Chapter 9: Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Thanks for everyone who has stuck with the story so far! Hasbro owns Transformers, I don't, but I do remember that right after the live movie first came out, I passed a white-and-yellow ambulance, a black GMC Chevy Topkick, a yellow Camaro with black stripes, and a blue and red Peterbilt with flame decals...all at the same traffic light. I don't know if it was publicity of what, but now I'm rambling. Sorry! Back to the story!
Planet Ismaros
City of Eden
Centurion stood on the marble steps of the Archive hall with Arcee, Jack, Springer and the rest of his team. He stretched, a few of his back struts making popping noises.
"What a night," he groaned.
Rotating his shoulders to work out the kinks, he turned to the rest of his group. They looked as worn out as he felt, and he smiled.
"Alright, you sorry lot," he chuckled, "go on and get some sleep. I'll do the reporting, and meet you all later."
"You sure, Cap?" Coron started to ask, but was interrupted by Santiago's huge yawn. Everyone snickered a little at her sheepish expression.
"You too, Springer, Jack," Arcee advised, "I'll report to Prowl and catch you at the memorial gardens for debriefing later."
"Never argue with a superior officer," Springer conceded readily before turning his attention to the pretty Zettabyte.
"So, anyplace around here you want to see? I could give you a private tour."
Apollo scowled and "accidentally" bumped into the green triple-changer as he walked by, sending the unfortunate would-be flirter into a pillar. The quiet fellow made an apologetic look and "helped" him up.
"That is kind of you," Zettabyte said in reply to Springer's query, "but I will be with Endline and Irene and Gigawatt, finding a place to stay."
Slowly, the group dispersed until it was just Marge, Centurion, Arcee, and Jack.
Centurion shaded his optics to look at the sun. "Near midmorning. Your mother'll be teaching by now. Why don't you wait for her at the school while I finish up here? It could be a while." Marge rubbed her eyes and nodded.
"Alright then, Da, I'll be seeing you," she mumbled, swaying a little. Jack smiled, reminded suddenly of Miko during late night video game tournaments.
"Captain, may I walk your daughter to her destination?" Jack asked politely. From the looks of things, if someone wasn't with her, Marge would fall asleep right in the middle of the road!
The captain nodded with an easy smile, although his optics held a protectiveness that was comfortingly familiar with the boy. He'd seen it often enough in the eyes of his mother and the rest of Team Prime.
With a courtly half-bow, Jack offered Marge his arm. "Which way, Miss O'Connor?"
"Mum is teaching first years at Bryce Memorial Academy," the young woman pointed down several city terraces to a city district characterized by buildings carved of living stone.
As the young humans walked in comfortable silence, towering metal structures gave way to closely grouped stone complexes vaguely reminiscent of pueblos. Gardens and trees decorated every available space, filling the air with the fragrances of summer. Down one of the many cozily narrow streets, overhung with clotheslines from second and third story windows, they found Bryce Memorial Academy.
It was a prestigious sounding name for a six-room schoolhouse. Students were sorted by physical and emotional maturity, as the two native species counted age so differently. Marge led Jack into a sunny back room filled with about twenty students, with humans only slightly outnumbering sparklings. A cheerful middle-aged woman stood in front of the class: this was Abigail O'Connor, Marge's mother.
Mrs. O'Connor stood next to a screen depicting a well-dressed Asian man. "Who is this?" she asked. A little girl with ribbons woven into her braids waved her hand timidly.
"Uplink?" the teacher acknowledged.
"Um, that's Principal Santisakul," Uplink Williams said shyly.
"That's right! This is Principal Santisakul! Now, can anyone tell me where he's from?"
A little boy, almost identical to Uplink, shot his hand into their air. Almost before he was called on, Download Williams crowed, "He's from Thailand!"
Mrs. O'Connor beamed. "Absolutely right! Now class, lets say I'm in the hall, and Principal Santisakul asks me where the water fountain is." She spread her arms expressively.
"Do I point to show him?"
"Noooo!" the students chorused enthusiastically.
"No?" The teacher giggled. "What do I do then? Anyone? Corbin?"
The round yellow and green sparkling made a gulping noise before squeaking, "You gots to wave wif your whole hand!"
Jack grinned from the back of the room at the sparkling's adorably butchered English. Like any other child learning a first language, grammar was proving to be a little tricky for Corbin.
"My whole hand?" the teacher pretended to be confused. "But why? Where I come from, we point with fingers!"
"But it's rude to Principal Santisakul!" protested another student, twirling her pigtails around her fingers.
"Yeah!" Another child agreed, "And you have to be 'spectful because he's older than you!"
"Very good, Carly and Sari. Exactly right!"
She turned to the rest of the class. "Okay guys, what did we just do? What is that called?"
Marge smothered a giggle as her mother performed an elaborate pantomime. "Remember? We put on our Thinking...what?"
"CAP!" The little ones screamed en masse.
"Yes! C.A.P.! Somebody tell me what C.A.P. is!"
In the excitement of the moment, a very small red sparkling stood on her chair and shrieked, "Culchurawwy Aprobibate Pwaktiss!"
Mrs. O'Connor laughed. "Culturally Appropriate Practice, good job Twirl! Why is Culturally Appropriate Practice important, class?"
As one, the sparklings and human children chorused: "Because everyone in Eden comes from somewhere different, and we love our neighbors!"
A chime rang, signaling the end of class. "Ok guys, recess!" Mrs. O'Connor shooed them out a side door and into a sunny yard, then turned to her guests.
"Didn't mean to interrupt, Mum," Marge apologized.
She was quickly swept into a crushing hug. "Maggie, lass! I didn't know you were coming home so soon! Where's your da?"
As Marge was gasping for breath, Jack took the liberty of answering for her. "Centurion is probably still up at the Archives hall, making his incident reports." He held out a hand. "I'm Captain Darby, ma'am. I assume you are Mrs. O'Connor?"
The woman shook the proffered hand vigorously. "That I am, dear. You can call me Abigail. Now then, you said 'incident reports'? Something happened at the outpost?" Marge extricated herself from her mother's arms.
"There kind of isn't an outpost anymore, Mum. It got demolished or something... Also, we got temporarily marooned in Keller's Holt."
Jack had thought that he'd known how scary a worried mother could get just from his own experiences. He quickly realized how mild of an experience he'd always known as Abigail nearly exploded.
"Keller's Holt?!" she howled, her face reddening. There followed a long tirade, mostly in Gaelic, demanding answers, and why-wasn't-she-told, and oh-just-wait-until-your-father-gets-home and the like.
Finally, she collapsed into one of the little chairs, holding a hand to her head. "My poor baby! Is everyone alright?" When her daughter confirmed that the worst anyone had were bumps and bruises, she calmed somewhat.
"Forgive me, Mrs. O'Connor," Jack said gravely, unconsciously mimicking his godfather, "It was my decision to bridge to Keller's Holt. They were the nearest port with Space Bridge capabilities." Abigail's eyes softened.
"Think nothing of it, lad. You don't look like the type to put others in danger. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of you."
Jack blushed and muttered something about the chances of surviving once his own mother found out he'd gone to Keller's Holt. This would only reinforce the belief she had that Argus was the Elephant Graveyard from the Lion King and an Old West bar-room-brawl just waiting to happen, all rolled into one.
The hum of an engine outside heralded the approach of Centurion, who activated his holomatter avatar before entering the school. To the casual observer, he seemed like an average human male of European descent, perhaps fifty or so years of age.
"Abigail?" he asked, voice containing a hint of trepidation. Then he too was crushed in a patent Mrs. O'Connor embrace.
"Would it be asking too much for you to call me when something like this happens, you great big nuisance?" Abigail's voice was muffled against Centurion's shoulder. The captain smiled and held her tightly.
"I'm sorry, love. It only happened last night, you see. I didn't have time to call you until we were safely out of Keller's Holt."
"I should probably get going," Jack whispered to Marge, "I know you and your family are going to need some time to unwind. I hope everything turns out alright."
He nodded courteously, and took his leave just as little Uplink stuck her head into the room to yell, "Teacher, Saddiya is throwing up!"
Jack took his time navigating the winding pathways of the Stone District before they melted into the Garden District's cobblestone streets. Somewhere between the memorial gardens and the central archives was a waterfall, at the base of which lay the original houses of the colony. The one nearest the water was his.
As he loped up the path and slid over the stile in the middle of a low stone wall, he heard his mother's voice.
"I can't believe she said that! Well, it sounds like you handled it well."
Arcee's voice responded, sounding more tired than usual. "Jack handled things just as well. You should've seen him, June. Just like Optimus!" There was a hiss of discomfort, followed by June scolding Arcee for moving.
"That's a pretty deep scratch, sweetie. I doubt you noticed it, what with the adrenalin and all, but if I don't get this cleaned up now, you might have some trouble with that hand later," the nurse fussed over her patient, applying a liquid mesh patch to the wound on Arcee's gun hand.
Jack rounded the corner of the house to find his mother and his best friend sitting on the porch. "Hey Mom, Arcee," he greeted.
"Hi honey! Ah-ah-ah! Don't move that hand, Arcee!"
The blue femme huffed and muttered something about medics. June leaned over and raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Nothing, June," Arcee said sweetly.
"Are you sure?" Jack teased, "I'm pretty sure I heard 'Thanks for not sending me to Ratchet, Mrs. Darby'."
Arcee narrowed her optics at her partner. "Don't you start the ganging up thing on me!"
Jack chuckled and flung himself down on the deck with a sigh.
"Arcee told me everything, Jack," his mother said, reaching down to squeeze his hand, "I'm so glad you're both safe!"
Arcee's lips quirked upwards as she saw some humor in the situation. "Feels like the old days, doesn't it? Sending me and Jack somewhere and telling us to stay safe is almost a guarantee that we're going to run into trouble."
June made a face. "I, for one, was enjoying the peace!" Jack rolled over to face his mother.
"Mom," he said softly, "I don't know why, but I feel like that peace isn't going to last as long as we think."
Arcee frowned in understanding. "Those mystery goons in 12D and C might make their way out here," she said grimly. June stood abruptly. "We are not discussing that here. Besides, that's a matter for the Primes."
"Optimus says I'll still be an honorary Prime when I Metamorphose," Jack argued. June sighed and slumped down again, leaning against her son's shoulder.
"Right, you're going to Metamorphose in a month. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but I'll wait until Optimus gets here."
Jack and Arcee exchanged slightly worried glances.
Across Eden, the femmes of Sector Sweep 12C had found a place to bunk until their next assignment. It was a small suite with one bedroom and a living room with two sleeper couches. Gigawatt grunted something that might've been 'good night' before shutting herself in the bedroom. Irene quickly claimed one end of the Cybertronian-sized couch and leaned back with a sigh. Zettabyte began bustling to and fro, unfolding the other couch into a recharge bunk. She looked up to see Endline staring pensively out the door of the suite.
"Endline? Nǐ hái hǎo ma?"* she asked gently.
"Nothing. I'm fine," the femme answered tersely.
"You're pretty obviously not 'fine', femme-friend!" Santiago called from the couch.
"Mute it, Irene!" Endline growled. Irene looked slightly hurt by her vehemence.
"Dà jiě jie,"* Zettabyte's voice was serene, but her optics held a hint of reproach. The Vehicon femme frowned and crossed her arms tightly over her tank.
"Sorry," she muttered.
She wouldn't meet their eyes. All she could think of was her stupid, rash loss of temper with the Kaonians. It was so easy -too easy- to slide into the memories, to see her family in pieces, trampled by Thunderwing. To hear the ugly names she'd been called as a young Autobot for having red optics. She'd tried so hard to put it behind her, and look what had happened.
She'd punched a youngling. A youngling! What was wrong with her?
She had been so angry, so terrifyingly angry. The fury of the soldiers from Eden was nothing to her. The look on her partner's face had been so much worse. Dean had looked so...sad. He seemed to not even recognize her in that moment, and he probably understood her better than anyone save the Captain.
They never said anything in the night watches where she would break down weeping. Dean had held her finger in his hand the whole day on the anniversary of her parents' deaths. The captain didn't judge her when she screamed invective at those who were once Decepticons. When Arcee had told him what she had done, he had not been angry, but his optics had held a mixture of worry and disappointment that wrenched her spark.
A hand on her faceplate drew her slowly from the slough of despondency.
"Dà jiě jie?"
Coolant tears began to spill out of Endline's optics, to her chagrin. Zettabyte pulled the older femme into a sisterly embrace, murmuring soothing things.
"It's going to be alright, Endline. We can work through this," Irene called from the couch.
They were trying to be kind. They always were, but this was about more than her personal issues.
Endline shook her helm. "I could have started a war! What if Centurion loses his post for this? It'll be my fault!" she wailed, "I'll never be able to look him in the optics again!"
Irene climbed over the back of the couch and slid to the floor. She sat down on Endline's foot. "Don't say that!" Irene insisted. She smirked. "You know how the captain's motto is "for as much as is possible, be at peace with all mechs?"
Endline rolled her optics. "Yeah. He only says it every day!" she grumbled through her tears.
Irene grinned up at her. "Well," she explained, "I'm pretty sure it means he'll forgive you, whatever else happens." Endline relaxed a little. It was a nice thought, anyway.
"Alright, you two," Zettabyte said in a maternal no-nonsense tone, "get some rest!" The human yawned and smiled as Endline relocated her to the couch, and curled up next to her.
"Goodnight," she sighed.
"Wǎn'ān,"* Zettabyte returned.
Endline remained awake long after the others had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling and trapped in her memories.
I didn't get straight back to action in this chapter, because I didn't want it to look like Endline got away scot free after punching Slipstream.
Seeing as my beta reader said (and I quote) "FOR THE LOVE OF THE ALLSPARK PLEASE PUT TRANSLATIONS!" I have put what Zettabyte is saying.
* "are you alright?"
* "big sister" (affectionate nickname)
* "good night"