Chapter Forty Three
24th December
0835hrs
The winter morning was bleak and not at all welcoming. It was the sort of morning where creatures bound in flesh would seek the warmth of indoor shelter. The morning rays had long since found the shattered remains of the mech who's name Rodimus did not know. Deep within the mine wandered various evils holding firm to the metallic structures they had possessed.
Spike was trying to imagine the warmth of his in-law's fire place, the salty taste of his wife's gravy – it was always too salty, the smile of excitement that would spread over his son's face and the cheeky curiosity that led him to ask every possible question about Santa. He tried to imagine the brightly decorated tree, the quaint little crib out of the view of most visitors – heaven forbid someone think they're Christian, the pepperminty aftertaste left in the mouth after gorging on one to many candy canes.
But as much as he tried to pull the images from his memory, and the images he tried to imagine were going on now, he wasn't quite able to feel comfortable or at ease in his current predicament. Carly was going to be pissed.
Rodimus found himself wandering along the edge of the Empty. That rather small shuttle, cold and hostile to any visitor that would question its contents. Occasionally his fingers would run themselves along the slowly degrading hull, but such an action tended to send a chill down the Autobot commander's linkage.
Jazz and Blaster were having a hushed conversation, and it was a very subdued conversation about the Simpsons' Christmas editions and which was their favourites. Blaster was of the mind that the one where Bart stole a game and was forced to return to the store for a family photo was the best, a coming of age and maturity sort of thing and at the same time highly amusing. Jazz argued the one where Bart burnt the tree down and all the presents and then inadvertently ended up conning the whole town was a better moral lesson as in the end they enjoyed their family just being together as opposed to piles of rubbish wrapped in shiny boxes.
The majority of Autobots were quite perplexed by the human need to gather up wealth and possessions to themselves.
Springer sat atop the still unconscious Perceptor, chuckling occasionally to himself as he carved in a manner of really bad math into the scientist's back. Perceptor, when back in his right mind wasn't going to like 1+2=5 or 2 isn't a prime number scratched into his backplates.
Occasionally a scream or howl would be carried to them.
Rodimus had come to the decision that they should cause a cave in around the entrances to the cave they sat in, if only to protect themselves from whatever insanity lay about in the caves, the insanity Kup had told them existed and had reached out from that shuttle. He was of the hope that since a few of the Autobots back at the city knew where they were headed, that eventually they'd come looking for them.
Kup was unusually quiet. Alone with thoughts of a time he didn't wish to remember. Thoughts his companions would not want to know. Thoughts that revolved around the mess that sat in that shuttle. He had told them only the most minor of details. Of course, Kup could never know how the evil had been unleashed from that shuttle, he only knew what his role in it was, and that the shuttle had left Cybertron carrying that diseased cargo and that at some point, in the pursuit, it had been lost.