-Personal Log: Entry #014-
Because I spared him, Optimus had me repaired after the rest of the Maximals had come out of restoration.
It has been a solar cycle since that battle. Optimus has asked me to stand before the Maximals and explain myself, and I will submit to the request. It's high time I told them everything.
"It's time, Nightshade," Optimus said, unlocking the door. Wordlessly, Nightshade left his quarters and followed the gorilla to the bridge, where all of the Maximals had gathered to hear his story.
Rattrap sprang forward angrily, but Cheetor and Tigatron were able to hold him back.
"Why are you helping the stinkin' Decepticon?" Rattrap asked angrily, struggling against their hands.
"We voted, and majority ruled we hear him out before we judged him," Optimus said.
"Doesn't mean I gotta like it," Rattrap said, but he calmed himself.
"Now," Optimus said, once Rattrap had settled. "Speak your piece, Nightshade."
"Well, to begin at the beginning," Nightshade replied, "I'm not the real Ravage."
"You're not?"
Nightshade shook his head. The Maximals listened well, and his voice painted a scene for them.
It was dark when Ravage's optics activated. He could not remember coming here, wherever "here" was. It looked like a torture chamber.
The thought spurred him into action. Ravage rolled over, surprised that he wasn't strapped down, but not staying to contemplate what that could mean. He had to get out of there before whoever was running this place came back for him. The panther ran, vanishing from sight just as the main door opened.
He'd made it. It had taken all of his skills, some improvising, and a good deal of luck to escape, but he'd made it outside. Looking back as he ran, he saw that the place he'd left looked like a simple warehouse, pretty out of the way. Not the sort of place anyone would look twice at, unless they were looking for it.
No Autobot would even consider a torture chamber; Ravage knew this. Which meant that without the name of the boss there, he couldn't trust any of his old comrades.
There was only one thing to do. He had the location. He'd take this to the Autobot soldier, Blaster. That guy was a radio, just like Soundwave. If he could get through to Blaster, Ravage might be able to get a message to the current Autobot leader, Rodimus Prime.
Feeling weak, he stopped at the Energon Pools for a drink, and then ran to the Autobots' primary barracks, the Decagon Citadel.
Getting in posed another problem. Ravage couldn't sneak in, not this time. If he was to be trusted long enough to even get past the guards, much less get to Blaster, he'd have to go through the front door. That was going to be hard enough, but to add to the trust issue, he couldn't use his hip-bombs, either.
How could he make this work? He didn't know. This was the first time he'd had to start from scratch, thinking for himself.
What the humans called "knocking" was the only thing that came to him. So, in an attempt to compensate for his small size, he backed up a few meters and ran forward, slamming the door full-force with his shoulder.
As the sound reverberated through the heavy plating, a camera slid out of its slot in the wall and looked at him. He looked back at it, waiting patiently for something else to happen. Two or three cycles later, the camera slid back out of sight, and the door opened.
Not that Ravage had thought for even a nano-click that it was that easy. And the Autobots did not disappoint; as soon as Ravage entered, four guns were trained on him, held by Kup, Springer, Arcee, and--
Blaster. Ravage was surprised to find him here, but did not complain. Instead, he held perfectly still while Rewind and Eject disarmed and removed his bombs. Not that he was being cooperative; he just knew that his explosives had a hair trigger.
"Waiting isn't your usual style, Ravage," Blaster said, once his robot cassettes had finished their job. "What's shaking?"
Knowing he would never get his point across otherwise, Ravage disregarded the guns trained on him and ran erratically across the floor, skidding every now and again on the new polish, but always catching himself with his hind claws. The four Autobots watched him until he stopped for the final time. Then they looked at the floor itself, where Ravage had scratched the Cybertronian symbol for "help" into the metal.
"Help?" Blaster looked confused. "What with?"
Left with insufficient room to inscribe another symbol, Ravage transformed into his tape form.
"He's got a message for us," Blaster said, picking up the ebony cassette.
Arcee objected. "Are you sure that's safe?"
"If he wanted to hurt us, he wouldn't have let me take his bombs." Blaster slipped the tape into his chest, and transformed.
"I need your help," the radio said, in a patchwork voice. Ravage had cobbled the message together himself, using bits and pieces of contemporary music. It was a total cut and paste job, the sound was choppy, and no two words were said in the same voice, but it got Ravage's point across.
"Take me to your leader. I want to speak to him about a matter of great urgency."
Ten megacycles later, Ravage still couldn't believe that Rodimus Prime had even taken the time to listen to his message, (such as it was) much less believed it. But he had, and had sent a small pack of Junkions to storm the place.
When they returned, Ravage could see that the surprises were just beginning.
"Let's see what's behind door number one," Wreck-Gar said, throwing a shackled Galvatron to the floor. "We have a winner!"
"You chose a clever hiding place, Galvatron," Rodimus said from his throne. He'd never called it that, but that's what it was. Ravage was crouched next to the Autobot commander's foot on the elevated platform, where he could watch without being seen. "An abandoned warehouse, within Iacon's city walls, no less, while we were scouring outside for you. Little wonder you eluded us these past few months. We might never have found you, except one of your test subjects escaped."
"And knowing you, Prime, he's here now," Galvatron replied scathingly, rising to his knees. "Why not come out where I can see you, Ravage? Yes, it could only be you."
Galvatron was without his cannon, and too far below to reach him, so Ravage saw no harm in lifting himself to his feet, in full view of the rogue ex-general.
"Be proud, Ravage," Galvatron said, looking the metal panther in the optics. "You were the first to survive the process. Although I didn't check your honor."
What're you talking about? Ravage wondered. But without Blaster around, he couldn't ask directly. So he contented himself to growl contemptuously at the fallen Decepticon commander.
"You scanned my processor, Ravage," Rodimus said. "Escort the prisoner to sub-deck B, and chuck him in a cell. He'll await judgement there."
"Satisfaction guaranteed." The Junkions grabbed Galvatron roughly, and dragged him off.
"Rodimus Prime personally gave me my freedom in exchange for the delivery of Galvatron," Nightshade said. "And Galvatron was later sentenced to life in exile."
"But his final words still echoed in your audio receivers," Rhinox guessed.
"Well, yeah," the black cat said. "What process, exactly? And what did he mean by 'check my honor' anyway? It made no sense. My life had been one despicable act piled on top of another, and I had enjoyed every last one of them. There was no honor there."
"And looking back let you see them for what they were," Optimus said.
"Yeah. It felt like it wasn't even me who had made those memories," Nightshade replied. "Like it was someone else's life entirely. But the playback was still my optics looking at my explosives as they flew at whoever or whatever."
"That why you became an Autobot?" Cheetor asked.
"Yeah," Nightshade said. "A deed, once done, cannot be undone; I knew that. But I thought perhaps my actions could still be mitigated. I was a vigilante for a while, taking down renegade Decepticons on my own, gathering whatever I could use from the wreckage, and boosting my power with it to prepare for the next one. I was caught, of course. Springer found me welding a new missile launcher to my hip, and brought me to Rodimus Prime."
"And again, he showed you mercy," Tigatron said.
"I get the feeling he knew what it was like, wanting to prove yourself. If I needed to hunt down renegades so much, he said, do it proudly, instead of shooting from the shadows. Soon after that, I was rebuilt as an Autobot infiltration unit, complete with an interchangeable insignia panel."
"So why'd you come here?" Cheetor asked.
"Believe it or not, Little Cat, that's partially thanks to you." Nightshade pulled a small circular device from his arm.
"Me? What'd I do?"
Nightshade smiled and pressed a button. A static-filled voice emanated from the machine.
"Cheetor to Optimus. Do you read me?" A short pause, then: "I just heard some kind of explosion. I'm gonna check it out. Talk to you in a cycle." Nightshade turned off the recorder.
"That was from my long-range com-link!" Rhinox said, surprised. "I built the thing from scratch!"
"Yeah, that's the thing about new inventions," Nightshade said. "The primary field tests never quite turn out the way you expected. In this case, long range is a bit of an understatement. After almost forty thousand stellar megacycles of shooting through deep space, that message was received by Blaster on Cybertron."
"Cybertron knew where we were?" Airazor asked.
"To an extent," Nightshade replied. "But the transmission raised a lot of questions. What it boiled down to was this: We had no record of any unit named 'Cheetor,' even though he seemed to know Optimus--or had, at one time. Optimus Prime had been mortally wounded by Megatron roughly three lunar cycles earlier."
"We know that," Rattrap said impatiently.
"Yes, but at the time, we didn't know you knew."
"I'm confused."
"Then shut up," Rhinox said, "and let him tell the story."
"Thank you," Nightshade said. "Now, where was I?"
"Mortally wounded," Dinobot cut in.
"Right. Anyway, from what I'm told, while Blaster was trying to decide how to tell Rodimus, another transmission came through." Nightshade clicked the machine again, letting the recording run its course. "Cheetor to base. I got the gig in hand. Tell Optimus to home in on my signal."
"That was the clincher." Nightshade returned the device to his arm. "The signal remained just long enough for Blaster to get a fix on the system it had come from, then he made his report. Rodimus took it to Perceptor to figure out, thinking that maybe there was something in the older records. Finding nothing, he came to me."
Nightshade was quietly reading in his quarters. Rodimus had had the room refurnished to Nightshade's size, which hadn't changed much during the rebuilding process, and the mini-warrior now had a four-story condo to himself, albeit one that was missing two of the outside walls.
The main door opened. Turning his head, Nightshade saw Rodimus Prime standing there, with Perceptor behind him.
"I've got a job for you, Nightshade," Rodimus said.
"With respect, sir, I've already had a rough day," Nightshade replied, setting down his book. "Today's raid took longer than expected, and I'm beat. Can it wait?"
"You'll undoubtedly have ample time to recuperate once you initiate the assignment," Perceptor told him, coming forward. "We've received a highly unorthodox communication. Your abilities are required to investigate its origins."
Nightshade looked at him strangely. "In a language I can understand, please."
Rodimus translated for him. "You'll be able to rest once you've made it into space. A strange message just came in, and I need you to find out where it came from, and learn everything you can about the alien who sent it."
"Not that I'm refusing, sir, but surely there must be a larger unit you could call on."
"This is true, but we want our... ambassador to appear as unthreatening as possible," Rodimus replied. "So right now, smaller is better. And you have more experience with getting in and out of places quickly than any other Autobot. In short, you're the only one I can rely on for this mission."
"There was a problem, though," Nightshade said. "The time period was too different. There was little chance the aliens would still remember the transmission when I arrived. Perceptor had the answer. He'd built a prototype transwarp drive. One that could only support a small ship."
"So they gave you that star-hopper," Cheetor said.
"Full circle, Little Cat. If Perceptor hadn't asked me to test the thing, the Axalon might not have had one later, and you might never have come here. And yet, it's because you're here that Perceptor asked me to test the thing in the first place. And, as a matter of clarification, Alpha Seven's not a star-hopper. She's a class three interplanetary scouter."
"And apparently her transwarp drive worked," Rhinox said. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."
"But why join the Predacons?" Tigatron asked.
"Had to," Nightshade said. "Alpha Seven's transwarp drive was ninety-eight percent depleted when I dropped back into normal space. It needs to be recharged before I can make the return journey. I needed a fresh charger unit, and there were none to be found here."
"And you didn't tell us because you had to keep your cover safe," Optimus said.
"I would've told you, sir," Nightshade replied. "But I hadn't considered looking through the Darkside myself, not until we were in the middle of that fight. Megatron would never have bought the act if I'd dropped Tigatron gently to the ground. Just like everything I've done since, it had to look like I meant it."
"And fighting you that night..." Tigatron gasped in shock.
"I specifically used my quasar bolt, Big Cat." Nightshade smirked. "Didn't you know? They say the first bite is with the eye. In broad terms, presentation is everything."
"So that's what it meant!" Cheetor said. "You were trying to tell us you were still on our side!"
"No, actually," Nightshade said, before the Maximals could get ahead of him. "I jump back and forth as I need to, never truly on any side but my own. I'm an infiltration unit; that's what we do. And it was a risk saying anything that night, because I hadn't finished my job yet."
"All that because you needed a transwarp cell?" Rhinox asked. "Why couldn't you use our engine parts? We've got plenty to spare."
"Your computer software might be ahead of my time, but a ship is a ship," Nightshade said. "Your transwarp drive is too big for Alpha Seven's normal engines. I'd never be able to carry it into orbit."
"I could have rerouted the recharge socket--"
"If it hadn't been completely blown to scrap. And all of your charger units are dead. I imagine you'd eventually find some way past these limitations, but I couldn't afford to wait any longer."
"Well, I hope you got your transwarp cell," Optimus said. "Megatron will never let you back into the Darkside now. Not after you turned on him like that."
"Yeah, I got it." Nightshade thumped his chest, and it opened to reveal two transwarp cells, one on either side of his book. "While the Preds were resting for our attack, I stole into their engine room and made off with these little beauties."
"Hang on a cycle." Rattrap started counting off on his fingers. "You betrayed us, you stole from the Preds, you blasted our defenses to oblivion, and now you're trying to buy us back with some cockamamie story that you're not who we thought you were?"
Nightshade took a moment to consider the question. "Yeah, that's about the shape of it. Except I'm trying to tell you that I'm not who I thought I was."
"Well, call me paranoid if you like, but you've already turned on us once, and admitted that you're not above doing so again. How do we know we can trust you?"
"You don't," Nightshade said simply. "That's why it's called 'trust'."
And for once, Rattrap's big mouth remained shut.
"Maybe you're just a cat suffering from an identity crisis," Airazor said. "All you've given us to support your story so far is the word of a mad-bot."
"Which, by itself, wouldn't support one of your neck feathers. I know." Nightshade pulled out his book, and closed his chest plate.
"This contains my mission report," he said, showing them the Autobot insignia. "All the information I've gathered since I landed here is between these covers. There is also the 'Galvatron' file that I downloaded from the Predacons' computer, which contains the investigation report of the warehouse I had escaped from. You can read that yourself, if you like--or, if you prefer, you can read it from your own history files, to be certain that I haven't tampered with it. It reveals two things that I would have found out earlier, had I made different choices."
"Which would be?" Optimus prompted.
"First, the torture chamber that I woke up in had actually been something of an assembly shop. Galvatron had been trying to make copies of his captured soldiers, using pieces of fallen Autobots."
"But why copy Ravage?" Dinobot asked. "He must have wanted his more powerful warriors back, as quickly as possible."
"He didn't have a definite process," Nightshade answered. "And he had limited supplies. Better to start with his smallest troops--Soundwave's cassettes--and find a way to bring them online, before using that perfected procedure on his larger soldiers. I was the first one that he'd successfully activated."
"And second?" Optimus asked.
"Second, Galvatron had no idea what he was actually doing. He hadn't taken the fact that he was using Autobots into account. He thought that once they had fallen, all that was left was scrap. He was wrong. Though he had succeeded in replicating Ravage's physical form and memories, my spark was still that of an Autobot."
"And that's why you felt like you didn't know yourself," Rhinox said. "The difference between your Autobot spark and Ravage's copied memory had caught up with you."
"That's right," Nightshade replied. "And while I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, transforming is probably what triggered it, like you said. In building my beast form, I'd inadvertently recreated that night in Galvatron's chop shop, when I'd first come online. That is, I was me again, but not entirely me, and not a 'me' that anybody would recognize."
"Why didn't you mention this in our discussion, Rhinox?" Optimus asked. "It was Nightshade who led Rodimus Prime to that warehouse. The investigation report should have been in his file as well."
"I read the whole thing back to front the night before, Optimus," Rhinox said. "There was nothing like that there."
"Because Rodimus Prime was trying to help Nightshade," Tigatron said, turning to the dark cat. "And he thought the best way to do that was to stop you from learning the truth. But just like our programming blocks, that has proven to be a grave error."
"One that I fully intend to confront him with when I get back," Nightshade replied.
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"Rodimus Prime might think his deception was noble," Nightshade said. "He might even be right. But now that I know the truth, it's that much harder not to take it to heart. No, I'm not sure it's wise. But it's something I have to do, regardless. It's like you said, Big Cat. I'll never be at peace with myself--or with him, for that matter--if I don't say something about it."
-End Chapter Fourteen-