Chapter 14
So is doing this thing right now where all the pm's I send are jumbled up and weird looking. Like, every third or fourth word/phrase disappears and it makes no sense when you read it. Anyone else having this problem?
I get the feeling this chapter is going to be a long one...
I own only unrecognizable characters and settings, Elsie belongs to UTHEMAN
Last time, on "Survival":
"So...technically you could Metamorphose her because you would have parental consent!"
"Cygnus 26 sent no distress signal."
"They were hiding something."
"Before this escalates any further, the Boy must Metamorphose...take him to Cybertron."
"To attack Starscream's younglings is to attack me!"
"We have to go back to Keller's Holt."
Ismaros: outer rings
Scanning craft: Tranquility
Endline and Luis stared at Captain Centurion.
"Go back to Keller's Holt? All of us?!" the medic squawked in disbelief.
"All of us? No! What are you, a lunatic?" Centurion snorted, "D'ye think I want my little girl going back there? Or Justin or Geist or Irene?" He shook his helm. "I was thinking more along the lines of Apollo, Endline and myself," he reasoned.
"I take it that's why you called for me?" the femme guessed.
Centurion made a curious little half-smile before he replied. "Well, that's part of it. Mainly, I was going to ask how your counseling sessions with Nurse Darby are going?"
Endline beamed, a genuine smile that showed her denta. "It really does help to talk to her on the com, sir. She has a lot of insights that I don't get here, no offense."
Centurion returned her smile and playfully batted her helm. "Ah, that's why we referred you to her, lass! Do us a favor and find Apollo, will you? I'd rather get this trip over with."
As the Vehicon femme exited, Centurion watched with something akin to pride on his faceplate.
"She's come a long way," Coron observed, leaning against the console.
Centurion nodded, remembering the terrified youngling his patrol had found hiding under the remains of her family, early in the War for Cybertron. "Talking to humans has been good for her," he decided, "I think you help her look at life from a different perspective."
Luis finished the last of the repairs to Centurion's frame with a paradoxically gentle roughness.
"Probably no point in this, is there?" he sighed.
If his captain got into another fight, all his work would be undone. Centurion's booming guffaw made the toolkit rattle on the deck as Endline returned with the stoic shuttle.
He straightened his faceplate and locked his hands behind his back. "I know you've been working hard," he apologized, "but I'm going to need backup in Keller's Holt. You don't have to come, but I'd sure appreciate the company."
Apollo shuttered his optics once, then bowed his head politely before turning to leave.
"Where are you going?" Endline whispered, confused.
Apollo pointed in the direction of the human quarters, pointed to Endline's shoulder, then tapped his own shoulder. It was understood that he meant he would not leave without their respective human partners, Inoue and Petrovych.
Centurion frowned. He would rather have left the humans behind, but he had to admit that there was probably some information that would be more readily given to a human. He supposed Petrovych could take care of himself, and Inoue knew how to avoid trouble.
It took little convincing for the men to decide to join the expedition. Leaving Zettabyte in command of their scanning vessel, "Tranquility", the spy team set out for Argus.
Keller's Holt certainly hadn't improved since their last visit. A hostile glare seemed to be the default expression of the inhabitants. From what Centurion had gathered, the individual with the information could be found in a sleazy joint called "Borgia's". The name alone set the tone for the encounter. The ceiling was barely high enough for Centurion and Endline to walk comfortably-Apollo had to duck constantly. Smoke from the designated humans' section of the establishment filled the air with a grimy haze that coiled and clung.
Petrovych slid down Apollo's arm and landed with a thump on the bar counter. "Come on, kid," he called up to Inoue, "They're selling burritos for 25 cents!"
Apollo frowned. "Be careful, my friend. That it is cheap is no guarantee of quality."
The green-haired man rolled his eyes. Apollo wasn't quite understanding their instructions to blend in, it would seem. Endline elbowed him in the tank as she set Dean down beside Petrovych.
"Oh. My apologies," the explorer said, "I shall look around. Go and...enjoy?..your burritos of 25 cents."
As the three Cybertronians disappeared into the swirling smoke, Fiyodr and Dean walked over to the human-sized tables (separated from the rest of the bar for safety's sake: no one wanted to be squished by an unwary Transformer.)
At the counter, a bright-eyed young woman greeted them with a cheerful grin. "Welcome to Borgia's, gentlemen. What's your poison?"
"Poison?!" squeaked Inoue, still caught up in worries over cheap burritos. Fiyodr rolled his eyes once more and spoke to the woman, playing up his Russian accent outrageously.
"Eh, we'll take house special. You are..." He squinted at her name tag, "Elsie, da? Don't mind him." He threw a comradely arm around Dean's shoulders. "He is not used to the bars. He is, how you say, sheltered?"
Dean scowled at him. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" he hissed.
Elsie raised one delicate eyebrow as if amused by a private joke. "Sheltered, huh? Oh hon, that won't last long in a dive like this."
Annoyed, Inoue shoved Petrovych's arm off of his shoulders. "Yeah, alright then."
He pulled up a barstool and calmly asked her whether they'd had any trouble coming from neighboring sectors. Elsie shook her head, whipping a brown ponytail back and forth (which nearly blinded an unfortunate passerby).
"No more than the usual, unless you're counting that Nal Hutta group that got eviscerated way out near the asteroid belts," she answered.
"Eviscerated?" The men were instantly on the alert. "We did not know of this! You can elaborate, da?" Petrovych asked, interested.
At that moment, across the building, Centurion sat across from an oily-looking bot appropriately named Swindle. The con mech was charging an exorbitant price for even the slightest hint about the mystery attackers. Only the discombobulating presence of Apollo kept him from inflating the price any more.
"Hey, cut a mech a break!" he wheedled, "I put my chassis on the line to get this info! Do we have a deal or not?" Disgusted, Centurion handed over the promised price and waited.
After inspecting the currency, Swindle leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. "Well that's better! So, I hear from reliable sources that these nasty fellows have been seen before." Apollo stiffened at the idea. He was even more unhappy with the next words spoken: "I can't tell you much, for security reasons, you understand. Still, if you want the truth, I suggest asking somebot what really happened on the Cygnus 26."
In the meantime, Endline had been standing at the bar, attempting to disappear. A rather tipsy mech had been trying to get her attention for the better part of the trip, and was getting more and more persistent. As her temper began to fray, Endline refused to answer him. She knew that the moment he got too close, she would have a hard time not punching him in the faceplate. The timely appearance of Apollo saved her from starting the brawl. That's not to say a brawl didn't start, merely that Endline was not the instigator.
As she turned to greet her friend, the tipsy fellow heard Endline's naturally deep voice.
"What the-? I thought you were a femme!" he blurted out.
There were about three seconds of silence before Apollo had him by the foot, dangling in the air.
"Apologize." he commanded sternly.
One of the unfortunate fellow's friends attempted to sneak up on Apollo with a drawn blade. There was a ringing clang, and the would-be assassin fell to the floor. Centurion stood behind him holding a dented serving tray.
"For the love of all that is holy!" he exclaimed, "Is this going to happen every time we go out?!"
Then all hades broke loose. Somebot launched himself from another table.
"They can't do that to Oilslick! Let's get 'em!"
Three or four Cybertronians and Cybaartarians raced towards the three Autobots. Apollo grunted and used Oilslick as a club, sending two of the attackers flying into the walls with an almighty crash. One skulking brute thought he could get the drop on Endline and grabbed her from behind.
Keller's Holt being what it was, no one paid any mind when Endline ripped his arm off and slapped him across the face with it.
From the humans' side, Dean and Fiyodr watched, dumbstruck. Petrovych found his voice first.
"Well, what do you know? The movies aren't too far off after all!"
Elsie shook her head and grumbled under her breath. When a fight started on one side of Borgia's, it was only a matter of time before it spread to the whole joint. Sure enough, a rather drunk man started loudly insulting Autobots, and the Cybertronian race in general.
"Oh. Shiny," Dean snarled.
On and on the man blathered about the "monstrosities" that were "controlling the people" and how humans needed to "rise up and destroy the droids!"
He pointed at the nearest metallic being, a rather confused Cybaartarian. "Like that piece of junk!" he slurred, "Dismantle 'em all, I say!"
"That's my sister, you creep!" a woman shouted before flinging herself at the man's head.
Suddenly Dean and Fiyodr were hiding behind the counter with Elsie as a miniature war broke out. Glasses, mugs, stools and even playing cards were being used as weapons and were subsequently sent flying through the air over their heads.
On the Cybertronian half of the bar fight, three of four opponents lay on the floor nursing dents and twisted limbs. Endline had thrown the fourth over the counter and was leaning casually on his helm. Apollo still held the insulting mech by the ankle and glowered at him until he miserably stuttered an apology to Endline. Centurion calmly put away his energon mace.
"Right, that's sorted then," he beckoned to Apollo and Endline. "Let's go before what passes for law enforcement around here decides to show." As they moved to gather their human partners, the captain looked down at the scratches and dents on his armor and could be heard to mutter, "St. Geneviève defend us, my wife is going to kill me!"
On the humans' half, the drunk who had started the fight was left reeling. Elsie jerked her thumb towards the door.
"I think you've had enough," she drawled, "I believe you were just leaving?" The angry man swayed on his feet, glaring.
"Look at you all, hobnobbing with robots like they're the best thing that's ever happened to us humans!" He took one wobbly step forward, pointing at the girl who had defended her Cybaartarian sister. "Well one of these days, you'll recognize humanity's real enemy!"
In the tense silence that followed, he attempted to make a dramatic exit, but misjudged the distance and made a rather impressive face plant into the steel door. Elsie raised an eyebrow and spoke dispassionately.
The sarcastic narration echoed in the silent but crowded room, "And mankind's greatest enemy appeared: doors."
Colony 21186D, Red Alert's chambers
Miko shifted slightly in the Coccoon. She was sedated heavily, and could not feel her bones and nerves reformatting as the Cybertronium framework that would support her frame. She only knew that she was alive, and someone was singing. She wondered if perhaps the singer was the angel she seemed to remember seeing. Unconsciously, Miko smiled and curled into herself.
"It's truly amazing, isn't?" Red Alert asked softly.
She and Bulkhead stood in the darkened room watching the lit tank. Already, the girl's skin had taken a silvery hue, and her limbs were beginning to segment themselves, and she had only been immersed for three weeks.
"It's like watching a baby develop," Bulkhead whispered, "Beautiful, but very strange." The medic nodded and released the next dose of CNA into the Cocoon.
"Windblade is responding well to the treatment," she said briskly, "but it remains to be seen whether her mind has been affected by the trauma. Or whether she retains her memories."
Bulkhead hoped that would not be the case. He wasn't sure his spark-or that of any other Wrecker, for that matter-would be able to bear up if she didn't recognize them.
There was no more to be said. Bulkhead traded places with Wheeljack, come for his allotted two hours with Miko/Windblade and Red Alert resumed her singing. The young one floating in the cybermatter squinched her slowly forming optics and sighed contentedly. What did it matter that she didn't know what was going on? She was warm, she was safe, and people who loved her were nearby.
She was home.
Cybertron: the Well of All Sparks
Home. What a strange feeling it was, to be back on Cybertron after so long a time in Eden. Optimus stood before the Well of All Sparks, hope and worry mingled in his spark.
It had taken several days for June to agree to this. While it had not been the first time they had disagreed over something, it was certainly the first time they had openly argued with each other, a fact neither was proud of.
It was not until he had assured her that Cybertronian Metamorphoses did not affect the cognitive abilities of the subject that she had relented.
Now, they waited as Predaking climbed from the Well to meet them.
"Greetings, Guardian of the Well," June said politely.
The Predacons were very concerned with honor and the proper forms of greeting. To insult a Predacon, after all, could be a fatal mistake. The dragon dipped his wings toward the woman graciously before transforming.
"Well-met, Mother Edenite," he answered smoothly. He turned to Optimus and tilted his helm.
"What has brought you home, Hunter?"
Optimus informed the self-appointed guardian of the situation with the Sparkeaters and the reason they had come to Cybertron.
"As our own corner of the galaxy is no longer as safe as we had hoped, we have been advised to begin Jackson's Metamorphosis here, at the Well," he murmured.
In his hands, Jack squeezed his mother's hand reassuringly. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he whispered as her eyes began to water.
June gave a weak chuckle and wiped her eyes. "I'm supposed to be asking you that!" she gulped.
Predaking held out one massive hand. "Give him to me."
For a moment, Optimus's servos tightened, holding the boy and his mother closer to his spark. Then, slowly, he relaxed his guard to let Jack move from his hand to the Predacon's. The great beast nodded and began to walk away. The Prime felt his spark tighten and could only imagine what June was feeling. There is still time, he thought. He could still snatch Jackson away from Predaking, and fly home to Eden.
But he restrained himself, and merely called out to the young human, "My son." The boy leaned out to look back. "I do not fully understand everything that is about to happen, but I know that you will be safe here."
June gripped his servo for support. "I'm coming down as soon as you're in the Cocoon, honey," she said, "I'll be here the whole time."
"I must meet with Megatronus soon, but I promise that as soon as I can, I shall return," Optimus added as he lowered Jack's mother to the ground.
Jack's smile showed none of his apprehension as Predaking began the descent into the planet's core. "I know, Optimus," he said, "I trust you."
June began to follow them, but stopped to look back. "Orion...be careful," she pleaded, "He's going to need you when he wakes up. We both will."
The mighty warrior smiled sadly. "And I cannot help but feel that I shall need the two of you upon my return."
Dead Space, Sector 12E
The wreckage of the Cygnus 26
"I don't see why I had to be dragged out of the lab in the middle of an experiment!" Ratchet groused, "Do you realize how delicate those calculations were?"
"I am sure that Rafael has successfully completed them by now," Optimus said placatingly. The two Autobots waited on a small craft for the arrival of the Kaonians. They were not waiting long. A Space Bridge opened and Megatronus exited, followed by Soundwave. The four stared at the derelict vessel floating before them.
Once a proud and brightly-colored vessel, the Cygnus 26 now listed to the side with a massive hole in her hull, like a gaping maw.
"Do we have to go in there?" Ratchet whispered, armor shifting in discomfort. Optimus merely navigated their vessel forward to come closer the the wreck. A deep sense of foreboding hovered over the investigators as they climbed in through the breach.
Even in the silence of space, the corridors were eerily quiet. Not even the faintest hint of light glimmered in the heavy darkness. They deliberately avoided the cockpit, where they knew they would find the long-dead captain and crew. The Primes were focused on the cargo bay, having come to the conclusion that the ship was hiding something.
The doors were rusted shut, and although one red light blinked on the console, not even Soundwave could make it work. Placing their shoulder-guards to the door, Megatronus and Optimus rammed it down. Nothing could have prepared them for what lay behind it.
Optimus staggered back, nearly collapsing.
"Oh Primus," he gasped, "Oh Primus!"
The scene inside the dank hold could only be described as a holocaust. Twisted and broken skeletons varying in size and age littered the room, and dark stains marred the walls and floor. The mutilated husks of eight Cybertronians hung from shackles on the wall, each branded with the Decepticon symbol, and twelve tanks stood in a corner, six of them still holding their unspeakable contents.
Ratchet followed Soundwave to a wall filled with preservative cannisters. "I wouldn't," he warned the spy.
A look inside one of them sent the emotionless mech reeling. He tore his visor from his face and retched silently, tears flowing down his faceplate. Ratchet had never seen the spy's faceplates before, but did not comment. He merely put a hand on the younger mech's back and blocked his view of the putrifying vials.
Megatronus steeled himself against the horrors and forced himself to open the damaged computer and examine the files.
"It was Shockwave's. The lab." he choked.
He selected a file-it was audio. The tortured sounds that rent the air left the four warriors huddled together miserably.
"In all my years as a tyrant, a warlord," Megatronus whispered, "Never have I encountered such an atrocity. Never."
Optimus shook his helm. "Ratchet and I have, once before. It was a very dark time in Earth's history, during one of their wars. They never forgot what happened in the death camps, just as we will never forget what has happened in this place," he said gravely.
Soundwave deleted the audio file with a vicious twist of his fingers, and tapped Ratchet's arm. The medic squinted at the data scrolling before his optics.
"Oh no, oh Primus forbid!" his optics were blurry now, filled with coolant. "He was trying to force a Metamorphosis, two years before Metamorphosis was invented."
The sheer disgust in Ratchet's voice only grew as he read further. "Six of the experiments lived. "Perfect" he calls them. He imprinted them with his own ethical subroutines, or lack thereof."
Megatronus kicked over one of the tanks with an enraged scream. "How could we have missed this? Where were the warning signs?!"
As the tank fell, part of the wall came away with it, revealing one last horrific discovery. Impaled on a support beam was the mastermind behind the whole affair. Most of him. The evil mech's body exhibited the same damage as the Sparkeater attacks.
On the wall next to him were the words: SHOCKWAVE: OUR BELOVED PROGENITOR.
It was written in his own energon.
The investigators made their way out of the lab, each supporting the other. "Soundwave, do you have the evidence?" Megatronus asked.
The spy replaced his visor, tears still leaking from the bottom of it, and nodded.
"Then destroy this affront to life!" the Prime snarled. Three grenades might have been considered excessive in any situation but that. Megatronus turned to Optimus.
"You have seen something like this before, brother, tell me: what can you do after you have witnessed the unthinkable?"
It was Ratchet who answered as Optimus stooped to reclaim his fallen sword. "We returned to the base, and held our young ones close."
Sector 12D
Colony 21186D
The Trine zipped out of the Space Bridge so quickly that they nearly collided with each other upon stopping.
"There she is," Sunstorm whispered almost reverently, "Storm Front."
Ramjet trilled happily and performed an impromptu loop-the-loop over his siblings' helms. "And we're on the flight patrol! Can you believe it?"
Slipstream grinned widely and threw her arms around her brothers' necks. "Not to jinx it or anything, but this is going to be the coolest mission ever!"
If the space they flew through on their way to the ship seemed a little colder than was natural, none of them noticed.
"What was that?" Ramjet wondered, optics catching a hint of movement. When nothing appeared on his scanners, he shrugged and rejoined his Trine. No sense being late to your first assignment, he thought.
Next time, on "Survival":
"I'm Slipstream! Who're you?"
"I'm...Windblade."
"I know what you did, Commander. I've half a mind to report you to the Primes!"
"I've never seen any youngling develop armor so quickly before. It is an ominous sign."
"Why is that?"
"It means war is coming."
Well. That was intense... I'm glad that's out of the way though. D'aww, little Miko dreams of angels. As long as they're not Weeping Angels, everything's fine. Also, St. Genevieve is apparently the patron saint of disasters. I thought this counted as one, so Centurion mentions her.