Chapter 19
Consider this a "cold open"
Thud.
The doors shook, despite their layers of steel. "Don't wait until you feel a cold spot," Windblade warned, wings twitching.
Thud.
Ramjet scurried away from the door suddenly with a mischievous grin. "Anybody got a fire extinguisher?" he called, "Old fashioned fire extinguisher, the foaming kind?"
It took some digging, during which time the doors began to dent and bulge, but someone eventually came up with two of the red cannisters. Ramjet seized them gratefully and returned to his siblings, shaking the cans.
Sunstorm smirked at his brother. "Ram, you little genius! Are you planning to do what I think you are?"
"Cloaks won't do them any good if they're covered in foam!" the white Seeker said calmly.
"Shiny," Slipstream interjected coolly, adjusting her grip on her sword. "Then we take it down, just like Lugnut back home."
From his place at Windblade's side, Helios shook his helm in wonderment. "Stars above! They're as crazy as we were!" The remark earned him an elbow to the side.
"Reminds me of Earth," Windblade grinned up at him fiercely, "Just like Juneau, remember?"
"You and I remember Juneau very differently," Helios quipped. The door bent further inwards and the young mech brandished his blade.
"Just save some for me," Windblade smiled again, but there was no humor in it this time.
Helios briefly touched his helm to hers. "Just like old times."
The civilians were ushered to the back of the bunker as those with weapons ran to set up a line of defense. With a splintering crash, the last layer of the door gave way. Ramjet tossed the fire extinguishers, sending foam shooting up over the sagging shape of the Sparkeater.
Swiftly, Sunstorm rammed it, sending it off-balance and back outside. Slipstream beheaded it with a savage shriek as Ramjet hacked at its pincers with his daggers.
Slipstream glared down at the monster and wiped the black blood off her rapier. She froze as an icy feeling washed over her.
"Look out!"
Something foul dripped onto her armor from behind her. She whirled around to stare into the dying eyes of a second Sparkeater. With a gurgle, it slipped off the edge of Endline's saber. From her shoulder, Inoue aimed a shock rifle at it.
"Check for a pulse, Dean." Endline said coldly.
Inoue fired three shots into the unresponsive creature. Behind them, Apollo fitted a containment field over the shattered door.
"Nice to see a friendly face!" Helios shook the huge mech's hand with a relieved look.
"We're not done yet," Petrovych warned them, "Scanners picked up about four more headed this way."
The defenders turned to face the open space in front of the bunkers and waited. Before long, they began to hear scratching, hissing noises as the enemies approached. As the Sparkeaters came closer, the hiss formed words, and the words formed a chant.
"We demand blood! We demand payment!"
Bulkhead had not been idle. The heavy Wrecker heard the skittering sounds and ducked out of sight. Beside him, Smokescreen tracked the invisible killer as it sluggishly squeezed itself out of an air duct. Grime clung to its soft body and slick skull, revealing the faintest of outlines in the dim cargo bay.
Hot Shot silently raised his blaster, but Bulkhead pushed it down with a warning look. "For every one you see, there could be three you don't," he whispered.
The youngest Wrecker gulped, already shaken by the disturbing sight of the one they could see.
The ungainly being stopped at a membrane-covered door not far from its hidden observers and spoke a word in a vile sounding language they could not understand. The tendrils of mucus pulled back to allow it passage. Stealthily, Bulkhead led the younger soldiers up closer to the entrance.
Inside were two other Sparkeaters who hadn't even bothered to activate their cloaking devices. One of them held a defeated-looking teenager in its claws. She did not struggle as she was carried to a hanging pod that opened with a slurp. The Wreckers stared in bewilderment until it dawned on Bulkhead.
"It's a Cocoon!" he recoiled in disgust. "It's a perversion of a Cocoon!"
Smokescreen ground his denta. Hot Shot had seen enough. Without warning, he left his hiding place and charged into the chamber with his flamethrower.
"Tell me he didn't just do that." Bulkhead grimaced, but called forth his wrecking balls and followed him into the fray.
Smokescreen darted in behind them, snatching the human seconds before she was lowered into the oozing sac. Seconds too late: the Sparkeater's venom had stopped her heart.
The Sparkeaters had been caught off guard, and did not shield themselves from the flames. Never had Hot Shot known wrath until that moment as he set the squirming parasites ablaze. One had been in the middle of feeding on an ensnared victim, energon stil staining its mouth as it shrieked.
"We've got these, burn the pods!" Bulkhead ordered, crushing the head of a Sparkeater with his mighty fist. Even with the element of surprise, they were very nearly outmatched. Even as three of the four soul-snatchers lay dead upon the slick floors, several of the sacs began to squirm and stretch, hissing sibilantly.
"Mercy on us!" the young pyrotechnician gasped, "I think these things are hatching!" It was true. Out of the pus and slime, a hand emerged, twisting and morphing into a clawed pincer.
"Bring 'em down!" Smokescreen shouted, tearing the arm from the last of the previous combatants. Even as the fire consumed the pods, over the ear splitting screeches, a chant began to rise.
"We demand blood! We demand payment!"
The one called Daystar seemed to regain some of his composure, creeping closer to Arcee and Optimus Prime. He no longer cowered before them, yet he did not stand as before.
"Do you hear them?" he snarled, "Do you hear the voices of my children?" He laughed, a deep, smooth sound. The hatred in his optics lit his entire faceplate and he smiled cruelly.
"Some of your children have spilt the blood of Sparkeaters: they will not rest until they have avenged their brethren. Servants of Primus, your children will die!" The Star Saber and a blaster forced him back into his corner.
"Do not speak again," Arcee hissed.
They faced the defenders, swaying on insectoid feet. Three were newly corrupted, eyeless, lumbering beasts capable of little else but eviscerating.
The fourth still held the shape of a Cybertronian; though lesser than Daystar, she was as beautiful. Releasing her shield, she stalked forward and disdainfully looked upon her fallen comrades.
"You have spilt the blood of higher beings. There will be retribution." Her voice spoke of filth and decay and things lurking in the dark. Dead optics lighted on Slipstream and narrowed.
"You killed the first: you are acceptable."
Slipstream's former bravado fled, revealing a terrified little femme. "W-what?" she stammered, whipping her blade up defensively. The female Sparkeater tilted her helm and smiled nastily.
"You will join us: you are strong." Seeming to read the youngling's thoughts, she motioned to the rest of the Trine. "Without you, they are weak. These others are fit only for sustenance." Ramjet and Sunstorm glanced at each other, sickened, and latched into their sister's shoulders. "You can't have her!" they shouted together.
Hecate was not used to being denied anything. She arched her neck haughtily. "We will have satisfaction for our brothers' deaths!" she warned.
Helios snarled. "You would only go on killing innocents! What could we give that could possibly end this?!"
"What indeed?" Hecate cooed
, winking at the white and teal youngling. The answer startled them all.
"Me." Endline placed her partner on the ground and walked forward. "Spare the lives of everyone I hold dear, and I will not struggle." There was no thought amongst the Sparkeaters, so eager were they for death.
"Endline, no!" Inoue cried out, "Don't do this!"
The black femme turned and smiled gently at him. "Take care of them for me," she whispered.
The Cybaartarians and Cybertronians moved to stop her, but Endline was stronger and pushed them away. "Do not stop me," she pleaded.
"They're not going to keep their word!" Windblade argued, "Don't throw your life away!"
Endline shook her helm. "I'm not throwing it away." She shook herself free of her companions and continued on.
Hecate's dead optics burned red with bloodlust. "We accept!" she laughed.
Endline stood in silence, helm tipped back and optics shuttered. Dean forced himself to watch through blurry eyes when they began to tear at his partner. Rather than encase her in webbing or hew her armor asunder, the cloaked Sparkeaters fastened their fangs into her limbs and injected their venom into her system. Endline made a coughing sound, and swayed a little. Energon began leaking from the corners of her optics as her functions began to shut down, one by one. The femme bit down on her lip to stop the inevitable screams.
Beginning at her pedes and steadily moving upwards, all color left Endline's body, and her armor began to corrode and warp. She collapsed to the floor, oblivious to her friends' cries. She struggled to clear her vents, blinking back energon and tears, her lip nearly split in two. Hecate sneered and stepped upon the dying femme's spark chamber.
"I've heard of you, Red-Eyes. Don't you wish Thunderwing had killed you with your family?" she whispered in Endline's audial fin, "It would have been so much kinder!" At the last word, she ground her heel upon the Spark. This time, Endline did cry out.
Hecate bent down once more. "The little red one was right, you know. You've thrown your life away needlessly. But so that I may have the pleasure of killing them first, tell me: who is it that you hold most dear?"
Voice box damaged, and with barely enough energon to power her optics, Endline summoned all her strength for one last time.
"Everyone!" she gasped triumphantly.
Then she was gone.
Daystar reeled suddenly as whatever poise he had regained left him.
"What is this?" he roared at the Sparkeaters guarding Engineering, "Who has accepted a willing victim?!"
Optimus's optics widened. The only ones who knew of that weakness were those who had been in the council of war with him. Arcee stiffened next to him as the implications hit her: someone they knew was dead.
"Surrender, Daystar," the Prime said coldly, stepping closer.
The stained creature chuckled bitterly. "And will the great Autobot leader show me mercy?"
"No."
Hecate shoved Endline's corpse aside with a bored yawn.
"So much for that," she sighed. She smiled at the sheer devastation in the optics of her witnesses.
"And now for you," she announced.
The little human first, she decided, the one who had been so close to the dead one. Inoue stood his ground, staring mutely at the husk of his partner. Hecate waved one of the new Sparkeaters forward and it shambled towards him. Dean was rooted to the spot.
"No!"
Suddenly Helios stood over him, sword drawn.
Eager for more energon, the venemous abomination attacked. The moment it's pincers clipped the mesh of Helios's side, it knew something was wrong. A single drop of energon fell to the deck, bright blue against the gray. Hecate shrieked in dismay as her wings crumbled into dust. Rust crept over her bright armor and her talons dulled. Her companions swung their vast heads from side to side in confusion as their cloaking devices fell away, revealing them to their enemies.
Inoue stopped to retrieve his fallen rifle. "Let's finish this!"
Megatronus did not stop to question when the sacs began to fall from the ceiling and the Sparkeaters became visible.
"Wreckers! Destroy the hives!" he thundered, anchoring his footing. Thunder of a different kind rolled through the lower deck as the charges detonated, shaking the walls. The mighty Kaonian braced himself as the shockwave caught up to him.
"Hang on, kid!"
Bulkhead dug his feet into the ground as a series of concussive blasts ripped through the hull, exposing the three Wreckers to open space. Smokescreen grimly hung on to the remains of the scorched webbing, feet dangling towards the stars. Hot Shot held tightly to Bulkhead's arm: the only thing keeping him from being sucked out into the void.
"I can't hold on!" he yelled, "My hands are covered in Sparkeater blood!" As he spoke, his servos slipped a little more.
"Gimme your other hand, Hot Shot, I can't pull you in alone!"
"You can do it, kid!" Smokescreen encouraged, "I think we won! You know what that means? It means we're going home!" He adjusted his grip on the sticky strands and began to build up a swinging momentum. "We'll all go home and see our families, Hot Shot," he kept talking even as the youngling's servos slid to the end of Bulkhead's armor and his stress doubled.
"You can't go home if you're stuck in deep space, kid," Bulkhead agreed, "Don't you want to see your parents?"
"What are you talking about?" the panicky mech yelped, "I don't have parents, I came out of the Well!"
The moment's distraction was all Smokescreen needed to swing down and kick his fellow soldiers out of the way of the hole in the ship, giving them the time needed to polarize their pedes to the deck. The trio stood in silence a moment, stating out into space. Bulkhead spoke suddenly.
"Jackie owes us a drink for this."
Throughout the colony, the Sparkeaters fell. Not one escaped the forces of Megatronus and Optimus as they made their way up from the shattered lower decks, least of all Daystar. The corrupted being's armor couldn't stop bullets, let alone the Star Saber.
Yet there was no shout of triumph, no boost of morale. They returned to a near-silent Central Hub to find mourning. The Trine huddled together on the floor, comforting and seeking comfort by turns. The crew of the Tranquility had arrived shortly before the Primes, and were gathered around their fallen sister, openly weeping.
Ultra Magnus hurried over to Windblade, who was staring dully at the crowd.
"Wrecker, report!" he said gruffly, "Any injuries?" She shook her helm from side to side numbly.
"Nothing physical," she mumbled. Magnus winced. It would be a long time before any of them would be able to recharge well. He reached down and pulled her to her pedes.
"I know, little one. I know."
Optimus strode through the soldiers and civilians to find June and Helios. The latter sat on a crate as the former patched the gash in his side.
"Helios, what has happened?" the Prime asked quietly.
"Endline tricked them," the youngling replied just as softly. "They killed her..." He shuttered his optics. "I haven't seen anything that bad in several years. It was nearly as bad as the aftermath of the Centauri Skirmish, two years ago."
"I was referring to your injury," Optimus clarified, kneeling next to him.
Helios shrugged. "One of them tried to attack Inoue after killing Endline. I got in the way."
Optimus understood. The terms of the agreement had been broken: blood had been shed after Endline's sacrifice, and the Sparkeaters had paid the price. June sadly watched Centurion and his family as they grieved. "We can never ever forget this," she said.
"No one will," Optimus assured her, "No one ever will."
The funeral was simple.
Endline's shell was arranged peacefully and jettisoned into space by the request of her friends. "She's not in there anymore," Marge had smiled through her tears, "She won't mind."
The O'Connors sang a hymn, and Optimus spoke to those attending about the Vehicon femme's courage.
"I did not know Endline personally," the comforting basso rumbled, "But I believe that she would want you to live, honoring her sacrifice, rather than spend your life in sorrow."
Dean was given his partner's posthumous commendation for bravery, as she had no family left. He accepted, dry-eyed, but did not speak at the service.
He did not speak for several weeks.
In the void, the pieces of the dead Sparkeaters floated where they had been jettisoned, lifeless. They would never harm another soul.
A small distance away, the body of Daystar drifted. Gone were the wings, the helm. He bore no trace of his proud beauty. The husk bumped into an orbiting asteroid and spun gently. One loosened optic floated free and was sent in a different trajectory.
It opened.
Eden, several months later
"Do you think it is truly over?"
Megatronus stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring up at the sky. His brother frowned at the question.
"I believe that it is."
For a long time, neither spoke. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, watching the sun rise over Eden. "How are the Triplets?" Optimus asked.
"They are...coping," Megatronus sighed, "It was their first time in battle. It was a miracle that they survived at all."
Optimus smiled a little. "You taught them well, Brother. They will heal in time."
They lapsed into silence again, this time broken by Megatronus.
"Primus spoke to me."
"What?"
Red optics met blue. "In the lower deck, when I killed that Sparkeater. He told me when to strike and where."
Optimus's smile widened. "Ah. I wondered." He nudged his brother gently. "You do not still doubt Primus's decision to make you a Prime, do you?"
With a noncommittal grunt, the elder Prime turned to go.
"Megatronus?" He stopped. His brother had a thoughtful look. "Time and again, we have learned that we can never take an enemy's defeat for granted. If this situation should ever arise again, what will we do?" Optimus's question was multilayered. Megatronus's answer was not.
"We'll be ready."
He left Optimus to stand alone on the parapet, watching the sunrise. The Autobot leader watched the light wash over the peaceful homes below, and his spark ached for the lives lost. Other threats would arise one day, as they always did, but they would never be caught off-guard again. Optimus turned away and stepped inside to join his waiting family. Danger would not cease to exist, but the next time evil reared its head, they would be ready.
They would be waiting.