DARK STORM RISING CHAPTER 16
REVERSE COURSE
"Survival is the sum total of guts, wisdom and flexibility."
-Rodimus Prime
I am you.
No. That's not right.
Am I you?
Yes.
No. We are I.
Are we intelligence or instinct?
Thhhhhh...
You. Me. Inconsequential. It's incorrect.
You hissed. I listened to you.
We. Stop.
Who's the charge? Who are you?
I am Optimus Prime.
No. We are.
You cannot be me. I forbid it.
If that is fact, then I am you.
You are separate from me. You are not my thoughts.
We can change. We can merge.
I do not want to merge with you.
No. You'd rather merge with the Girl. We can merge with the Girl.
She will not merge with you. She does not love you.
Thhhhh... love. Love killed Void.
What are you talking about what are you saying?
Like filthy quickmud evil dragged Optimus under. He struggled against the paralyzing strength but could not move so much as a finger.
He had no fingers.
A long tapered leg stood upon solid organic ground. He breathed in nitrogen dioxide, breathed out argon. Crisp air tantalized his exterior with minute differences of temperature and magnetic energy.
What was that smell?
Familiar. T'was the smell of a cold sun, like gravel; like dry warm sand. A tinge of old metal and dry sand. Old? Compared to what?
Familiar.
Let us travel this way.
Object ahead. Blue optical scanners.
Inconsequential.
Hardhead.
What?
That is Hardhead.
?
Optimus half understood. Disorientation jumbled his senses. He walked on four extremities rather than rolling on six or walking on two.
Colors warped; only movement made sense. He peered at Hardhead, hissed. He spoke but did not know what he said. He lifted his head and scanned, searching for a physical representation of the dry sand scent.
Light flashed one spot then another. Like fireworks, Optimus thought. He turned toward them; curious, mesmerized.
Thhhhh. Yes. There.
Optimus watched the colors ebb and flow toward and away, like ocean waves smeared by a paint brush.
Caught in another dimension?
Why is there no sound?
EXPLAIN SOUND.
Vibrations in the air. High pitches. Low tones. Hard. Soft.
EXPLAIN MORE.
We can't hear.
We never heard.
But you hear my voice.
You have no voice.
I speak.
You communicate.
The Girl. Her voice. Her music. Her laughter.
Void heard.
Thhhh. Void. Void. INCONSEQUENTIAL.
Shut up. Release me. Shut up. Release me. RELEASE ME!
Optimus struggled against the quick mud. His right arm broke free and Darkness roared. Optimus reached and struck something. His feetless legs tapped the ground. He thrust forth his long neck and sank teeth into a dark shell. Life flowed forth.
Life. Delicious.
He wanted more.
Optimus found another dark shell and thrust his front legs into it. More life flowed forth; beautiful color.
Delicious taste. Cool, sweet.
MORE!
No.
Darkness stomped its feet before it lost balance.
Optimus thought something struck them from the left.
Darkness danced to retain balance.
Optimus mentally shoved his captor.
They fell.
They fell for a long time.
Bottom.
What was that?
What was it?
If only Rusti...
If only Rodimus...
If only Galvatron...
If only.
Galvatron woke in refreshing pain. Gentle light blurred his surroundings. He slowly sat up, scanned, listened and waited.
Wasn't he in jail before? Oh, that's right! Rodimus busted him out. well, actually, it was Sinnertwin.
Puppies, he reminded himself.
Feeling stronger, Galvatron stood and searched above. Walls hemmed him in. Where was he? the Decepticon scowled. "This is not the time to be dead," he said aloud. After debating more than one idea, Galvatron searched for a way out or down or forward. the only way out appeared to be up. At first Galvatron tried to fly. But a magnetic field kept him down. Without thinking he shifted into a huge mastiff and clawed straight up.
Galvatron transformed. Pause. He should not have been able to do that. An explosion wiped out a third of the battlefield. The shockwave knocked everyone off balance. All dropped quiet. Galvatron shifted back to mastiff mode and searched for one Prime then the other.
Psyklenox's troops struggled to compensate for injuries and temporary mode malfunctions. The battleground lay stark and dirty under a layer of smoke and dirt.
The fissure that divided the opposing armies now expanded into a deep canyon. Monoliths, spires and crystals grew from whatever planetary concoction that made Mechlatex's geological makeup. Skorponok's colossal form covered a large area between the ground and the canyon like a mountain of crumpled junk. A spire pierced clear through the Headmaster's left side. Skorponok's fluids dripped and trickled everywhere.
Galvatron spotted the Mercedes crashed on the Decepticon side of the battlefield. To the right and some miles away, the Cold Refractor lay inert and headless. Bodies lay everywhere and carnage blew apart one-third of her bow. the battlefield lay before Galvatron like an open, festering wound.
Many yards away the dirty ground crunched under someone's footfalls. The Decepticon made out a lone, dusty figure picking his way around debris.
Galvatron approached the figure. Two-thirty of his position, he witnessed Fireflight come to life followed by Alaska and Railway. Each Autobot looked as lost as the one beside him.
The clang-tang of metal hitting metal drew their attention to the unknown robot.
Or, rather, not so unknown.
Cyclonus neared the Autobot trio with a limp in his right leg. Overjoyed to see his friend, Galvatron almost forgot to transform. Leaping over a dead clump of trash, Galvatron emerged into robot form and hailed Cyclonus with a wide wave of his arms.
Cyclonus lightly smiled, clearly in pain. He muttered a thank you when Galvatron came to his aid and lapped Cyclonus' arm over his shoulders.
"Good to see you walking, Cyclonus, my friend."
"Glad to see you ever cheerful, Mighty One."
"You'll never let me live that down, will you?"
"Never. And since when were you able to transform?"
"Amazing, isn't it? I battled Sixshot, got my aft kicked and woke up."
The two mechs ambled over what looked like Motormaster. Cyclonus slipped but Galvatron held him fast and they eased over Wildrider's unconscious form. Cyclonus stepped on his former comrade's hand and Wildrider hissed inward.
"Whatthpitt? whatthepitt? Git back 'here an' lemme spit. Lemme spit."
But neither Decepticon defector paid attention.
Cyclonus' limp worsened and Galvatron paused to let him rest briefly. To keep focus, Cyclonus gazed upon the polluted ground then lifted his chin toward the Crested Moon. "What will we do next, Galvatron? What is our next move?"
A gurgling scream interrupted the conversation. Five o'clock of their position, Galvatron and Cyclonus searched the edges of the fissure-turned-canyon. A Psyklenox soldier jittered, arms flailed while a Sweep ran to escape a similar fate. He did not get far. The unknown robot soldier lost its color. It fell backward, now a dead husk. To Galvatron's horror, the soldier's fallen bulk revealed the four-legged version of the Matrix Virus. Rather than the absolute black color like Void, this one projected a deep burnt red.
"No," Galvatron's powercore chilled and stopped vibrating as he and Cyclonus witnessed the Sweep's grisly death. The Virus tore into the Decepticon with a brutal impact of its head. Life blood sprayed free and drenched the Virus as it ripped the Sweeps' innards with the ferocity of a hundred sharkticons.
Baffled, Galvatron gaped as the creature devoured metal, drank fluids and crunched on circuitry.
The Virus paused, raised its head and searched the sky. Both Decepticons copied but neither saw a thing. Galvatron grimaced when the Virus lifted its back right leg and cleaned it like a mantis.
Static sizzled and beeped across Galvatron's internal com channel. He cast optics across the smoldering canyon where Decepticon and Psyklenokian troops slowly assembled.
"Nap time is over," he said aloud. He patched into Rodimus' private channel. "Rodimus, ready for another round?" Galvatron waited twelve seconds before signing off. "I guess not. He tapped into the fleet-wide channels. "This is Galvatron. Everyone who is conscious and mobile call in."
Leaving the Virus where It stood, now cleaning its left front leg, the two Decepticons journeyed toward the Crested Moon. Half way there, Cyclonus took a moment to cool down.
"Galvatron," he said with an intake of air, "Where is Optimus Prime?"
Galvatron briefly stared at his friend. He turned away and drew his weapon from subspace. "That four-legged freakish thing was Optimus Prime."
Cyclonus startled and pointed to the direction they came. "We cannot just leave him there!"
"And do what, Cyclonus?"
The Decepticon lieutenant hesitated, lost for words. Galvatron gazed at their former location. "We will not let the Autobots execute him, Cyclonus, even if we never find a cure. At the moment, Psyklenox and the Decepticons are reorganizing. Come. It's time to regroup."
The throng of Autobot warriors gathered on the Moon's port side. A skirmish between Sureshot and Blades gathered an audience before Hot Spot and Titanium pulled them apart.
"We got enough problems," Titanium boomed. "I won't put up with this nonsense just because you can't keep your tempers in check."
Galvatron waited for Sureshot to slink away before confronting the captain of the Sabor's Claw. "I know you don't like or trust me, Titanium-"
"Hold it right there," the Autobot city commander interrupted. "First: I don't hate you. You proved yourself an ally. Secondly, you know more about commanding an army than me. Besides, yer Galvatron. As far as I'm concerned, you're the fourth in charge."
Galvatron suspected he knew what Titanium meant, but he wanted to make sure: "In charge of what?"
"Everyone," Titanium returned. "Roddi's down cold. Optimus is missing. Convoy and Jazz are on the operating table. Gryph is about to go into surgery and Coral is dead. That leaves you, me and Hot Spot.
"You forgot Quasar,' Galvatron added.
"The Alveraz was damaged in space and can't land." Titanium panned his finger around the crowd. "An' they're confused."
Galvatron gave him a wry smile. "It's been a while since I bossed anyone around. I'll give it a shot."
Time turned precious. He needed an immediate plan of engagement. To his delight, inspiration struck. The Decepticon smiled, confident.
"We need an overview of the battlefield," he said to Hot Spot and Titanium. "I need a geographical and geo-chemical analysis as soon as possible. I need sharp shooters and snipers." Turning from the two Autobot captains, Galvatron raised his voice and addressed the restless crowd.
"Listen to me," he called. "Our numbers have fallen short. We are all exhausted. But you fight for what isright. You fight for those who cannot. We must either obliterate the enemy or drive them out. If you have taken an oath to return to Earth and reclaim it from the Quintessons, your stand starts here, on Mechlatex." Galvatron struck his chest. "Even if I must fight alone, I will fight. Is there anyone who will join me? Is there anyone who will make this the first battle for Earth?"
Titanium and Hot Spot did not expect such a strong response. Galvatron knew how to rally support. Not just the congregation outside the Crested Moon, but the entire fleet as televised ship to ship.
The Autobots prepared, working fast and hard with aprehension. The Decepticons scrapped and cannibalized Skorponok's inert chasse to weld a new battle platform.
Galvatron forced himself to stay patient while the Autobots repaired weapons, reloaded ammunition and fulfilled his request for environmental intelligence.
Battlefield information came within twenty minutes. Geographical took thirty. But even Transformer science could not immediately produce geo-chemical analysis.
Two Autobot geologists warned Galvatron the valley on which the two armies fought teetered in a molecular flux. The air, the ground and everything underneath shifted between physical reality and a state of phased or altered-existence. They stood on dangerously unpredictable land. Galvatron ordered them to issue a fleet-wide warning.
As he waited for the geo-chemical report, Galvatron visited Rodimus. Jitzu, a Decepticon physician, welcomed the temporary Autobot leader on board the Crested Moon. First Aid attended Convoy in surgery, leaving Rodimus under Jitzu's care. The slender black Decepticon greeted Galvatron with a wordless nod. The two mechs loitered at the door to Roddi's room.
"Sideswipe insisted taking Rodimus Prime to the Genesis, but I talked him out of it."
Galvatron eyed Rodimus in the dim light. "I can't tell if he's on life support."
"He's not." Jitzu confirmed. "A few bumps and dents, a little low on fluids. He's functional. But mentally he's not here."
Galvatron proffered a hand toward the bedridden Autobot leader. "May I approach?" Jitzu stepped aside and Galvatron picked the right side of Prime's flat. "Rodimus?" Galvatron leaned over, "Rodimus, this is not very ostentatious. You've condemned Titanium and HotSpot to work with me." He paused, stood straight and folded his arms. "Do you understand what I am telling you? I'm Galvatron Prime." He paused. "Oh come now, Roddi. Even you must agree that's funny. Galvanic Prime, perhaps?"
Rodimus did not so much as twitch. Galvatron dropped optics to the floor with a resigned frown. "You're going to make me do things the hard way, aren't you?" Pause. "Very well. I'll go talk with Rusti." Galvatron passed Jitzu with a final note: "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, would you?"
Galvatron knew he did not have time to waste, that checking on Rusti was not his duty. It's for Prime, he told himself. In that respect, it was important.
He politely knocked at the door. The weary face of a nurse answered and glowered at him. "I'll not be long," he assured her.
"She won't talk to you," the old woman snapped. "She's too busy feeling sorry for herself." And out the old bird walked.
Paying her no mind, Galvatron entered and watched Rusti a moment.
"It's not true," Rusti said softly. "I just don't want to talk with her."
"Selective conversation, Mizz Rusti?' Galvatron said with a light smile.
"My extremities hurt. It feels like someone chewed my hands and feet off. Nurse Bite-Me said I was either hallucinating or phobic. I am not a hypochondriac, no matter what my medical records suggest."
"I agree. You're too feisty for either." She rewarded his comment with a smile.
Rusti's eyes watered and she slapped tears off her pale cheeks. "I just got back the ability to communicate with Optimus and now I feel nothing. I mean, I can't tell if he's alive or dead and the ships can't tell me, either.'
"He's not dead," Galvatron assured her. "But he's not with us." He cut eye contact and tried to freeze emotion off his face.
But Galvatron was not as practiced at stoicism as Optimus Prime.
"Is-it's the Virus, isn't it?' Rusti asked with a trembling voice. "It got to him." She watched the Decepticon nod. Rusti slipped her hands out from under the blankets. Galvatron did not hide surprise when he saw how inflamed and red they were. Rusti slowly moved several swollen fingers. "If I ever get my hands on that Virus, it'll be the last thing It will ever experience," she swatted another tear. "Please find Optimus."
"You have my word," he swore. "Two things, Rusti:" Galvatron said gently. "First, I need to know if the Cold Refractor is still alive. And secondly, take care of yourself. Optimus Prime is not the only one who cares."
She gave him another smile. "Okay."
"Good enough. Stay put. I'll be back later." He turned away.
"Galvatron," she called when he reached the door. "Don't get killed."
His turn to smile.
As planned Galvatron returned to the outdoor 'situation room' where Titanium and HotSpot set up a 3D-model of the area as mapped out by Autobot scouts.
Paratron chemist Lecular set up a holo-screen and stepped aside for Decepticon chemist Namak to start the brief.
"In short," the black-and-tan flier began. "This valley is unpredictable. Lecular and I have mapped out fifteen new chemical-crystalline compositions. Three are somewhat similar to carlonium. Two are similar to energon and one acts like electrum with a greater number of antiprotons. Five, which we have not named, are destabilized by infrared polarization and make a pretty explosion."
Galvatron pointed to the crystalline monoliths fencing the line between the two armies. "And those?"
Lecular's optics glowed above his face plates. "High-grade crystalized cybertonium or rather, an exo-planetary version thereof."
It was all the information Galvatron needed. Preparation time grew ever shorter.
An hour later the Autobot leader-pro-temp approached the battle line and gazed past two monolith crystals. The canyon yawned a passive fifty-three yards between the two armies.
Galvatron did not have to wait long. Razorclaw approached from the other side, weapon at the ready. His crown of spikes, representing the mane of an earth lion, glinted under the weak sun.
"I hope you're not here to negotiate terms, Galvatron."
"Negotiate?" Galvatron echoed with mock surprise. "With whom? You? Not on your life. Or mine, for that matter. I've come to extend an ultimatum."
"We will accept no ultimatums from you." Razorclaw objected.
"You sound like I'm trying to shake hand units." Galvatron scoffed. "I am trying to be fair enough to offer a warning."
"We don't need fairness." Razorclaw objected again. "That is an Autobot policy."
"Be prudent, Razorclaw, at least long enough to shut up and hear what I have to say."
Razorclaw shifted to lion mode and poised for attack. "Make it fast, Galvatron."
"Tell your new master, Psyklenox, he must either withdraw and leave the planet or I will point him out to the Matrix Virus."
Razorclaw stared until he returned to robot mode, bearing the same confused expression. "WHAT Matrix Virus?"
"The very one that demonstrated its attraction to Psyklenox when I opened a portal. And speaking of Matrix, tell him I want mine returned."
Razorclaw glared. "No. You'll get nothing."
Galvatron smiled like a cat. "Yes, I will. I'll have the satisfaction of watching the Virus attack an enemy." Galvatron turned about face and started walking away.
"you'll get NOTHING, Galvatron!" Razorclaw shouted after. "ESPECIALLY the Matrix!"
Without looking back, Galvatron twirled his left index finger in the air. "I have nothing to prove, Razorclaw."
At his signal, the Autobot army took position and waited.
Conversely, the Decepticons made them wait.
"Remain steadfast," Galvatron said to his charges. "They will lose patience first." At his word, the Autobots waited like ancient stonework.
The sun set. Night drifted with the noise of Decepticons toiling in their preparation for war. The sun rose again and still the Decepticons made their opponents wait.
Approximately nine AM Earth West Coast Standard time, Blades warned Galvatron of movement from the other side. Galvatron ordered their four sharp shooters to prepare.
As the Decepticons approached, two squads of front line troops preceded their newly-constructed battle platform. Its massive size intimidated some Autobots.
"Stand fast!" Galvatron ordered yet again. He sensed life force energy in the center of the platform. Psklenox planned to force the Matrix of Power to wipe out life.
Timing is everything, Galvatron silently reminded himself.
Cyclonus patched into their private channel: "The hole in the center of the platform reads as negative. I can't even describe it, Galvatron. Negative reality, perhaps?"
"It is Strange Matter, Cyclonus. I know. Maintain your position." Galvatron aimed for Razorclaw and prepared for an energy-draining shot. He wanted to make certain the Predicon did not survive. He switched private coms and contacted Paralax. "You had better be the sharpshooter they told me you are."
"I got this," the flier answered confidently. "I know I'm a goof but you can trust me."
Psyklenox was no fool. The android followed the forward-line soldiers, keeping himself hemmed between other bodies.
Galvatron ignored the android's oration; all the Autobots held their proverbial breath.
The line of Psyklenokian robots charged for the canyon's edge. Half the numbers transformed into aerial combatants, half into beasts which used the monoliths and spires to cross the gap. At Psyklenox's command, the Predicons advanced. Tantrum transformed first copied by a damaged but functional Divebomb. Razorclaw raced for the front as his comrades flew through the air to merge.
Galvatron took his one shot and almost missed. Razorclaw lost his back legs and dropped like a dud. He flipped, tumbled and rolled out of control.
Hun-grr, Sinnertwin and Cutthroat clashed against the Autobot frontal assault. Several bulky Psyklenokian soldiers smashed past the Terrorcons. The Dieselbots and Decepticon allies rammed against their aggressors.
Titanium led three ground squads and charged into a troop of fliers as they dropped onto the Autobot's side of the canyon. Defensor rounded stray escapees from the southeastern direction. The Autobot's ploy worked until eight heavily armed fighters shifted and conjoined into a single unit. Undeterred, Titanium bulldozed into the new unit's legs. The unit tripped over the captain and crushed the ground.
Galvatron patched into the sharpshooters' channels. "Now," he ordered.
Paralax fired into a black Metaxa-carlonium crystal. The resulting explosion damaged a second crystal and another and another. A fountain of black and iridescent violet liquid gushed and puddled along the Decepticon's side of the canyon.
Washed in an electro chemical cocktail, the ground fizzled and simmered like water in a hot frying pan. The organic dirt hardened like instant glue then broke up like puzzle-plates along a dried lake bed. The 'plates' burst up three and four feet high, like plants in a time-lapse film.
Confused and bewildered the Decepticons froze, mesmerized by the chemical reaction. Annoyed by their reaction, Psyklenox roared and ordered the battle platform to fire a rotating barrage upon their enemies. Decepticons and Metaxan soldiers obeyed and cranked up destruction like a radio dial. The sky flashed with explosives. The air boomed like giant hammers. The platform dealt death up and straight, left and right. The Autobots fell back, dragging their wounded and deceased with them.
Psyklenox scanned the carnage. His face turned upward like a dog drooling with anticipation. He planned to torture wounded survivors. Psyklenox searched for Galvatron. The chasm forest of crystals and monoliths blocked his view. Psyklenox heard something blow the front boiler plate off the platform. He looked left when the corner of his eye caught movement from the right. A surreal black line rose from the canyon like a movie special effect.
Desolate emerged from the canyon like a black pipe. Long thin arms unfolded from the line and a triangular head spread from the top. The line divided into two legs and the anti-life form steered toward Psykleox.
"What is this?!" the android shouted. "Who are you?!"
Desolate said nothing, advancing on stiff legs. Psyklenox stepped back and drew the Primacron gun. He failed to notice the Autobots broke apart the Decepticon line of defense. Grimlock's triumphant roar sent soldiers scurrying off the battlefield.
Psyklenox's troops lost direction as he watched the Virus inch ever closer to him.
Scourge frantically called for help.
Dive Bomb permanently deactivated.
A Terrorcon devoured Frenzy in a single gulp.
A 20-foot, four-legged black spider encroached from Psyklenox's right. The android pointed his weapon at Darkness as It too approached from the canyon. The Prime Virus paused and uncharacteristically shook its head like a dog, cleaned its right foreleg and held still.
Desolate advanced another step.
Psyklenox swung and aimed the weapon in its wake.
Darkness hissed and chittered; teeth anxious to masticate.
Psyklenox swung back in its direction. "Stay AWAY from me!"
Three Psyklenokian soldiers attacked Galvatron from two sides and above. The flier met Galvatron's fist while Bot on the Right fired at the Decepticon's midsection. Galvatron absorbed the energy and the pain. He ducked when Bot on the Left aimed for his head. He kicked Left's legs from under him, grabbed the mech's weapon and fired it at Bot on the Right. Galvatron targeted . The clumsy shot missed the alien soldier but caught Bot on the Right in the face. Galvatron forced his weight in a roll over Left. He shifted to dog mode and tackled Flier. Galvatron leapt off Flier as Left discharged another round. Flier fell over, dead.
Galvatron charged Left on all fours. He dodged two strikes before leaping. He shifted to robot form and cleanly displaced Left's head with a wicked kick.
The Decepticon landed triumphant, eager for another challenge.
Psyklenox roared.
Galvatron cast his optics across the canyon and watched as Psyklenox, morbidly terrified, retreated from the encroaching Viruses. Right then left; the android panned his weapon from one Virus to the other.
Darkness lost patience and rammed for the android. With a panicked cry, Psyklenox fired three, six, nine times. Nothing affected the crypta-mechanical life form. Darkness emitted a screech, demanding something Psyklenox did not want to surrender.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" the android repeated amid the clamor of war.
Darkness jumped and bucked like a horse. Psyklenox ran and the Viruses gave chase.
After meganiums of inflicting terror and torture on trillions of victims, Psyklenox now experienced the same soul-sucking horror. So stricken with fear, the android did not realize he ran under the battle platform. He derived neither safety nor fortitude from the sound and motion of the machine shadowing his comparatively small form. Psyklenox likened himself to an animated character, fleeing into a shadow to escape two lightless forms.
Reaching the other side of the Skorponok platform, Psyklenox leapt, dodged and hedged fallen militant personnel. He who gave little regard for their lives now fled to save his own.
Irony caught Psyklenox. He who was old, he who was First, brother to Alpha Trion, now succumbed to the abstract wiles of the Quintesson's latest and final creation. Darkness dogged him until It caught the android with a leap. Psyklenox landed face-flat. He screamed when Darkness nibbled at the right side of his face. He tried to get up. He tried to turn over. He tried to drag his form along the soiled ground.
Desolate joined them and leaned over.
YOU. FAMILIAR. WE SMELL.
Psyklenox screamed profanities and his voice pitched ever higher when Darkness licked his head.
From afar, Galvatron spotted Titanium and landed beside him. The captain of the Sabor's Claw stared in abhorrence as he witnessed Psyklenox struggle. Galvatron watched, not quite as shocked, but disgusted as the Viruses tried to meld their bodies to the android.
"What by Primus..." Titanium whispered.
Galvatron narrowed his optics. "The Virus was a Quintesson invention, was it not? An anti-life form. Psyklenox exists on the same frequency and they are attracted to him as they were the Matrix. But the Matrix is dead."
Galvatron and Titanium cringed and looked away. When their gaze resumed northward, they found Psyklenox standing, his physical form stretched upward as if warped. Desolation's arms wrapped around Psyklenox and Darkness, on two legs, lapped the other legs over the android and Desolate. Energy, like waves of heat, blurred their forms before they warped and twisted. Their bodies wavered. A black bubble of energy formed between them. It popped and dark blue water splashed out then reversed.
Their forms reached ever higher until Psyklenox's head rose to the top. His facial features distorted; hideous.
"Autobots! Galvatron called over the channels, "Fall back! Fall back!" He himself swung about, transformed and raced for the Crested Moon.
Psyklenox's voice boomed over the land. "Decepticons... Decepticons..." his gigantic physic dropped like a microburst and soaked that side of the valley.
The longest ten seconds froze the planet. When all cleared, the Autobots found the world without Psyklenox, the Decepticons or their battle platform. Debris trashed the land. Fluids poisoned the ground. Part of the valley heaved with billowing smoke.
The Autobots laid low, waiting. Time drifted over the valley, the sun edged to the end of the day. Titanium wearily ordered a call-in by the numbers. He organized cleanup in short shifts, hobbled from one side of the Autobot camp to another until he returned to Galvatron.
The leader pro-temp turned to him, thoughtful. "You should get that looked at," he suggested quietly. "You never know when you'll need to kick someone's aft."
"How do you think I damaged my leg to begin with? Mm?" Titanium watched his Decepticon companion half the moment. "Why are you staring across the valley? What do you hope to see?"
"A living, moving Optimus Prime."
Fort Horizon's former chief of security took on a somber manner. "He's gone, isn't he? The Virus... I saw what it did to Rodimus."
Galvatron's demeanor lifted slightly and he settled red optics upon the Sabor's Claw's captain. "You know something, Tite, there's a remote possibility he's still alive."
Titanium pointed north. "Did you not see the cataclysm? How could anyone survive that? And who's to say Prime did not vanish when the boogeyman left and took his goblins with him?"
"The same answer. And certainly that the Decepticon Matrix rejected Psyklenox."
"What? The what?"
Galvatron twisted left then right, searching and picking people. "We need a shuttle and a doctor and three volunteers to cover us."
"US? Galvatron-" Titanium frowned as the leader pro-temp searched the ground. "Galvatron," he repeated. "What the Pitt makes you think he's still alive?"
Galvatron paused. "Is Grimlock operational?"
"Yes. Now answer my question."
Galvatron solemnly faced him. The information he was about to divulge carried a deeply personal aspect of himself. He hesitated. "I carry a part of Prime's spark. You may or may not believe it. It's not important whether-"
"I believe you," Titanium swiftly responded.
"Really?"
The heavy weight Autobot warrior huffed with a grin. "No, not really, Galvatron. But if you believe it, that's good enough."
Galvatron pointed at him. "I'll bet you're a deadly opponent in a game of karkaetz."
Tite sniggered, though he had no idea what the Decepticon was talking about.
In mastiff mode Galvatron trotted behind Grimlock across the Decepticon debris field.
The Dinobot leader teased Galvatron for quite a while. "You, good doggie, Galvatron. Me Grimlock, get you Decepti-goodies." Body parts broken weapons and dried fluids colored the landscape like a desecrated graveyard.
The group found a large square area devoid of everything but dirt. Galvatron shifted to robot form and examined the clear lines between the burnt ground and the square.
"This is where Psyklenox's battle platform stood," he announced.
Namak scraped several soil samples into tiny jars and eyed them closely. "My readings indicate quantum-flux anti-electrons here, Galvatron. No sign of anti-protonic life force radiation, however."
Galvatron frowned. "I am already aware Skorponok is dead, Namak. We're looking for positive proton and gamma wave life force signatures."
Two o'clock of Galvatron's position Seismic cried for help. "I found him! Galvatron! Grimlock! Here!"
Seismic and Grimlock removed a large piece of Insecticon shell and underneath lay Optimus Prime, face down and motionless. His hands and feet were reduced and deformed into sharp stumps, blackened as if cursed. The Autobot leader's color faded to a subtle grey wash.
Tremel rushed in their direction as Galvatron gently turned Prime over. "Optimus," he whispered. "I forbid you to give up." The temporary Autobot leader searched Prime's optics for the faintest signs of consciousness.
Tremel transformed from a harpy eagle and landed with scanner in hand. "Sorry. I picked up a strange, unknown energy signature two miles from here-Oh no." He passed the scanner over Optimus. "Let's get him back now!"
Galvatron stayed behind while the shuttle returned to the Crested Moon. Galvatron chose to stay. While there was nothing he could do for Optimus, there were other responsibilities calling his attention. With a final optical sweep of the debris field, Galvatron decided his personal matters would have to wait.
Rodimus sat with a collection of old dusty dolls. His heavy frame prohibited movement. His current state of suspension made him feel little more than a glass zombie.
A giant door opened and a light sparked to life with the click of a switch. Two young humanoid girls entered the room with measured trepidation. The first girl, a black beauty with fancy styled hair, bright eyes and a gallant blue dress approached the shelf. Behind her, the second girl, straight brown hair and a pink blossom dress, examined the room with wonder.
"Are we supposed to be here?" Pink Blossom whispered.
"Papa said as long as we don't touch anything, we can come look." Black Beauty laid a hand on her companion's shoulder and pointed at Rodimus. "That one," she declared. "Papa said that one's alive."
"It can't be," Blossom countered. "They don't make Transformers anymore."
"I'm sure they will," Beauty answered confidently. "There's nothing new in the universe, you know, everything is recycled."
Blossom made a strange noise in her throat. "Creatures aren't recycled. Not their souls, I mean. That's how come they have to choose between good and bad. They have to choose between Heaven and-"
"Sh!" Beauty admonished. "You can't give the secret away!"
"Why not? It's just us here."
"No, dummy. You never know what other creatures might be around us. You never know who's here or there, who's listening, watching... or reading."
Blossom lined her lips in doubt. "What are you talking about, Zandanathel?"
Beauty drew a deep breath. "Life is multi-dimensional. There are mono-dimensional life forms and three-dimensional life forms and on and on. And there are creatures that exist outside of our time-dimensional phase. And you never, ever know."
Blossom smirked. "You read too much science fiction."
"It's true," Zandanathel defended. "I even asked Papa."
Blossom had nothing more to say to that. She gazed at Rodimus with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "If he's alive, how come Papa keeps him in here?"
Beauty looked at him too. "I don't know. Maybe he's not supposed to be here. Let's go ask."
"Okay." Blossom lingered as Beauty left the room her eyes blinked as she forced a smile. "Good night, Rodimus. We'll see you again soon.
Someone flipped the switch on Roddi's consciousness. He stared at a metal door between his location and a familiar corridor. He felt as if he'd taken a quick snooze and now time to get back to work.
What came before the nap, and why did he end up... wherever?
"What was I doing?" he asked aloud. "What am I supposed to do today?"
A lady's voice smoothly answered: "Absolutely zil."
At first Rodimus did not recognize the femme. Her bright red optics accentuated black and gold colors. Her grey lip components turned up in a sensual smile. She gracefully sat in the chair beside his flat, arms folded, expression expectant. "Good to have you back, Dong-dong." she chided. "They didn't know what to do with you. Someone suggested tossing you into storage. You know how I am about hopeless causes. So I became your advocate, asked them to play nice and they took you to medbay. So that's two saves you owe me, Mister Not-Wannabe-Prime."
Roddi stared at Rain with awe. "I think I love you."
"You're welcome."
"Seriously. What do I do with the missing pieces in my head?"
Rain slipped away then returned with a large cup of 'good stuff'. "Stop talking, take some go-juice and let me explain."
"Okay. Then what?"
"Wait for Dr Tremel to release you."
Rodimus did not know how hungry he was until he drank a mouthful. He finished in three gulps and Rain politely obliged him with another fill-up.' News of Galvatron playing 'da boss' cracked him up. "Well, so long as everything's going smooth as ice, I'll just take a vacation, let the big guy handle stuff."
Rain smiled again. "You won't get off that easy," she teased.
"Easy?" Roddi echoed. He skipped a beat and turned serious. "How's Optimus?"
Wheeljack removed heavy protective coveralls and gloves. He leaned against the wall beside the door and dropped his head.
Jazz's voice preceded his presence. "That's not so good a look for you, Wheels, Dude."
"Five days and this is my first break."
"Got juice?"
Wheeljack produced half a jug of red liquid.
Jazz nodded. "How's Optimus?" he asked gravely.
"What's that term or word where you're there but not there? Like you're living between death and life."
Jazz stared, turned his head left then back to Wheeljack. "Izzat 'Limbo'?"
Wheeljack pointed at him. "That's it. That's it exactly. Sometimes I could almost tell he's alive and he's Optimus Prime. Other times I think I'm working with a shell. We just replaced his ventricle reintegration system with a new network. If it takes hold, we'll do the same for the arterial components and that will allow us to replace his hands." The scientist drained the dregs of his brew and dropped his head again. "So... how's ol' Galvatron handling things?"
"Just as if he'd been doing it all along. He's got everybody cleanin' and repairing. There's a meeting tonight outside the Cold Refractor. You gonna come? Might be a good break for you."
"I don't think so, Jazz. I ain't leaving Optimus any further than this door."
Jazz smiled grimly. "Can I help? You can't keep doin' without a few Z's, you know. Even a computer's gotta defrag."
"Yeah," Wheeljack paused. "Tell you what, Jazz, if you can secure a cup of Rocket Rubidium .49 from Convoy, I'll take a five-hour nap and you can alert me if something goes wrong."
Jazz considered the request. "Wait a second," he piped, "Don't you got assistants to do stuff like that?"
"None of them have your skills, Jazz. Even if they were to snitch the Rubidium, they couldn't talk their way out of trouble."
Jazz smiled devilishly. "Snitch, eh?" Then he lost his smile. "Oh. Convoy's still down?"
"Yes. She'll be down for another five days. She took a direct hit."
"Damn." Jazz paused. "Well, then, I guess I'll have to work magic for my pal."
"I knew you'd not let me down."
"Right."
Jazz and Wheeljack parted. Jazz stepped off the Crested Moon aiming for the Refractor when Sideswipe shouted at him.
"STOP!"
Jazz turned in time to see Sinnertwin wheeze and hiccup. The Terrorcon gagged and coughed as Swipes approached. "Get back, Jazz!" he shouted.
Jazz took a step back as the Terrorcon's right head hocked up a shower of fluid followed by a human in an exosuit.
Sinnertwin groaned and spat a clot of nastiness after Daniel. "Not hold no more fleshies," said Right Head.
Left Side dropped his jaw as if equally ill.
"Gross, man!" Jazz recoiled.
"Sorry," Sideswipe grimaced. "Sinner's had problems regurgitating Daniel Witwicky for three days."
Jazz stared at the vomit with undisguised disgust. "Is he even alive?"
Sideswipe shrugged, produced his de-ionization flare rifle and poked Daniel. Witwicky came to life, kicking feet and pounding his arms in the goo.
"GET ME THE -WHAT IS WRONG WITH-WILL YOU STOP STARING?! Get me some GODDAMN FOOD!" Witwicky tried to get up, slipped and fell with a splat. He cursed and screamed incoherently.
Jazz and Sideswipe exchanged a doubtful expression before leaving Witwicky to his own devices. Sinnertwin groaned with renewed nausea and followed Sideswipe in hopes of a treat.
Galvatron greeted Jazz with a wave as Jazz and Sideswipe joined others in a circle of seats. Jazz found himself a perch while Sideswipe approached Galvatron.
"Can I watch? I know Senchee will be here, too. I promise to behave."
Galvatron stared past him to Sinnertwin whose heads drooped. "What's wrong with Puppy?"
"Eh? Oh. Uh, he just regurgitated Daniel Witwicky. So he's not feeling too good."
Galvatron grimaced. "Give him something to eat, will you? He looks awful. And yes, you can stay and listen."
The circle of seats filled and more people arrived. Galvatron waited fifteen minutes before calling the meeting to an informal beginning.
"I am pleased to see so many faces," he announced. "I am also pleased to be accompanied by people who did not know each other yet were willing to fight side-by-side. And since there was not time for introductions over the past several days, allow me to introduce myself. I am Galvatron, former Decepticon leader, ally to the Autobots. I am not formerly in charge; my current commission is temporary."
Galvatron paused and dragged his gaze to the right. "I think it prudent to allow the Autobot ship captains or their representatives to introduce themselves. Then I will ask our new allies to do the same. We're not in a hurry. Don't be shy."
Galvatron settled beside Panda and Titanium took his place.
"Name's Titanium, captain of the Sabor's Claw." He stopped short when a group of Automatrons cheered and applauded. A few Autobots joined them and the city commander resumed. "Thank you." He sat down and HotSpot introduced himself. "Rodimus Prime could not make it," he added. "Those of you who pray, pray for our leaders. Thanks."
Arcee introduced herself in Convoy's place. "The captain of the Razor Lady is on the mend. But she will need time. And Quasar could not attend. The Alveraz is still in orbit, hoping to land soon."
A battered Autobot stood thereafter, wincing in pain. "I'm Pace from the Cold Refractor. As most of you know, we lost Coral, our captain and the bridge crew when Skorponok hit us head-on. Coral was a reserved, fair captain whose kindness was matched only by her cleverness. We will miss her."
Jazz stood. "Autobots, rise." he ordered. All those who could, stood at attention. Jazz waited for the crowd to redirect their attention. "Our loss stands at ninety-two sparks. They paid for our lives and freedom with theirs. We shall remember."
Autobots echoed the memoriam and the Automatrons copied. The Autobots resumed their seats and Automatron Senchee stood.
"I have communed with my fellows. There is agreement among us. They cast me to speak. We wish to stay among the Autobot peoples. You respected us as people and we have gratitude. We fight to keep free. But we have few. If the Autobots welcomed the small and non-mechanical, you welcome us, too?"
"You kidding?" Jazz answered. "We adopted him." he pointed at Galvatron. The crowd chuckled. "You're welcome as rain in a desert, Senchee. I know Optimus would say so, too." Jazz turned to the group of Decepticons. "And what about you mechs? What's your story? What 'r your plans?"
Black Ice and Cryex stood and scanned all the curious and doubtful optics on them.
Cryex, a flier by design, spoke first. "We are not from your time," he stated slowly. "By happenstance or historical design we met Galvatron, Cyclonus and Optimus Prime shortly before an army appeared and stripped the whole asteroid."
Black Ice beside him read interest in the Autobot faces. "We may be Decepticons," she stated. "But we are not those Decepticons. Their code is not ours. Their mind set is not ours. We worked and lived with the Autobots. And we are willing to renew our pledges if you find room for us."
Galvatron's powercore vibrated intensely and while he wanted to make a joke, the urge to embrace each Decepticon forced him to squirm with silent anticipation. He knew the Autobots already welcomed the time-tossed Decepticons. And then Galvatron remembered his dream: "Out of the aberrancy of Skorponok, the Most High will bring you a new people."
Rusti woke in time to hit the bathroom and empty her stomach. What started as a systemic infection turned into something the Crested Moon's head doctor could not diagnose.
She washed her face and hands and changed her night clothes. On aching feet she returned to bed and asked the ship to contact the nurse's station.
"Hi, Sweety," Antwanell answered. "How is today?"
"Like yesterday," Rusti replied dryly.
"Are you sure you don't want a shot? It'll make the nausea go away."
"The aspirin doesn't kill the headache. The Romasine doesn't kill the fever and the Manusal doesn't reduce the inflamation. But what I'd love is a small bowl of gelatin."
The nurse sighed. "That we can do."
Rusi woke from a light nap when the door chimed. She welcomed another nurse who took her vitals and gave her the gelatin.
"You've lost a lot of weight, Missy." the alien ticked. "We might have to bring you to the bay."
Rusti stared at her wearily. "There is nothing you can do. I am dying because the Matrix is dying. Do you understand that?"
The alien shook her head. "No. If you were to say you have cancer or a virus-"
"Yes," Rusti replied. "A Virus infected the Matrix and I live on the same life frequency."
"Oh." She turned sad. "Let me know when I can help. I am Birma."
Rusti politely thanked her and ate the strawberry gelatin. But it tasted sugarless. At least it did not upset her stomach.
She woke two hours later. Bizarre, disoriented dreams withered from her memory like a tattered spider web.
"Crested Moon," she called, "What day is it?"
TODAY IS WEDNESDAY, RUSTI. HOWEVER, ACCORDING TO COMPUTER CALCULATIONS, MECHLATEX HAS A LONGER MONTH PERIOD COMPARED TO EARTH."
"Oh no," Rusti mourned. "No math. I don't have the head for it right now. I'd like to speak to Nurse Antwanell, however." Rusti waited for the nurse to answer. "Well, I'm feeling slightly better," she reported. "I was wondering if Optimus was out of surgery yet."
Pause. "No, hon. I'm sorry."
Rusti released a sigh and choked up. She could not remember the last time she saw him. The separation and uncertainty left her stranded on an emotional desert. With two deep breaths, Rusti managed to keep tears out of her voice. "What of Rodimus? Can I visit him?"
Birma arrived ten minutes later. She brought a pair of non-slip socks and an antigrav chair reserved for elderly and injured patients.
Rusti stepped out the shower when Birma arrived. She heard the nurse's brief conversation with the main desk. Rusti toweled herself dry. She picked through her curls before clasping on the exosuit. Birma called for her. Rusti slipped her blue nightgown and robe on and exited the bathroom. The hover-chair floated beside the nurse, ready for one passenger. "Oh. I thought someone was going to simply escort me."
Birma shook her head. "It's a long walk, Missy. And you're far from healthy. So, here's your slippers and up you get."
Rusti said nothing of her exosuit and complied.
Birma strolled alongside as the antigrav chair carried Rusti down one occupied corridor to a busier one. They took an elevator but no words passed between them. The Crested Moon felt busy, keeping count of every crew member and stranger that boarded and disembarked.
Look, Optimus, Rusti thought, things are changing and you're not here to see it. She choked, realizing that by the time her beloved returned to consciousness, she might no longer exist.
Rusti stopped breathing and tried to keep her tears private.
They paused at the tall door to an Autobot patient recovery room. Birma punched in a code. Rusti wiped tears and tucked away her sadness.
"All set," the nurse ushered Rusti into a well-lit room with an empty table, an extra Autobot-sized chair and a flatbed where Rodimus sat straight and stiff. His lit optics assured everything in his head functioned, but Roddi was not aware. Birma laid a hand on Rusti's shoulder, said something kind then departed.
Rusti's chair glided forward by her command. The chair rose to Rodimus' height and hovered. She stared at Prime, searching for words. "You know, Roddi," she began with a mousy, unsteady voice, "I know how hard you and Optimus work and you both could use another holiday. But, um. We had a holiday not long ago. Its not even Friday." She swallowed oncoming tears. "Optimus, he's gone in for an upgrade." Rusti dropped her head and nervously smoothed wrinkles on her robe. "I don't know what he'd need an upgrade for, do you? He's beautiful as is. At least, I think so."
She lost words again. Her mind searched through mental cupboards, sorely empty of ideas. "I guess," she began, "I guess the damned Virus got the best of the three of us. Am I right? We've come so far to finally get here a-and you're out to lunch. Optimus might not make it and um... I won't make it. I'm so sorry!" Her breath hitched and Rusti wept. She regained control and reached into a subspace pocket for a tissue. Rusti laughed once. "'magine that, Roddi, I stashed tissues in case of emergency. Good for me, right?"
She dried her cheeks and nose. "Well, I'm going outside. I hear it's nice out there. I'll be back to check on you later."
Leaving Roddi made Rusti's stomach bitter with guilt. She did not want to leave Rodimus in such a mindless state. What did the Virus do to leave him like that? Rodimus was always the more emotional fighter. Optimus kept everything chained down; he fought from within.
They just need time, Rusti assured herself. Wounds take time to heal. But how much time? How long could Magnus safely wait for them? The battle with Psyklenox set them back for weeks; hopefully not months.
The outside world welcomed Rusti with a soft breeze and mild temperatures. She watched Autobots, citizens, Automatrons and Decepticons clean, scrub and organize the camp. She tuned into the main communications channel. Titanium declared repair work on the Sabor's Claw complete. Jazz requested a number of alignment tools be returned to the Trench Driver. Quasar requested Joyride to return to the Alveraz via shuttlecraft. "And you better not forget the hi-freque static scrubber, Mister!" she added. Arcee loudly complained the Razor Lady kept shutting doors and hatches without authorization.
Rusti shook her head. Typical cat behavior.
Rusti's gaze landed at the canyon. Spires and monoliths rose high into the air, many of them taller than most Autobots. A static fog snaked across the gap, lit by an alien power source deep in the planet. Nothing like it existed on Earth, Lunarphyte or Cybertron. Even the Valles Mariner canyon on Mars, as gigantic as it was, did not compare to Mechlatex's natural wonder.
"Hey!" someone shouted over the common radio frequency, "this is Brine of the Cold Refractor. We need a human doctor RIGHT NOW! I repeat, the Cold Refractor has a trapped human survivor and we need a human doctor ASAP!"
Rusti panned her eyes to the distant right and gasped. The Cold Refractor looked worse than she heard.
Blades raced over her head, no doubt carrying an EMT to the ship.
Rusti followed in her chair and found it had quite a boost. The wind flew through her hair as she zipped around Fireflight, avoided Rippersnapper and zoomed past Jacket before he finished admonishing her.
Rusti slowed upon approaching the Cold Refractor's burnt and mangled hull.
"Ohmigod," she mourned. Was the ship even alive? She wove her way around workers and assessors as they too, tried to determine whether or not they could salvage the ship. A few EDC workers in heavy-duty exosuits dragged long thick cables behind them. Rusti retraced their steps into the ship and parked her chair in an out-of-the-way corner. People tracked off and on the Refractor, most of them carried fragmented and destroyed objects. With a deep breath, Rusti turned the comms off and listened for any sounds from the Refractor.
A while later familiar foot falls picked their way toward her. Rusti lifted her eyes and squinted at Galvatron.
"Well, there you are, Mizz Rusti. There are three nurses who have lost their minds looking for you." He went quiet and glanced left then right. "Are you hiding from them?"
"No," she replied simply. "I came to see if the Refractor was dead."
"You didn't see the gaping hole at the front of the ship? Looks beheaded if you ask me," he muttered.
Rusti narrowed her eyes. "There's something different about you, Galvatron."
"Yes I'm older and uglier."
She softly giggled. "Not quite. Your color is slightly different..." she stared until it dawned on her. "Ohmigod, you have a transform! No, you have two transforms!"
"Erm. No, Rusti. I have one."
"You have two."
"It's just one; a great big mean dog."
"You have two-how can you be a transformer and not know you can transform? Are you serious? Wait a minute. How are you even able to change? You lost the ability a long time ago."
"I had a fight with Sixshot." Galvatron answered smoothly. "We fell off a cliff. My processor scrambled. And I transformed automatically."
Rusti rubbed her back teeth with her tongue. "Well, if I touch you, I could read your specs."
The Autobot leader pro-temp smiled politely. "A: I'd rather you did not, Mizz Rusti. And B: we've already had half a dozen deaths when a humanoid touched an Autobot or an Automatron or Decepticon. I don't want that for you or me."
"Oh no."
"Yes," Galvatron agreed.
"Flesh is so frail."
"Well, it wasn't just the organic that died, but the Autobot. I'm glad I did not have to clean the mess."
As Galvatron spoke, a white creature slipped through the opposite wall. Bright blue eyes glowed under a ridge of graceful spikes that trailed down a long neck. Rusti stared at the white dragon, surprised it no longer resembled the small cute creature she saw on Yolthanis III.
"It's alive, Galvatron! The Refractor is still alive!" she burst. "And he likes you."
"Who likes me?"
"The Refractor." Rusti stared, puzzled. "But how? He doesn't act injured."
"Talk to it, Rusti. Then talk to me."
She mentally examined the ship bow to stern. "The engines are still operational." she reported. "The computer system downloaded into auxiliary but navigation and weapons are non-existant."
Galvatron grunted, displeased. "Why is it always navigation that gets fried?"
Rusti shrugged. "I think, Galvatron, a better question should be how is the Cold Refractor still alive."
"I do not have the time to ponder the question." Galvatron skipped a breath then added; "I don't suppose you've seen a stray matrix floating around, have you?"
Rusti tilted her head. "That is a really weird joke, Galvatron."
"I wish it were a joke," he grumbled. He paused, expression now blank. Someone communicated with him on a private channel. "I need to go. Don't leave your nurses dangling too long, Mizz Rusti. I do not need to hear more stories of people with nervous breakdowns."
Rusti smiled, now tired. "Alright. Take care, Galvatron. Please keep an eye on Optimus and Rodimus for me."
"Two for Rodimus," Galvatron promised. "And I'll stare at him while making funny faces." With that, he transformed into mastiff and leapt away.
Rusti did not have to wait long for Galvatron to reach beyond earshot. She laid eyes on the pearl white dragon and laid her hands on her lap. "So, would you like to tell me about the cavern you found?"
Her conversation with the Cold Refractor took longer than anticipated. Rusti returned to her quarters exhausted but hopeful. The head nurse fed her broth and gelatin and begged her to take medicine. Rusti obliged, looking forward to a good sleep.
She passed into darkness where the universe held its peace and time slowed, breathing between the seconds. A bearded iris faded into her mind and hummed old music. It greeted her with a smile. Well, no, the flower had no face. Rusti felt the smile. "Sing me something more," she asked.
"Like Rodimus? He's petulent."
"Perhaps," Rusti agreed carefully. "But I love him and I love Galvatron. I am sad to leave them. But I have Optimus."
The deep red iris swayed. "Then I will sing for your Optimus."
Rusti loved the gentle engaging song. The iris laughed at the end and said something in gibberish. It spoke faster until jumbled words warped into a familiar voice. Confused, Rusti climbed her way to consciousness.
"What?" she asked no one. The door buzzed again. "Who-who izit?" she slurred.
The door whooshed open and Rodimus peered in. "Peeking at a boo," he proclaimed. He grinned upon eye contact but stayed at the threshold. "Hey, Lady-friend," he chimed. "I heard you were giving everyone a cardiac arrest and thought I'd ask for one, too."
"How about a hug instead?" she countered. He approached and gently hugged her as she tried again to sit up.
"Hey," he properly greeted as he sat beside her bed.
Rusti's warm smile melted into tears and she gripped the comforter. "I'm so happy you're okay, Roddi! And I'm so mad I can't see Optimus, even by video! What is going on?"
"He's..." Rodimus looked away, not wishing to spread bad and sad news. "He's not good, Lady-friend. The Virus really messed him up."
"What about you? They said-" she nabbed a tissue-" they said no one was home inside your head. What happened?"
Rodimus shrugged. "I can't remember. It's like someone switched the light off in my head." Roddi set his gaze far away. "I can't remember anything. It's weird. I know something happened but it's out of reach. So, I woke up and there was Rain, making fun of me."
Rusti forced a smile. "Someone should.
"Hey, whose side are you on?"
"Galvatron's if he stays in charge."
"Yeah," Roddi grinned. "He really has things under control. The Deceps here have taken a liking to him. I'm thinking about taking a vacation. "
"That's good," she quipped.
"That's very good," Roddi agreed.
"I hope he doesn't leave us, now that there are other Decepticons. Do you think...?"
"Not from what Op told me on Cratis. I don't think he'll leave us. He promised to keep an optic on me and Op, remember?"
"He talked to you?"
"Yeah. Rodimus dropped quiet and cast his optics out the window. He did not face her when he spoke again: "One of the nurses told me... uh, what you told her. Rusti, how do you know you're dying?"
Her blood pressure dropped. She did not want to disclose the truth. Roddi, already in pain, did not need more grief. Rusti was sorry he found out. She sighed. "You know, Roddi, I remember one autumn in Fort Max when the trees were brighter and fuller than usual. I think it's because it rained more that summer."
"You were eight," he concurred.
She continued, "there was a windstorm one weekend. It blew all the leaves around. There were lemon-gold and deep royal red, copper... burnt orange and I remembered watching them cross the lanes of freeways. The wind would scatter them and pick them up like miniature kites. And to me, the leaves looked like they were laughing and dancing. And it was sort of magical."
Rodimus could not face her. What words eased such a tragic truth? He'd rather fight Trypticon in hand-to-hand combat than look this reality in the eye.
Rusti paused, her gaze fixed into emptiness. "And then there was the year of snow." she smiled, "there were icicles, longer than I am tall and when the sun hit them it was like jewels from deep in the earth. And that was so magical. And I remember when we visited the beach on Rhode Island. Do you remember that? The sun hit the sand in just the right way so that it looked like a mirror. I couldn't tear my eyes off it and in spite of all that, it was when I went with Optimus looking for a power source for the Crested Moon that my breath was truly stolen. And odd as it might sound, Roddi, I feel at home here, as if Mechlatex is where I should have been all along." Rusti dropped her gaze to the drawing book. "I can't say why I feel that way. I can't say how or why."
Prime lost words. Her beautiful thoughts, like flower petals, laid over his core. Each ring hurt like a song at the end of a story.
A high-pitched scratch-snap pricked the air, barely audible.
"Did you hear that?" Rodimus asked abruptly.
"Hear what?"
Roddi tilted his head left then right. "There," he said, "A pulse. Can't you hear it?" He swung from the window to watch Rusti's expression and laughed. "You're hair is standing up! I didn't know it could do that!"
Rusti patted her hair as more strands and locks rose higher above her head. Then she too heard a strange clip-snap noise.
Rodimus lost his smile. "OH SHIT."
"An ion storm!" Rusti did not need to say anything else. Rodimus dashed for the hallway and transformed before his feet touched the floor.
Rusti heard another click-snap and a smile lifted her pale cheeks. Her first storm on Mechlatex required a better view. And to her good fortune, the hover-chair waited for her in the corner. First: the exosuit (for protection) then a trip to the observation deck.
Communication officers sounded the alarm. Everyone ran to and fro, rushing to close ramps, hatches and windows. Children were pushed indoors and workers scampered out the Cold Refractor whose shields lay offline.
Rusti reached the Observation deck in time to see the first ball-lightening hit the ground with the intensity of a floodlight. Even inside the Crested Moon, she heard thunder sizzle against the ship's shields.
Another sphere hit a monolith in the canyon. Electricity filled the atmosphere with super-charged light. The valley flashed with its star-like brilliance.
Strip lightening touched the vacated side of the battlefield and set robotic body shells on fire.
Rusti gasped when several drops of water kissed the Moon's shields, slipped through them and tapped the windows. "How's that possible?!" she asked no one. "Ohmigod!"
And then it rained.
Metaxan water gushed from skies to ground and into the canyon. Lightning struck the valley one end then another as thunder bounced from the foothills to ship shields.
Patter, patter.
BOOM!
To Rusti it sounded like impromptu music and she wanted to feel it. A billion tiny pins bounced before another roll of thunder cracked and echoed. All too soon, the thunder ended. The light show slowed and the rain softened to a fine mist.
Sadly enough, the storm broke and the valley descended into a lull. Rusti grinned, what a storm! As tired as she felt, she wanted outside to smell the fresh ionized air and feel the cool moisture on her skin.
Weariness tugged her toward bed. Excitement enticed her into a two-minute world freshly washed. Rusti negotiated both sides of her heart: a two-minute outing then a nap. She did not even have to stray far from the ship. Two levels and three corridors later, Rusti approached the port bow exit only to meet Nurse Birma. Arms folded, face sculpted with annoyance, the nurse glared than softened her expression.
"Miss Witwicky,"
Rusti cringed at the last name.
"If you plan another excursion, please let me know in advance. I don't mind you going places. I think it's healthy. But for Primus' sake, let me know so I won't pee my pants with anxiety!"
Rusti smiled sheepishly. "I just want to go outside for a few minutes. That's all. I didn't leave the ship this time around."
I know," Birma answered with a frown. "I got smart and asked the computer."
Without an answer, Rusti ordered her chair off the plank and into the renewed sunlight. Birma followed and gazed upon the disaster left by the storm. Rusti ignored the messy camp and soaked in the fresh air and cool breeze. Optimus would have loved this post-rain weather. He liked to drive under trees so the left-over raindrops blotted his exostructure with sweetness.
The camp held still. Communications fizzled with static. Rusti guessed the storm temporarily kicked the power off.
"This was a good idea," the nurse quipped amid the quiet. "I'm guessing you like the rain?"
Rusti nodded. "But I think the storm knocked out coms, which means shields and sensors are down, too."
Birma tapped her comlink. "Yes. You may be right. Not good. But your chair still works. How does that- Mmmph!"
"What?" Rusti turned her chair about and gasped. "Dad!"
Witwicky held Birma round the neck, a makeshift laser weapon pointed at her head. "Out of the chair," Resonna," he ordered.
"No! You let her go!"
He shot the nurse down the cheek, wounding her. "She has more skin to lose," he hissed. "Now get out of the chair and start walking! NOW."
A wind picked up as Daniel forced the two women toward the canyon of monoliths. Rusti glanced at the Trench Driver. But it sat as inert as the Moon. She tried to contact anyone, but all frequencies lay quiet. She even attempted to mentally call Rodimus. Fail. She whispered a four-letter word and kept walking.
"Move faster!" Daniel ordered.
Rusti could not.
Click-snap.
Dark clouds raced over the foothills and cast the valley into deep shadow; the ion 'disturbance' was a precursor to a more sinister storm burst.
Click-snap. Snap, snap.
Rusti faced her father. "The storm wasn't over. We're just in the eye."
Daniel tightened his hold on Birma. "KEEP MOVING!" He fired a shot across Birma's forehead and blood poured over her face.
Rusti tried to mentally override Daniel's exosuit. She did not have the mental strength to press past his force fields.
The wind intensified and the first drop of rain kissed Rusti's left cheek. "This is not going to be good." She tried again: "Dad, just let Birma go. This is between you and me."
"It's between whoever I wish it to be between!" Daniel hissed. "You-you've successfully ruined my life!"
"HOW?" Rusti shouted. "What about YOU? You made my life miserable!"
Witwicky screamed at the top of his voice. "KEEP MOVING!"
They approached the edge of the canyon when the first lightning bolt struck. Rusti counted six seconds. Thunder rumbled and wind kicked in. The sweet pungent scent of rain filled the valley like a gas. Another bolt of lightning hit closer to the Sabor's Claw.
Rusti held her hair back from the strengthening wind. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" she screamed. "Just let Birma go!"
"I want Primes to suffer!" Daniel shouted back. "You know that!" He hit Birma when she struggled against him. "THIS. This is how they will suffer!"
A distant, familiar voice interrupted the tension. Daniel's eyes bulged. Rusti barely heard Arcee's kind voice over the windstorm. She called Daniel twice and Witwicky trembled and sweat beaded his brow. He swung around, gun trained on the defenseless nurse.
"Daniel," Arcee transformed from automode and maintained distance. "Don't do this. She's your daughter! She's all the family you have!"
Rusti never saw her father so pent up with rage. His face turned hot red. Birma struggled to keep her footing as he dragged her round one way then snapped at Rusti when she took a step closer.
"More blood for you, Baby? Huh?" He shot Birma's right cheek from her jaw up.
"STOP!" Arcee and Rusti shouted. "Daniel," the femme continued, "it doesn't have to be like this!"
"YES IT DOES!" Daniel stepped back, holding Birma like a prized dog. The wind made it difficult for him to aim. He shot the femme in the face. Arcee crashed with a terrible scream. Using what strength she had, Rusti attacked. Witwicky and Birma hit the ground. Birma rolled out of his reach as Rusti used her exosuit to destroy Daniel's makeshift weapon. With a cry, he tackled her.
He wrapped his hands around her neck, his face hideous with rage. "I'm going to rip your head off!" He dragged her to the edge of the canyon.
A bolt of lightning struck twenty feet from them. Several crystals burst open and glowing fluid gushed like water. High winds sprayed the fluid eastward. Puddles formed and their rims swiftly rolled toward man and his daughter.
Rusti knocked him off balance and he took her down with him. They rolled. Rusti, no match for her parent's insane rage lost to his weight. Her head dipped over the lip.
The ferocious wind brought rain and the storm deafened her ears. Daniel pressed his thumbs under Rusti's chin and stretched her head further over the canyon's lip.
Clik-clik. Snap, snap. SNAP.
Rusti uselessly pounded her fists against his armor. She tried to roll but her strength waned. The canyon below filled with liquid sunlight. Thunder above them drowned everything and she stopped breathing.
Daniel fully intended to rip Rusti's head off as he stretched her neck. He ignored the cyclonic wind, the torrential rain. Lighting danced around him like protesting angels. Out the corner of his eye he saw the glowing fluid encroach as if the planet itself came to execute him.
Something yanked Daniel off but not before he pushed her over the drink. Rusti had enough a mind to grab the ledge of a leaning monolith as she fell.
From behind, Daniel heard the familiar pattern of Rodimus Prime's transformation. At least one Prime can watch the girl die.
"DANIEL!" Rodimus shouted.
"You won't do it, Prime!" Witwicky answered, though the wind and rain muffled his words. "You won't kill me even to save her!"
A blunt object kicked Daniel so hard he flew over Arcee's huddled, smoldering form and into a mud puddle. Daniel tried to stand but a giant gash along his left side ran down his left thigh; crushed like an aluminum can. Witwicky screamed, cursed and pounded his fists.
Rodimus saw Rusti fall over the edge as liquid light ate up the ground and covered his feet. Roddi dropped to the ledge. Two more crystals flooded the canyon with light, almost blinding Prime.
"Rusti!" he cried. "Rusti!"
"No, I'm here!" she responded weakly.
He reached for her. "Give me your hand!"
"No!" she choked against the cloud burst. The rain pecked her skin. "No, Roddi," she repeated weakly, "I don't know what it'll do to you!"
Rodimus stretched, ignoring her objection. Lightning struck the other side of the canyon. Rusti screamed and lost her hold. Rodimus stretched further. He snapped cables and tore fluid lines. He caught her arm.
No words described the one sound Rusti made.
Arcee regained consciousness to a world washed in white. Strange electrified fog hovered along the ground. Light washed out all colors and veiled everything outside a five-foot distance.
"Hello?" The fog swallowed her voice. The damage to her face left her trembling with pain. Arcee tentatively touched the left side under her optic sensor. A spark startled her and she flinched. Daniel shot off everything left of her olfactory node. His attack was personal. The little slag-bastard hated her as much as she did him.
"Hello?" she called again. "Is anyone there?" Arcee tried to call the Crested Moon. No answer. Trench Driver? No answer. Razor Lady? No. All coms down. No one nearby. What happened? She moved and noticed the ground felt different, not organic like it should be.
Arcee forced herself up on unsteady legs. They wobbled under her upon the first step. "Crested Moon?" she called aloud. "Can you hear me?" Her voice reverberated scratchy and unstable. "Help," She took a second step and a third. The world narrowed to whatever area she occupied until a familiar but weakened voice reached her audios like a nail on a slice of corroded aluminum.
"'cee... 'Cee. I see you. That's you, right, 'Cee?"
Arcee followed the sound left. Her feet moved in spite of her angry heart. She found the worm of a man as he lay in mud, whimpering. Daniel stretched forth his right arm.
"Cee," he said weakly. "Cee, you've come for me. My suit, Cee. My suit's broken. He broke my suit, Arcee. Kicked me like a football and broke my suit."
Unable to see out her left optic, the Autobot femme crouched. "Well, Daniel," she said to avoid a greeting. "Are you asking for help, Daniel?" Sarcasm edged her strained vocalizer. "Are you pleading for your life?"
Daniel's own face bled from gashes across his forehead, nose and left upper cheek. "It's all busted, 'Cee," he repeated. "I'm bleeding. Aren't you going to do something?"
"No."
Stunned, he gaped and his pitiful voice strengthened. "You're going to let me die?"
"I am not inclined to save you, Daniel," Arcee answered with no inflection. "You did this to yourself."
His tone darkened in anger. "You live by a code, Arcee. I expect you to abide by that code and SAVE ME!"
Again she did not answer right away. "Why do evil people find it so easy to turn another person's virtue to their personal advantage? It's repulsive. And I find you repulsive, Daniel."
Witwicky struggled to sit and failed. "Rrrrough!" he growled. "As if anything you think means anything! Ask me if I fucking care, Arcee!"
"Never an apology from you, Daniel. Never. I am beyond forgiving you, anyway." Arcee stood and toed over him. She did not get further than two steps when Witwicky opened his mouth again.
"Where do you think you're going, Little Slaghead? Back to the Autobots? Seriously? Come on, Arcee, you're nothing but a used drum of old lubricant to them. You're a used-up, smelt-headed burnt outlet as useful as a broken toggle switch! You allowed a little piece of meat to defile you in ways that would gross out Repugnus!" Witwicky paused and a mean smile creased his face. "Do you really think they'll ever respect you? Ever? You might as well stay with me-"
Arcee spun about. "SHUT UP!" her vocalizer shorted before she could use it again. Arcee spoke more evenly but her emotions got to her and the distortion gave Daniel the creeps. "Shut your fucking mouth! Don't EVER speak to me AGAIN!"
Daniel laughed and jeered as she took two more steps. But his voice sounded no better. "I'm still alive, Arcee!" he croaked. "I'll get-" he coughed and sputtered. "-some other bleeding heart to save me and I'll find other ways to torment you. Because you deserve it, Arcee."
Arcee froze. "Yes, you will," she concurred softly. "You always have. No matter how many second, third or fifth chances you've been given, you've never changed." Arcee returned. The truth cast a darker expression across her damaged face. Her right optic narrowed at the little worm. "You can't change."
"I don't wanna change," Daniel cringed and coughed when he scoffed.
Arcee nodded. "I know. I noticed. Even when Rodimus exiled you, you found your way back.
Under blood loss, Daniel's eyes drooped slightly. "Hey, Crested Moon," he said into an external com channel. "I'm dying out here. Arcee won't take me in and I've lost a lot of blood." Pause. "Ten minutes? Fine." Wiwicky shrugged. "And that is that. I'm sure one or the other of the Primes will scold you later. Maintenance duty, Arcee!"
"You're lying, Daniel. All comms are down."
Daniel smirked, "says you. Guess my shot did more damage than I thought. Nobody cares, Arcee."
The femme gazed as if measuring him with her one optic. She pressed her foot on his feet.
Daniel scoffed. "You wouldn't dare."
The shadow of Arcee's foot inched from his feet to his chest.
"You're not going to do this Arcee," he warned. His eyes bounced from the femme's foot to her ugly face. "Your ethics won't let you."
Arcee placed the sole of her right foot over Daniel's prone form.
Pressure.
"STOP, Arcee!" his voice cracked. "Not funny!"
Pressure.
"Nngh! I TOLD YOU-" *gasp* "-my suit is damaged, smelt-bitch!"
Pressure. Daniel's suit creaked and bent.
"Arcee! STOP!" he screamed.
Pressure.
"STOP! Stop!" His scream turned to a squeal.
CRUNCH.
She froze.
Revenge? Murder? Justice?
Did it matter?
Witwicky's blood splattered Arcee's right foot and haloed his body in crimson. Arcee lifted her foot and found a crushed exosuit leaking with lubricant, fluids and blood. Daniel's face burst from the pressure.
A dead bug.
A murdered bug.
GUM.
Arcee stepped away. She was free. He was dead. She took another step and a third. She murdered him. As far as the Primes were concerned, it was a deal-breaker. She could not, would not face them. Arcee ran for the canyon, jumped from monolith to crystal to the other side. And was never seen again.
Rodimus reached further and caught Rusti as she fell. A burst of raw power shot through his system like a star prominence. White heat surged through his fuel lines and threatened to burst him asunder. He almost lost Rusti had something else not replaced her tiny arm. Through the blinding light, Rodimus stared into a foreign pair of blue optics. He tugged with all his weakened state. Primus but he was weak!
He pulled another robotic life form to the ledge and collapsed. Liquid fire boiled his insides. Rodimus lay still, waiting to either recover or die.
Roddi awoke in a shallow pool of cooling lubricant. Wheeljack moved a hovering body scanner from above and peered into Prime's face.
"Aren't you looking pretty?" the scientist asked. "Seems you've escaped vaporization for the hundredth time."
"...Jack?" Roddi could barely speak.
"Nope," Wheeljack said cheerfully. "No tap dancing. No troop inspection and no Dinobot football for you. Oh, look, Rodimus! Company!"
Galvatron approached, shadowed by Cyclonus.
"What do you think, Cyclonus? Pageant material or just another wannabe Prime?"
Cyclonus did not smile, but there appeared no mistake of a grin under the stoic gaze. I'm calling hybrid." he surmised.
Galvatron lightly hit his friend. "That's a good one! I did not think of that!" He bent over to examine Rodimus' face. "Is your processor online and in one piece?"
Roddi pushed him away. "Getta way from me, you defect." His optics flared and Rodimus gasped. "My hands!" He sat up and examined himself head to foretoe. "What happened to me? I'm black!"
Galvatron loppidly smiled. "Like I said, pageant material or wannabe Prime."
"What happened to me?"
"Still trying to figure that out," Wheeljack answered. "Whatever hit you, did so with energy on a planetary scale. This world is nuthin' short of astounding."
"Tell him, Wheeljack," Galvatron urged. "Don't make me tell him everything."
Wheeljack crossed his arms. "I got other patients to take care of, Galvatron, you can do the talking."
Roddi's head swung from Wheeljack to Gavlatron and back and forth. "What? What? Tell me what?"
Cyclonus answered one question: "Daniel Witwicky is dead."
Galvatron followed. "The ion storm knocked out all power. The glowing ooze from the canyon ignited the crystalline structures and the photonic energy overloaded all scanners. We could not find you until the storm cleared. The last we heard from you was of Arcee. She is nowhere to be found. We're still searching."
Galvatron fell quiet and Cyclonus looked away. Rodimus read their body language. "There's something more, isn't there?" Prime guessed. Then he remembered: "Rusti."
Galvatron stepped back and signaled for Rodimus to follow.
Roddi grabbed a nearby towel. He wiped himself dry as he trailed after the two Decepticons through medbay.
They passed the checkpoint and entered an isolation ward. Only the upper crown lights lit the room. The ambience made for soft shadows and accentuated metal. Far left of the room Convoy lay quiet and comfortable. A line of special fluid ran from a wall outlet into what remained of her left arm.
At the back of the room behind a glass shield lay another figure. Rodimus did not recognize her and thought she was a D-femme. Galvatron approached her first then Cyclonus while Rodimus kept his distance. Suspicion crawled over him like a corrosive rash.
Galvatron beckoned with a smile and Prime obeyed with trepidation. "She won't bite, Rodimus," he joked.
Roddi stared through the glass. The femme in question resembled Rusti's exosuit except for the color. The femme's form blushed with coral-peach and white, offset with teal blue and black.
"It's Rusti," he affirmed to himself. "Is it..." he turned to his Decepticon companion. "Is she alive?"
"Yes," Cyclonus answered deadpan.
"How? How? It-the whatever should have killed us both!"
Galvatron grinned. "I like this planet. You never know what will happen next!"
Rodimus set fingertips against the glass. For the first time in his life, he could really read her face. Everything made sense. He lightly smiled. Was it possible she felt and thought the same when he and Optimus were human?
"Has anyone spoken to her?" Rodimus asked excitedly.
"She's unconscious, Rodimus. You didn't talk much while offline, either."
Roddi looked back at Rusti. "You're not helping, Galvatron."
Cyclonus shook his head. "No respect, Galvatron."
The Autobot leader pro-temp smiled before inclining his head. He nodded to himself. "I must leave, Rodimus. Duty calls."
Rodimus hesitated. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I know." He listened as Galvatron and Cyclonus headed for the next room. "Galvatron?" he called.
The Decepticon peeked round the door frame, not the least annoyed.
"Thank you," Rodimus said with a small smile.
"I'll send you the bill. Get rest. There's much to be done."
Perfect soothing silence accompanied the hum and vibration of machinery. Rusti awoke in the middle of the night. Yes, 3:24:07, to be exact. She did not stop to wonder how or why that came to her; it just did.
Why was she where she was? Where was she? She cast her gaze left because a metal wall bordered her on the right.
Where was she again?
Where was she before?
She did not recognize medbay.
Medbay? Birma!
Rusti sat up and a nearby medi-scan beeped in alarm.
"Be quiet," she ordered it. And the machine obeyed.
Footsteps rushed in. Rusti recognized Doctor Tremel. But something was off. She tilted her head. "How did you get so small?"
"Me?" the medic pointed at her. "You're the one that's no longer normal, Miss Rusti."
Rusti zeroed on his face and searched all the subtleties of his exostructure. She saw the tiny groves and lands of his lips and three layers of his optics. A sensory aura played all along his body like an invisible static field.
She drew back and shook her head. "Whoa. Wait a minute."
"Don't panic," Tremel said gently. "You'll be fine."
"What are you talking about? What's wrong-" her eyes dropped to her hand where it rested on the table. Her jaw dropped while the white hand obeyed her every mental impulse. She examined the form, checking her feet, legs, shoulder... she touched the head.
"How come I'm in a different exosuit? What happened to me?"
Tremel activated his com, "Rodimus, you need to get back to Isolation. NOW." He paused. "Rusti. Rusti, Dear, just sit back on the table and let me take a few readings."
Rusti heard Rodimus' gait before he entered the room. "You didn't answer my question-" She broke off, eyes on Rodimus and pointed at Tremel: "This guy won't answer-" she took a second look: "You shrunk, too? Roddi, why are you black?"
Rodimus rounded the glass shield and held forth his hand. "You're okay, Lady-Friend," he said kindly. "Just come with me."
She allowed Rodimus to lead her out the room and in front of a steel cabinet. He stood behind her, steady hands on her shoulders.
"This is you, Lady-Friend. I don't know how." he twisted Rusti about to face him. "Are you okay?"
She stared, baffled, speechless, confused and astonished. "I-I need to sit-"
"Oh, right!"
Dr Tremel dragged a chair behind her just as Rusti's knees gave out. She sat, staring into nothing. Rodimus gave her the low-down but they were just sounds; words that held neither meaning nor picture.
What?
What? How was she supposed to feel? Was this permanent? Her eye-optics drifted back to the reflection. Stranger than at first, she recognized areas where her exosuit once covered her body. Now it was her body.
Or maybe, the other way around.
"Would you like me to take you back to your quarters, Rusti?"
"Hu?" She gawked. "I don't know, Roddi," she responded with effort. "I don't know. I don't know what I want. I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to want. I've never been an Autobot... before."
Rodimus stifled laughter but failed to tuck his smile away. "Let's take this a minute at a time. Okay?"
She hesitated then nodded.
Rodimus stood straight and went quiet. Once the moment passed, he grunted, frustrated. "Damn. I'm sorry, Rusti. Problems at the Cold Refractor. I have to check it out." He sympathized with his Lady-Friend. She hugged herself tightly, optics unfocused. "Hey," he said lightly. "How about I assign someone to help you out? I'd do it myself. You know that. But with Optimus down, there's only me, Galvatron and three ship captains handling things." She conceded silently. Rodimus flipped through his mental 'black book' and compared his choice to whichever available Autobot fit the job. "Hey," he brightened, "are you familiar with Trinket?"
Rusti lifted her heavy head and nodded. "She's a-uh-nurse? Electrical... something?"
Rodimus smirked. "She's a lady of many talents and trades. I'll ask her to help you out. Okay?"
Rusti reluctantly agreed, wishing he would do the 'helping out' instead. She half heard Rodimus ramble about her remaining in medbay. He promised to check on her later and left.
Dr. Tremal puttered about the ward. He answered three calls from other ship doctors until the Razor Lady urgently requested his presence.
Tremel peeked round the corner and found Rusti had not moved a micro inch. He approached as he packed a few items into a case. "I'm sorry, Dear. I have to go. But I'll be back soon. Trinket should be here in a while to help you out. You'll be alright for a while, yes?"
Her vacant expression accompanied a slight nod and the doctor departed.
She kept silent and still as the room. The temperature held a comfortable 78F. The medbay walls vibrated with the pulse of the Moon's activity. Two rooms away, the corridor softly resonated with busy people. The Crested Moon herself tracked every person's whereabouts and monitored the environment. Security read life signs and maintenance droids cleaned the halls and walkways. The day continued despite her absence, mental or otherwise.
Of all the things to happen, this certainly was the last Rusti expected.
Was this for real? Was she caught in a dream because she was dying or dead?
What happened?
What happened?
There was a storm.
There was rain.
Her father...her father.
The canyon.
Rusti examined her hands again. She used to keep her nails clean, polish-free but short. Now metal hands tipped with red met her eyes.
"What do I do?" she asked herself. Rusti paced the room one short circle then another. What do Autobots do? They... work. They...play games. They... live in their own quarters. They take time to recharge.
It dawned on Rusti that Autobots were like humans or other sapient creatures. The only difference was culture and what structured Autobot society.
How was she supposed to fit in? What would they expect of her? And how would they see her now? She grew nervous. Stepping out of medbay implied facing a number of unknowns.
Gathering a little courage, Rusti chose to return to her quarters. At least there she'd find a more familiar setting than medbay's sterile walls.
Good decision, she thought. One step at a time!
With a deep ...breath? Rusti paused. She was not breathing. But she could if she chose to! She shook her head. Like a toddler she'd have to learn How all over again. She needed information she never knew was necessary.
As Rusti pondered her situation, a femme stepped into the next room. Curios, Rsuti approached the archway between the rooms. A winged femme with an optical scanner and faceplate recorded a series of readouts onto a datatablet until she noticed Rusti watching. She turned, her faceplate mirrored the readout on the computer beside her.
"Hi. Are you okay?"
"You're... Ary, aren't you?" Rusti guessed.
"Yes, that's right. And you are Rusti."
"How do we know our names?"
"Well, you are a patient."
"Right," Rusti returned, uncertain. "But how do I know who you are?"
"The ship probably told you."
Rusti shook her head. I never asked."
"You don't have to," Ary answered quickly. "It's protocol. The computer submitted information into your delta subsystems and fed you the necessary information.
Rusti narrowed her optics. My delta-what?"
Ary smiled reassuringly. "You'll figure it out." She added a final entry to the datatablet. Rusti watched as Ary transformed to a hovercycle and vanished out the door.
"Can I transform?" she asked out loud. "What would I transform into?"
Where would she get answers if she did not want to pester anyone?
Ary said the ship computer did something.
Rusti searched the area for a digipad. No, she should not just take it. But she could always return it. Three pads leaned against a small box in a nearby cupboard. Metallic green, black or gold? Rusti grabbed the green and walked out of medbay.
All at once she heard, saw, felt and envisioned every person walking past her, down the right, down the left and round the corner. It was not just Autobots she was aware of, but Humans, extraterrestrials, maintenance droids, micro drones, equipment and, to her surprise, a ten year-old boy. She heard conversations and every click and beep of mechanics from one end of the hall to the other. Light and sound hit her too crisp and clear. She froze and tried to filter this sound and that noise-and good God, what was that droid carrying? Elevators arrived and departed. Doors opened and closed. She stood amid normal corridor ambience and witnessed it more fully detailed than before.
"Roddi," She could not tell if she signaled him via intercom or in her mind.
"Hey, Lady-Friend! How are you?"
"Uhh, confused. How do you navigate through all this?"
Rodimus did not answer right away. Rusti realized he was speaking with someone else, even if she could not tell who or what was said. "Be careful," he returned. "If you need anything..."
"Quarters!" she accidently said aloud. "I just want to get to my quarters!"
"Don't panic," Roddi returned. "Take a left. Go to the elevator and Level 2."
Rusti navigated and negotiated her way around and found hers and Optimus' quarters. She expected a sense of normalcy upon entering. But her size made her home look like a doll house. Her bed, too little. Her drawing pad and tools, tiny toys. Her clothing, everything now familiar but different. And no one had a road map for her to follow for such a drastic change.
She sat on the floor. After staring into space, Rusti twisted around and laid her head across the bed. The digipad slipped from her hands and clattered on the metal floor.
She never felt so lost.
Captain Quasar squirmed her body along the biflux plasma tube lining the Alvarez's starbord second quarter drive. Kaon, the ships' electrical engineer, insisted going into the tube himself. But the Alveraz was her ship and if anyone was going to lose their life repairing the vessel, she wanted it to be hers.
Rodimus, of course, strongly objected. But he was planet-side and she was stuck in space with 514 people who really wanted off the ship.
"Take off for orbit," she muttered, reciting Optimus' order during the battle with Psyklenox. "Keep tabs." She scoffed. "Some good that did. I'm going to have words with SOMEONE about killer satellites!
Alto chimed into the comline. ""I'm sorry, Captain," she said. "I didn't quite catch that."
Quasar tugged herself past a quartz refraction ring and found the gash as it fluttered in zero gravity. "If Rodimus calls-"
"Sorry, Captain," Alto interrupted. "It's Rodimus again."
Quasar groaned. "Patch him through." Her head drooped when Prime greeted her with his annoying cheerfulness.
"Quasar! How's it floating?"
"Not funny, Rodimus." She peeked through the lining and found the metal shard that tore through her ship. "I still have another breech to fix."
"Great!" Roddi sang. "After that, you can come and clean my windows!"
"Not if we can't track down the killer satellite, first."
"Yeah." Roddi sympathized. "Op wasn't aware Psykee armed the planet. I mean, the Infraction never encountered any. Maybe Skorponok had some built after our last visit. And I'm sure he could have greeted the fleet with his doo-hickies. But you know Decepticons: they're a hands-on type. Speaking of hands-on, are you still repairing the damage by your lonesome?"
As Rodimus rambled on, Quasar aimed a retraction line at the shard and missed. She wanted to bring her knees up for better leverage but the tube was just roomy enough for her to move arms and elbows. "I can do this, Rodimus. I said that the last time you asked. My answer has not changed. And before you ask again, yes, Deck Three is still down for repairs. Anything else?"
"Mmmm. Not that I can think of, Quaz. Just concerned about time."
Alto beeped Quasar on another channel. "Hold on, Rodimus." She switched: "Your captain," she greeted.
"Captain, as soon as you can you need to come to the bridge."
Quasar aimed for the shard again and this time the retraction line hooked and caught. She tugged but it did not want to give. Quasar applied a low-voltage pulse to the line and the shard slipped out its hole. "Good boy," she praised. Once she reeled the shard in, she applied a special sealant to the damaged area and glued a silicon patch over the lining.
One more to go. Hopefully Rodimus would find something else to do and leave her alone long enough to finish.
The second job went more smoothly and Quasar snaked her way out the plasma tube and handed Kaon the equipment. "Let's not do that again, okay?"
"As you say, Captain," he answered.
Quasar soaked a towel in warm soapy water and headed for the bridge. She wiped her arms and legs down along the way and entered clean and static-free. "Situation?" she asked.
Gravitov answered first: "No sign of the satellite, Captain. Joyride is keeping ahead of our orbit by fifty miles."
"Good. Alto?"
The communications officer turned in her seat with a dubious expression. "Captain, I'm picking up a number of electric disturbances around the planet and it looks like they are coalescing into one giant storm."
Quasar dropped the towel at her feet. "Give me a time-lapse, Alto."
White circles representing storms blipped across a flat view of the planetary surface. Sure enough, they were converging. Quasar studied their paths as storms drifted from magnetic poles, from the oceans and selective areas on land. The femme captain rose from her chair and hovered over navigation.
"Gravitov, mark their behavior patterns and trace their paths on a possible trajectory." she waited while Gravitov worked his mathematical magic.
The Autobot navigator double-checked his work before releasing his findings. "You'll not like this," he warned. "Seems the planet itself is gearing toward a mega-storm. All indicators point at the coastal area occupied by forests of crystalline structures. I've never seen weather patterns like this, even on Jupiter."
"How long before the convergence?"
"Six maybe ten hours."
Quasar gaped. "Six to ten hours? How's that possible?"
"The electromagnetic fields driving the storms are traveling as high as the troposphere. The winds are blowing a steady 90 miles per hour. If they converge, the winds will go hurricane-strength and on this planet, there's no way to predict how the landmass will affect the storm."
Quasar debated whether or not to notify Rodimus. The coastal fault line was thousands of miles from the Autobot camp. Rather than adding to Roddi's list of concerns, she waited for further developments.
Rusti opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Her pillow felt off kilter. She started to sit and remembered everything changed. The digipad at her side blinked. She examined it. A fleet-wide news update flashed faces names and incidents within a few seconds. The only report of interest was that of the canyon. A team of scientists collected complicating data and struggled to interpret it.
"What does that mean?" Rusti asked out loud. She recalled the last moments with her deceased father.
How did she know that? How much information did the ship's computer download to her? How invasive was it?
Uncomfortable with privacy concern, Rusti felt claustrophobic. "Moon," she addressed. "Is it safe for me to go outside?"
The ship did not need to speak for Rusti to receive the answer. Abandoning the tablet, she departed for fresher air and ventured with trepidation. She trailed close to the wall, expecting everyone to notice her lack of confidence.
Rusti inched her way to the elevator and rode down with five other people. She recognized Fission who handled the inventory team. She recognized Apsis of the defense division. The three humanoids with them discussed a short ball game held at the Trench Driver the night before.
The elevator paused at the next level down where Apsis and one human stepped off. The remaining people waited until the elevator hit ground level. The doors opened and all disembarked. Rusti rounded corners, avoiding a small group of giggling femmes and several children who ran under everyone's feet. Two adult humanoids scolded their children. None of the Autobots seemed to notice.
Rusti found the starboard hatch and plank and waited in line while three Autobots boarded. In her way stood Toltek, arguing with Paralax.
"I am not warning you again," Toltek said sternly. "Do NOT fly onto the ship!
"It was important!" Paralax insisted.
"Don't care!" Toltek said, palm held outward. "Protocol first, Buster. Do it again and I'll report you! Hi there, Rusti. You may pass."
She gaped, caught herself and excused her passage between them. They noticed her! And they weren't rude or annoyed.
Rusti stepped into sunshine. Eighty-one degrees Fahrenheit. Rusti gave the world a 360-degree glance. The Crested Moon sat behind her, now a make-shift home. Some ways off lay the headless Cold Refractor. Autobots, an Automatron and several humans in exosuits dotted the Refractor's surface, patching and repairing the outer hull.
Rusti shook her head. The ship could repair itself, if the Autobots just gave it the necessary raw materials.
Sitting to the Cold Refractor's right, the Armored Crest basked in sunshine and a much-needed bath given him by Dinobots and several children. HotSpot shouted at Swoop who dumped water from above and soaked everyone.
The world would be a dull place were it not for Dinobots.
The bellow of jet engines dragged Rusti's attention north. Airlock returned from patrol and transformed as he passed the canyon.
Awe-struck, Rusti did not recognize the canyon. A beautiful glowing fluid filled the great gap. Now it marked the valley as a lake. Giant crystals and mineral-metal monoliths rose from the 'waters' like alien trees. At the area where Rodimus saved her, a collection of glass-like structures boarded the canyon like giant walls. Four Autobots and two humanoids studied the glass panes with sensitive scanning equipment and recorders.
Without thinking, Rusti approached the reflective panes. She counted a total of eight but could not be sure of their exact number as the walls overlapped; some stood larger and longer than others.
"Why is this here?" she asked aloud. What does it mean?"
She did not hear Galvatron land. She startled when he spoke.
"The science team thinks it's a poly-dimensional transducer," he replied.
Rusti squealed, spun about and embraced him. Galvatron chuckled. The vibration of his gentle laughter sent warmth into Rusti's heart. She let him go and gazed into his red optics.
"Let me look at you, Mizz Rusti," he said cheerfully. "You're looking a little livelier than a few days ago. Or was that several days ago? I can't keep track."
She grinned, wordless at first. "There is so much of so much that I don't know what to say or what to do-And Optimus! Can I please see Optimus?"
Galvatron sadly shook his head. "He's in quarantine, Rusti. Wheeljack, Tremel and one assistant are the only personnel allowed. And they will not release footage. It's..." Galvatron cast his gaze upon the ground. "It's bad."
Rusti searched the sky. Her chest hurt with grief. "I wish there was something I can do. But I don't know what I can even do. I don't know if I can transform."
Galvatron's smile betrayed the suppression of joy. "Give it time, Rusti. And before I leave to inspect the Razor Lady, I thought you'd like to know that you were right: I have a third transform."
"How? I mean, how is it that you have new forms without looking completely different?"
"Remember the rule?" Galvatron asked. "Different species cannot contact without a mix of properties due to the unstable molecular condition around the organic regions of Mechlatex. Sixshot and I had a wrestling match. I won. He did not."
"Uuuumm, Galvatron?" Rusti said with a small voice. "Both of you are from Cybertron. It makes no difference; you're the same species."
"No," the Prime pro-temp corrected. "Sixshot is of Cybertron. I am, or was, a product of Unicron."
"Then how come Sixshot didn't survive?"
The Decepticon feigned a thoughtful expression. "It is difficult to survive without a head. Or, in his case, two heads, two engines and a tail." He gave her a Cheshire smile. "Well, my audience grows impatient, My Dear. I will see you soon."
Rusti wished him luck and grinned when he stepped away and transformed into a forward-wing space fighter. With atmospheric stabilizers and sky-to-water capabilities, Galvatron could fly from space straight into an ocean.
Rusti scratched the back of her helm. How did she know that?
Oh, right: the hug.
Rusti was not ready for 'integration therapy' when Trinket contacted her hours later over personal comms. Naturally, the femme asked if Rusti had questions.
Rusti sensed Trinket was not interested in playing tour guide. That was fine. Rusti felt confident enough to figure things out on her own. If she had questions, she'd ask Rodimus or Galvatron, not a stranger. At this point, she needed personal space.
As she stared at the Razor Lady in the distance, Rusti tried to think of a question or how to put her questions into words. She frowned. "I don't know what I should ask about."
"Oh. Well, what would you like to know?"
Her brain hit a blank wall. "I don't know, Trinket. I don't know what I should ask. How about I take time to think and collect questions and then contact you?"
The femme did not answer immediately and it made Rusti nervous. "That's fine. Let me know if you need anything, then. Okay?"
Rusti wandered the grounds from the glowing lake to each ship. Her new size made the journey far shorter; several hours as opposed to a couple of days. To her surprise, even in her new form, the Autobot vessels stretched miles long, wide and high. Their beauty appeared ever clearer to her sharper senses and Rusti found new appreciation for Autobot engineering and ingenuity.
Sleep failed to cloud Rusti's head. She traveled through the night, taking in everything from sight, sound and smell to conversations both around her and over general comms. This was her world now and she embraced everything from the greets-and-meets by other Autobots to the high-volume sensory input. Humans examined their environment several yards at a time. But Autobots collected information by the miles.
Dawn spread across the hilltops and spilled into the valley. A faint ring sounded across the bivouac and those who heard it raised their optics toward the lake. A selection of crystals reacted to fresh sunlight. They shimmered as if waking from a long slumber. Rusti also heard it. Mystified, she returned to the lake's edge and discovered the liquid expanse stretched further than she remembered.
She heard Targetmaster Pinpointer approach with a cup of steaming liquid in hand.
"Hey, Miss. I've been asked to take your shift at watch."
Surprised, Rusti gave the Nebulon a second glance. "Wha-I wasn't on watch. I just walked around all night, listening and watching everything."
He grinned. "Still can't get used to being robotic, Miss Witwicky?"
She drew close to him like one staring at a doll. "It's more than that. I can read everything about your body. I can read your schematics, like I can see everything on a multi-dimensional level."
He scoffed, nervous. "They're right. You really are spooky.
She withdrew. "Is that what they say about me?"
Pinpointer, Crosshair's Interface partner, shrugged. "Among other things."
"Like what?"
"You and Optimus Prime."
Rusti smiled, pleased.
Pinpointer turned perplexed. "Wow. Is that really true?"
Rusti decided to leave his question hanging. "I'm actually hungry. Where do I go?"
"Your quarters," Pinpointer answered in disappointment.
"Thank you." She stepped around to head back when he called her attention again.
"Can you really read my specs?"
"Right down to the chipped back plate on your left helm." Rusti paused. "Why do you ask?"
The Targetmaster shook his head. "Just asking."
Rodimus dragged his weary chasse onto the bridge of his own ship and dropped into the captain's chair. Three days after regaining consciousness he kept tabs on Rusti, helped drag the Razor Lady two miles closer to camp, harassed Quasar, broke up a fight between Grimlock and Nosecone and read 400 science entries from Railway, Namak and Wheeljack. He listened to 206 reports from scouting parties and survived an argument with Rain. That D-Femme was every bit as thickheaded as himself. Rodimus would never reveal how revved up he felt after that argument. Rain was dashingly logical she was sharp as a photon blade. She was amazing.
Rodimus draped his weary self over the chair. Word on Optimus was the same. What were they ultimately going to do?
He slumped, half asleep, half listened to ship operations. Level Four's stern second section 'drop floor' stopped working. Mrs. Thelbur declared her water broke. A maintenance officer reported a lost digipad and needed the ship to locate it.
An urgent communication from the Alveraz warned of a gigantic magnetic disturbance swiftly approaching one hundred miles west of the valley with wind speed of 190...
The world faded into the lull of blissful sleep. Roddi thought a feather brushed his face and he lit his optics. The bridge sat empty except ambient sounds from control panels and invisible activity. Then the semi-transparent outlines of an unfamiliar face appeared in thin air. Large eyes pinned him like a bug on a wall.
"RODIMUS. LISTEN." The feminine voice filled the air, the room, the ship. "RODIMUS, YOU MUST CAST THE MATRIX INTO THE BLOOD LAKE."
"Blood lake?" he repeated.
"NOW, RODIMUS!"
"Mechlatex?" he asked, confused.
"NOW, RODIMUS! CAST THE MATRIX INTO THE LAKE! YOU HAVE ONLY THIS CHANCE! MOVE! NOW! NOW!"
Rodimus jumped from his sleep and off the bridge. He transformed and revved outside. The air tingled with the energy of another oncoming storm. Over general comms, he heard Titanium scream for all hands to take shelter. The Gabriel Genesis echoed the alarm and every living spark ran for cover. Rodimus raced in the opposite direction, ignoring the panicked screams from his own crew.
Prime stopped short of the canyon-turned lake. He shifted to robot mode and produced the Matrix, a cold, burnt chunk of metal and broken crystal.
The same feminine face in his dream rose from the glowing liquid lake. "Give it to me, Roddi. NOW!"
From his left, a massive translucent wave of energy rolled over the foothills. The sky inked out. Rodimus threw the dead object as the energy wave plunged into the valley.
Rodimus screamed but could not hear himself. Every particle of his body ripped apart. His consciousness whirled formless but fully aware. He felt the omnipotent force of life surround him and penetrate him and bathe him with an energy he could not describe.
The world reformed around him. The air changed from a stable temperature to the coldest, most lifeless degree possible before it swiftly warmed. It turned sweet. The land bucked and rose and fell like shock treatment to a dying heart.
All things that evaporated into non-existence returned, refreshed, reorganized and remade.
Rodimus dropped to his aft and sat there, stunned.
Optimus woke with a start. He sat straight up as if frightened. In a single glance he scrutinized the entryway, the flat on which he lay and the monitoring devices standing left and right of him. Except for emergency lighting, everything stood silent like the universe held its collective breath.
Wasn't he someplace else a while ago? What was he doing? Which ship was he on and where was Rusti?
Optimus Prime leaned left to depart when several lines tugged at his body like spider webs trapping a squirming bug. In spite of his impatience, Optimus chose to take the extra moment to remove the connection one by one. He slipped off the table and contacted the bridge. "This is Prime," he announced.
Ambient's light voice answered. "Optimus?! Optimus?!" she reclaimed her composure: "I have you, Commander."
"Status report."
"Where do you want me to start?"
As she asked the question, Optimus found his way out the ICU and into the hallway. Metallic humanoids and Autobots scampered this way and that in aimless panic. They screamed, demanding information.
Excess stopped in his tracks upon seeing his leader. "Optimus!" he cried, "what happened to us?"
A humanoid in a silver and red body joined him. "Look at me! What's happened to me?! I'm metallic!"
The Autobot leader patched back to Ambient. "Give me ship-wide comm," he ordered. Two seconds after, he spoke to all passengers, crew and workers: "This is Optimus Prime. I want every person to stop what you are doing. Stand still and stand by. That's an order."
All panic ceased, all attention focused on the Autobot leader. He forced everyone on the Moon to wait a full 30 seconds before resuming communication. "All citizens, non-essential crew members and non-current shifts are to report to your quarters immediately. All officers and shift workers will report to me outside the ship in seven minutes. Everyone is to remain in your quarters until further notice."
Prime stepped down the bow port plank into a world washed in freshness. The cheering crew surrounded and welcomed him with pats. But it was Galvatron that embraced him.
"Don't worry, Optimus," he cooed, "I left some things for you to do."
"You're too kind, Galvatron," he answered. Prime briefly caught sight of the energy lake. Translucent panes banked some edges while crystals softly glowed as if filled with fireflies. "Wheeljack, Tremel, report."
"We've not had time to do a thorough investigation, Prime," Wheeljack said. "Near as I can tell, we experienced a type of elemental-rearrangement that shifted all atomic and sub-atomic particles from organic to metallic and mineral-based physiology. If you look at the ground, you'll see it's not soil, but metal-mineral. We're still taking readings."
Galvatron took another turn: "I suspect the planet has completed its molecular recomposition from organic to metallic. As you've no doubt noticed, the humanoids among us are no longer flesh and bone."
Tremel, who tapped on his digipad until that moment, flipped it around for others to see, "That's not all that happened," he added. "The Cold Refractor is completely repaired with a slightly different look.
Optimus knew that if he felt overwhelmed, chances were high everyone else felt the same. "Here's what we need to do," he declared. "Everyone who suffered effects, ill or otherwise are to report to medical. I want ship-wide reports and recommendations. Science divisions, expand your staff as necessary and coordinate with other ships. All captains are to report to me in four hours. No camps outside tonight until we can be sure. At the moment, we do not know if this event is permanent, temporary or if it can be reversed. Bridge crew, all ships, I want scans and reports by morning."
Optimus requested a private meeting with Wheeljack and Tremel. They met in a quiet conference room but did not sit at the table.
"What happened to me?" Prime demanded. "And don't tell me I look different. I figured that out for myself."
The doctor and scientist exchanged an uneasy glance before Wheeljack spoke. "We were at war with Psyklenox."
"Right," Optimus concurred.
"Then the Matrix Virus completely took over you and Rodimus. Then It-or they-abandoned you and took control of Psyklenox."
Prime leaned against a chair, arms folded, gaze cast down. "I do not think I was entirely myself."
"How do you mean?"
"I think I shared consciousness with It. Not an experience I care to repeat. How badly was Rodimus affected?"
"He has no memory of the experience. Or so he claims." Wheeljack shook his head. "Roddi's got a streak in him that will never fade."
"Rusti?" Optimus said, moving on. He watched the two experts squirm. "What is it?"
Rusti read the engineering specs for the Trench Driver via digipad. She cross-referenced them with the Sabor's Claw and found the concubit slats differentiated between the protomaster balance and the ion exchanger. She was about to notify the Sabor's Claw of her findings when someone buzzed the door.
"Enter," she permitted. She gaped at the form standing at the threshold.
"Excuse me," Optimus said, "I'm looking for-" he did not finish his sentence. His arms wrapped around an unfamiliar figure who flung herself at him. Rusti held him tightly for more than a moment. Her warmth and joy delighted the Autobot leader. "This is good," he cooed. "I'll have to go to ICU more often."
She gazed deep into his optics. "Don't. You've been gone long enough."
"Let me look at you!" He took her hands and led her to the windows for better light. "How?"
Rusti tried to concentrate on his question. But his strong hands held hers just right. And his height was perfect. And she loved how the light gleamed off his deep red- "Roddi," she guessed. "Roddi saved me. Rusti startled at the lack of detail in her explanation. "Oh, no. Uh, Dad. My dad... tried to kill me." Rusti's vision drifted off her love. For the first time since waking in her new form, she thought of her parent. "I never thought I'd end up being glad that my dad was such an asshole. Is that irony?"
"I think so," Optimus answered. He could not stop staring at her. Peach, neither pink nor orange, coated Rusti's form as if to imitate the color of her hair. And when she moved just so, the finish turned deep red. Like Cyclonus, Prime mused; two colors in one. Her helm layered in the back, the rest of her form echoed the exosuit. "I'm sorry your father was such a cruel person, Rusti. The irony is that he tried to kill you and he's the one that died."
"I'm not sorry he'd gone. Why didn't you and Roddi deal with him? Why did you let him live?"
Optimus took his turn to hesitate. "It didn't seem to be his time to die. Aside from that, I cannot say."
"Did you suspect something like this would happen to me?"
"No, Baby Bird," he said sadly. "I expected to be dead."
Grief-stricken and delighted he called her the familiar name, Rusti gripped him again and drew several breaths as tears marked her face. Optimus embraced her as never before, even as a human. He gently rocked her side to side. "It's alright," he assured her, "I've got you, now. I've got you and I'll never let go."
"Noktu," she whispered.
"Damn right," he agreed.
Her digipad beeped and she met Prime's optics. "Oops. I forgot. Titanium was waiting for diagnostics."
"Diagnostics?"
Rusti left him to fetch the pad and tapped it. "Uh, yeah. The Sabor's Claw had problems with midship retro thruster Number Four. I wasn't sure what the problem was. The Claw is sulking and won't talk to me. So I compared diagnostics with the Trench Driver because their reversal controls were built the same."
Optimus' frame straightened, impressed. "I'm going to make you an engineer."
"No you won't," Rusti argued. "I can read and diagnose. But I can't tell the difference between a sonic scalpel and an inverted seven-and-a quarter wrench."
Optimus inclined his head. "I love it when you talk like that." She laughed and for Prime, the whole room lit up.
Someone chimed the room's comms. "Yes," Optimus answered.
Roddi's mug filled the video screen. "Hey, you coming to your own meeting or is Rusti holding you hostage?"
Optimus shook his head. "No, I'm on my way. Prime, out." The communication ended and Prime reclaimed Rusti in his arms. "This discussion is not over," he warned.
"No, it's not, she concurred. "I have questions. You have answers."
"Who said anything about giving you answers?" She kissed him quick and light. He leaned to return the kiss but she blocked him.
"Nu-uh, lover-bot. You have work to do."
Optimus froze. "Damn." she laughed again. "Will you wait for me?" he asked.
"My lips will wait for you," she baited.
Prime was going to say something in turn but her answer caught him off guard and he laughed. "That'll work."
Optimus boarded the Trench Driver. Several crew members greeted him, delighted with his recovery. When the Autobot leader stepped into the meeting room, the place lit with harmless lasers and a collective "SURPRISE!"
He startled then shook his head. "Let me guess," Optimus remarked, "Rodimus put you up to this."
Jazz popped open a can of 'good juice'. No way, Optimus! This is my ship. We keep it cool here."
Roddi popped another can. "Isn't it wonderful? I'm not at fault this time!"
Prime took a seat at the middle of four tables assembled together. "That is not going to keep you out of trouble, Rodimus."
Galvatron received a mug from Jazz. "Well said!" he agreed.
Optimus panned his gaze, counting faces, some of which had changed. "Coral?" he asked.
Jazz answered. "She's not with us anymore, Optimus. She, ah, she went down with the bridge."
Optimus turned solemn. He silently stood and the staff copied. They gave Coral a final fifteen seconds. The Autobot leaders returned to their seats first and Optimus set his optics on a tough but slender bot with tall shoulders and a curt circular helm. "I'm sorry, Leopard," he said. "She was a good captain."
Rodimus pushed the meeting forward. "HotSpot, you've been volunteered to go first."
The Armored Crest's captain glanced at one of two datatablets. "All systems are green. Our xenoplanetologist is making some headway on his work. We're currently scouting for more fuel and other life forms. Trapizoid discovered a small village some sixteen marks due east of the Cold Refractor where the stone wall used to be."
"Those would be Metaxans," Rodimus confirmed. "And we are keeping our distance from them, are we not?"
"So far," HotSpot confirmed. "We are trying to decipher their language and strangely enough, we hadn't found offspring."
The meeting doors opened and Black Ice handed Optimus a digipad then departed again. Prime set it aside. "How old is that report, HotSpot?
"'bout six days."
Rodimus folded his arms and twisted his seat side to side. "That's before the big storm hit and changed everything."
"Yes," the Protectobot commander answered.
Optimus glanced between Rodimus and Hotspot. He weighed options between good and bad possibilities. "Let's try to leave them be," he ordered. "Those people live in a type of hell we do not want to exacerbate." He paused. "Convoy?"
The Razor Lady's captain, now fully recovered, gave a glowing report with an addendum regarding her ship. "It likes to play games and tried to transform. I'm not sure what to do."
Titanium smirked. "At least the Lady is active. The Claw doesn't want to cooperate; he just sits."
Rodimus leaned over the table like a bored child. "We'll have Rusti talk with them, see if she can-what are you laughing about, Gryph?"
The femme captain of the Draco Mercedes openly giggled. "It sounds a little absurd, since none of the ships were designed to be alive."
Smiles agreed before Optimus picked the next captain: "Jazz?"
"All's quiet as a church in prayer, Optimus. Both planet-side and above. It's like ol' Psychee vanished an' took all his toys and friends with him."
Galvatron sat forward. "Completely? The Alveraz is still in orbit."
Jazz shrugged. "They been huntin' that killer satellite an' found notta. Planet-side, no soldiers, no weapons, no electronic activity nowhere. An' Sky-Hi said that the place where Rodimus busted Galvatron outta jail ain't even there. An' that was this morning's report."
"Suspicious," Gavlatron grunted.
"Yeah," Roddi agreed. "Can't imagine anyone with that big a mouth and matching ego to just run off."
"Gryph," Optimus called, "I want you to assign Seismic to take a look at Lactromycix. Jazz, Grinder with him."
Rodimus stopped squirming. "They should have air support, Prime. Airlock would be a good choice."
"Good idea," the Senior Prime approved. "Now," he added, "Let's talk about the storm incident."
"One more thing," Galvatron quickly interjected, "Arcee is missing. No one has seen her in several days."
Optimus shot a look at Rodimus who frowned. "I was the last person to see her," Roddi reported. "She was lying unconscious. I didn't check on her because Rusti's life was in danger. When I came to..." he shrugged.
Galvatron shared Rodimus' scowl. "I've sent a number of searchers after her. But they have not found so much as a tread. I'm sorry, Prime."
Optimus stared at the datapad in front of him. "Let's continue the search for another day or two. Keep all frequencies open."
They tackled the immediate situation. Convoy reported every organic life form on her ship was now metallic. Not robotic, but metallic, crystalline and mineraloid.
"We've had every one of them scanned, documented and evaluated."
Optimus gazed at his own arms. "It's complete," he said to himself. Prime glanced from Rodimus to Galvatron. "You were right, Galvatron. Mechlatex has completed its change from organic to metallic and it seems everything was part of that change."
Titanium spoke up. "It'll take decades of research to figure it all."
"We don't have decades," Rodimus replied. "As soon as we can get our afts in gear, we gotta meet up with Ultra Magnus. That was the initial intent: rescue Galvatron and the Automatrons and meet back.
"Yes," Galvatron agreed. "But now we return to earth with a bonus. The Decepticons have asked to join us. I can vouch for them."
"So can I," Optimus concurred. "In fact, Galvatron if you're so inclined, I want to give command of the Cold Refractor to you."
Galvatron laid a fist over his chest. "I am honored, Optimus Prime."
The two following days dragged under a long clock as the Autobots and their new allies prepared to rendevous with Ultra Magnus.
Galvatron finally found his treasure abandoned by Psyklenox when the two Viruses engulfed the android. He carefully wiped sand and metal shavings aside and scooped out the one object Megatron never suspected existed. Galvatron knew had Megatron obtained the second Matrix, Cybertron would have become another type of Unicron.
"That will never happen here," he vowed.
Mechlatex turned toward sunset when Galvatron returned to the bivouac. Cyclonus spotted him and left Black Ice to greet the Refractor's new captain. Just when Cyclonus opened his mouth to say something, Acer, a scout on patrol from the Gabriel Genesis, roused a commotion.
"Incoming!" he cried. "Incoming! We got PEOPLE!" In animal form, the loudmouth Autobot bypassed the two Decepticons.
Staying calm and alert, Galvatron and Cyclonus joined a small number of Autobots heading east where the stone wall once stood. Over a gentle hill came a crowd of humanoid travelers. Some wore rags around their shoulders. A couple held metal rods in their hands. They looked worn as from a long journey. Their attention skittered from the approaching Autobots to the ships. When three people backed away, Galvatron stepped forward, hands held outward in a friendly, non-threatening gesture.
"I am Galvatron of an Autobot alliance. We will not harm you." He shot a look over each shoulder to make certain the group of patrol scouts lowered their weapons.
A male with a red rag wrapped about his waist pointed his metal rod toward the ships. "Tagoda efenel sood."
Galvatron grinned and twisted toward Cyclonus. "You're the linguist among us, Cyclonus."
"He said they came because of the lights they saw from the ships at night." Cyclonus proceeded to speak with the people. They voiced fear, confusion and need.
Cyclonus gravely shook his head. "They endured the transformation and last night they saw the lights from the ships and came to investigate, looking for answers."
Galvatron smiled. "Tell them they are welcome here. We will see what we can do for them.
Optimus requested Duros, Pinpointer and a small group of humanoids from different ships to greet the natives. He himself and Galvatron stood nearby so as to be part of the communication without appearing threatening.
Duros welcomed the people using a translation he downloaded from Cyclonus. The leader-apparent stared with upside down triangular eyes. His noseless face fronted a head swept and sculpted in waves and swirls. His burnish-metallic skin caught the gentle artificial light provided by the ships.
"We walked from beyond the stone wall many leagues away, even beyond the dead grounds. We worked and slept until a few turns ago, the world changed. We changed with it. Those who oversaw our work and our sleep died. All the towns, the trains and those things of Lord High Psyklenox, all of it swallowed and changed by the planet. But we remain."
Optimus spoke when no one else had anything to say: "Duros, ask them if they want to be medically checked. Tell them it's only a scan. We will not touch them."
Duros relayed the message. A slender Metaxan pushed to the front. This one examined the world with rectangular eyes and a greater crown of waves.
"Mortagas ibu. Taibag totalis?"
Duros blinked, surprised at the feminine voice. "Um," He raised his new eyes to Prime "she said they need food and water. They've not eaten in days."
The Autobots worked swiftly to provide for the native refugees. The problem was figuring out what exactly they ate. They probed the immediate area and foraged minerals. They harvested plant-like structures and offered them as small meals to the people.
Galvatron, Rodimus and Optimus observed the interaction between their people and the Metaxan refugees. While language remained a barrier between neighbors, the Metaxans were polite but skittish.
"This complicates things," Galvatron stated after a while.
"Yes," Optimus agreed. "These people are only a small group. What about the rest of the population? Our people do not know much more about the planet than they."
Rodimus spoke with solemnity: "we can't stay and play neo-neanderthals with them. Magnus is still waiting. We have a fight to pick."
One of the fleet's children chased after his mother who worked among the providers. In a single expression, the Metaxans gasped. The females started speaking excitedly, asking questions of the mother and one another.
Curious by their reaction, Optimus approached and knelt. "Mrs. Yeltzen," he called politely, "what is going on?"
She held her toddler in her arms and faced the Autobot leader. "It's okay. They were surprised to see the baby."
"Why?"
"They can't have children."
Then Optimus remembered what the crew on the Infraction said: Psyklenox's regime sterilized the humanoids at the age of twelve. To control the population, the state programed them from the point of conception. Metaxans were grown and raised without knowing what it meant to have a family.
One female said something which started another round of excitement. Optimus leaned to stand when Mrs. Yeltzen spoke again.
"Optimus Prime, they said there are children kept at certain areas-" she paused to listen again then reiterated: "Sybis said there's a facility nearby and they're asking if we'd help take the children back."
Optimus stared at her and decided Ultra Magnus would have to wait a few more days.
Rusti gaped with amazement when Optimus later returned to their quarters. "That's wonderful!" she declared. "It's wonderful that Mechlatex kept the people alive."
"Yes," Optimus agreed as he programed a digipad. "But even with new bodies, the people still can't procreate. Mechlatex cannot create new life forms. The children are vital for more than one reason."
"I want to go!" Rusti blurted. "They might know the way, but they shouldn't go by themselves. And I'm itching to get out."
Optimus shook his head and softly moaned in frustration. Rusti turned quiet and sat still, waiting for him to think everything through. He set the pad in his hands aside and stared out the window. "The children who are with us have been trained to handle emergency situations. Taking the Metaxans is risky at best and disastrous at most."
Rusti waited seven seconds before speaking. "We don't have to bring them, Optimus. We can leave one of the ships here."
He twisted round. "Now how did you get so smart?"
She smiled. "I wish I were smarter. I have to ask you, Optimus:"
"Listening."
"Can I have Steeljaw? I know! I know he belongs to Blaster. But do you think Blaster would let me have him?"
"Maybe," Optimus replied slowly. "I didn't know you wanted a pet."
Rusti smiled tightly. "Um, not precisely what I have in mind."
"Oh?" Now she caught his attention.
"I was talking with Pinpointer and I didn't mean to poke around, but I read his specifications and I'd like to make Steeljaw my Targetmaster."
Prime slowly sat beside her, speechless.
"I won't hurt him," Rusti put in. "It's just that I think he'd make a great weapon."
Prime narrowed his optics. "Do you understand the process, Rusti? The Master process took place on Nebulon because the planet had the chemical interactions that made it possible."
She leaned forward, her face alight with barely suppressed excitement. "So does Mechlatex. Everything we need is right here, all around us. Mechlatex is a Matrix paradise."
Optimus digested her words. He considered his repairs, rejuvenation of the Cold Refractor and the change of organic properties as testament to the stunning truth. An idea bloomed but instead of sharing it with his wife, he tackled her with hugs and kisses.
Hy Shot, Excess and Black Ice agreed to the mission. Duros and Mrs. Yeltzen chose two males and two female Metaxans to guide them.
Rusti climbed into Black Ice's passenger seat; Duros, the driver's side. The two Metaxan females joined them while the other humanoids rode with Excess. Hy Shot flew above to cover the envoy.
They left camp and approached what was once a graveyard cesspool. One of the females squirmed in her seat and craned her neck as Black Ice drove across a flat sheet of transparent material.
"I've never driven in a car before," she said. "All the automobiles were in Lactromycix."
"Is that a fact?" Black Ice asked in a smooth suave voice. "Were they living machines?"
"I know nothing of it," came the answer. "This word of machines."
Rusti twisted left to peer at a creature that looked like a strange doll. "Are you talking about the Decepticons?"
"Not of that."
Rusti politely nodded. The translation from Metaxan to English sounded roughly odd. "What's your name?" she finally asked.
"I being Thilis. This being, Sybis," she thumbed her silent companion.
"I am Rusti."
"Do you not ride the land?" Thilis asked.
"Ride the land?" Rusti echoed.
Black Ice interpreted: "She's asking why you did not transform."
"Oh. I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to be. I keep trying but nothing clicks together. I don't know if I can fly or drive. Maybe I can swim." Rusti skipped a beat then two. "Are you okay, Thilis? How about you, Sybis?"
"We check fine," Sybis answered. "But I do not consider the afdra graphite cooked enough. It fails to digest."
"Sorry," Rusti said in sympathy. She marveled how well the natives adjusted to their new way of life. They already identified a number of edible objects which they gladly shared with the Autobot refugees. Rusti herself enjoyed a handful of 'rolled' pores agates bathed in a strange form of liquid quartz. Mechlatex was so much unlike Earth Wheeljack scrapped the Cybertronian and Earthen Periodic Table of the Elements and began building one for their new home.
Rusti stared at the roadless wilderness and wondered how many Human refugees longed to return to Earth. Or could they?
"Alongside here!" Sybis exclaimed. "Do you view that mound? Yes? The entrance front!"
Black Ice stopped before a set of ice blue pillars. Everyone left her and she transformed. "There are no doors that I can see," she noticed. The D-femme strolled around the mound's right side. Duros and Rusti took the left. Other than the squatting metal mound, the area lay flat, featureless and grey.
Rusti searched the sky and tuned into Hy-Shot's channel. "We're not finding anything here," She reported. "Where's Excess?"
"Five miles back," the Autobot flier answered. "The male Metaxans wanted to check something off-path."
"Oh!" Rusti said with surprise, "I think Black Ice found something." Rusti clicked off and watched as the femme traced a barely visible line dividing the mound in two. "Oh!" Rusti cried, "the mound is the door!"
"And we have no key."
Duros found the line and scanned it. "More than that, Ice, it probably requires a pass code."
Rusti thought hard. "Can we drill our way in, somehow?"
"Can you read the mechanism?" Ice countered.
Rusti knew the answer before she laid a hand on it. She shook her head. "It's run by manual means. It's not powered by anything I can tap into."
Black Ice nodded once with a frown. "We'll wait for Excess."
Minutes later, Excess sped up, slammed the brakes and flipped in the air. He transformed and his two male passengers landed in his hands a second later.
Rusti glared while the poor humanoid creatures screamed. "I hope they puke all over you for that," she scolded.
"Whaaat?" he whined defensively. "They were in no danger."
She approached the careless mech and stabbed her finger on his chest. "Those are life forms, you jerk! NOT stuffed toys!"
"Okay! Okay! Sorry!"
Hy-Shot transformed and landed. "We can pry the lid apart," he suggested. "But it's heavy and will take all four of us." He paused. "Excess, make us some grip handles, would ya?"
Excess set to work, torching the metal rim with controlled temperatures. Forty-five minutes later, he declared victory over the offensive barrier.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hy-Shot grunted. "You're a real power house. Ladies, care to join us?"
Rusti and Black Ice took opposite sides of the two mechs. They tugged and tugged until something broke and the sudden release threw all four mechanoids off balance. Rusti pushed back to her feet and stared into the shaft.
Excess took a reading then copied the Autobot femme. "It's an easy thirty-foot drop, people. There is power and oxygen, so I'm guessing it's a pot of jack."
Fab!" Hy-Shot declared. "I'll go first. Who wants to be my passenger?"
The two male Metaxans raised their hands.
"Hey!" Excess protested. "I'm the taxi cab here!"
Hy-Shot stepped into Excess' personal space. "I can land better than you drive!"
* The two mechs argued on. Black Ice silently motioned for the Metaxan males to accompany her. Rusti copied, carrying the ladies. Black Ice jumped in, caught the lip of the opening by her hands and made a controlled drop. Rusti followed her with less confidence. But the landing did not jar her as she expected. She kindly lowered her passengers to the floor and the group of six examined the environment.
"Hey!" Excess shouted down. "What'r you guys doing?"
"Ice turned to Rusti. "Do NOT dignify that question with an answer."
"Can I call him a name?"
Ice pushed forward. "There is a hallway to the right and three elevators on the left. Which do you wish to take?"
Rusti smiled when Thilis cursed under her breath. "Let me get some information." She approached the reception station and peered at a tiny screen.
Black Ice gazed at the partly-lit world. An empty helicopter pad spanned several yards off and stretched fifty feet around. The manual mechanism controlling the ground entrance hung from her right. "Thilis," Ice called as Duros and Hy-Shot landed, "How many children are here?"
"Nothing known on that," the Metaxan answered. "They grow babies and train them all the time."
"Then where are they? Where are the staff?"
Rusti rejoined the group and searched the ceiling. "Isn't Excess coming?"
"Nah," Hy-Shot drawled. "Somebody's gotta be on look-out. I told him his ugly plates would make the babies cry. So he stayed."
Rusti shook her head in disbelief. "There's four levels. Two are uninhabited. This level has no detectable life forms present. I'm taking an elevator," she declared.
"Then I will take the hall," Black Ice volunteered. "Someone had better come with me."
Sybis and a male, Noffer, agreed to go with her. Hy-Shot and the other male, Idliff, took the second elevator. Thilis and Duros stayed with Rusti. Rusti leaned slightly over when her head hit the elevator ceiling. "Oops," she said softly. "I keep forgetting everything's smaller than me, now."
Duros hit the button panel. "It's gotta be weird for you," he quipped.
"It really is," Rusti returned lightly. "I can't get over how everything seems so small and yet I'm automatically aware of what's around me. Humans step on bugs without a second thought. But I haven't stepped on anybody yet. And I automatically know everybody's name. I had no idea energon came in so many flavors. Everyone keeps saying how surprising it is that energy comes in so much variety on Mechlatex. It's exciting!" She settled down. "But I still can't transform."
Duros, whose Nebulon body changed to metal like all other humanoids, smiled grimly. "You are an Autobot, Rusti. It will happen."
The doors opened. Thilis and Duros stepped out first and examined the place with a tandem glance.
Rusti stepped over them and strolled a circular room. Electronic equipment crouched along the wall. Large screens hung above them and the center of the room swept up like a gigantic metallic tree. Softly glowing spheres dangled suspended; each contained a foetus like a fish trapped in a glass ball. The larger the sphere, the older the babe.
Thilis gasped. "Look! They've all changed like we have!"
Rusti knelt before a human-sized computer console. Native Metaxan writing labeled buttons and pasted directions or warnings across the board. She set her fingertips on the edge and tried to translate. "Looks like the bottom pods can be removed. But the others are still in development."
Duros shivered. "This is creepy. Really creepy."
"I've seen worse," Rusti quipped.
"You know," Duros answered, "I believe you."
Thilis approached the closest pod and timidly touched it. "Can we take them? Can we take them back with us?"
"We can," Rusti guaranteed. "But where would we put them all? We need a shuttle to take them back to the camp." A light softly blinked at the bottom of a nearby small screen. "Oh!" she declared in delight, "I found the daily logs report!" Rusti rewound the date to seven days before and hit the play button.
"...Wulger shipped on a point for flaks of supplement to the Pargoff Sector. We allow the hatching of three this morning, two males and a female. All three of equal weight of seven pounds, three ounces. The nursery accepted them at two P.M."
Duros grunted. "Sounds like a business transaction."
Rusti advanced the log by two days and played it.
"This is Falpar," said a female. "Mr Wulger has gone outside to see what is going on. The quakes have grown more severe. We lost two pods and disposed the contents per protocol. Please do not punish us-it was an accident-"
Behind her the wall waved like a bed sheet. Falpar faced the camera with a pale face. "Aye, teo d'dauk! The gods have come for me!"
Rusti expected her to change. Instead, Falpar's form split into billions and billions of molecules and vanished from existence.
The little group stared at a blank recording until Thilis glanced from the video to the tree. "What happened? How did she vanished and the babies did not? How come I'm alive and she is not?"
"Only God knows," Rusti said quietly.
Duros grunted. "Let's meet back with the others and decide what to do. Rusti, can you find out how many other nurseries there are?"
"Yeah." Thilis and Duros quietly talked about the babies while Rusti sifted through the information files. Seven point nine minutes at the dot, Black Ice contacted Rusti. She automatically deferred her to Duros. Rusti found Mechlatex's five major cities and fourteen infant facilities. She wondered if the native Metaxans were capable of caring for children. How many hundreds or thousands of years has Metaxan society separated adults and children?
Then Rusti smiled. Perhaps those families that traveled with the Autobots will teach the Metaxans. They were all a new society on a new world.
Duros signed off with Black Ice. "About ready to head back, Rusti?" he asked.
"Yup."
"We'll not leave the babies!" Thilis said desperately.
"We're going to talk with the others," Duros said patiently. "We need a plan. Okay?"
Concerned, Thilis nodded and entered the elevator last when they left to regroup.
"We found six age groups of children and twenty-four in each group," Black Ice reported.
Hy-Shot rocked on his heels. "We found one store room after another of supplies. But the food is... Well, it's just rock."
"I doubt there's anything that's 'just rock' on this planet," Rusti quipped. "Do the children know what happened?"
Black Ice and Noffer glanced at one another. Noffer spoke. "These changes left them confused. They know not where their supervisors went or why. They...what's the word? Disintegrated?"
Rusti pinged her optics from ice to hy-Shot. "How about I take Duros and Hy-Shot and head back for reinforcements?"
Noffer and Sybis gasped. Sybis turned pale.
"You bring to us supervisors?"
"Hu?" Rusti gave her a second glance. "No. It's an idiom. A figure of speech. I mean to say the others and shuttles to bring the children to camp."
"Aye," Sybis' shoulders sank with relief.
"We are not your enemies," Black Ice assured her. "I will stay with the Metaxans and Excess and await your return."
Promising to send people and supplies as soon as possible, Rusti took Duros and climbed her way to the surface. Duros hung on as tightly as possible and constantly asked Rusti if she was sure she could get out. By the fifth repeat, Rusti imitated a sigh. "I play Dinobot football, remember? I know how to climb!"
She helped Duros to the ground upon reaching the surface.
"You've been gone long enough!" Excess whined. "Are we heading back?"
"No," Rusti replied flatly.
"You're staying here with Black Ice," Duros explained.
"Are there any kids?"
Duros glared. "Would we be heading back without you if there weren't?"
"Uh-"
Rusti checked her internal comms. "Just keep watch," she said. We'll be back."
"You're going to walk?" Excess asked. Hy-Shot answered when he flew out the access doors and hovered above them. Rusti helped Duros onto the jet copter then followed Hy-Shot on foot. Excess jeered her choice to walk. Rusti kept forward but flipped him off.
The long walk back gave Rusti temporary personal space. And while hers and Prime's quarters offered a measure of privacy, it was no place to attempt to transform. And doing so in camp was out of the question. Everyone's an expert, as the saying went.
"I know how transformation works!" she yelled at her peers a day before. "I just don't know how my transformation works."
And that was followed by a train of bad jokes, jeers and one hurtful snide remark.
Reaching mile five, Rusti received notice that Hy-Shot arrived at camp. Teams and equipment were squirreled rapidly under supervised chaos.
Hurray for them, she thought dourly.
Ten minutes later Rusti encountered a shallow depression six miles shy of the old stone wall. Green rounded rocks squatted among tufts of aluminum grass. Taller stocks of an undetermined metal swayed in lieu of her movement.
She stepped over and around the large rocks and paused. Colorful aluminum grass grew longer and thicker the further down she traveled. At one point Rusti stubbed her foretoe against a hidden rock and lost balance. She recovered and twisted around to view the offending stone.
Similar to other green oval rocks, the gem stone wannabe sat still as a sleeping turtle.
Rusti sneered at the rock. "Even turtles can transform." She groaned and sat on the rock, chin resting on her fist. Maybe if she knew what she was supposed to transform into, she could concentrate on parts that opened and closed.
"Like a fist, maybe?" she asked herself. She fisted and spread her hands. Open. Close. Open. Rusti frowned. There appeared to be quite a bit more to transforming than simply moving parts. She stared at her forearm. Will it transform upon her command? She concentrated on the inner workings and tried to visualize them, like a three-dimensional puzzle.
"Come on," she begged. "Do something."
A small section clicked open and she smiled. "Little bit more," she insisted.
Klip, klip. Klip. Three layers of her arm unfolded and dropped under. Were they latches? Were they openings to a greater move? Where did they go?
Nothing more happened. She looked to the left arm until it did the same thing. So now what? Did they connect somehow? Rusti lapped her arms over one another and expected her body to just do something on its own.
"Am I supposed to drop over or something?" giving it a 'shot', Rusti leaned forward.
Nothing happened at first. Then the upper portion of her chest flew up and slammed in her face. With an exclamation and an expletive, Rusti dropped to her rear, arms still clasped one to another. She tried to separate them but they would not move. The chest plate refused her orders and Rusti struggled until she toppled right.
"Dammit!" she exclaimed. Rusti adjusted her left foot to squirm her way back to sitting position. But something else snapped around her ankles and both her feet latched together, held in place by a bar.
"Shit!" she swore. "How the hell do I-?!" Still struggling to disengage her arms, Rusti wiggled until she heard a single mechanical clank and realized her hands slid into subspace.
"Nnnnggghhh! Dammit!"
Optimus' voice sounded over her private com. "Rusti, is everything alright? Hy-Shot said you chose to walk."
"I'm FINE, Optimus." she replied.
"Did-did you need help?" he offered.
Rusti scoffed. "No, no. No. I'm... I'm good. I'm the epitome of fine."
He did not answer right away. When he spoke again, Rusti wiggled her rear to lie flat on her back. "Very well," Her beloved chimed lightly. "I'll be here when you get back. Take care, Sweetheart."
She smiled and relaxed. Her arms fell apart on their own and she pushed the chestplate back in place. Her hands reappeared and Rusti sat up. With a deep, cooling breath she examined the bar between her ankles. "Go away," she ordered. To her relief, the bar divided and slipped into her body.
The experience left her frustrated and embarrassed. At least it happened when no one was around. Rusti picked herself up and removed several strands of aluminum grass. No more drama, thanks, she thought.
Optimus and Rodimus labored en tandem. Personnel switched ships, jobs and shifts at a dizzying pace. All refugee families transferred from their 'home ship' to the Armored Crest.
Galvatron, Convoy and Jazz oversaw other operations: inventory, personnel assignments and weapons check. The Autobots prepared to rendevous with Magnus within twenty-six hours. But by four PM, Optimus pushed their departure ahead by five days.
When the news came to Captain HotSpot, he contacted the Senior Prime while Groove and Streetwise haggled new quarters for a family of five. "What's this all about, Optimus?" he asked above a screaming baby. "Did you find something wrong?"
"On the contrary," Prime answered absently. "We found something right. I'd like you to ask for volunteers for the Targetmaster process."
The mother of five shouted at Groove, demanding space for a playroom. The baby kept screaming. The only words Hot Spot heard were 'teers, 'tar and 'cess. "Groove!" he said sharply, "Take 'Mrs Baby' to the hydroponics deck! Tell Trapizoid to make her space!"
Frustrated, Groove grunted and did as told. He picked up two children and led 'Mrs. Baby' away.
HotSpot waited until the noise died down. "Sorry, Optimus. Got some pandemonium here."
"You can handle it, HotSpot," the Autobot leader responded confidently. "That's why I chose the Armored Crest."
"Well," the Protectobot leader added, "as far as a babysitting job goes, I can't complain. We got lots of exploring to do. Now, what did you need from me again?"
Rusti was secretly relieved the Primes delayed their departure. Many Autobots ached to return to Earth and reap a little revenge. The delay tempered their collective eagerness with precaution.
Night three. Optimus found his wife sitting atop the Crested Moon's left wing. From the ground he watched as she scribbled on a digipad.
"Hey," he called uncharacteristically. "What is the Baby Bird up to?"
She grinned and swung her right leg back and forth. "I found a drawing program on the pad. Thought I'd give it a shot. Kinda hard to draw with my finger, though, Optimus."
"Yes," he agreed. That's why we have pointers, My Dear."
She sent him a loving, knowing smile. "What are you doing, Optimus, and how come you're not mobbed by people right now?"
"Everyone's working, Darling. I've come to show you something."
At first she thought he was joking. Then it occurred to her: "did you find flowers, Optimus? For a new garden, I mean."
He hesitated. "I hadn't even thought of a garden, Rusti. I like the idea. But later." He nodded left. "Come. I want you to see this."
Smiling, Rusti tucked the pad away and jumped down. She took his proffered hand and followed him through camp.
The Gabriel Genesis sat three miles west of the Crested Moon. Rusti recognized the Genesis' own re-polarizing torpedo ejectors as several Autobots milled around them, cleaning and double-checking the disengagement systems. Rusti was inclined to warn one technician, Macro, he had the anterior and posterior connectors inverted. Would it be kinder to tell him or leave him alone?
He yelped. Too late. Macro shook his injured hand and cursed.
Rusti tucked the smirk aside and boarded the Genesis. Upon entry, she gaped at the rearranged vessel. Rather than the customary check-in entryway and the adjoining corridors, three elevators and two equipment lifts, the entryway barred guests from the elevator shafts and forced all incoming/outgoing traffic up and down a long stairwell. Above them lay a thick sheet of transparent titanium supported by a force field. Gigantic heavy equipment hovered over the floor's center. Large transparent power lines snaked between floor and force field.
Rusti followed Optimus into an elevator that sat round the corner of the stairway landing. The doors closed and she turned to him.
"Optimus, I actually had no idea the ships could rearrange themselves like this."
"Heh," he smirked. "Coming from you, that sounds amusing."
She smiled and nodded.
The elevator landed and they stepped off.
Nitron, Trinket and Wheeljack examined the diagnostics on a giant hologram. It hovered above Apsis as he lay on a flat, drumming the fingers of his right hand. Beside his flat stood a much smaller table and a Metaxan atop it.
Optimus and Rusti approached the work area but kept a respectful distance.
"How is it going, Wheeljack?" the Autobot leader asked.
"Not bad," the scientist answered. "In fact, Duros said this process is far less complicated than what they did on Nebulos."
"Process?" Rusti echoed.
"This was your idea, My Dear," Optimus replied smoothly.
Rusti about choked. "Targetmasters? You're making Targetmasters?"
"Not 'make'," Wheeljack corrected. "Build. And yeah. So far we have fourteen volunteers. Wish I knew about this long time ago."
"How many Headmasters will there be?"
"None," Wheeljack answered curtly.
Optimus shifted his focus from Apsis to Rusti. "We felt the Headmaster leaves the Autobot at a disadvantage. When the two separate, the Autobot is locked in one mode."
Rusti nodded. When her father was not with Arcee, she was stuck in auto mode. To spite the femme, Daniel often used the family car and left her parked at the house for days.
"Is this why you delayed the take off?" Rusti asked.
"Yes," Prime replied. "That and I wanted to give the Armored Crest and HotSpot's people time to organize. The Protectobots will set up housing for the families while we're gone." Optimus shook his head. "Starting a new society is a slow process."
The following two days saw the Autobots break camp and say their farewells to friends both robotic and humanoid.
The Terrorcons joined Galvatron on the Cold Refractor.
Rodimus assigned the Dinobots to the Alveraz. But he ordered Swoop to remain behind. The pterodactyl didn't understand why he could not join his brothers in battle and repeatedly asked Rodimus why.
"We need you here," Roddi said for the fifth time. Grimlock approached. His Automatron armor gleamed cold in the afternoon sun. Rodimus threw his arms up. "Grimlock, explain to Swoop why he is not coming with us."
"Mm. You, Rodimus, not speak Dinobot?" the T-Rex leader sniggered. He faced the smallest Dinobot. "Me, Grimlock and him, Rodimus know you want good fight. Yes?"
"Swoop not be left behind!"
Grimlock took Swoop by the shoulders and twisted him ten o'clock of their position. He pointed at the Armored Crest where a group of children played ball with their new neighbors. "You, Swoop see little creatures?"
"Yes. Swoop see small humans."
"Me, Grimlock and him, Rodimus ask Swoop to guard little humans until we come back."
Swoop digested the order, tumbling it around his head. "What if you not come back? What if Swoop not see Grimlock and other Dinobots ever again?"
"Then Swoop guard other little humans. And Swoop guard the little humans' little humans. That Swoop's job. But not worry. Me, Grimlock and other Dinobots come back. And him, Bambam come back, too."
The Automatron's head lifted off Grimlock's shoulder and grinned. Swoop returned the grin.
"Okay," he relented. "Me, Swoop stay and wait and guard."
At three PM of the fifth day, the Autobot refugees and their allies departed from Mechlatex. Now they were ready. Now they had what they needed to set Earth free.
The Sagittarian Mozart broke from hyperspace first. His crew checked all systems and physical integrity for damage. The Frostbite, Sunset Kummya and the Confiscator arrived seconds later. Fifteen minutes thereafter, all ships reported green and clear.
Magnus ordered the Confiscator to move ahead by half a light year. The Frostbite remained close to the arrival coordinates while Magnus maneuvered the Mozart a safe distance from the Confiscator. The Kummya parked at the underside of a stationary asteroid and shut down until further notice.
Half an hour later, the Interrogator, the Vertical Horizon and the Covenant joined the fleet. Magnus assigned them specific regions and told them to stand by.
Once the Dancing Siren, the Racing Beast and the Spiral Star arrived, Mangus called a captain's conference over a tight subspace frequency.
"I'm glad you all made it safe and in one piece," the Major-general congratulated. "Now for the fun part."
"Oh yeah?" Kup challenged, "and what might that be?"
"Reconnaissance." Magnus answered. "We watch and listen. And no matter how long it takes, we will wait for Optimus and Rodimus Prime to rejoin us."
Captain Littlefield leaned over in her little chair. "How did you want to conduct this?"
None of them liked how Magnus smiled.
The Autobots worked and prepped seventy-two hours straight. An army of drones and probes were built from scratch.
Autobots programmed the massive numbers. Humans built housing to withstand extreme temperatures. Some drones and probes were suited for planetary atmospheric penetration. Many recorded audio and video while others were designed only for sub-surface exploration.
Children joined the labor force by painting the probes and drones with a special finish designed to deflect most scanning equipment.
At the end of the 72-hour spree, everyone took a 37-hour break and worked another 48 hours. Within five Earth days the army of mechanical spies launched on a peek-a-boo mission.
The captains cleaned and organized their vessels for three days then ordered crew and civilians to go silent.
Magnus took the time to learn Quintenese. He snuck in four hours of private time to watch two Jackie Chan movies and an episode of Gomer Pyle. When Blaster reported no signals, Magnus took a recharge and watched an episode of Hogan's Heros.
Nothing yet?
Two more episodes of Gomer Pyle.
Their first communication came at two AM. Magnus resisted looking over Blaster's shoulder.
Ah. Video!
"We gotta peek at Cybertorn's last freque," he said. Blaster transferred the signals to the main viewer.
No Cybertron. Nothing but astro-units of floating junk. All bridge personnel stared at the sight. Broken bodies, crumbs of buildings and streets passed the video input. A sign that said "Pastanak: 123" flipped end over end. A dark street light passed the drone. A mechanism floated nearby; her optics, devoid of life.
Cloudstreaker choked up. "What happened? Where is Cybertron?"
"It's gone," Magnus answered heavily. "It's been gone for a long time. The Quintessons sold it to the Inoux."
Cloudstreaker silently grieved. She recalled the news stream the Autobots patched into while on Bare Anches. The tidings were hard to hear. But seeing it firsthand was a slap in the face.
"Optics forward," Magnus said to his crew. They needed to stay objective.
A light flashed on Blaster's board. "Got something else two-thirty of our position. Lemme get the situation." Blaster patched into the signal of three probs approaching a planetary body. They sped past a large rock then a series of small asteroids before encountering the planet in question.
"That's Pluto," Magnus appraised. "Slow the probes down, Blaster. Remember, we had a base there and it might have been taken over.
Blaster obeyed and the crew, indeed, the entire fleet, watched as the probes neared the planetoid. At first the little world revealed nothing but iron-ore, space debris and sand. Miles and miles of the same abruptly ended when the probes encountered a city.
"Whoa there," Magnus said with a little excitement. "Try to stay out of scanner range, Blaster." Ultra Magnus scrutinized tall buildings and the roads that wound about them. He waited, hoping to see activity. When nothing appeared for half an hour he squirmed in his chair. "All right. Break the probes down and move in."
Blaster relayed the orders. Seventeen minutes later, the Plutonian probes detached and each reconfigured into triplets of small cars little larger than a Hot Wheels toy.
Blaster calculated the distance. "ETA two and a half hours, Ultra Magnus," he reported.
Magnus nodded. He submitted orders for the research techs to examine debris from Cyberton. He did not expect them to find much. But he wanted to make sure the Quintessons did not leave bombs or other traps amid the mess. "How long before we get a response from the other probes, Blaster?"
"About another week," the communications officer answered sadly. "We didn't want to go in too fast." he added.
Magnus was aware of his specific orders to go in slow and silent. But a week? He hoped Optimus was having better results.
Five hours later reports from the Pluto probes streamed across Blaster's console. "Whoa," was the only word he had. The communications officer sent video to the main viewer. The buildings looked like rectangular metal gods compared to the probes' tiny cameras. The roads laid uneven, littered with rocks and carpeted with Pluto's dust. After several minutes, Magnus felt inclined to call the place deserted. But at a distance a building door rolled up and two round figures stepped out.
Blaster commanded two probes to speed ahead. Magnus sat at the edge of his chair as if sitting closer might give him a better view.
"Those aren't Autobots," he said to himself. The bridge watched with anticipation as the two figures approached the probes' direction. Judging by the way they moved, the aliens remained unaware of the miniature mechanical spies. Both beings walked like fat turkeys, their enormous mid sections lulled right then left. Their jowls dropped over their chests. Hand guns dangled at their prospective sides.
Navigator Traffik twisted round and thumbed the view screen. "What are those things, Commander?"
"I do not know," Magnus answered absently. "Blaster, they came out a door-"
"Got yer cue, Magnus," Blaster waited until the two blobulous creatures passed before sending the probes to the doorway.
But the door sat closed. The bridge waited. Three officers excused themselves for a break. The other three took their turn and finally Magnus took a seven minute break. He returned to the bridge, a cup of hot oil in hand. He frowned at the unchanged scene.
"Hey, Mags," Blaster called, "Can I change the channel? The news bores me."
"Do you really want me to answer that, Blaster?"
"Uh.. No. I guess not."
Magnus turned to practicing Quintinese. Half way into the repeated third lesson, Blaster cheered.
"There we go!" he cried.
The bridge turned their attention back to the focal point. The rolling doors rattled up. A hover craft eased onto the lonely road and zipped out of sight. Blaster left one probe at the door, the other entered as the door dropped.
Magnus half expected the abrupt end of the probe's transmission. Instead, the probe drove along the edges of a well-worn trail until it arrived at a ledge. A vast drop met the camera's eye. Deep and wide a well lit chasm yawned at least five hundred miles across. Below the ledge people worked, hacking away at the edge and filling large crates.
"It's a mining operation," Cloudstreaker commented.
Magnus caught sight of a worker who wore bright red. "No," he countered. "It's a penial colony utilizing slave labor."
Blaster turned nervous. "Uh-oh. We got company. He maneuvered the probe into a shadow while three pairs of heavy boots gathered at the edge. One gruff voice rumbled. A second voice whined. The first voice issued an angry word.
Blaster looked to Magnus. "Sorry, Dude. Can't tell what kinda lingo it is."
"Just keep recording, Blaster." Magnus decided to pick the language out later.
Just as he planned, Mangus asked communications experts Ambient and Mnemonic to examine the discussion. They listened repeatedly until Ambient pieced together a group of words.
"It seems someone made a mistake. The first voice mentioned a Quintesson name Thothos Goy. The second voice talked about Earth standard time and then said 'Gate B-124." Ambient paused. "Weren't we drawing up blue prints for a stargate before the Quintessons attacked?"
Magnus' face dropped with surprise. "Yes. But only on 'paper' as humans phrase it. B-124 was supposed to lead to a rogue planet we discovered in 2017."
Ultra Magnus chose not to elaborate how the war with the Quintessons changed so many things. At that time, rather than push for further exploration, the Autobots prepared for a potential massive assault by the Quintessons.
Optimus always had good foresight.
Magnus ordered drones sent to the stargate. They waited another five days before news trickled in. By then, the first reports regarding Neptune arrived. Other than a single sub-atmospheric orbiting satellite, Neptune held no information.
On the other hand, drones spying on stargate B-124 returned a series of short videos. The same blubbery species patrolling Pluto also controlled the gate. From what his experts reported, Ultra Magnus learned the gate offered a limited number of destinations: the starless rogue planet, the Enceladus mining colony and Earth. Magnus steepled his fingertips and turned his captain's chair from the main viewer. Should they attempt to wrest control of the stargate? Doing so would be advantageous. However, it would also alert their enemies to 'suspicious activity.' And the Autobots had to keep their surprise card in their subspace pocket.
"Whoa-heyy!" Blaster spooked everyone on the bridge. "I got chatter, bots 'n babes!" He typed across his board and dialed into a conversation.
Magnus listened carefully. "That's a Decepticon dialect. But it's not something I distinctly recognize."
"Yee-up," Blaster concurred.
A second series of voices droned in correspondence to the first. Magnus did not need a translation. "That is Quintinese." He listened further and the Major-general about jumped from his seat. "Decetron! Did I hear that correctly, Blaster?"
Blaster double-checked the transmission origins. "That you seriously did, Major Magnus-Dude. Sounds like a rendezvous meet-an'-greet. But not here." Blaster turned in his seat to meet Ultra Magnus' attentive optics. "They call it 'Psuke'. The Quints will meet Decetron and set up some sort of deal or pact. Doesn't sound so good to me."
"No," Magnus agreed. "We need to silence all communications on Pluto to and from the gate and find out exactly what Decetron is planning."
Traffick gave Magnus a disconcerted glare. "How? If we disrupt communications, they'll know something's wrong. And we don't speak that alien's language. It would take too long even for a gifted translator like Ambient. She only picked out names not the entire conversation. And we certainly don't look anything like those people."
Magnus only frowned.
Cloudstreaker spoke. "Commander, as I recall, the psychic leader on Bare Anches spoke through Arcee. Do you think...?"
Magnus smiled, very pleased. "Blaster?"
"I'm on it!" the communication guru declared.
An hour later, Magnus discussed the situation to the psychics on board the Frostbite. Samiko listened carefully and nodded when she understood. At the end of Magnus' monologue, the psychics glanced at one another before they directed their eyes to their leader.
Samiko returned her green eyes to Ultra Magnus. "We would be happy to help you, Ultra Magnus. But we need to get closer to Pluto. We do not have the range equipment the Quintessons used on us."
Anything you need," Magnus replied. He wanted to jump for joy. Ordering the Frostbite to meet with the Mozart, Magnus arranged for a shuttle to orbit Pluto's atmosphere, just shy of scanner range. Psychic Rigmore Korsane directed shuttle pilot Vector to ease into a single 'back door' location.
Vector held the shuttle in a stationary orbit. The five volunteer psychics set to work.
Back at the Sagittarian Mozart, Magnus waited again. Samiko said it would be a maximum of three days.
Ultra Magnus returned to his quarters and started up another Jackie Chan marathon.
To Be Continued.
