Chapter 7: Chapter 6
I own no recognizable characters! I do, however, finally know what the critter who attacked the base is...and it ain't pretty. Wow..this might be my longest chapter yet!
(bold italicized=the other end of a comm link)
Argus, fifth planetoid from Sector 12's main star
Keller's Holt.
In the last two years, it had become a byword for scum and villainy, just as Port Royal had once been known for pirates. This was where those pursued by human law enforcement came to hide, a dirty crowded city full of smugglers, gambling joints, and the occasional high grade bar.
Despite repeated denials, it was commonly suspected that human governments were deporting their worst criminals to Argus, where they usually found their way to becoming Keller's Holt crime bosses. Among the humans and Cybertronians it was even rumored that if one was brave or foolish enough to look, one might occasionally find beings totally alien to the system altogether, beings that only Cybertronians had ever seen before.
One set of aliens that had become a problem in particular was a shadowy group that dealt with human and Cybertronian trafficking. No one ever saw them or knew what they looked like, but they were rumored to come from some distant world called Nal Hutta. Their spies were said to be everywhere, from restaurants to rooftops, and if they took you, no one ever saw you again.
This was the city that Sector Sweep 12C had chosen to flee to.
The moment the bridge was opened, all team members were on high alert, guns at the ready. Jack knew that pulling rank might have had potentially negative consequences. Say, for instance, if the local mob decided to see how much ransom money could be obtained should they desire to kidnap him. His stormy grey eyes swept over the dingy alley, with graffiti, drunks, and florid neon lights.
"An alley?!" Springer nearly shouted in disbelief, "What happened to 'safe travels'?!"
Endline scowled as well. "I don't like it. Feels like a setup to me."
Arcee gritted her denta and charged up her blasters. No sense being unprepared after all.
Unholstering a small caliber shock pistol, Jack crouched in a defensive position next to Petrovych. "Switch on your Ghost Specs," the young captain advised, "Illegal cloaking devices are supposed to be pretty common out here, aren't they?"
The larger man scoffed. "Anything that's illegal is pretty common out here, Captain."
Jack grinned ruefully and charged his Ghost Specs, tuning the pale purple lenses to search for hidden life forms. "I've read plenty of reports and watched footage from places like this, but there really isn't a substitute for actually being there, I guess," he remarked.
The older man smiled back, teeth standing out in the darkness. He motioned to the piles of garbage the team was using as a temporary hiding place.
"Lucky you, then. You get to experience Keller's Holt in all its...ah ...glory."
The last members of the team, Luis Coron and Centurion appeared out of the swirling green vortex behind them.
"Everyone here?" Arcee asked brusquely, "Good. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
"Remind me, ma'am, why are we here?" Coron asked gruffly. He was pointing his rifle at every shadow in the alley, being as unused to such places as most Edenites were.
Arcee brushed past Springer and crouched at the alley entrance, taking stock of the busy street.
"There wasn't enough energon in Outpost Gallimimus to bridge us all to Eden. Keller's Holt was the only city in the vicinity with Space Bridge technology," she explained, motioning for them to follow her. "Once we can get to a more secure location, we'll contact Eden and find out what to do next."
Centurion shook his helm and held Marge close to his spark. "Then once we get to Eden, I'll have to file a double incident report. We'll also need to report to the head of the Exploration Unit in Sector 12B."
The others groaned. "We all know what that means," Geist grumbled, "Paperwork."
Arcee and Jack exchanged incredulous glances. They were temporarily stranded in a hostile city, and they were worried about paperwork? Springer said aloud what his comrades were thinking.
"You guys really need to sort out your priorities! If we get caught out here, faction tags won't protect us from pirates, slavers, chop-shop dealers or assassins."
The grumbling ceased entirely at this "encouragement", and the team cautiously made their foray into the market district. They passed rows of tall buildings that were so close together that even a child would have a difficult time squeezing through. Garish lighted signs hung everywhere, brazenly advertising casinos, high grade oil and alcohol, and several far more unsavory establishments.
On Centurion's orders, the group huddled together with the humans in the middle, hoping to afford them some measure of protection from the degrading nature of the slums. Springer walked ahead of the group, questioning the more honest-looking citizens about secure places.
Geist hurried up to walk next to Centurion.
The orange mini-bot cleared his vents. "Hey boss?" he asked quietly.
"What's wrong, Geist?"
"How does the chain of command work for now? We're not used to this 'sir, yes sir' business," the scout whispered. Centurion smiled at him.
"To be honest, Geist, I don't think they are either. For as long as we're with Arcee and Captain Darby, you'll still answer to me, but I'll have to answer to her," the captain explained.
"So in other words, play nice or else you'll get in trouble?" Marge piped up from below. Her father jostled her playfully.
"It's more like, you'll get in trouble, but I'll take the consequences," he amended.
It wasn't procedure, but it was how Centurion operated. He and his team were as much a family as Team Prime was, and Jack couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact.
"Brings back memories, doesn't it? We used to be that way, back on Earth." he whispered.
Arcee nodded distractedly. "We've got watchers on three roofs, Jack," she murmured, "Been there for the last two streets."
Sure enough, there were three cloaked figures wearing night vision goggles staring down at them. One of them raised a commlink to its mouth while pointing two fingers in their direction.
"Ok, we need to move," Jack remarked casually, "Like, right now." He and Arcee snapped into action, herding the others together without much explanation.
"Captain, we're nearing a main road. I suggest transforming to better protect everyone," Springer had returned. "If we follow it for about two miles, it will lead us to the edge of the city. It's pretty much just scrubland beyond that."
Centurion set Marge down and turned to Apollo. "Do you have enough room to transform?"
The flier responded by switching to his vehicle mode with minimum crowding.
"Apollo transports us little guys," Santiago relayed to Arcee, "Particularly if space is involved."
As soon as Geist, Gigawatt, Santiago, Petrovych, Coron, Carter, Inoue and Marge were safely aboard, Apollo launched himself into the air.
Zettabyte transformed into a pink and brown helicopter to follow them.
"Be careful, we'll meet you on the outskirts of town," Centurion called.
"Go with them, Springer," Arcee motioned towards the sky. With a jaunty salute, the green mech switched to his own helicopter mode to provide backup support. The remaining ones, Arcee, Jack, Endline and Centurion rolled out as quickly as possible.
Jack turned in his seat to watch behind them. "Those guys are still up there, watching," he reported grimly, "I don't like it!"
"Yeah? Well I bet you'll like this even less," Arcee sighed, "We were supposed to contact Optimus three hours ago."
Jack winced. Faced with the prospect of reporting to his godfather (and very likely Prowl and his mother as well), the events of the past twelve hours seemed much more serious than before.
As they reached the barren heath beyond Keller's Holt, Jack slipped off of Arcee. His boots made no sound in the springy moss-like plants. "Alright, I'm going to contact Eden. Let me know when everyone is here," he looked a little worried.
Centurion transformed and promised to keep watch, mace at the ready in case their watchers decided to make a move.
Jack walked a little ways away from the others and brought out what looked like a small iron spike. He planted it firmly in the turf, then extended it upwards like a telescope. Placing his personal communication device at the top of the spike, he opened a web of holograms in the air and cycled through until he found the appropriate frequency.
"Captain Jackson Darby, clearance level 9, requesting an audience with Optimus Prime," he spoke firmly, but his hands twitched in a combination of nerves and exhaustion.
The hologram wavered once, breaking into millions of tiny blue and white spheres. Then it resolved itself into the unmistakable features of Optimus Prime.
His normally expressionless face betrayed a hint of worry in his optics. Still, his voice was the same regal-yet welcoming- basso it had always been.
"Captain," he greeted calmly, "you were meant to report earlier. What has happened?"
Jack cut to the chase. "I need to make an incident report, sir. Two of them, actually. I also need to request a Space Bridge to our coordinates lest I end up having to make a third incident report."
The Prime leaned his helm back and raised his eyebrows expressively. "I assume the mission did not go as planned."
Jack shook his head and glanced away guiltily. From his kiosk in Eden, Optimus suppressed a wince at this behavior. He knew that look. That was the look that meant something had happened that would be much worse when June found out.
The boy briefly explained what had happened at Outpost Gallimimus and why they were currently on Argos. In the background, Optimus could faintly see Endline looking ashamed of herself when Jack reported the neutral zone skirmish. As was typical of the honorary Prime, he took responsibility for the failure of the mission. Optimus certainly agreed that they needed to leave Argos, regardless.
It was one thing to send Jack and Arcee out to experience life outside of Eden in what was meant to be a delivery-only mission. To let them stay longer than necessary in a place known for daily muggings, murders, and mayhem? That was something else entirely!
"I shall arrange for a bridge momentarily," the Prime stated. He frowned slightly. "I do not doubt that Megatronus has already learned of this incident. I may have to speak to him regarding the state of the truce."
"I know," Jack said meekly.
Optimus nodded, and his optics softened for a moment. "I am...very glad that you are safe, Jackson. I am glad that all of you survived this disturbing encounter."
Some of the weariness left Jack's countenance, and he straightened his posture just a little. "Thank you, sir."
Behind him, Centurion reported the approach of the fliers and the humans.
"The bridge should arrive at any moment," Optimus rumbled. "As soon as you have all landed in Eden and sought medical attention, you are to report to me. I believe your mother has something of importance to discuss with you."
Jack saluted and signed off, leaving Optimus to stare at a blank screen. He sighed.
There was no use putting it off, he was going to have to call Megatronus about the attack.
Optimus left the communications kiosk and strode down the many corridors and lifts of the archives building until he came to a laboratory. Several different voices emanated from within, playfully arguing.
Optimus stepped inside and smoothly ducked a small wrench that went flying over his helm. Ignoring the bits and pieces of equipment scattered about, he headed for the Space Bridge controls. Halfway across the room he sidestepped to avoid squishing two humans who were apparently having a wrestling match to determine who got to intimidate their sister's new suitor.
Behind his impassive mask, the Prime smiled. The Esquivel family seemed to be able to take the coldest, most austere chambers and turn them into something warm and welcoming merely by their presence. The patriarch of said clan was, at that moment, sitting at the controls and pretending that the chaos surrounding him did not exist.
"Good evening, Prime," he bobbed his head in greeting.
"Good evening, Mr. Esquivel," Optimus returned, "I'm afraid I have need of the space bridge."
The man stood and stretched. "Of course! Where do you need to go?" Optimus explained that first a bridge would need to be sent to Argos to rescue Sector Sweep 12C, and that he might need a second bridge to Kaon. Diego Esquivel cracked his knuckles and got to work.
"If you were wondering where the good Doctor is," he said suddenly over his shoulder, "He's out with Raf and the girls conducting a somewhat incendiary experiment. You'll probably get the incident report later."
There really didn't seem to be a proper reply to the slightly distressing statement, so Optimus settled for double checking the coordinates of the bridge.
Satisfied that the stranded team would be able to make it home safely, the red and blue mech sent an internal comm message to Pred'akngard.
'It has come to my attention that there was an incident between our respective peoples. Do we need to meet in person to negotiate?'
Several minutes later, he received the reply:
'Sorted. Come if you want.'
Optimus's optics crinkled at the corners.
Hundreds of years as a warlord, politician, and celebrated orator, and Megatronus still couldn't send a proper glyph message to save his life.
As the Space Bridge hummed to life, the Esquivel boys ceased their mock fight and scrambled up the scaffolding so as not to be underfoot. The swirling vortex spat out first two, then six, then eight Cybertronians and seven humans.
"Evening," Mr. Esquivel said pleasantly.
The assembled team barely replied, as most of them were staring wide-eyed and starry-opticed at the Prime in the room. The humans looked a little star-struck, as a matter of fact. Arcee stepped out of the knot of beings.
"Optimus, In light of recent events, my report on the functionality of Outpost Gallimimus may be moot."
"Understood, Arcee. You may make your report to Prowl or Nurse Darby, if you wish. Or you could wait until I return."
"Return?" Jack asked, "Where are you going?"
"Pred'akngard, to speak with the Kaonian Prime," the reply hung ominously in the air. As the Space Bridge warmed up again, Optimus noted Jack and Arcee's worried expressions.
Marge noticed that the huge warrior took something from his armor and handed it to the young captain, after which Darby visibly relaxed.
"What's that?" Marge asked, peeping over Jack's shoulder. It wasn't much, just a hand-sized metal object, intricately carved in the likeness of the key to Vector Sigma.
Jack flushed, caught off guard. "This? It's not really...it's kinda..." He glanced up at Optimus, who was preparing to leave. "It's like a promise, I guess. That he'll come home, I mean."
Marge didn't understand the significance of the words or the key, but she saw that she'd embarrassed the captain and backed off.
"I should return before tomorrow," Optimus remarked vaguely before stepping through the bridge.
Once through, he found Megatronus sprawled across a massive carved throne in a hall that looked more Viking than ex-Decepticon. An air of barbaric splendor permeated the chamber, completed by examples of heraldry using Predacons. They were the work of Pred'akngard's few human inhabitants.
Eradicons, Vehicons, and Seekers alike all stood at long low tables in rows before the dais. All of them were staring at the Autobot who had seemingly just materialized in the middle of the Great Hall. There were several minutes of very awkward silence before Megatronus nodded his helm.
"Brother," he said by way of greeting.
The Kaonians took this as permission to continue whatever they had been doing before.
Megatronus beckoned Optimus to join him, and offered him a beaker of synthetic energon that had apparently been mixed with several other chemicals, as it now had an unusual orange glow to it.
"What are you drinking?" Optimus stared suspiciously at the liquid. The larger mech grinned savagely and tossed it back in one gulp.
"Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. He held the empty beaker up to one optic as if examining the residue inside.
"I learned long ago not to ask too many questions when Knock Out is in a culinary mood. In the tradition of the human culture parallel to our heraldry, he calls this 'mead'."
Optimus gingerly moved a second beaker out of his more volatile brother's reach. There was no shame in being cautious, he thought. Especially if one had lived long enough on earth to see what might happen if an overabundance of the drink was imbibed.
"About the incident," he began, but Megatronus cut him off with an impatient gesture.
"I know all about it. It wasn't unprovoked." He threw a meaningful glance behind the throne where the three miscreants from before were standing at attention.
Optimus turned with a start. "By the Allspark," he smiled, "those can't be Starscream's triplets! When last I was here, they had barely developed their secondary armor!"
Ramjet waved shyly, Sunstorm glanced away guiltily, and Slipstream stared straight ahead. Megatronus grumbled something under his breath and turned to face Optimus once more. "The skirmish was a consequence of the actions of children, and I would ask that you see them as such."
"Of course, brother. Primus knows I've seen my share of impulsive Younglings," Optimus reassured him.
"Actually, I had come to apologize for the actions of the one who struck first," he added.
Slipstream's scowl deepened behind them, but a stern look from her Prime warned her not to speak.
"As I said before, it was not unprovoked," the former warlord sighed. Standing, he took Optimus by the arm and guided him out of the chamber into a corridor.
"I have heard that the attacks have spread to 12C," he whispered.
Optimus frowned. "It is early yet, but the incident at Gallimimus seems to have all the characteristics of the other massacres."
"Except that this time there were survivors," Megatronus observed. Suddenly he chuckled. "I hear they transported to Keller's Holt! What did the Boy think of that?"
There was no need to ask who "the Boy" was. Megatronus always referred to Jack as "the Boy", and June as "The Woman". He viewed them as a strange sort of extended family through Optimus, and thoroughly enjoyed exasperating The Woman.
"He handled it well," Optimus replied simply.
"He's due to Metamorphose soon, isn't he?" The other Prime's query was innocent enough, but it was a controversial subject.
As the humans and their Cybertronian allies spread into the Sector 12 territories, it had become abundantly clear that the children of Earth vastly outnumbered the children of Primus. The disparity between comparative lifespans began to greatly disturb those who had been integrated into human families.
Many were unable to accept the idea that they would only have a few short Cybertronian years with their organic allies. Thus the concept of 'Metamorphoses' was born.
Upon reaching physical maturity at the minimum age of twenty-one, any human who wished might undergo the lengthy process of changing species. The subject would spend four lunar months encased in a tube of Cyber-Nucleic Acid - usually donated by an adopted parent or sibling - and a serum of an undisclosed nature to sustain him.
Over the first two months, the body would change its essential chemical makeup, exchanging flesh and blood for metal and energon, during which the subject would remain sedated to minimize discomfort. Over the third month, armor and processor would form relative to the age of the recipient. By the fourth month, the former human would be an almost completely adjusted Cyber being. Overexposure to the CNA would result in regression to one's Cybertronian mental age, rather than one's human mental age.
Having come from Earth, or 'Aartar' in Cybertronian pronunciation, the Metamorphosed humans chose as a group to refer to themselves as Cybaartarians." Not surprisingly, there were mixed feelings about the process, which was why Optimus did not wish it to be common knowledge that the honorary Prime planned to switch species.
"Where did you hear that Jackson was going to Metamorphose?" Optimus asked warily.
The warrior shrugged. "A little bird told me?" He smirked.
"That is not amusing, brother. That is very sensitive information-"
"-and I'm family, of a kind. Am I not allowed to know? We are not at war anymore, Optimus." Megatronus tried to look earnest and well-intentioned, but the truth was that he looked like an Insecticon with a headache.
Optimus sighed. There was a reason he didn't visit Pred'akngard very often.
Oooh...family dynamics. Actually, there is a ton going on in this chapter. I apologize if anyone gets confused because of this. Gah! So much exposition! I'm sorry about the exposition, but I promise it will be important later in the story.