and reached out with her armored hands to attempt to slow her descent, embers alighting and burning out on the faint blue radiance that enveloped her form like a second skin.
What was going on? What…
Dierdre froze as the memories flooded back to her. Reminisces of pain. Of screams in the dark, silenced abruptly by bright flashes of laser fire. Of mech-fluid on the walls and the sharp coppery scent of human blood. Of sudden death and soul-crushing loss.
So many gone. Lost to her…
No! Sweet Infinity; please no…
The flight panel exploded in an eruption of sparks, licking flames and the ear-piercing shriek of tearing metal. The force of the explosion slammed into Dierdre's Shield and flung her out of her chair. She landed on her stomach, the air forcibly driven out of her body from the impact. Taking in a pained lungful of smoky air, she allowed her head to sink to the deck, her cheek resting on the warm metal.
Her whole body screamed in pain and her head was spinning from lack of oxygen. Her crippled ship trembled and bucked beneath her, onboard computers still valiantly trying to slow its descent. She could feel her consciousness slipping away from her, and she was sure she was about to die.
She couldn't have cared less.
She had failed. Failed them…
"NO!"
She came awake with a start. Eyes wide and heart hammering, she raked the dark room with her sleep-blinded gaze. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
There was a loud pounding at the door, jolting her back to reality.
"Hey, Red! Are you okay?"
Dierdre suddenly realized that she was crouching like a cornered animal on her bed, sword in hand. The makeshift blankets and mattress she had scrounged from the storage bay were tangled in coils around her.
She slowly disentangled herself from her bedding and staggered over to the door. She opened it and looked into the concerned face of the Maximal youngster. "I'm fine, Cheetor."
Cheetor's expression was dubious. Frankly, she looked terrible. Her bedraggled hair had formed a frizzy halo about her head, she was breathing as if she had run for miles and her eyes were haunted. "Are you sure? You were yelling pretty loudly."
She leaned against the doorway. He was surprised to see her sword clutched tightly in her left hand; the fingers wrapped so tight around it that her knuckles shown as white as bone. "I'm sure."
Cheetor laid a sympathetic Transmetal hand on her shoulder. "It was a nightmare, wasn't it? I've had a few of those."
A nightmare, if only it was… "Yes, that's it. Only a bad dream." She attempted a smile. "I guess I'll try to get back to sleep."
He knew that she was gently trying to get rid of him, so he let his hand drop back to his side. "Well, if you ever need a friend, I'm here. Whenever."
This time her smile was more genuine. "Thanks, Sky Cat. I will remember."
He grinned at her. "Good night, Dierdre."
The door closed with a soft hiss. He was about to turn away and walk back to the bridge, to complete his shift as night guard, when the door abruptly opened again.
"When I was… dreaming, was I just shouting incoherently, or did I use words?" Dierdre asked.
"You didn't scream that much. It was mostly 'No', and a couple of names. 'Quickblade' was one, and the other was something like, 'Jamel'? 'Jamul'? I'm not sure."
The muscles in her face twitched a little. She nodded her head and muttered, "Thanks."
Without another word, she stepped back into her dark room. The door slid shut for a final time, locking Dierdre in with her private pain.
The human silently ordered her sword to collapse. She felt the temporarily liquid metal slither up her arm like a hundred tiny snakes. After several moments of trying unsuccessfully to regain her composure, she decided she couldn't take it another moment. The walls were closing in on her.
She had to get outside.
Cheetor was zoning out at the scanners when she entered the bridge. With her armor in rest mode, her soft-soled shoes made no sound on the metal deck. She moved as silently as a ghost.
The young Maximal was jerked out of his daydream when Dierdre pushed a button on the console, opening the roof hatch. He stared at her in surprise. He had not heard her come in.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going out," answered Dierdre, her soft voice cracked with what might have been grief.
"But Optimus said…" Cheetor began.
"I don't care what Optimus said!" she snapped, ice blue eyes flashing in anger.
The human took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. "I'm sorry, Cheetor," she said in a considerably more gentle tone. "I'm just going to go out onto the roof for a while. I gave my promise to Primal that I wouldn't leave the base without him knowing. I intend to keep my word."
"Okay, Red." Cheetor was a kind spark, and he hated to see his new friend in distress, so he continued. "Um… I'm going to be relieved in a few cycles. Want me to join you?"
Dierdre patted him on the shoulder, warmed a little by the concern in his voice. "Thank you, but no. I'd rather be alone."
Before he had a chance to ask any more questions, the human crouched low, feeling the muscles in her legs tightening and coiling like springs. She shot upwards, catching onto the edge of the roof hatch and easily pulling herself up and over. The hatch closed slowly behind her.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was cloudless, giving her an unsurpassed view of the stars. Earth's familiar moon shone overhead, completely full except for a small slice carved out of the side, as if by a giant sword.
Dierdre wished it were raining. It would have better suited her mood.
She closed her eyes and let the night breeze tug playfully at her clothing. The moonlight touched her face in a soft caress, the silvery light smoothing out the sorrow that lined her features, making her seem calm and almost peaceful.
Inside, in the dark depths of her mind, she was far from peaceful.
Unfair! No…Cannot be… Infinity, help me! Strike me down, save me, kill me so that I may wake from this nightmare!
Her mind seemed to delight in torturing her. One horrible vision after another rolled across her consciousness, despite her best efforts to stop them, and she saw them again in their final moments. Images burned forever into her brain.
Quickblade, battle-axe a lethal blur in his hands, laughing in fierce joy as he fought alone against a horde of Predicon drones. He had bought the remaining squad members time to escape with his life. I miss you, my soul-brother…
Grace-Weaver, spark rising from her ruined frame, achingly beautiful and pulsing like a heartbeat, while Chang howled like a wounded animal in his grief, taking down Predicons with a savagery that bordered on the berserk. Weaver, I don't know if he can survive long without you.
James burning inside his fighter, as his wife shrieked his name over and over again. Cassie joined her husband soon after, taking five of the fastest enemy ships with her. Should have anticipated Ganitron's troop movements. Should have seen them sneaking up on us. Should have…
Silver Star looking down at his missing legs, face fixed in incredulous horror. We couldn't reach you in time. I'm so sorry, my friend.
Anthony falling without ceremony to the deck, a smoking crater in his chest. Angela dragging herself towards him, her healer's instincts and her own compassion urging her to help, despite the horrid wounds in her throat and shoulder. Tony was dead before he hit the ground. There was nothing you could have done. Not your fault, Angel.
Jamal, blood shining like rubies against his copper skin and silver armor, dying in Dierdre's disbelieving arms. He had pushed her out of the way and taken the shot meant for her. Dammit, Jamal, you brave idiot! Why did you do that! I wasn't worth it! I should have been the one to die, not you! Not you.
A tortured sob forced itself out from between Dierdre's lips. She hugged herself tightly, blindly seeking comfort and finding none, as she sank to her knees on the cold metal roof.
She had spent the last two days pushing her grief aside, trying desperately to deny that it even existed. That was apparently a mistake. The dream/memory brought everything crashing back to her with the force of a tidal wave. She was drowning.
Infinity curse it to the Torments! I shouldn't care this much! It's war; people die in wars! I've seen death; I've caused it! It shouldn't bother me! She was crying again. Frag. Then why does it feel like I'm about to die?
Her whole body shook. She knew the reason. Her squadron had been her family, her only family since the deaths of her parents and the disappearance of her brother.
Some of her superiors had told her getting close was a mistake; that she should keep her distance from her squad. She had known from the first that that was the wrong approach. Her knowledge of them had allowed her to anticipate their reactions to a variety of situations, and had soothed the aching feeling of loneliness that had dogged her for most of her life. It had also made them fiercely loyal to her and to each other. Because of this, her squadron had survived many seemingly impossible missions, and earned themselves a somewhat legendary reputation in the Fleet.
Dierdre was now experiencing the flip side of such a close relationship. Seven members of her family were dead, and it felt as if part of her soul had been ripped away. The loss was made all the more keen with the knowledge that she had been the commander. She had ordered them to their deaths.
Loss… Alone…Guilt… Sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me, my friends. I failed you. I failed you all.
An indeterminate amount of time later the human's wild, hopeless sobbing began to ebb, leaving her feeling drained and so very, very tired.
Sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, a subdued sound filled with melancholy, Dierdre unbraided her hair and shook it out. She glanced out of the corner of her eye as her one vanity began to gather around her face in a tangled waterfall of flame-red strands. Slowly and methodically, she began to untangle every strand with her slender fingers. The almost hypnotic action calmed her down a bit and permitted her mind to slow its swirl of memories and emotions.
Only when every last hair was untangled and falling smoothly down her back did she allow her hands to drop to her lap, where they immediately clenched into fists. Her grief was still present and probably always would be, but it had been dulled somewhat by anger and a heightened resolve.
In the memory of those who had died and for the sake of the ones who still lived --Nightflash, Cyteese, Chang and, if Infinity was kind, Angela-- she would take back that damnable disk from the Predicons and, somehow, find a way back to her own time. If she didn't, all their suffering, and hers, would have been for nothing.
I may have failed my squad but I swear I will not fail my mission. I will not!
Once upon a midnight dreary,
A woman full of grace
Feels alone and oh, so weary,
Tears running down her face.
The grief for friends forever lost,
The guilt that ever burns.
She'd give her life, pay any cost
For her family to return.
She wipes her face and heaves a sigh,
And leans against the wall;
She'd sworn that day she'd never cry,
But God! She missed them all.
An image flashes in her mind;
Holding Jamal as he dies.
He tells her that he's not afraid,
But she knows how well he lies.
He'd taken the shot meant for her,
Blood mingling with the sands,
Though Dierdre knows it was his choice,
His blood clings to her hands.
And slowly, though her heart screams NO!
She sees them all again;
Not in death, but a harder blow:
How it should have been.
So full of life, and of laughter and love,
The kinship there, but unsaid.
She looks to the heavens, where the stars shine above,
And asks, "Why aren't I, too, dead?"
So long did she stand there,
Her heart in the past
That she became unaware
Of the time as it passed.
Finally she lay and closed her eyes,
And prayed for a dreamless sleep.
There was no time to agonize
When she had promises to keep.
AN: Poem by Blackwidina who, aside from her obvious poetic talents, also happens to be a gifted writer. Check out her excellent fics at