Dealing with the Devil
Cybertron, Polyhex City-state, Sector Gamma-107
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 366 (Solar post-zenith)
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 15:13 HOURS
Starscream's mood was as dark as the scorch marks on his battered armour. As he flew towards the Rookery flanked by an equally battered Thundercracker and Skywarp, and followed by a ragtag handful of battered Seekers, to say he was in a bad mood was a gross underestimate. His anger was like a black mass that writhed in his core, waiting impatiently to be vented. The source was his great leader Mega Galvatron: the orchestrator of one of the worst defeats in Decepticon military history. After the so-called Supreme Overlord had fled in terror from a lone Autobot warrior, the Decepticon attack fleet had been routed by their emboldened enemies. It had taken Starscream and the few Seekers with him over a solar period to reach the defended borders of Polyhex, harried by the Autobot Elite Flying Corps all the way. He could practically see the looks on the faces of the Autobot flyers as they made jokes at his expense back in their Spire, and that embarrassment only infuriated him more!
He was even starting to wish for the bad old days of Megatron and Shockwave to return! Together they had united a scattered and decimated army and conquered entire sectors of the Galaxy. This Mega Galvatron was a strategic imbecile by comparison! And to think he was the self-proclaimed white hope of the Decepticon Empire! Even Blot would have had the sense to avoid the shameful defeat to which he had just led his troops. The assault on Iacon had been an obvious debacle before it had left the planning stages!
The activation of his internal transceiver assembly drew Starscream's attention back to the present moment. Kliks later, Huntress's low feminine tones emerged from the background static. "Commander Starscream, I'm glad you've made it back. When we heard about Iacon we-"
"Just open the hangar!" he snapped, venting a little bit of his ire on the unfortunate Seeker. "Don't ever mention that catastrophe!" He paused to calm his temper, waiting to find a more suitable release later. Preferably Mega Galvatron himself! "Did our glorious Supreme Overlord get back in one piece?"
"Yes, commander," she replied as the hangar slid open. "He returned yesterday at zenith. We detected his exit from warp over Darkmount, though the fortress has remained silent since."
"Inform Concussion I want a full report on events during my absence," he ordered as he swooped into the hangar and transformed. "You and he will report to my office within the breem!"
"Yes, commander."
As his communications device deactivated, he turned to his battered troops. His optics tracked along the row of mismatched Seekers, from the tall gunmetal and black bombardier Air-strike, past the three cone-heads - Ramjet, Dirge and Thrust - to Thundercracker and Skywarp, to the young silver and blue warrior Overshot, and finally the diminutive black femme reconnaissance unit called Raven. A part of him still fumed at the indignities of his last 253 breems, but he recognised the opportunity to solidify the loyalty of his troops Mega Galvatron's defeat represented. Cyclonus had stolen his honour, but he could begin to reclaim it with these eight loyal and proven soldiers. "This last solar period has proven your worth as Seekers," he addressed them with a tone of respect and admiration. "None of you should ever doubt that you were meant to be among the Decepticon elite. We will easily reclaim our superiority over those pathetic Sweeps with troops like you. Never forget that you are Seekers. The best the Decepticon army has to offer."
"Yes, sir," came their group response, a tone of pride and mutual respect in their collective voice. He smiled to himself. A few more disastrous battles for Mega Galvatron and his Seekers would again be solidified into his personal strike force. And then all the shame heaped upon him would be repaid in full! Turning to Thundercracker with a pleased smile he ordered his lieutenant to follow, and the two left the hangar.
Less than a breem later, Starscream sat behind the obsidian desk in his private office, a grand room off his personal briefing room at the core of the Rookery. Data-pads littered the surface of the desk, their display surfaces inactive. Like the rest of Starscream's office complex, the furnishings of the room coupled military functionality with his own personal sense of style and power. The desk typified this, its crystalline upper surface the spoils of one of his greatest off-world victories. Other trophies to himself and the Seekers decorated the office, creating a suitable air of power, authority and glory to intimidate anyone who came before him in this vaulted oversized chamber.
Thundercracker stood behind Starscream, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Across the desk from the two commanders stood a further two Seekers. The first was the proud white and gold form of Concussion, who even in these surroundings could barely repress the arrogant haughtiness in his face. The second was a fairly tall femme Seeker, her body held rigid and to attention in the presence of her senior officer. She was coloured primarily in a gently burnished pale-gold that glowed faintly under the office's lighting. Her upper torso was silver around the pale-gold of her fighter-mode nose module, and the wings emerging from her shoulders were edged with purple and silver and adorned with her Decepticon insignia. The pale-grey face between the silver audio grilles of her cranial helmet expressed a quiet dignity and respect as she waited for her commander to speak.
Starscream looked up from the data-pad in his hands that Concussion had handed him upon entering the office. His optics were a calm golden-yellow, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his internal anger. "Sixty percent?" he asked, his voice remaining calm despite the tick of his cheek servos. "The strategic genius of our glorious leader has lost me sixty percent of the Seekers who attacked Iacon with him?"
"So far, commander Starscream," replied Concussion, managing to keep his tone neutral and sufficiently unpretentious to avoid unleashing his commander's anger. Though he blamed the losses as much on Starscream's stupidity as Mega Galvatron's, even he knew when to keep his vocoder inactive. Almost. "Most of the squadrons you took to Iacon have come back decimated. It will take a major reorganisation of the Seeker ranks to compensate. As well as a recruiting drive to replace the losses if we even hope to bring our numbers back up to what they were."
"I am well aware of that fact, Concussion," Starscream replied bitterly, his optics flashing white. "I sincerely hope that is not recrimination I detect in your tone, soldier!"
"Concussion meant no disrespect, I'm sure," said the femme in a low voice, looking daggers at the white and gold mech beside her. "He is simply struggling to contain his anger at our high commander's tactical blunder."
"Blunder, Huntress?" asked Starscream. "A blunder would be losing a few squadrons against unexpectedly high resistance." His tone turned sour. "Losing six wings in an attack that was a lost hope from the start is a little more than just a blunder! Iacon was a fool's errand, and if anyone had had the power to stand up to the lunatic that now leads us it could have been avoided!" He looked from her to his desk, his optics narrowing with his anger. "The Autobot Elites are laughing at us!" he snarled. "Mocking how far we Seekers have fallen since Mega Galvatron took power! We cannot sit by and allow ourselves to go from the scourge of Cybertronian airspace to a laughing stock!" He looked back up at the two of them. "I will not accept that dishonour. I cannot accept it!"
"What do you intend to do?" asked Huntress.
"I intend to reclaim what has been taken from us," he replied. "And I intend to grind Mega Galvatron's head beneath my foot. He may be powerful, but there are ways and means to receive greater power. And I will find them!" He steepled his fingers on his desk in front of him, a smile playing across his lips. "Huntress, I'm making you responsible for Rookery security on a permanent basis."
"But I'm just a tracker, sir," she replied.
"And a good one," he told her. "But you're also intelligent and skilled, and I need someone who I can trust to do the job."
"Thank you, sir."
"And as for you, Concussion," Starscream smiled. "You get a little of what you've always wanted. Power. I'm making you my second officer, answerable only to Thundercracker and myself. I trust you can rein in your pomposity long enough to not alienate your underlings?"
"Of course, sir," he responded, unable to smother the broad smirk that crossed his face.
"Then you will be responsible for maintaining our monitor over Polyhex security, Concussion," said Starscream. "You and Huntress will work together to ensure that the Rookery remains secure while Thundercracker and I deal with more pressing concerns."
"Yes, sir," they replied, neither sounding too happy to be sharing responsibility with the other.
"Excellent," Starscream smiled, perfectly aware of their disdain for each other, and not particularly bothered by the fact. He trusted Huntress to keep Concussion on a short leash, even if he was nominally her superior officer. In truth, it was the perfect arrangement: he was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner! "You are dismissed," he told them, waving a hand for them to leave.
As the doors closed behind them, Thundercracker rounded the desk to look at Starscream. "So, what is it that we're meant to be doing?" he asked. Starscream picked up one of the discarded data-pads that had gathered on his desk during the planning period of the assault on Iacon and handed it to his deputy. "It's from Technoshear," he explained as Thundercracker read the pad. "Her team have finally come up with the goods from Soundwave's memory buffers. I received this just before we departed to Iacon."
"I wondered why you were in a particularly bad mood when we left," smirked Thundercracker.
"Yes," Starscream replied with a half-shrug. "Having to delay this moment for a potential suicide mission was rather irritating." He took the pad back from his lieutenant and dropped it back among the others on his desk. "But now I am mere breems away from discovering the secrets of the mysterious Oblivion." He stood up and headed for the door. "Follow me, Thundercracker," he chuckled. "My destiny awaits!"
The Rookery
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 379 (Solar post-zenith)
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 17:01 HOURS
The Rookery's technical centre was in the bowels of the multi-tower not more than a few levels above the connecting points with the sky-spires on which the Rookery sat and not far below the medical centre. The centre was a warren of large bays indistinguishable from the storage holds that formed the rest of the Rookery's habitable space at these levels, and connected to the many shuttle and cargo bays below the outpost's hangars. The Rookery's technical staff were a ragtag assortment of standard Decepticon technician models, captured and reprogrammed civilians, and a number of Seeker-designed senior technicians and specialists. Most of the Rookery's technical jobs were carried out by the standard technicians and civilian-model slaves, but the more complicated and covert tasks were worked on exclusively by the Seeker-designed staff. Like the lightly built Seeker medical staff, the Seeker technicians were considered to be more sympathetic to their larger warrior-model cousins than other Decepticon models would be, and hence more trustworthy. Within reason…
Technoshear was a Seeker-model technician, specialising in data decryption and leading a small team of computer and neuro-circuitry specialists under the direct command of Starscream. The diminutive turquoise femme was as loyal to Starscream as any of his soldiers were, and he begrudgingly accepted her usefulness to him. As he entered her tech-bay followed by Thundercracker - both repaired of their injuries since leaving Starscream's office - she looked over to him and came to attention. "Commander on deck!" she called to her team. The three Seeker-model technicians and the single warrior-model Seeker that constituted her team immediately stopped what they were doing and came to attention. Starscream barely noticed as he approached Technoshear, dwarfing her in his presence. "You have completed the data recovery from the memory buffers I provided?" he asked.
"Yes, commander," she replied, her light frame ducking out of his shadow and crossing the bay gracefully to a computer console. "I thought it best to provide you with the information personally," she said as she transferred the data to a portable storage crystal. "You said that it was of the utmost secrecy and I didn't wish to risk it falling into the wrong hands while you were away."
"And the decryption is complete?" asked Starscream, taking the chip.
"Of course, sir," she replied. "We succeeded in recovering and decrypting over ninety-five percent of the data in the memory buffers. It's all on that crystal."
"Perfect," Starscream gloated, lifting the small shard of yellow crystal to eye-level and looking into its fractal interior. He turned to her, his tone dropping to a more menacing growl. "You are aware of the secrecy of this matter?"
"Of course," she replied, coming to a rigid attention.
"And does the same go for your team?" he asked.
"Of course," she told him. "I vouch for my team personally. The information we have recovered will not be revealed to anyone outside this room."
"Have you analysed the data?"
"I made a preliminary evaluation to ensure the efficacy of the recovery, of course," replied Technoshear, "but no in-depth analysis was carried out to my knowledge."
"Lucky for you and your team, Technoshear," Starscream replied. Turning from her, he opened a data port on his forearm and inserted the crystal tip into it. As he activated the data transfer, the crystal's data flooded into his circuitry. His optics widened and bleached as he processed the memory buffer data, and then they narrowed warily as he removed the crystal from the data-port. He turned to Technoshear. "This data is to be purged immediately!" he told her. "It must never leave this room!"
"Of course, sir," she replied, optics widening with concern.
"Make sure it is," he warned her, crushing the crystal to dust in his hand. "This information must never be revealed to anyone." He surveyed the other technicians in the room, his optics centring on a small white mech in the far corner of the bay. With a mental command his port chest launcher fired, and the technician was ripped apart by the low-yield cluster bomb. Technoshear turned to her dead team member. "Air-brain!"
"An example of what will happen should this information ever become public, Technoshear!" Starscream told her, his narrowed optics locking onto her own. "Are we clear?"
"Yes, commander," she replied, lowering her gaze. "I'll purge the data myself."
"Then we can avoid any more unpleasantness," Starscream smiled. "I would be sorry to lose your expertise, Technoshear." He turned from the bay, Thundercracker moving on ahead. At the door he paused and turned back to the remaining technicians. A vicious smile crossed his lips. "Excellent work, by the way," he chuckled. "I couldn't have been more impressed and happy with the results." Without waiting for a response, he left the bay and the doors closed behind him.
Thundercracker paused for him to catch up, and as Starscream took the lead he addressed his commander. "Well, whatever they found it definitely put a coil in your foot as the fleshies say."
"Ahh, Thundercracker," sighed Starscream infinitely pleased with himself, "you couldn't begin to comprehend what Soundwave discovered before his untimely death. Oblivion had very good reason to kill my old opponent. And I intend to capitalise fully on his loss."
"What are you planning, Screamer?" Thundercracker chuckled.
"All will be revealed," Starscream replied with a grin.
Before Thundercracker could respond, the Rookery's intercom activated and Concussion's voice spoke. "This is Rookery control. Commander Starscream, we have received word from Darkmount. All Decepticon command officers are to report immediately to the Supreme Overlord."
"So," Starscream smiled, "our leader has broken his silence at last. Well, Thundercracker, let's go see what the moron has to say about his glorious retreat with his tail between his legs. It may even be mildly amusing to watch."
"That information must have been good," Thundercracker smirked.
"We'll collect Skywarp on the way," Starscream told him. "Once Mega Galvatron has finished his inevitable ranting, the three of us have a little journey to make!"
"Where to?"
"Hydrus IV," replied Starscream. "Or is it New Quintessa now? I've lost track."
"Who cares, I say," shrugged Thundercracker. "Doesn't make it any less foul and stinking!" Starscream shook his head at his lieutenant in amusement, before heading down the corridor towards the nearest repulsor-shaft. Thundercracker cast him a bemused smile before following.
Polyhex City-state, Sector Alpha-010
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 391 (Solar post-zenith)
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 18:41 HOURS
The atmosphere in the throne room at Darkmount was tangible. Sitting in his immense throne, the cloud of fury around Mega Galvatron hung over the Decepticon commanders gathered below him. Cyclonus and Scourge stood to either side of the Supreme Overlord's dais. Starscream could see the restrained fear in Cyclonus' optics as the saboteur hoped to keep his leader's ire from venting at him. Scourge, on the other hand, was enjoying the sense of fear emanating from the other commanders, and his face betrayed a smile of smug satisfaction and a glint of pleasure in his ruby optics. Colossus stood close to the two Unicronians, managing to weather the anger of Mega Galvatron with a stiff determination, his respirator unit and optic visor hiding whatever true emotion was running through him. The Ultra Pretender Roadblock stood close to Colossus, though slightly farther from the fuming Decepticon leader above them, the bestial features of his inner shell shielding his internal anxiety from visual detection. Various other commanders stood farther from the throne, including Starscream himself, who was also weathering the storm of Mega Galvatron's anger alongside Thundercracker.
"You call yourselves Decepticons!" the Supreme Overlord roared. "Not one of you is worthy of association with the great warriors who came before you!" He stood up, his clawed hands flexing with his anger and his wings flared out from his shoulders. "You are all cowards and fools! Never have I seen such disgusting displays of weakness! Running from Autobots with your tails between your legs like pathetic Neutralists! All of you should be terminated and your troops with you! If I had the Decepticons to spare I'd have each and every one of you purged from our ranks!" He paused, his cooling systems pulling in air in rasping breaths to cool the energies his anger was releasing into his systems. "I am insulted at your cowardice! None of you deserve to be in my presence! Your lives are not worthy of sacrifice to my Decepticon Empire!"
Starscream looked around the room at his fellow officers, looking for signs of the inevitable response to Mega Galvatron's accusations. His optics seized on the clenched fists of Motormaster. Had he been human, the Stunticon leader's knuckles would have bleached with the anger locked up in those hands. He smiled inwardly. Of all the officers to lose their cool, it made sense that it would be Motormaster who went first. A few more kliks and this meeting could get interesting!
Mega Galvatron was still ranting: "All the Autobots on Cybertron should have been as nothing to Decepticons like you! We have conquered galactic sectors, and one simple assault on Iacon sends you running for the safety of Polyhex! Disgusting! You-"
"With all due respect," Motormaster butted in, his gruff voice contemptuous, "I recall the order to retreat was given by you, leader! Moments before you fled the battlefield at warp!"
Mega Galvatron's optics rounded on Motormaster, their crimson depths bleaching white with fury. "You dare blame me for this?" he growled menacingly. "I who am as a god compared to you? You do not deserve to address me as an equal, you primitive inconsequential mechanism!" Before Motormaster could react, Mega Galvatron had summoned one of his cannons from subspace and a stream of charged particles had sheared the Stunticon's arm from his shoulder. As he fell to the ground clutching his wound, Mega Galvatron descended from his throne. "None of you," he shouted in uncontrolled fury. "None of you have what it takes to serve my Empire! You are all small and trivial beings clutching to a past that no longer exists!" He crossed to the doors of the throne room, turning back to them as he blocked the exit. "I should kill you all now," he told them in a low snarl. "Annihilate your pitiful troops and recycle their wreckage into Decepticon worthy of my leadership!" His second cannon emerged from subspace. "You are all unworthy of inclusion in my glorious future! Every last one of you!" He raised his cannons to the nearest officers, their power cells whining.
"Mighty one, please!" Cyclonus' outburst drew his attention. "Insignificant they are, my leader, but at present they are the only troops you have! In time we will bring forth Decepticons of true worth to you, but for now these are the best of their number."
Mega Galvatron turned to Cyclonus, lowering his cannons with a dark chuckle. "Oh, Cyclonus, you and Scourge think yourselves so much better than these others, don't you?"
"My lord?" asked Scourge, confused.
"I have seen you for what you are, idiots!" snapped the Supreme Overlord. "You are no less insignificant than they are! Primitive barely sentient creatures hardly better than the computer systems of Darkmount!" His lips curled into a smile. "You are almost below my notice, Cyclonus! Once you may have been nearly my equals, but those days have passed! You are as much a part of the past as these others!" His smile broadened, his desire growing to show these fools how small they were to him. He locked Cyclonus with his gaze, seeing the anger that the saboteur was trying his hardest to conceal. As he held his lieutenant's attention, he made his move.
Mega Galvatron's cannon lifted on target, already pre-charged, and fired. The charged particles cut through the air, releasing a scent of ozone and electrifying the atmosphere on their path. Cyclonus tore his optics from Mega Galvatron's gaze and turned to see the target of the Supreme Overlord's shot. His optics widened as they fell on Scourge. The tracker was clutching at the edges of a gaping hole that filled the centre of his torso. One of his wing-shields had been torn away and thrown across the chamber where it had embedded in the wall. Energon sparked from the primary waveguides that had been severed by the blast, and cables and circuitry trailed out the exit wound in his back. The blue Unicronian looked up at Cyclonus with optics filled with disbelief and dread. As Cyclonus looked into his face, a trickle of mingled nutrient-oil and lubricant ran down the edge of his mouth. "Cy-Cyclonus," he sputtered, leaving a spray of oil on his lips. Before Cyclonus could respond, his comrade collapsed to the ground with a crash of metal and moments later was torn apart by the overload of his energon stores.
"Scourge!" Cyclonus called out in grief and horror. He turned to Mega Galvatron, fighting the desire to summon his own weapons and attempt to avenge his friend's death. "Why?" he asked.
"Now you know your place, Cyclonus," Mega Galvatron replied, his tone calm and emotionless. He strode across the throne room to the wreckage of his old lieutenant and nudged what had been a leg with the tip of his toe. He smiled. Turning to the other officers, he spoke. "This is the fate of all those who fail me! Consider this your only warning!" He turned and climbed the steps to his throne. Once seated, he pointed at the doors to the chamber. "Now all of you get out!" he boomed commandingly.
Without another word, the Decepticon commanders hurried from the throne room. Cyclonus was the last to leave. He paused at the exit and turned to the abandoned wreckage of Scourge, then up at Mega Galvatron. "Was there something else you wanted to add, Cyclonus?" he asked with a vicious smile.
"No, my lord," Cyclonus replied. Without another word, he turned from the room. As the doors closed behind him, he roared at the top of his vocoder in rage and despondency.
Styrakon System, New Quintessa (Hydrus IV)
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1337 (Solar post-zenith)
Earth date: 13 October 2070, 06:04 HOURS
The planet once called Hydrus IV sat on the remote tip of one spiral arm of the galaxy. For much of its history it had been ignored and forgotten by the bustle of galactic society and left to develop along its own path without outside interference. And then Hydrusian scientists had discovered Nucleon, and the small biomechanical world had become very important in galactic affairs. It had been caught up in the last days of the Cybertronian Great War as the Autobots and Decepticons fought over the Hydrusians' Nucleon. Then in the Earth year 2005 the planet had attracted even less welcome attention from Quintesson raiders. Inherently a peaceful society, the Hydrusians had been conquered by the invaders and their planet's resources and Nucleon plundered to affect a renaissance of both the Quintesson and Decepticon civilisations. Since the Decepticons had conquered the Bersalis Cluster almost fifty Earth-years later, the planet had been left in the control of the Quintessons and had been transformed. It was now the new home-world of the Hydrusians' Quintesson masters, who had renamed the world New Quintessa.
The warp gate in orbit of New Quintessa yawned wide above the planet, its writhing swirling surface alight with the immense energies required to bring subspace and hyperspace into such intimate contact with normal space-time. For several kliks it shone like a small sun in the dawn sky - illuminating the green-grey biomechanical surface and purplish oceans of hydrocarbons - before the energies taken to maintain it were exhausted and it snapped shut as quickly as it had appeared. In its place, the universe had disgorged three alien aircraft into the vacuum of space. The three Terran-style F-22 Raptors fired engines that were beyond human technology and accelerated towards the planet below them. As the planet's security net detected their presence, a flurry of sensor scans swept across the new arrivals from cloaked orbital defence satellites and surface installations. Within a matter of kliks, communications channels came alive as Quintesson security hailed the three aircraft.
Moments later, the lead grey, red and blue fighter responded. "New Quintessa, this is Decepticon Seeker commander Starscream requesting landing clearance. Over."
"Decepticon Starscream, we are transmitting landing co-ordinates to you now," came the gruff response. "Do not deviate from our flight plan or you will be shot down."
"Understood, New Quintessa," replied Starscream, as he and his two wing-men - Thundercracker and Skywarp - received the landing co-ordinates and moved onto the flight path transmitted by Quintesson security. The three Decepticons banked down towards the surface, monitored constantly by security and tactical sensors.
As Starscream dropped out of orbit and into the thick cloying atmosphere of New Quintessa, the ubiquitous green-grey of the land masses resolved to reveal the geographic features of the humid jungle-world. Vast forests of biomechanical vegetation spread out from the equator, interrupted by crater-like vents that erupted from the planet's hot interior to send plumes of heated hydrocarbon-rich gases into the air where they condensed and rained down in greasy droplets to the thirsty forests below. To the Hydrusians, this environment had been perfect, but to Starscream it was a living hell of rust-spots, energon flukes and seizing joints. He had once hoped never to see this world again, but now it was the most important world in Starscream's universe! Ahead, the forests thinned out where an ugly golden city seemed to have pushed its way up out of the ground like a fetid ulcer, its architecture curved and spiralling with branching coils erupting at awkward angles that displeased the optic sensor, and everywhere the number five reared its head in the design ethic of the metropolis. As the Decepticons approached the city - it had grown immensely in its sprawl across the planet's northern hemisphere since Starscream had last seen it, sending up immense metal parabolas that disappeared across the far horizon in defiance of gravity - a cluster of landing beacons began to flash around the edge of a pentagonal landing pad near the edge of the forests. They landed in robot mode at the centre of the pad, and moments later the clanking of heavy machinery signalled the descent of the pad into the hangar below.
As a heavy iris door spiralled closed over them, finally shielding them from the greasy rain that had pelted them on their descent, a door opened in one of the walls of the five-sided hangar and a tall slender Cybertronian entered, bowing to the three Decepticons. The Cybertronian was primarily black and silver. A silver racer alt-mode spoiler formed his chest plate over a black upper torso. Each shoulder was topped by a silver grille either side of his head. His upper arms were silver, above black forearms and hands with launcher assemblies mounted on each forearm. Behind his shoulders extended black wing-shields flashed with silver, four silver spine-like manoeuvring vanes emerging from behind each wing-shield flanking twin engine nacelles on his back. His pelvis and thighs were silver above black lower legs formed by his racer-mode bow, each knee occupied by a machine-gun port and silver flashes on his shins. His feet were formed by the mirrored halves of his racer canopy. His cranial helmet was as black as his upper torso, with a long straight horn emerging from either side behind his temples at forty-five degree angles. Two silver blades ran from his forehead to the back of his neck, merging into the featureless polished silver plate that covered his entire face. "Welcome to New Quintessa, comrades," he purred, his velvety voice edged with a darkness and malevolence that would have sent shivers up the back-strut of a less battle-hardened listener. "I am Herald, chief attendant of his Eminence the great Oblivion." He turned to face Starscream, his featureless mask reflecting the Seeker commander's own features back to him. "His Eminence has been expecting your arrival, commander Starscream."
"He has, has he?" Starscream replied, his sly smile reflected back to him by Herald's face-plate.
"Oh, yes," Herald purred. "The reasons for your visit are of great interest to him."
I bet they are! thought Starscream, before responding: "And I would be glad to enlighten him. I have much to discuss with your master."
"Excellent," Herald purred. "Please follow me. I am sure that you and your followers would like the chance to recharge and clean the local precipitation from your exo-plating. When you are refreshed, I am certain that his Eminence will be most eager to receive your audience."
"I'm sure he will," replied Starscream, smiling. He turned his head to Thundercracker and Skywarp and indicated for them to follow. As they fell in behind him, Herald led him from the hangar.
Herald left the three Seekers in one of the city's palatial guest residences in the heavily guarded inner core of the city. The residence was the size of a small Decepticon frontier outpost, and was decorated in the lavish status-driven opulence that was typical of Quintesson style. Even here the number five and spirals were incorporated into every aspect of design, from the layout of the rooms and floors to the mouldings on the walls and ceilings. As Herald bowed low in exit, leaving them alone, Starscream stepped out into the midst of the vaulted main hall of the residence and cast an appreciative eye over his surroundings. "This," he chuckled, "is the kind of status that I was built to attain."
"I don't know," replied Thundercracker with a shrug. "It's a little enclosed for my liking. I like to be up in the air, not locked up down here at ground level."
"Yes," replied Starscream a little ruffled, "well you obviously weren't meant for this level of status, were you?"
"I was only saying," grumbled Thundercracker, folding his arms across his chest. "If you like it, well, that's your choice."
"Yes, it is!" Starscream responded, peeved. "And when I am Decepticon high commander, my palace will make this look like a repair shop."
"So," interrupted Skywarp, wiping a film of grease off his shoulder, "where are these oil baths Herald promised us? I'm covered in this stuff!" He flung the grease off his fingertips onto the polished silver floor of the chamber before crossing to a computer terminal. His fingers jabbed at the alien access console as he searched for the residence floor plans. "You know," he muttered to no one in particular, "these things would be a lot easier to use if I had tentacles."
"Of course they would, you half-wit!" snapped Starscream, pushing him aside. "They're built for Quintessons! Now let me have a try!" He tapped at the bizarrely configured console until he finally found the floor plans. "Ah, here we are," he muttered. "There's a communal oil bath on the third floor along with recharge berths."
"Do you think they'll have a few classy little femme-droids to give me a hand cleaning myself down?" Skywarp grinned, clasping his hands behind his head. "I recall the Hydrusians had a few sweet little models last time we were here."
"We're here on business!" snapped Starscream. "Enjoy yourself after we're done! I didn't bring you along to play with females!"
"Aww, spoilsport," chuckled Skywarp, heading for the grand staircase at the far side of the chamber. He took the steps three at a time, leaving Starscream and Thundercracker to catch up. "So, Starscream," Thundercracker began hesitantly, "exactly what did you find out that-"
"Shut up, you moron!" hissed Starscream over internal communications. "Remember where we are! Do you really think we aren't being monitored?"
"Sorry," shrugged Thundercracker apologetically.
"Don't be sorry," Starscream told him, "be smart! Engage that cranial centre of yours every once in a while!"
"Yeah, I'll bear that in mind," he replied as they climbed the stairs after Skywarp.
New Quintessa, Central City, Hall of Justice
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1379 (Solar post-zenith)
Earth date: 13 October 2070, 11:54 HOURS
The Quintesson Hall of Justice was a labyrinthine complex at the heart of the city, serving as a military base, command centre, and the seat of the unified executive, legislative and judicial government for the whole of New Quintessa. A bewildering maze of audience chambers, interrogation suites, holding cells, security centres, armouries, Sharkticon pens and courtrooms spread out through the structure in no discernible order, though everywhere the number five loomed side-by-side with helices and spirals. As Herald led the three Decepticon Seekers toward their audience with Oblivion they caught sight of several Quintesson courtrooms through open portals, witnessing firsthand the finality of Quintesson justice. Thundercracker grew more worried with each glimpse. Glancing at his comrades he detected no such nervousness from them. Quite the opposite: Skywarp was typically nonchalant as he complimented Herald on the oil baths and energon, and Starscream was locked single-minded on getting whatever it was Soundwave's buffers had indicated was here for him. Reflecting on his situation, Thundercracker was beginning to wish for the old pre-deputy days when all he had to worry about was whether his loyalties were well placed!
After much meandering through hectocubits of twisting and branching identical tunnels, which Thundercracker was beginning to believe was Herald's way of increasing their anxiety by taking them in circles, they eventually came into a large vaulted hall into which emptied several other corridors. At the far side, a vast arched door of precious metals and jewels stood flanked by four Quintesson guard units. As they entered the hall, the guards drew themselves to full height and held their barbed and serrated force-pikes at the ready with single-minded obedience to their programming, their cold red optics calculating threat analyses on the new arrivals. Herald stepped ahead of his master's guests and crossed to the guards. "Stand down!" he ordered them in a harsh commanding voice, eliciting an immediate and obedient response from their barely sentient minds. He turned to the Decepticons and spoke in his familiar purr. "I will inform his Eminence that you are here. Please await his summons." Without another word he strode towards the monolithic doors, which parted only enough to allow him entrance before snapping swiftly shut. As soon as Herald was gone, the four guards returned to defensive postures, eyeing the three Decepticons belligerently.
It was several cycles before the reinforced doors opened fully with a rumble of heavy machinery and the guards stood down to allow Starscream and his wing-men past. The five-sided chamber beyond was incomprehensibly vast, making the Imperial Amphitheatre in Polyhex seem tiny by comparison. Helical pillars ran down the walls five-deep without lessening the spatial impact by more than a tiny fraction, and the vaulted ceiling dome could have accommodated Trypticon below its frescoed surface. Directly opposite the door, a stepped multilevel dais rose to a platform in the far corner of the chamber, on which stood an ornate bejewelled throne, and between the throne and the dais the polished floor dropped into the fatal depths of a Sharkticon pool.
Herald stood silent and immobile on the lowest tier of the dais, and as the optics of the Seekers followed the steps up past three further tiers to the upper platform they finally met the emotionless emerald gaze of the being known simply, and aptly, as Oblivion. The optics were set in silver sockets that seemed to be filled by tiny wires that radiated out from the green lenses to angular and visibly sectioned facial exo-plating. His head was enclosed in a bulky jet-black cranial helmet that extended armour plates out from the forehead and sides over his nose and upper jaw in an inverted T. Below the armour his lower jaw was bare silver exo-plating, a cleft running vertically down the centre of his chin from his mouth, eventually splitting the chin into two curved spikes. A vertical row of sharp silver spikes extended out from each audio module below a pair of long purple horns that curved upward towards sharp tips. The surface of each horn was riddled with bare circuitry and their span extended out beyond his powerful silver shoulders. Three razor-edged blades ran back from his forehead to the base of his helmet. Black bat-like wings were folded around his shoulders, revealing the curved black horns that erupted from the top of his black arms and enveloping his body to his bulky purple lower legs and the silver birdlike talons that formed his feet. A pair of purple engine nacelles were mounted on the back of his shoulders. Oblivion's lips curled into what approached a welcoming smile, revealing a maw of needle-like fangs. "Welcome to New Quintessa, Decepticons," he addressed them, his deep malevolent voice reverberating around the vast chamber. "I was not aware that your new leader was sending emissaries to Quintesson territory… Mega Galvatron cost my followers much in his last strategy. Does he wish to apologise for his abject failure?"
Starscream stepped forward, bowing his head to the enthroned being. "I am Starscream of Vos, Eminence," he addressed him reverently. "I come here of my own accord. I was not sent."
"Indeed?" chuckled Oblivion. "You wish audience with Oblivion for some private matter?… I am intrigued. Most would have self-terminated to avoid entering my court."
"I am not most, Eminence," replied Starscream, lifting his head to meet Oblivion's eye. The emerald green optics held his gaze, seeming to peer into the Seeker's spark.
After several kliks that seemed to extend to infinity, Oblivion laughed and stood up, breaking his almost hypnotic stare with Starscream. He descended from the throne, followed obediently by a dwarfed Herald. As he reached the floor of the high court, his wings flared out from his shoulders and folded down his back, revealing the true enormity of his form. His bulky silver chest and shoulders were split down the front by a black aircraft nose module that ran from his collar to form the centre of his pelvis. A red cockpit filled the module at the centre of his abdomen and silver stabiliser fins at the nose cone formed the front of his pelvis. The rest of his torso was jet-black and hulking, as were his thighs and horned knees. His bulky black arms were horned at the shoulder and elbow, each protrusion razor-sharp, above silver wrist modules. His powerful silver hands were equipped with a thumb on each side of the palm, each of the six digits ending in a curved claw. He crossed to Starscream with his talons clicking on the metal floor with every step, his towering form dwarfing the three Seekers. "You interest me, Starscream," he told the Seeker commander, his voice hushed but just as dark and menacing. His hands lifted to Starscream's shoulders before tracing through the air over his exo-plating as he tasted the aura of the Decepticon. "I sense such potential locked up inside you." He leant in close to Starscream's grilled audio module. "What would you give me to unlock it?" he whispered, his tone silky and edged with greed. "What are your ambitions worth, hmm? Why don't you tell me?"
Starscream suppressed a shiver of mingled fear and disgust, before raising his optics to Oblivion's face. "I give nothing, Eminence," he replied in an even tone. "I take what I want!"
Oblivion straightened, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "Then tell me, Starscream of Vos," he asked balefully, "what would you take to achieve your dreams?" He turned away from the Decepticon, his wings flaring out and then folding around his body. Starscream felt his senses bristle in warning, before a voice cut through his thoughts with all the force of a hurricane: You would take a life for your dreams, Starscream. Oblivion looked back at the Seeker over his shoulder; his lips curled into a smile as his telepathic presence pushed deeper into the Decepticon's mind. Would you take a thousand? Millions? Billions? An entire species? An entire world? He turned his gaze from a Starscream clearly shaken by the intrusion and began to walk back to the throne. He spoke aloud without looking back. "Think over what I said, Starscream. Such glorious potential should not be wasted… Now, leave me!" He waved a dismissing hand over his shoulder, and Starscream felt an invisible force push him towards the door. He indicated for Thundercracker and Skywarp to follow and left the high court, the immense doors grinding shut behind them.
Central City, Slave Pits
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1470 (Solar pre-zenith)
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 00:32 HOURS
By rare celestial convergence, New Quintessa's day-night cycle was currently overlapping the day-night cycle of Cybertron despite the differences in orbit and rotation of the two worlds. The stellar observatory in Cybertron's city-state of Nova Cronum made it just over two decabreems past midnight, and Central City on New Quintessa was at a similar phase in its cycle. The large primary moon of New Quintessa shone through the cloud and haze that hung over the darkened forests as it sank to the eastern horizon. Though in the past it had outshone any constructed light source on Hydrus IV, in comparison to the lights of Central City it was a feeble orb in the muggy sky. An oily rain had begun falling at dusk, and the greasy droplets had bathed the city streets and rooftops in a film of iridescent hydrocarbons that made the golden buildings shine in the artificial lights of the Quintesson capital.
On the remote northern edge of the city, the sweeping Quintesson architecture degraded to a series of single-storey grey buildings, their interconnected pentagonal structures utilitarian and standardised. Here the lights were dim, if they were lit at all, and Quintesson guards patrolled the streets ready to destroy anyone who violated the security of their patrol zones. This was the slave quarter of Central City, where the indigenous Hydrusian population of the planet were held between their work shifts, given just enough energon and nutrient solutions to keep them functional but hungry for more. The dilapidated buildings were as downtrodden as their inhabitants. Below ground, the buildings expanded into slave warrens patrolled by guards only marginally less bestial than their comrades on the surface streets. Every Hydrusian longed to escape this bondage, but fear of the guards - or the Sharkticon pits in the Hall of Justice - kept the majority in check.
The interior of the surface level of each building was a series of facilities for the Quintesson slave-masters, centred on a large five-sided pit that dropped down to a main floor five storeys below in the slave warrens. At the upper ground level, the pit was ringed by a large protected walkway from which the slave-masters could monitor activities below them. At night the pits were generally quiet but for the post-midnight visit to one of them by their master Oblivion, always accompanied by the silent wraithlike presence of Herald.
The tall form of Oblivion stood silent and chillingly motionless on the armoured walkway overlooking slave pit Z-11-AK-4, his wings closed tight around his body and his emerald optics surveying the assembled slaves below - turned from their berths mid sleep-cycle and standing shivering and disoriented - as Herald strode among their ranks with his forearm launchers armed and ready for use. At Oblivion's side, a small nautilus-type Quintesson administrator shivered in awe of its towering master. "As you can see, Eminence," it said in a tone that tried to hide its fear, "the slaves in this pit are only of the highest quality, both in terms of physical strength and excellence. They also have exceptional intelligence. They are generally put to use in skilled tasks. We allow only the best to live." It paused, waiting for a reply from Oblivion, and received none. This made it feel all the more nervous. "Yes," it continued, more for its own benefit than its master's, "these are the cream of the Hydrusian labour pool. They work very efficiently."
"Silence yourself, administrator," Oblivion said hollowly. "I am not here for workers as you are well aware. I have other needs that demand to be sated."
"Yes, Eminence," it replied, its tentacles flapping in fear as it backed away on its repulsor beam. "You may take your pick, as is your prerogative."
"Then silence!" Oblivion ordered, his voice becoming infinitely deeper and more malevolent. "Or I will sate my hunger with you!" The administrator's tentacles virtually shook themselves from their sockets as it backed away, hitting the bulkhead behind it and almost crying out in terror.
Oblivion turned his bottomless gaze back to the pit, and surveyed the slaves. Finally, he raised a clawed hand and pointed to one of the Hydrusians. Herald bowed his head and lifted an arm to the Hydrusian. Before the slave could react, the launcher fired a web of energy that entangled him and sucked him to the ground immobile, joining several dozen others that Herald had already incapacitated. As the slave slipped into a temporary deactivation, Herald turned back to his master. "Another, Eminence?" he purred.
"These shall suffice for this night," replied Oblivion, surveying the off-line Hydrusian mechanoids. Herald nodded, and indicated for the other slaves to be returned to their quarters. Quintesson guards that had been lurking around the edge of the Pit rushed in, pushing and shoving the functional Hydrusians out through the dark portals that exited the pit. As the last were forced from the chamber, Oblivion lifted an open hand to the dozen or so netted Hydrusians. For a few moments nothing seemed to happen, and then they disappeared. Moments later, he and Herald also disappeared from the slave pit, leaving a terrified administrator in their wake.
Central City, Hall of Justice
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1474 (Solar pre-zenith)
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 01:04 HOURS
Starscream crouched in the shadow beneath a helix ridge at the base of one of the towers of the Hall of Justice, hidden inside his Pretender shell. Across the square in front of him, the wall of the high court rose out of sight to the domed roof high above. He was so close to his goal! He could virtually taste the power that sat just beyond his fingertips. Failure at this juncture was unthinkable. The square was one of several that served to allow Oblivion public audience with his Quintesson subjects from a high balcony. If he could reach that balcony, his entry into the building would be assured. The reason he was hiding in shadows when his goal was so tantalisingly close was the squad of Quintesson guards that were currently standing between him and this objective. They had arrived in the square moments after he had, and he had only just managed to find cover in the shadows before they had seen him. Since then, he had wasted almost half a breem unable to reach the balcony without detection. One or two guards he was sure he could handle, but attacking the dozen units that blocked his way would result either in him being overpowered or Quintesson security being alerted to him. Though never a very religious Decepticon, he couldn't help cursing the Ultimate Warrior for this bad luck! He watched the guards silently as they shared stories of their mistreatment of the native Hydrusians, willing them to move on in their patrol. After another cycle passed with no sign of their gruff voices and laughter abating, he moved to the riskier plan B.
Starscream slipped quietly around the tower out of sight of the guards and into the open street that led off into the city. Straightening up, he cracked open his shell and stepped out. Heavy droplets of oily rain splattered on his metalwork. Now, he thought, comes the cunning part! Accessing his shell's remote systems, he reconnected its halves and took control of its motor and sensory systems. As Starscream deployed his arm cannons, his shell once again took hold of its thermal carbine. Returning to the shadows under the ledge he directed his shell forward into the square. The guards' conversation changed to gruff shouts as they spotted his shell 'sneaking' towards them. Kliks later, the thermal carbine fired and one of the guards dropped to the ground, leaking energon and internal fluids from what remained of its head. The others reacted immediately, switching into their reptilian modes and leaping towards the shell.
Starscream beat the first of the reptilians away with his shell, firing several blasts from the thermal carbine that disembowelled a few others. As he smiled with satisfaction, he directed his shell to turn tail and run from the square. Soon after, the empty shell rushed past his hiding place and down the street with the remaining guards following. As it ran from the pursuing guards, Starscream dived from the shadows and ran across the square. As the immense walls of the high court approached, he engaged his heel jets and was thrust up into the air towards the balcony high above. A few kliks later, he vaulted over the balcony rail and crouched down in the shadows, returning his full attention to controlling his shell.
Several cycles later, the shell ran back into the square from another direction, only a matter of kliks ahead of the pursuing guards. As it ran towards the balcony where Starscream was hiding, the Decepticon activated his subspace systems. Several kliks later, it entered subspace range of its owner and disappeared from sight. Starscream peered over the balcony at the bewildered guards. As he watched their primitive processors struggle to understand what had happened, he reactivated his subspace systems and withdrew his thermal carbine. As it fell into his waiting hands, he activated its sniper mode. Several blasts later, the guards lay sprawled in the square below, fluids trickling from the entry wounds in their heads.
Starscream returned the rifle to subspace and straightened, his optics scanning the balcony for the exit. A little hacking of the lock circuitry later, and he was through into the building. He was in an ornate grand corridor that ringed the building on this upper level, the opposite wall formed by an array of observation windows. Starscream crossed and looked out into the high court chamber. The corridor seemed to sit atop the helical pillars ringing the court with the domed ceiling rising above the observation windows. From where Starscream stood he could see the throne-topped dais clearly, and could see the door behind the throne. Turning his optics to the rest of the courtroom, he searched for an entrance on his level and found none.
So close! He was so infuriatingly close to his goal, and yet if he couldn't get into the courtroom he was still just as far away as he had been in the guest residence. In frustration, he clenched his fists and almost smashed them through the window, but good sense stayed his hand. The windows would surely be alarmed, alerting security to any attempt to infiltrate Oblivion's court if he should force his way through. To have come this far and then alert security would be the ultimate failure, and the ultimate embarrassment. No, he had to think through his options. Work out a way to get to his goal. No security system was infallible. There would be a way through!
He unclenched his fists and ran his palms over the surface of the window. The tingle of the security grid within the pane ran through his exo-plating, strong and vibrant. He moved his palms calmly over the surface, attempting to find a flaw in the field. Edging slowly down the array of windows, he painstakingly checked every pane and frame for a change in the grid that would show him a way through. For several breems he searched the long array that ran down this wall of the courtroom, sub-processors analysing the sensor data for patterns. As he reached the end of the array, he smiled. "Here you are," he whispered, his tone excited and triumphant. His hands ran from the pane onto the wall and up the edge of the window until he found the correct spot. Then, he targeted one of his null ray cannons and fired. Energy spiked in the security grid for a few nanokliks as the null ray hit the control processors encased within the wall, and then security for the entire window array collapsed. Smiling victorious, Starscream barrelled through the nearest window pane. He somersaulted in mid-air and landed nimbly on the floor of the high court, immediately assuming a defensive posture and scanning for danger.
He didn't have long! He may have avoided triggering the alarms, but the grid failure would have registered with Quintesson security. A guard would probably be deployed to check the area, and Starscream's presence would be detected. A sense of urgency accelerating his internal systems, he rushed around the central Sharkticon pit and ascended the dais to the throne. Rounding the throne, he approached the ornate door that led into what he assumed was Oblivion's inner sanctum. His reward was so close! Power would be his! He would dispose of Cyclonus. Then that insane fool Mega Galvatron. And then he would take his rightful position as Decepticon High Commander, and lead the Empire to final victory over the peace-loving Autobot fools! He had always known his destiny, and now it was finally within his grasp. At his approach, the ornate door split down the centre and retracted into the frame, revealing a darkness so deep that it was like looking out into nothingness. A sense of anxiety momentarily drove away his impending destiny, before he pushed it aside and stepped into the inky blackness beyond the door.
Oblivion's Sanctuary
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1478 (Solar pre-zenith)
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 01:37 HOURS
To Starscream, the darkness that surrounded him seemed to stretch to infinity, and the silence made the pumping of fuel in his audio modules seem deafening. Even after several kliks of his optical sub-processor's futile attempts to adapt to the utter impenetrable blackness around him, he was still completely blind to what lay more than a cubit from his face. The only light was the glow of his own optic sensors. Again the feelings of anxiety threatened to overwhelm him and drive him back the way he had come, but as he glanced over his shoulder he realised that the way back had been reduced to darkness too. If not for his internal gyroscopes and the tactile sensors in his feet telling him there was a floor beneath him, he would have felt dizzied by the lack of sensory input. Even his electromagnetic, radar, radio-wave and olfactory sensors were struggling to adapt to a total absence of input. The only 'sights' he received were the red warnings from his own sensors as their sub-processors began to interpret the deprivation as system failures. The flood of warnings, coupled with a lack of input to occupy his conscious mind, threatened to overwhelm him totally and it took a supreme effort of will to remain in control of himself as his internal chronometers ticked away the kliks.
For several cycles he stood in the emptiness unable to detect anything that might be in the room around him, until finally a chilling laugh broke the silence. The sudden audio input almost overwhelmed his deprived sensors. The sound was like a physical shock that made him stagger from it, his body coming into contact with the solid surface of the wall not more than a cubit behind him. For several kliks, the room once again fell back into silence, before the dark voice of Oblivion spoke from what seemed like centicubits from his left audio module. "I have been expecting you, Starscream." The voice seemed to move to an equal distance from his right audio module. "You may be pleased to hear that I am most impressed." The words drifted into the far distance. "None have ever come this close to my presence undetected by Quintesson security. It is most impressive."
"Where are you?" Starscream asked, struggling to keep his rising panic from his tone.
"Why, I am right here," came the amused reply, followed by a dark chuckle that seemed to reverberate around the inside of Starscream's psyche. There was a pause before the voice continued. "But I forget, you are still limited to the primitive senses given you by your mortal sciences. What seems illuminated to me is still impenetrable dark to you." The vast enormity of space seemed to swim into existence around him, dotted by stars that seemed far too detailed for their size and distance. "Is this better?" Oblivion's question dripped condescension.
"It will do," replied Starscream, refusing to admit his weakness in the empty blackness that had preceded it.
"You still hide your weakness, Decepticon," Oblivion chuckled. "There is no logic in doing so. I am aware of everything in that fragile spark of yours."
"Everything?" asked Starscream, his curiosity aroused.
"Yes, Starscream," chuckled Oblivion. "Everything."
Starscream became aware of a speck of light in the far distance. For several kliks it seemed to grow closer, the stars whizzing around him as though he were travelling towards it at impossible speeds. The motion dizzied him, and again he staggered slightly. As the speck grew to fill his visual field it revealed itself as a vast circular portal that rushed at him, leaving him standing disoriented in a high vaulted chamber. The main floor was several storeys below at the foot of the steps on which he was precariously perched. The dim hall was terraced between Starscream's position and the floor below, each occupied by macabre and gruesome semi-humanoid statues that seemed to emerge organically out of the structure of the room. Many seemed to fuse again with the room at the tips of outstretched arms and tentacles, or formed hideous amalgams with the neighbouring statues. Those that had recognisable facial features seemed twisted into expressions of horror and agony that chilled even Starscream's hardened spark. The floor below was littered with deactivated Hydrusians.
Oblivion sat on a biomechanical ovoid throne that seemed to have been extruded from the centre of the vaulted ceiling and grown to fit its occupier. His hands stretched out on deformed, almost organic, armrests. Held in the air by the throne's main trunk connection to the ceiling, as well as several other segmented cables and pipes that coiled around the central support and each other, Oblivion was high enough above the main floor for Starscream to stand upright below him if he had dared to get that close to the abnormal construct. Being in the room at all was disturbing enough. "What is this place?" he asked, unable to keep his optics from lingering unnerved on the twisted statues and bizarrely organic throne.
"You have reached my inner sanctum, Starscream," Oblivion chuckled. "You should be very proud of that fact. None have dared attempt it before… Others have been here, but not willingly." He indicated the twisted deformed statues. "Hydrusian slaves," he told the Decepticon with a vicious grin. "Those who have previously sated my hunger, immortalised forever within my sanctum." His smile broadened, revealing needle-like fangs that were serrated along the back edge, and he stroked the arm of his throne. "You remember Lord Jyrhil, the Quintesson chief justice who reactivated your old leader, Megatron," he said meaningfully. "He has since served me most comfortably." The laugh that escaped Oblivion chilled Starscream's fuel lines to his laser core.
"I care nothing for Hydrusians or Quintessons," Starscream told Oblivion, again refusing to express his horror. "I left one Quintesson dying in the guest residence. Why should I worry about what you did to their ex-leader? It seems poetic justice to use the old slave-master as he used others."
"I suppose it does," replied Oblivion. "Now if you would give me just one moment I shall attend to you. But first I have a meal to finish." He turned his emerald optics from Starscream to one of the Hydrusians littering the floor of his sanctum. At the movement, the small mechanoid - the only one not bearing great gashes in its exo-plating - lifted into the air and drifted almost leisurely to Oblivion's waiting hand, his clawed fingers closing around her throat. The Hydrusian stirred at Oblivion's touch, and her optic shutters parted to look into his face. Starscream watched unable to tear his eyes away as Oblivion's mouth opened, splitting exo-plating between his upper and lower jaws as they yawned wide. As they expanded to their maximum spread, the cleft in the lower jaw seemed to pull apart and the two halves swung out to either side, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp knives that lined his gaping maw down to the dull red glow of internal matter-smelters in his torso. With a shriek and crunch of rending metal, Oblivion drew the Hydrusian's head into his mouth where the multiple rows of teeth ground through her cranial cap and slowly devoured the interior. The slurp and gurgle of internal fluids sounded as he drained the body of all nourishment. Finally, he dropped the dead shell to the ground and returned his gaze to Starscream, his optics now glowing brightly.
"Now," he addressed the horrified Decepticon once his lower jaw had reformed, "what is it that brought you to me, Starscream?"
Starscream remained silent, his mind struggling to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. Cannibalising parts and energon from dead comrades was no great taboo among the Decepticons, but what he had just witnessed was so far beyond military recycling that he was lost for words. He had watched Ratbat and others feeding from fuel lines with mild disgust, but Oblivion's devouring of the living left an icy chill in his spark. His optics drifted to the deformed statues encircling the chamber, now all too aware of the source of their horrified expressions. A niggling doubt whispered in the back of his mind, urging him to try with every fibre of his being to escape this charnel house before he joined the Hydrusians in silent and immobile torment. Had he underestimated Oblivion's malignancy?
No! His failure now was unimaginable. He drew himself straight and proud as he determined to go through with this despite the risk. The potential rewards outweighed any dangers to him or his wing-men. Suppressing his fears, he descended to the floor amid the hideously torn and dismembered Hydrusians and looked up to Oblivion with a cunning twinkle in his optic. "You asked me what I would take to achieve my ambitions, Eminence," he said haughtily. "Well, I would take your anonymity for a start." He allowed a carefully weighted smile to curl his lips. "I know who you are."
"Is that so?" Oblivion chuckled.
"Oh, yes. You may have pulled the wool over the eyes of the other Decepticons, but I am not so easily fooled. I have studied your actions, Oblivion. Studied how you carefully avoided setting foot on Cybertron even after Megatron conquered Polyhex." He steepled his hands in front of his chest and cocked his head to one side, eyeing the giant above him. "So the question becomes, why would someone avoid Cybertron for almost four centivorns? Even the security of Decepticon-controlled Polyhex?"
"And so you have an answer to that question?" Oblivion asked darkly.
"Yes, I do," Starscream smiled. "It all comes down to who would fear Cybertron. Who would fear the Matrix energy coursing through every fibre of my home world? Now who could that be, Oblivion?"
"You are a fool, Starscream. If you truly understood what you were dealing with, you would not be so insolent!"
"I understand perfectly!" snapped Starscream. "Soundwave understood too. That is why you had to ensure he met with an unfortunate accident. He would have warned Megatron, and you couldn't allow yourself to be revealed so soon. Am I right, Unicron?"
"You have signed your own death warrant, you presumptuous worm!" laughed Oblivion, leaping down from his throne and towering over Starscream, heavy concussion cannons deploying from panels in his forearms. "You dare attempt to blackmail the Chaos Bringer? I am a child of the Void! I could crush your insignificant body with a thought and devour your spark; its potency could sustain me for kilovorns. And the torments of that fate are worse than any mythological Pit your primitive religious fantasies can conceive!"
Starscream looked into the bottomless emerald optics, for the first time seeing what lay behind them and feeling his spark attempt to retreat from its unleashed presence. Only his desire for power held him still within Oblivion's shadow. "You misunderstand my intent, Great Devourer," he said slyly. "Blackmail may have been Soundwave's forte, but I have far more concrete ambitions to fulfil!" He sagged his wings and bowed his head respectfully. "I realise that you are a power beyond my comprehension: a god among mortals. Beyond the comprehension of any mortal being." He glanced up, his optics burning with desire. "I wish to share in that power! To raise myself to glory and crush all who oppose me. You have the ability to bestow that power on others as you did Galvatron. You will do the same for me!"
"Will I?" chuckled Oblivion. "And how shall you repay this gift, Starscream? What do you offer me?"
"I will destroy all who oppose you," he replied. "My Empire will hunt down every last Autobot and purge them from existence."
"Why should I care when Mega Galvatron will do this without my lifting a hand?" Oblivion grinned broadly. "I do not share my power voluntarily, Decepticon."
"Name your price."
"I must be assured of the destruction of all opposition to my rebirth, Starscream. Destroy the Autobots, and capture the Creation Matrix and Cybertron for me. With the life-force and body of Primus I will rise from the ashes of my enemy and be reborn! That is my price!"
"The Matrix and Cybertron are all you desire?" asked Starscream, smiling. "The resources of both will be a loss to my Empire, but neither is irreplaceable. Megatron could never understand that fact. Cybertron was always at the heart of his Empire."
"And your Empire?" asked Oblivion, his lips curling into a hungry grin.
"One planet is much the same as another," Starscream shrugged. "The Bersalis Cluster is a far more defensible position than Cybertron has ever been. My Empire will pour forth from there. You can take Cybertron!"
"You speak so coldly of the body of your god," Oblivion chuckled darkly.
"A god who had no greater destiny for me than a pawn in his battles with you!" snapped Starscream. "I retain no loyalty to Primus!"
"Excellent," crowed Oblivion. "Very well then, you shall have the power you crave! But know this: you will serve me or you will face the consequences of your disloyalty! Remember that I give only a fraction of my total power to you."
"So be it!" growled Starscream. "I don't care! I want what I have always wanted: power! I want Decepticons to cower at my feet and hail me as their rightful ruler! And I want Mega Galvatron to see it before I wipe him from existence!"
"Such arrogance," Oblivion chuckled. "Such low regard for those around you. So power is your only desire? Then take it!" Oblivion lifted a clawed hand, fist clenched. At the movement, Starscream was lifted from his feet into the air. Oblivion opened his hand, spreading his fingers wide, and Starscream's limbs were forced out from his body in a vicelike invisible grip. For several kliks, he hung immobile in Oblivion's psionic clutches, before the giant's optics glowed brightly and the Decepticon was bathed in a cold green light that seared through to his core. Starscream howled in agony as his exo-plating began to tear itself from his body, his internal structures twisting and reforming as it began to grow in size and power. Subspace tore open around the Decepticon, and the liquefied techno-organic material of his Pretender shell swirled in the psionic storm that reshaped his body with sheered exo-plating and armour. "Behold," laughed Oblivion. "Starscream is no more. Now there is only Starstrike: the instrument of my rebirth!"