Chapter 16: Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Sorry this took so long. I know where the story's going and how it ends, but I was having trouble remembering what I wanted to happen in this chapter. If you want a good idea of what Windblade looks like, you can find her picture on the Transformers Wiki
(Update: 11/18/2014: Good grief! I think I might have been one of the first wave of people to write Windblade into a fanfic! Of course, she didn't have her own comics and personality yet when I wrote this, she was just concept art.)
Last time, on "Survival":
"Find out what really happened to the Cygnus 26."
"Oh Primus!"
"Never have I seen such an atrocity. Never."
"Windblade is responding well to the treatments."
"There she is: Storm Front!"
Colony 21186D: flight deck 13
Slipstream was bored. A bored Slipstream was a dangerous Slipstream, as her brothers knew all too well, so they kept well out of her way. As it turned out, life in the floating colony wasn't quite as exciting as they'd hoped. Sure, there was a lot of room to fly, and when they got to go on patrols they were almost completely independent (except for the part where they weren't.) Orientation had been great, but then for the next two months it had been nothing but drills and (Allspark help her) school. No one was being allowed outside of the ship at all!
Slipstream flung herself over the edge of her berth and groaned. It was times like this that she wished she had some femme friends her age. Most of the younglings aboard were ground-bound, and tended towards their own cliques. Well, there was this one techno-organic upperclassman femme who was sort of friendly, but she reminded Slipstream too much of Airachnid. Not desperate, thank you very much! Slipstream thought.
She really wanted to talk to someone about the mech in her flight patrol, Jetstorm. He made her tank feel fuzzy and she didn't know why! She was not about to ask her Carrier - Primus knew where the femme was anyway - and her brothers would just tease her. Across the room, Sunstorm was studying the regulation book for 21186D, and Ramjet was in the middle of a rather animated discussion with a hologram of Megatronus Prime.
He had been calling more frequently, they had noticed, since they'd arrived. Their first night in their new quarters, he'd contacted them to ask if they were settling in. He hid it well, but Ramjet thought he looked upset about something. After that, he established a twice-weekly calling routine: an hour with each of them separately. Ramjet still had forty minutes with the Prime, and then it would be Sunstorm's turn. Slipstream gave up and decided to go exploring.
Colony 21186D: Red Alert's chambers
"Just put one pede in front of the other. That's it, Baby Sis, you got it," Wheeljack encouraged, holding both hands out to the wobbly-legged youngling.
Windblade tottered and nearly tumbled back into the open Coccoon, arms windmilling. Bulkhead lurched forward to catch her, but was stopped at the last minute by Wheeljack.
"Come on, Bulk. Don't do that! She's gotta learn to walk on her own, right Miko?"
The slim red femme gritted her denta and focused on finding her balance before answering. "Y-yeah! No problem, Bulk. I got this!" She didn't sound especially sure of herself.
Grabbing hold of the wall, she inched her way to her fellow Wreckers. "Ok guys," she sighed, "What's the damage? Come on, just tell me I don't look like Jackie."
"Hey!" Wheeljack pretended to look offended.
The younger teammates gulped and exchanged glances. "Miko," Smokescreen began gently, "I don't know how to tell you this, but-"
"Alpha Trion's Beard, you're pretty!" Hot Shot interrupted, jaw hanging slack.
It was true: delicate blue highlights set off her wrists, ankles and neck against the bright red, and somehow her faceplate and helm had come out looking like a traditional kabuki mask. Windblade examined her reflection in the tank with interest.
"Dude! I look like I still have hair! That rocks," she laughed. Suddenly her face fell. "I don't have hair anymore," she muttered, "Or skin, or organs."
Abruptly, she burst into tears. Panicking, the Wreckers dithered back and forth about what to do until Hot Shot asked the obvious question: "Oneechan, what's wrong?"
The tears doubled in volume and intensity and Bulkhead unceremoniously expelled Hot Shot and Smokescreen from the room.
"Aw, Miko," he pleaded, "Please don't cry! You can tell me what's wrong, can't you?" The small femme flung herself into her partner's arms and sobbed. In bits and pieces, he got the reason from her.
"I just realized that there's a whole list of human things I'm never going to get to do!"
Wheeljack cringed as he met Bulkhead's optics. They hadn't thought of this. Windblade's hiccuping cries continued as she lamented the life that Mikoto Nakadai would never have.
"I'm never gonna fall in love with a human guy, or get a human wedding, or have human babies," she sniffled, "I can't eat food, or drink soda, and I won't even get old like my human friends! I'm gonna have to grow up all over again!"
Bulkhead wrapped his partner in a tight embrace. "I know, Miko. I'm sorry. Nobody ever said this was going to be easy."
"I can't even use my own name anymore!" The youngling shrieked, "What kind of messed up life is this?!"
Red Alert took charge of the situation, bustling in and pulling the distraught Windblade from Bulkhead's arms. "Now, now," she said firmly, "You'll settle in an hour or two. The name "Windblade" was your idea, if you'll remember, dear."
She led the young femme to a bench and sat her down, handing her a small, diluted energon cube to sip from. "Post-transformation distress in common enough in Cybaartarians, especially the ones that Metamorphose under stressful circumstances. It wears off quickly."
Shaking the femme nodded slowly. "C-can I walk around a little? Out there?" she rasped, once the tears had stopped.
"Sure thing, Kid,"
"Bad idea, Miko," the two Wreckers glared at each other.
"I'm her partner," Bulkhead stated.
"And I'm her dad. Or brother. Or something," Wheeljack shrugged.
Windblade made a face. "I'm just gonna go, 'kay?" While her friends debated authority roles, she slipped out the side door, aided by an amused Red Alert.
Colony 21186D: 7 Forward
Slipstream wandered aimlessly through the recreation deck, delighted. How had she not known about an entire holo-room? She and her brothers would definitely be reserving that for a game of Wreck-gar Hood and his Merry Junkions later.
The humans were all very friendly, some going out of their way to greet her and ask whether she was lost. They all seemed to know each other pretty well, and a new face stood out. After turning down tea with a bald man who reminded her of Optimus Prime, Slipstream backed into another youngling and both went down with identical squeals of dismay.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" cried the first.
"It was my fault," Slipstream blushed, "Me and my big wings."
The red femme grinned ruefully back at her, and the red, sweeping marks under her optics curled over the tops with her embarrassment.
"Whoa!" Slipstream gaped. "That was so cool! How did you get your face to do that?"
"Do what?"
"That optic-mark thing!"
The other shrugged. "I don't know, they just do that I guess."
Slipstream stood up and dusted herself off, then reached down to help the other youngling to her pedes. "I'm Slipstream, who're you?" she asked cheerfully.
"I'm...Windblade," the red femme answered almost shyly.
"Nice to meet you!" Slipstream very nearly squealed, "Are you new here too?"
Windblade barely kept herself from responding No, I've been here for two years!, remembering her cover story just in time. "Yeah, I came in from Cybertron to live with my uncle Wheeljack."
She rocked back and forth on her heels, perfectly capturing the look of an impatient youngling of her physical age. "I'm thinking of picking my first alt-form today, but my uncle probably thinks I'm not ready yet!"
Slipstream's optics lit up. This was her chance to have another femme flyer around! "I know some really sweet alt-modes you might like," she suggested, "if you don't mind the part where they belong to my annoying brothers!"
Windblade laughed and threw a friendly arm around Slipstream's shoulders. "Oh believe me, I know all about annoying brothers. Lead the way!"
Servo in servo, the two fairly skipped back to the flight decks, giggling about mechs and brothers and other such things. When they arrived, Sunstorm was standing in the corridor holding the holo-com.
"There you are!" He sounded relieved. "It's your turn with the com, sis, where were y-" He stopped, suddenly noticing Windblade. "Hi..." he finished lamely. The peals of giggles that echoed in the hall left the poor mech utterly confused.
From the corner, a pair of human eyes narrowed. "I know what you did, Commander." A voice growled, "And I've half a mind to report you to the Primes!"
Cybertron: halfway down the Well of All Sparks
The tube set into the walls of the Well glowed with a brilliant sapphire light around the small form within. June rubbed her tired eyes and leaned back in the chair Darksteel had brought for her. The air around her began to crackle and hum with energy. The woman smiled and braced herself for the coming burst. With a sound like a thousand voices singing, a green ball of light rocketed out of the base of the Well and into the sky above.
"That one will be a Predacon, Mother Edenite," the rolling timbre of the Predaking's voice startled Nurse Darby.
"How do you know, Guardian of the Well?" she asked, genuinely curious.
The warrior smiled and returned to sit cross-legged before the Cocoon. "Because my subject Ser-khet has greatly desired a sparkling of her own, and begged a child of Primus, not two nights past," he answered calmly, "For whom else could it be?"
June smiled. "Well I hope so, for Ser-khet's sake. It won't be easy, but it's worth it."
Predaking returned her smile and turned to watch the Cocoon. "It is interesting," he mused, "I've never seen any youngling develop armor so quickly before. It is an ominous sign."
"Why is that?"
"It means war is coming."
"War?" June gasped, "Are you certain, Guardian?"
The dragon bowed his helm to fix her in his yellow stare. "I wish that I was not, Mother Edenite. But such has been the way of Cybertron before my time, and it will be so after my time. If the sparkling is going to be in danger early in its life, the Maker will not send them into the universe completely unprepared."
Within the tank, Jack shifted his new optics from the Predaking to his mother, quietly listening to every word that was spoken.
The roar of a mighty engine warned them of the arrival of a ship. Before long, Optimus began to climb down to meet them.
"Prime," the dragon greeted him.
"Guardian," the warrior returned. His voice was weary and his faceplates haggard.
"Orion, you look awful!" June cried. The Prime managed a tiny smile and knelt beside her seat. "What happened?" the woman asked softy as Optimus placed a hand on the Cocoon in greeting.
Very slowly, Jack moved one servo to touch Optimus's through the glass, optics shining with concern. The Prime shook his helm.
"I am sorry, it is not something I can speak of so soon." He watched the young one in the Cocoon for a while, the tender expression on his face matching that of Nurse Darby's. Then he stood and began to climb further down into the Well of All Sparks.
"Hunter, what are you doing?" Predaking asked, suddenly wary.
Optimus smiled sadly at the Predacon. "I am going to seek counsel, Predaking. If I am needed, I shall be in the planet's core."
Next time, on "Survival":
"Who is this?" "Megatronus, this is my son."
"I have learned a potential weakness of the Sparkeaters."
"Captain, the trail is leading to Colony 21186D!"
"What's going on out there?"
"You again?!"
Ok, folks. I need your help. I think Jack will use a Cybertronian name in public, but I can't decide on one. I have three ideas, but I'm open to suggestions.
Possible names:
1. Aidos (named for the Greek spirit of respect)
2. Talos (an ancient brass golem in Greek mythology)
3. Helios (Greek sun god)