Welcome to the fourth chapter, in which Scavenger learns a few illuminating facts about our ever-mysterious Crypt Master.

Below The Horizon

"I did know," Dirge admitted. "I knew that Starscream was going to die. If not exactly how, or when, I knew it would be soon. That is the reason why my touch is feared. Not because I cause death, but because Primus has blessed, or perhaps cursed me, with the ability to know when death is near."

Scavenger kept backing away, still clutching the urn in front of his spark. What Dirge was saying sounded fantastical, yet Scavenger sensed a horrifying ring of truth behind his words. In any case, he couldn't deny the evidence of his own optics. The empty platform was right there in front of him, as implacable as death itself.

"You knew because you… you'd touched him?"

"Aye."

"You touched me!" Scavenger wailed. And he had allowed it, hadn't he? He'd even welcomed it, in spite of Dirge's foreboding reputation and his history with Starscream. Was he that desperate for affection? Knowing the answer to be yes, he added, in a small voice, "Am I going to die?"

"We all are, Scavenger."

"Yes! I know that, but—"

"May I?" Dirge asked. He reached toward Scavenger and paused with his hand hovering in midair, just in front of Scavenger's spark.

Scavenger shrank from it, his optics wide. "What are you going to do?"

"I would need to touch your chest in order to answer your question. You will not be harmed by it, I promise."

Scavenger stared at the hand, and finally, reluctantly, moved the urn just far enough for Dirge to place two fingertips lightly against his chest. The Seeker shuttered his optics for a moment, then opened them again with a slight shake of his head. "Not soon," he said.

"Not soon? What does that mean?"

"It means that your death is below the horizon. I cannot yet perceive it."

"Below… what?"

"Ah. Perhaps it is an analogy better suited to flight-frames. When an object is said to be below a planet's horizon, that means that it is still hidden by the planet's curvature. As one flies closer, the object will gradually become visible, seeming to rise out of the horizon itself. An optical illusion, if you will. When I say that your death is below the horizon, what that means is that it is far enough away that I cannot yet perceive it."

"Oh." Scavenger pondered this. He wasn't entirely sure if he understood Dirge's analogy, much less why he felt inclined to believe it, but for some reason he found it reassuring. "So Starscream's death was… above the horizon?"

"Yes. I first began to notice it while we were stationed on Earth. It gradually grew stronger, until it was impossible for me to be near him without… sensing it."

"But… if you knew," Scavenger said haltingly, "why didn't you warn him?"

"Do you think he would have listened?"

Scavenger looked at the urn. "Probably not," he admitted, "but if you didn't at least try to tell him, isn't that pretty much the same as murdering him yourself?"

"I wish it worked that way," Dirge said with a low sigh. "I have tried to warn others in the past. Some believed me and some did not, but it has never done any good. I have concluded that when death is ready to find you, it will." He paused, and there was such deep sorrow in his gaze that Scavenger's fear ebbed slightly. "May I show you something?" he asked quietly.

Scavenger considered the question. This strange mech, whom he'd held in such fear until just a quarter joor ago, had shown him more kindness in the space of a few breems than Scavenger was used to receiving in vorns. Even knowing what he did now, there was something in him that made it impossible to turn away. He found himself giving a slight nod.

Dirge motioned to the platform. "Leave him here," he directed. "We will come back shortly. Time is of the essence, but what I have to show you will not take long."

Scavenger set the urn down as gently as he could, not wishing not to jar its contents. He thought again of Starscream standing on this very platform, in just the spot where his statue would soon be. There was something so eerie about this.

"Do you think he knew?" Scavenger asked, as he followed Dirge toward the lift doors at the far side of the chamber.

"That he was going to die?"

"Yes," Scavenger said. "I mean, he was in such a rush to get through the ceremony that he wouldn't even let us finish our trumpet fanfare."

"You think he might have rushed because he sensed something?"

"I don't know," Scavenger added as they boarded the lift, and it began taking them down into the lower reaches of the Crypt. "But... that thing that he said to Galvatron. Do you remember that?"

"If I recall, he asked Galvatron if he was Megatron."

"That's kind of a strange thing to ask, isn't it? It's almost as if he was… I don't know, expecting it to be Megatron."

"As if he expected Megatron to punish him," Dirge agreed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are right. I certainly thought that was his reason for wanting the Crypt re-opened in such haste. It seemed as if he was paying a penance." Dirge fell silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "You watched him carefully," he said at last.

"I always did."

And yet, Scavenger thought, as he watched the levels slip past, perhaps he had never seen him. It was clear enough now, all the ways in which Starscream had shown that he didn't return Scavenger's feelings. How could you watch someone for as long, and as closely, as Scavenger had watched Starscream, and yet never truly see them?

The lift came to a stop. The doors opened and Dirge stepped through, motioning for Scavenger to follow. This was an area of the Crypt that Scavenger knew fairly well, because it was where the Crypt Master's foundry was located. He'd come down here a number of times throughout the restoration project in order to collect sections of the various statues as they were cast. It wasn't toward the foundry that Dirge was leading him now, however. He was heading in the opposite direction, down a short corridor that opened into a cavernous gallery. A towering energon fountain, shaped in an abstract form that resembled wings, dominated the space, and the gallery was filled with nooks and alcoves that led off from it in all directions

"This is where the majority of Seekers are interred," Dirge explained. "Each of these alcoves and side-passages belongs to a different familial clan. There," he said. "That is Skywarp's marker."

He was pointing to a niche set into the wall near the entrance of one of the passages. Two platforms stood side by side within the alcove, though only one had a statue. Scavenger knew he would have recognized Skywarp's marker instantly, even if Dirge hadn't pointed it out. On first glance, the statue appeared to be standing at military attention, though a closer inspection revealed a mischievous curl to its lips and the fact that one hand, half-hidden behind its back, was holding a slingshot.

"I remember that slingshot," Scavenger said. "He once used it to pelt the Constructicons with cryo-condor eggs. Rotten ones," he added, with a slight shudder at the memory. It had taken several vigorous scrubbing sessions in the washracks to get rid of the stench.

"I recall that," Dirge said, with a small smile. "I believe Starscream eventually confiscated the slingshot, but I thought it would be fitting to include as part of his memorial."

"It is," Scavenger agreed.

"That second platform was to be Thundercracker's," Dirge added, a little sadly. "I cast the statues so they would appear to be in conversation. If I had time, I would move Thundercracker's down here, so they could be together."

They fell silent for a moment, but then Dirge vented a soft huff of air. "We should not linger. What I wanted to show you is this way."

Scavenger followed Dirge's halting steps to one of the smaller passages. The statues lining this passage were mostly grouped in threes, and were of mechs similar in appearance to Dirge himself, with the distinctive conical helm assembly that was typical of Seekers from the northern hemisphere of Cybertron. "Is this… your clan?" Scavenger asked hesitantly.

"No. My own clan's memorial was in Protihex and was destroyed long ago, along with the rest of our aerie. I will not be able to return there before we are forced to leave Cybertron, and so I will only be able to pay respects to them in my prayers."

He paused in front of one of the markers. Glancing up, Scavenger saw that this statue, like those near it, resembled Dirge in most respects, though slight differences could be found in the shape of the wings, the breadth of the chest and shoulders, and the contours of the face. The expression, too, was different. Where Dirge's features seemed weighted with sorrow, this mech's expression appeared warm and almost playful. Beneath one arm, he carried a sainu, a stringed instrument traditional to many Seekerish forms of music.

"Who is… was he?" Scavenger asked.

"He was Zephyr, my bondmate," Dirge replied. "He was a bard of my people, a poet and teller of stories from Uraya. He and I met while I was in that city, apprenticing to become a priest. When the war started, our clan decided to fly south to defend Vos, as we knew it would be a high-priority target for the Senate.

"Zephyr wanted to go with them, but I knew he wasn't sparked for war any more than I. To make things worse, I had been having terrors during the night, images of Zephyr dying in a fiery inferno. I did not know what the visions meant, but one of the Temple clerics told me that there are those among our people who can prophesy the fate of others. She told me that my visions could be a warning.

"I implored Zephyr to stay and help protect the elders and younglings while the rest of our clan flew to war. He refused at first, saying that if my visions were prophetic, then he would prefer to die at my side rather than alone, but then—" Dirge broke off, his frame tensing noticeably. "Zephyr was a Singularity, you see."

Scavenger didn't see at all, and the look he gave Dirge must have said as much, because the Seeker went on to explain:

"Usually, Seekers only have offspring through a three-way mating between trine members. It is one of the reasons why trines are considered sacred. A Singularity is a Seeker without a trine. My people used to consider them freaks, and not least because they can, on extremely rare occasions, become sparked when just one other spark is present."

"You found out that he was carrying?"

"Aye. And he chose to stay, as I had asked, for the sake of our youngling."

"What happened?" Scavenger asked, already dreading the answer.

"The Senate surprised us. They launched an attack against Uraya, and our village, our aerie, everything… all was laid waste. I was halfway to Vos when it happened, so I did not find out right away. All I knew was that I was flying one moment, and the next my spark was being torn in half. I crashed, and nearly died. I wanted to die, because I… I knew."

Scavenger dropped his gaze to the floor, a fresh pang of sadness rising in his spark. "I'm sorry."

"It has been a long time," Dirge replied. "And yet," he paused, a small smile gracing his lips, "I miss his voice, and his songs… and his laugh." He glanced at Scavenger. "If I might have just a moment? I do not know when, or if, I will be able to come here again."

"Oh!" Scavenger said. "Um, of course."

He walked back out into the main gallery, though he couldn't resist a backward glance. As he watched from the corner of one optic, he saw Dirge approach the statue and stand for a moment with his head bowed and his forearms crossed above his spark, his lips moving once again in silent prayer. Scavenger's gaze fell, for the first time, on an empty platform next to the statue of Zephyr. A shiver ran through him. He could guess who that was reserved for.

Was Dirge simply marking time, waiting to be reunited with his beloved? The thought was terribly sad, yet at the same time, stirring. It was the stuff of poetry, and from a mech who had seemed, until this moment, the very least likely source of such things. As he watched, he saw Dirge place both hands on the statue's foot and bend, creakily, to press his cheek to the lifeless metal.

Scavenger did glance away then, realizing that he was intruding on something deeply personal. How could he have been this wrong about Dirge? Not long ago, it had been impossible to imagine him as someone with desires, as someone capable of love. Could he be equally wrong about Starscream's bondmate? He supposed he had to at least allow for that possibility, to give the unknown mech the benefit of the doubt.

"Is there anyone here to whom you wish to pay respects?"

Scavenger jumped. Even limping, Dirge had walked up behind him so quietly that Scavenger hadn't known he was there. When he turned and looked at him, he saw that the dark Seeker's features were set, once again, in their usual impassive expression.

"Not that I can think of," he said in reply to the question.

"You do not have kin interred here?"

"No, my people don't use this Crypt. Our burial customs are pretty different."

Dirge's optics lit with interest. "I would be fascinated to hear about them sometime," he said, with frank sincerity. "However, I believe we must now make haste. The war-time interment ceremony which we will use is not itself lengthy, but placing the statue is going to be tricky, especially with just the two of us."

He hobbled back the way they'd come, with Scavenger following close on his heels. When they came to the door of the foundry, where Scavenger and the other Constructicons had arrived to pick up newly cast pieces of various statues, Scavenger stopped to wait outside. Dirge paused, halfway across the threshold, and glanced back at him.

"You are allowed inside now," he said with a hint of a smile.

"Isn't it top secret?" Scavenger asked. The doors had been kept sealed throughout the restoration project, with no one but Dirge being allowed so much as a glimpse inside.

"It was secret," Dirge replied, "though primarily, it was a secret I was keeping from Starscream. I could not have allowed him to catch wind of what I was working on here. You will see why in a moment. Come."

He stepped inside, motioning for Scavenger to follow. Scavenger hesitated.

"You're sure it's, um… ku'at for me to go in there?"

Dirge laughed. It was a surprising sound, coming from him, and was startlingly warm and jovial. "Of course," he said. "There is nothing un-ku'at about allowing a fellow craftsmech into my workshop. I would, in fact, consider it an honor."

He turned and walked inside, letting the doors swing closed behind him. Scavenger stared at the doors for a moment, and realized that he was slightly afraid of going into the foundry. Of course, standing alone in the dark corridor wasn't that much better, so he pushed the doors open and set pede, for the very first time, in the Crypt Master's private workshop.