Chapter 8-Elegant Chaos
News of the Cog's crash landing spread like wildfire. The home base of the mighty Functionist council, long thought to be untouchable, was attacked and sabotaged by a clandestine revolutionary group (terrorists in the eyes of the senate), who did the impossible and boarded the Cog itself. And to make the story even more unbelievable was that one of the council members was killed in the siege. Whispers of the attack spread from Iacon to Yuss, and thousands of lower caste bots that either hated the Funcionists or were persecuted by them let out a collective cheer.
Their legendary Dark Bird had struck again, and this time she and done what many have only dreamed of doing-damaging the supposedly unbreakable pride of the Functionists.
Unknown to the populace at large, this event had spurred those within the senate to start moving their own plans forward. There were those in the government who detested the Functionist council for many centuries, how the council had taken so much power and influence for themselves and did their best to uphend the senate's authority at every turn. And many within the military hated how they thought of themselves as above regular Cybertronians. So plans were made to remove the focal point of the Functionist's power and influence in the senate-Nominus Prime. This destructive attack on the Functionists was a sure enough sign that things were going to change.
As she sat in her penthouse in Kaon's upper echelons, Ember knew that things were going to kick off very soon. Sipping on some Vistriol, she watched the news coverage of the Cog's crash landing into Kalis, tearing a destructive path deep into the city that caused untold amounts of collateral damage and killed hundreds of thousands of bots in the process. The Functionists wouldn't be held accountable for the damages, of course, but the spark has erupted into flames. Their hold over the populace has been weakened and now those Scraplets in the senate were moving in for the kill.
She had never thought that she'd have this much fun watching the world slowly devolve into a savagery not seen since the era of the warring tribes. But Ember knew that even without her influence, Cybertron was already on the road to decay.
"Ember," A small red and orange Minicon entered the room. He bore a striking resemblance to Sentinel of Civil Defense. "The others are waiting for your word."
"Good. Is everything in position, Infinitus?" Ember asked.
"Yes, preparations are complete.
"The let's get this party started." Ember got up from her seat and walked to the window, where a collection of monitors showing various locations on Cybertron. "Come, Ininfitus. Stay with me as we watch Cybertron burn."
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The DataNet would later report, after detailed analysis of disruptions in the Grid, that a string of synchronized explosions that ripped through Uraya, Polyhex, Stanix, Styx, and several sites in the sonic canyons, each event occurring less than a day apart.
Some of these explosions were caused by terrorists who were preaching quotes from Megarton's essays. Though there are no evidence of sabotage, it worried the senate that such a coordinated attack was even possible under their "diligent" eye. Nominus Prime was also concerned, but for different reasons.
The attack on the Cog was a clear message that the Functionists were losing their power and influence. He was worried that whoever infiltrated the Cog would learn of his intimate connection with the Functionist council. That was information he did not want getting out. But while Nominus was so concerned with keeping the demons out, he failed to notice the demons already creeping behind him.
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In Tarn, the news of the terrorists bombings spread quickly, and many of the bots in the lower castes were actually cheering at the chaos that was erupting in and outside the Badlands. It was about time that the upper castes, who for so long treated them worse than the dirt at the bottom of their feet, got their devils due, and the Functionists were getting their fair share of slag to! Dark-Bird, who was deemed a terrorist and anti-government radical, was a hero of the poor and unjust.
But Megatron wasn't as ecstatic. Sure he was glad that the Legislator organization was taking a hard blow, but the bombings-they made him uneasy. Having suicide bombers chant your name while they kill themselves and as many people as possible doesn't bode well for you when you're preaching non-violent protest. Hearing that more of these attacks were being done in his name was starting to weigh on his conscious.
Elmeth noticed his worsening attitude and had a talk with Megatron after one of his matches. The silver mech was sitting at the table, staring at a blank datapad in front of him. He hadn't touched it in almost an hour. She brought up a chair and sat next to him.
"Megatron," She said. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, Elemth, I'm just suffering from some writer's block." He replied.
Elmeth looked at the blank datapad. "That's a first. Are you worried about the bombings?"
"In a way," He said. "I may preach retaliation against the senate and the caste system, but I didn't mean it by declaring war. Having them yell out my name isn't yelling enforce my ideals."
"Then tell them to top." She suggested.
"Elmeth, they heed my words, not me personally. They won't listen to me, if anything, just me talking to them might encourage their actions."
"If that's what you think then maybe you should stop writing your essays and your speeches," Elmeth frowned, looking at him sternly. "You can't back out, because if you do that then everything we and they have done will be for nothing."
She grunted and rolled her shoulder. She almost ran her fingers along the thin line of her stump of a wing, but refrained from doing it."
"Does it still hurt?" Megatron asked. "You could have it rebuilt you know. You wing."
"Reconstruction surgery is expensive, and only a handful of middle caste bots know how to do it, none of them living in the Badlands." She sighed, and slightly moved her small wing. "The functionists put a price on everything, and the moment you start to take more than you give-the moment you become a burden-thy turn their back on you."
"I decide what I am worth. Not the functionists or the senate or anyone else who presumes to sit above me." Megatron strongly said. Elmeth placed her hand on his.
"I know Megatron, I know. But the Functionists are strong and the senate may prove stronger still. And it is the strong, not the weak, who shape the world." Her red eyes stared directly into his as she said this. "And that is why, if words aren't enough to change the system, you may have to force the issue."
"Elmeth…"
"You have two weapons at your disposal: your brain and your fists. You must be prepared to use both."
"Me personally? No, I-we discussed this. My job is-"
"To articulate the injustice at the heart of the system in the hope that others might be inspired as one to push against it." She nodded. "You've told me often enough."
"I'm not a figurehead."
"But you may yet become one-and that's why you need to listen to me. Never back down. Never compromise. Never bend. The moment you try to accommodate a rival set of interests, you subordinate your own." She went on. "When your enemies realize they can't corrupt you or contain you or appease you…that's when you'll have their attention-because that's when you become a genuine threat."
"You're focusing too much on the power of the individual. Lasting power rests with the collective." Megatron said.
"Of course-but the masses need someone to rally behind, someone to take point. And even after that, even after you've forced the world to be fair…the top table is only set for one. You must be prepared to sit alone." Elemth said passionately. Megatron gave her a look.
"There's something in your tone. Has something happened?"
She was quiet for a minute before nodding. "Some Elite Guardsmen were walking around the Hanging Edge earlier."
"I see." He frowned.
"They suspect. I saw them roaming the city incognito, like they could hide their large physiques or analyzing gazes under a façade of pitiful barbarianism." She huffed. "You words are appearing all over Cybertron, in shipyards and distilleries, fix-pits and relinquishment clinics: You are being deceived."
"Did they threaten you?"
"No, but you could tell they were trying to gain information from me-or on me. They were being really vague." She chuckled. "I'm not one to lose my temper, but that was the first time I ever wanted to bite someone's head off."
Megatron didn't like the sound of that. If the senate was already sending undercover agents to Tarn, then they probably already had it in their minds that he was behind the bombings, or at least were planning to use him as a scapegoat. It was only a matter of time before either he or Elmeth were made to "disappear".
"Maybe I should stop writing," Megatron sighed. "Just for a while."
"No, write more, write quickly. Write while you still can." She said. "Pin your thoughts to the page like, like wrath flies, so that others may study their patterns. The people are hungry Megatron, and you must keep feeding them."
"But if I don't stop they'll-"
"Never back down. Never bend to the pressure. Don't let them use fear to control, use your words to control them. Never mind about me." Elmeth traced the creases in his hands. "Just promise me that no matter what happens, you'll keep going, even if something happens to me. You're too strong and important to give up now. Not when so many people look up to you as their savior."
Megatron wanted to refuse, say that all of it would mean nothing if he couldn't share that freedom with her, but something in her eyes stopped him. The conviction in her eyes, the bravery, it was clear that she knew things would escalate like this. The path to true freedom is riddled with dangers, threats tragedy, but in order to achieve that far off goal, to make sure that those sacrifices would not be in vain, he would have to bear the pain. He didn't like to think that something might take her away from him, but she was prepared to face the future and he realized that he was too.
"I promise," He said. "I will keep our dream alive."
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In Styx, also known as Blaster City, an armaments factory filled a steel canyon near its borders, its exhaust portals and smokestacks coming just level with the surface, once raw materials were minded out of the canyon; then when they were exhausted, the factory was built in the space they left behind. When the bomb went off, attached to a reservoir containing plasma fuel for the arc torches used in the construction of highly heat-tolerant weapon barrels and magazines, observatories on Epistemus and Solomus recorded a flash that momentarily whited out their lenses directed at that portion of Cyberrton.
From the ground, it looked as if a column of energy had erupted from the canyon, reaching out toward the sky and spreading into a torus of expanding heat and light. Bits of debris as small as a casing of conduit junction and as large as the entire cooling stack, which had, at that moment, stood radiating away the heat from the small fusion reactor, rained down across multi-hics of Badlands and the unfortunate cybertronians who happened to be working, scheming or just passing through.
In Styx, Sparks were cheap. No one cared about life or death. And no one knew how many cybertronians disappeared when the armaments factory vaporized.
The people who watched did know one thing though. Cybertron's Primal Vanguard just lost an important source of munitions.
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The Sonic Canyons were said-by some of the more pious and conservative cybertronians-to be the ears of Primus, his means of keeping track of events in the universe his creations inhabited. The great supercomputer, the Oracle, was popularly said to be integrated with those canyons as well, though it had been long millennia since any bot had consulted the Oracle. Most of them did not know if the Oracle was still active or functional-or had ever existed.
A series of explosions tore through the northwest terminus of the canyons, where legend had it, an ancient entrance to the Oracle's interface had once existed. No one, initially, could be certain whether it was an attempt to collapse the venerable computer or a forced entry into their interior of the canyon walks.
Was someone trying to access the Oracle or destroy it? Or what else might be on the inside of the Sonic Canyons so valuable that one would riddle the site with bombs? In the chaotic aftermath of the explosions, all possibilities were on the table. Conspiracy theories flew all over the place, as were accusations of who would do such a thing.
Across the Grid the upper castes were outraged. Was nothing sacred? What did these degenerate scum desire that they would strike at the very foundation of Cybertron itself?
It was Megatron, they said. This Megatron was behind it all, he and his followers who preached his rustful words like gospel. They were the reason for such devastation. He's caused enough damage.
The senate should do something.
This Megatron, he should be in prison. Next it'll be the resorts, then the museums, then the Hall of Records! He should be in prison…or perhaps, we would all be better off if he were dead.
XXXXXX
On a secure, open channel on the Grid, one feed to all the caste aggressors and directly to the senate's group input, Megatron spoke up for the first time in live. Legally this task belonged to one of the programming castes, but as luck would have it, some members of the gladiatorial support crews and technicians were former members of the caste and others were just wizards at programming, hacking and coding-a full realization of just how the GCT squandered a bot's potential.
Megatron stood on a podium for all to see, letting all of his charisma pour forth into his words. "I have nothing to do with these attacks, but I do not deny the possibility that the people who carried them out were partly inspired by my belief that every cybertronian has the right self determination." Megatron swept a powerful arm in an arc over the assembled crowd, taking in a cross-section of castes and occupations. "I pity the loss of life, but how many of those who died took pleasure from watching me fight for my life in the gladiatorial pits below Tarn? How many other cybertronians died for their pleasure? Now those cybertronians, whose lives were your pleasure, are telling you that they reclaim their lives! No cybertronian shall tell any other cybertronian what can and cannot be done!"
As with the other speeches, his audience who watched in person and over the Grid, but this time, his words reached everyone from all castes. He was making sure that all of Cybertron heard his message-and that he was not backing down. Elmeth's words ran through his mind as he gave his speech. He wasn't going to back down, and he wanted the entire world to know this.
"I am Megatron of Tarn. I lead all those who choose to follow me, and I repudiate all those who perform despicable acts in my name. I do not fight with bombs, but with logic. I do not believe in killing, but in the arena of ideas. Let the perpetrators of these acts feel the full weight of Cybertronian justice." Megatron stepped closer to the feed, his visage filling the frame as his expression grew cold and menacing. "If I find them first, my justice will be swifter and more final."
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At Six Lasers over Cybertron, the favorite roller coaster was the Plasma Curve. Lines for it extended around the entire set up of girders on which the magnetic coaster rails sat, conducting cars at speed and gravitational forces sufficient to leave riders dizzy and delirious enough to want to ride again. There were seventy-one of these girders, sunk into the ground and anchored with welded bolts.
As Megatron's first speech to the Cybertronian public reverberated across the planet, another feed exploded across the Grid.
Thirty-six Minicons, their polished frames glinting in the garish light of the coater's signs and logos, scattered across the bases of the girders. The formed two concentric circles, one around the outside girders and the other clustered near the center of the Plasma Curve's route. Waiting bots looked up, ignoring the Minicons. They were only concerned about getting their turn on the curve and nothing else.
Then, simultaneously, the thirty-six Minicons detonated thirty-six fusion bombs. The enormous steel edifice of the Plasma curve collapsed in a blinding flash of unleashed energy and mangled cybertronians. As it hit the ground, the riders-upon coming into contact with the intense electromagnetic energies on the tracks-explained as if they were bombs themselves. Fortunately, their deaths were instantaneous.
It was this scene Megatron spoke over and no one would hear.
The truth would not matter.
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"I need to return to Iacon." Orion said.
He was standing at the entrance to the ship depot with Megatron and Elmeth. Lugnut and Barricade stood close by as bodyguards, even though it was assured that the majority of Tarn's civilian population would strike at their "savior". Orion was glad for the protection all the same. Things were reaching a critical point that neither he nor Megatron predicted.
Megatron clasped his shoulder. "I wish you left on better terms, Orion. I don't think Iacon was targeted, but I doubt it will be as calm as when you first left."
"I know," Orion sighed. He was going to be so busy when he returned home. "Which is why I must go back to help maintain the peace, the anti-government riots and protests are going to be off the scale. But I hope that you and Elmeth remain in good health."
"As do I for you, friend."
Orion looked at Megatron before asking. "Are you sure that there's nothing you can do to mitigate this?
He shook his head. "We are friends. We will do great things in our respective lifestyles, but we must also realize that once we set things in motion, they will not always unfold according to our plans. That, too, is the nature of free will, is it not?"
"It is." He reluctantly admitted. Free will was a double-edged sword that could easily be abused for personal gain. He knew it was a stretch to ask Megatron if he could somehow fix things. The silver mech had mentioned that he only lit the spark, and the people are spreading the flames.
But who is spreading the flames?
As he pondered this, he said his goodbyes to Elmeth. Seeing her now in the evening light only made him pine for her more. How had such a dark and savage place not dimmed the beauty of such a wonderful femme? As they traded what could be their final words to each other, Orion saw the knowing look in her eyes. She expected him to heed her words, make of them as he will. And he planned to listen to her. She and Megatron had changed his world view in drastic ways, and he felt lighter and more free than he had ever been before.
"Thank you both for showing me the truth," He said to them. "I don't know what I can do to change thing, but I'll try my best to make a difference."
"You're already doing it, Orion." Elmeth said."Take heed of how the world really is, and do what you always do, make the streets safe for everyone. Keep moving forward and don't turn back or stop. That is the best way to live your life."
"I will." He smiled.
After sharing one last soulful glance with Elmeth, Orion shook hands with Megatron and boarded the shuttle leaving for Praxus. They waved each other goodbye one last time, not knowing that this is the last time they'll ever be together as friends.
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The ancient fortress of Darkmount was a large, old but still standing stronghold that loomed over the historical area of Polyhex. It once served as the fortress of the barbarian king Galvatron. A plume of magma from Cybertron's mantle, creating what the locals knew as the Upper Pool, in a caldera around which the bulk of Darkmount had been built. Darkmount as a fortification around the upper pool from primitive cybertronian life forms during the Age of Evolution, and incredibly it was also where one could find the most Predacon bones as well. The lower pool was a more accessible caldera that harbored a small settlement of artisan manufacturers. The caldera ceaselessly fueled their works and adorned the livings spaces of higher castes.
Some high caste cybertronians had built their dwelling places on the opposite side of the valley from Darkmount. These were the fancy and expensive abodes of lovers of art, socialites who preferred to stand out by living in remote areas and flew/drove from party to party in larger cities.
In between them and the fortress itself, was the city of Polyhex. The bomb that went off there, destroyed a cliff face that collapsed in a slow motion cascade into the lower pool, bringing with it a number o outrageous homes. There were few casualties, but they were of prominent cases, and that made them more valuable than two dozen common workers.
Among them was the renowned artist Chromatron, who was in the process of creating a projection model of Megatron, whose face he had seen for the first time on holo-vid the day before.
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Stanix was one of the radical nodes in the great architecture of information that cybertronians had for millions of years called the Grid. Feeding from the central servers and the great pool of data at the Hall of Records in Iacon, each node served as a backup and distribution point for the communications that did not need approval or routing through the central processors.
The node itself was built into a ridge at the eastern edge of the city of Stanix itself. Above it say Fort Scyk, a training site for the senate militias and local civil-defense regiments. It was at Fort Scyk that the first Legislators had conceived of the idea of forming the Enforcers.
And it was at Fort Scyk where the bomb destroyed the headquarters of the current militia magistrate Gauntlet. Gauntlet took pride in the history of the sire, and Stanix's military history. He was a firm believer in the caste system, in the order that it brought and had never considered a life outside the military caste he was channeled into upon maturation from his protoform stage.
Gauntlet had observed the classified transmissions from Iacon about this Megatron character. He was nothing special, just another low caste malcontent who thought he was above the functionist policy that served Cybertron for years. That was Gauntlet's firm opinion and he was waiting for the senate to realize this and snuff that mech out-and maybe finally take direct action against that cesspool of crime in the Badlands.
He was looking forward to that. It would be doing everyone a favor to wipe out that black degenerate stain on an otherwise perfect society.
The bomb, carried by an anonymous Minicon, detonated just below the viewing grounds in the Fields Kho, in the northwest corner of Fort Scyk. It blew that corner of the fort out and down the side of the ridge. This bomb was also a modified EMP, and its detonation released a pulsewave that caused cascading failures in the Grid node located in the ridge itself.
183 cybertroinians were killed by either the explosion, the collapse or EMP damage to their processing systems. Among them was Gaunlet.
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Alpha Trion watched the fires bloom across the face of Cybertron. The sight brought back a lot of memories for the Archivist-memories of the first and last war he had ever taken part in and ended what could have been a millennia-long paradise. He thought that after the Quintesson was, Cybertron would have some semblance of peace-but perhaps he was being too optimistic.
He stood at his window looking out at the golden city of Iacon. The Oracle lied open on his desk, its words manifesting in a language only he-and others like him-could read. Someone was coordinating these attacks, and it wasn't Megatron.
Alpha Trion tried to consort the Oracle, but even it did not know the identity of the ringleader behind these attacks, and that's what worried him. Nothing could hide from the gaze of the Oracle-not even him. But this person was somehow able to avoid its divine gaze, and it troubled the otherwise calm and measured Archivist. Such a thing could be possible for gods, and that wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain.
There was a knock on the door and he heard the voice of Elita-1. "Alpha Trion? You have a visitor."
"Elita, I told you that I'm not having visitors right…" He looked up and noticed that she had already opened the door and looked a little nervous. "Elita, are you alright?"
"I'm sorry, Alpha Trion but she's rather insistent that she speak with you." She said.
Trion closed his book and nodded. "Let her in."
Elita-1 nodded and she stepped back to allow the visitor entry. His eyes narrowed as the fiery red form of Ember walked into the room. She looked calm and collected as always, looking like she was queen of the world. Now he understood Elita-1's unease. Ember had an oppressive aura about her that she liked to project onto others to get what she wanted, making herself the dominant force in the room without really doing anything. She strolled up to his desk, giving him that infuriating smirk as Elita-1 left them alone.
"Such a sweet thing, isn't she?" Ember said. "It's rare to have someone as special as her close by. But you've always had a habit of attracting special people, Alpha Trion."
"What do you want Ember?" Alpha Trion asked. "As you can see, I'm very busy."
"Surely you can spend a couple of minutes with an old friend." She pressed. "It's not like we're getting any older here."
He stared hard at her before motioning her to take a seat. Ember smiled and sat down, flaring her vermillion wings a bit to give her some room. She always had a flare for the dramatic, and couldn't resist digging into Trion's nerves. Together, they watched the holo-vid of the news reports on the multiple bombings that had been occurring all over the planet.
"And so begins the fall of our civilization. Anyone who didn't see this coming was a fool." She said. "Who would've thought that Megatron's reach was so widespread?"
"What makes you so sure that it was Megatron who orchestrated this?" Alpha Trion asked.
"Personally I think this might be the wishful thinking of some underground radicals who did a superb job of hiding their true colors, like that Dark Bird femme. But the senate, well," She smiled mockingly at him. "They think this is Megatron's doing. But we both know that's not true. We're smarter than that. The senate just wants an excuse to cover the fact that they've been caught with their chest plates off. Steer people away from the fact that they let a revolution fester under their noses."
"This will mean war," He told her. "A war with Megatron right in the middle of it."
"Not just Megatron, dear."
"Excuse me?"
"Megatron is not the only one who will be at the heart of this. I know this, and you know it to." Ember looked him right in the eyes as she said this. He got the message. "I'm curious to see what happens when society degenerates at the rate its going. When evolution takes its toll on our kind."
"Evolution." Trion repeated, sounding skeptical.
"Yes. Unlike organics, we've never evolved from animals or micro-organisms. Cybertron created us as we are, and save for a few differences, we've remained the same, and most of our evolution was psychological instead of physical. But here we are, a once great civilization ruled by chaos and order, treating ourselves like the robots that the rest of the galaxy sees us as." Ember ranted. "Even you can see how Megatron is a product of this chaos, a mech born to tear down our order and make a new regime from the chaos. He doesn't see it like this, but he will go through with his plan."
"And what about order? If Megatron represent chaos, and destruction, who represents order and rpeservation?"
"That I cannot answer, but we both know it's not that fool Nominus." She spat. "Figureheads like him don't last long under these conditions. No, it must be someone who has seen both sides of the coin, but still seeks o change the cause of the problem instead of just wiping it out." Then she smirked. "How is Orion Pax by the way?"
Alpha Trion didn't answer, keeping his guard up. He knew she was baiting him into saying something, giving something away that she could use.
"I saw him a few days ago, and looking at him, I was immediately reminded of someone I met long ago, back when Iacon was still young." She tapped her chin in thought. "Now, what was his name? Haydon?"
"You should leave, Ember." Alpha Trion said firmly.
Ember smiled and stood up, stretching out her wings. "You think yourself as some kind of god, don't you? Even someone who has been humbled by nature after losing everything you've fought for, you still think you're above everyone else. Well you're not, sooner or later, your transgressions will come back to haunt you and you'll be praying for release when it becomes too much to bare."
Alpha Trion stood up from his seat so that he was staring her in the eyes. They locked gazes for a moment, neither bot backing down. Finally Ember broke the stand-off and walked to the door. But before she left, Ember left him some parting words.
"You can't protect him forever, Trion. Point-one percenters are known for attracting trouble. And you watch from her lofty abode like some divine overseer, your beloved protégé will suffer the horrors that this world has to offer. That is the fate of all those touched by Primus." She gave him a deep bow. "May the glorious Jubileus bless you."
She turned around and left the room, slamming the door shut. Alpha Trion was once again left with his thoughts and memories, two companions who stood with him since the beginning of time.
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A public announcement was held in Iacon's city square, the Primal Bascilla. There, before a massive crowd, Nominus Prime addressed the public on the recent events surrounding the bombings. The people needed someone to look up to for protection-who better than for their very own Prime to step up to the plate? For the senate, it was the perfect chance to take back the public, who were starting to be swayed by the rebellious words of Megatron. They knew that before any action could be taken, they had to get the population back under their control and the bombings provided the perfect opportunity. After all, fear sells.
Nominus Prime stepped onto the podium, his blue and gold armor gleaming in the sunlight, with the Elite Guard standing in attendance alongside Sentinel. The crowd cheered for him and he waited for them to settle down before beginning his speech.
"My people," Nominus began. "I know you are all afraid for what the future holds. I understand your fear; it seems as if they are enemies on all sides, both outside and within our borders. It is hard to know who to trust, but let me assuage your worries: you can place your thrust in me and the senate. We, the people of Cybertron, have survived far worse than this; barbarians, the Quintessons, the loss of our beloved Nova Prime and the horrid Rut Plague that followed. We have endured and survived them all and we will keep doing that for as long as we remain united."
Then his voice grew more powerful as he continued. "There are people out there who seek to tear down the perfect society we have worked so hard to build and maintain, our Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, which has saved us in our darkest hour. But rest assured, we will weed out these murderers who hide in the shadows and bring them to justice. We will unite, we will stand together, and I will wipe out this insurgence! We will prevail!"
The roar of the crowd was beyond deafening-so loud, in fact, that the only sound capable of drowning tem out was the boom of the explosion that erupted from the podium and engulfed Nominus Prime and almost half the audience.