Lizard: Wow, I didn't realize how close I was getting to the end of this....:'( How sad.
Things are finally picking up a bit here, and I'll be ending this soon, sad as that is. According to my poll, five out of six voters would like to see more of these characters in a "happier" world. I encourage anyone who hasn't to take the poll so I know whether or not any little snippets of these guys would be well received.
I apologize for the confusing time-travel ins and outs that Echoclick tries to explain, but really sci-fi is so hard to understand I just am not sure it's even worth explaining when I myself am about to make my brain explode from trying to comprehend the absurdness -_-
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs and the plot line thing.
"I'm back," Echoclick called with forced cheer when he walked back into the communications deck.
Chromia and Ironhide were now leaning up against the console she had been sitting on, still held tightly against each other. Prowl looked remarkably uncomfortable, and Ratchet was holding his face in his hands. Only Bluestreak was looking out the window in a sort of uncontrollable curiosity. They all looked up at his arrival and he felt the weight of all five gazes as he struggled back to his chair, cooling systems on high.
Ratchet half rose from his own seat, "Echoclick? Are you alright?"
The young mech waved a hand as he sunk stiffly to a sitting position, grimacing slightly, "Yeah, just a long walk to the lab, ya know?"
The medic looked unconvinced but rested back, though his optics remained on the obviously pained communications mech. Chromia had looked back down at her hands, which she twisted in her lap uncomfortably. Ironhide thrummed soothingly and she leaned closer, but the silence in the room stretched on.
"Uh…I," Echoclick cut off uncomfortably, then started again, "I think…maybe you guys can fix this."
In a klik he was once again the complete center of attention, desperate optics pleading with him for something to cling to. He vented softly.
"I don't claim to be a scientist but…since it wasn't you who got yourselves sent here, then that means it didn't happen…the first time around. So the Commander never experienced time travel," he grinned faintly and nodded at Bluestreak, "By my logic that seems to imply that with this is your chance to…see what's going to happen if you do what they did the first time. I mean…this is really confusing."
He looked up helplessly at the others, but only Prowl seemed to be catching even a glimpse of what he was trying to say. He huffed and tried again.
"What I'm trying to say, and failing miserably at saying, is that I think you guys can change the course of time. You just…have to know where we went wrong, and maybe you can make some better decisions. I mean…I talked to Shiver and she said we might not exist-"
"Wait, what?" Bluestreak cut in with a look of shock.
Their host grimaced, "If just one choice that determined our existence is changed, we won't ever come into being. But that's okay!" he quickly added, "Cuz, I mean, we won't know since we never…were there…at all. Technically."
Bluestreak looked absolutely horrified, "B-but doesn't that bother you that you wouldn't even have a chance? I mean, sure, maybe we can change things and all but that doesn't help you if you're not there! So why-"
Prowl was surprisingly the one who answered, "Because it would give everyone else a chance."
He was looking with something akin to appreciation at the young mech, who ducked his head and grinned up at them sheepishly. Before anyone could say anything more, though, there was a light knock at the door. Echoclick's faceplates flashed in surprise and he hesitantly asked who was there.
"Monochrome!" a chipper, albeit slightly muffled, voice responded happily, "I brought stuff for you!"
"Oh Primus," the young communications mech hissed and looked frantically at the others in the room, "Uh…oh frag, maybe he won't recognize you…could you do me a favor and turn around?"
He addressed Ratchet and was given a completely bewildered look. The young mech turned frantically back to the door as it started to groan open, then back at Ratchet, making wild hand signals at him. The CMO reset his optics but stood up and walked calmly over to stand next to Bluestreak, with his back to the rest of the room, looking for all the world like he was merely watching the world go by outside the window.
"Hey 'Chrome, buddy, you're, uh, you're not supposed to be here, kid," he heard Echoclick say somewhat weakly.
A young, completely carefree voice answered him, "I know, but First Aid wanted me to bring this to you because he was busy in his office. He said you told him your leg was bothering you," the little male voice abruptly turned much more concerned, "Are you okay?"
Echoclick seemed to struggle for words, and by now Ratchet's back was stiffened to the point of discomfort.
"I, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just took a walk is all. Thanks 'Chrome," Echoclick offered in a strained tone, "I'll see ya later, kid."
"Okay! Are these our guests?"
A sharp cough of an engine, then a reply, "Yes, but they can't talk right now, so maybe later, huh?"
"Sure! See you guys…you know you all look kinda familiar…oh well, hope you all have a pleasant time!" the voice chirped almost joyously, then the sound of small pedes retreating from the room followed.
For a long moment everything was silent, until Echoclick broke said silence.
"Wow, you guys just aren't catching a break are you?"
Ratchet turned around slowly, pointing vaguely after where the youngling had run off to, "That was…my creation, wasn't it?"
Echoclick grinned, "Monochrome. He, ah, he always did…stress the small stuff," he lifted a hand to indicate a small injection device he had apparently been given, "Fraggin' First Aid sent him…he knows the kid's not supposed to come here right now…."
He vented and leaned back, covering his optics with a hand. Everyone looked hesitant to speak, but when curious Bluestreak wasn't known for self-control.
"Why would he send him then?"
Echoclick peeked out from underneath his fingers, "He's fragged up, excuse the language, but really, things in the war hit the medics the hardest and he…had a pretty big family too, but they've been gone for a while now. Ever since he's just become worse and worse, doesn't care about authority or life at all it seems like. If you're damaged, he'll fix you, but he just doesn't seem to care like he used to," he chuckled faintly, "I know it's hard to believe, but he used to be a lot like 'Chrome."
"Monochrome…what is he like?" Ratchet asked slowly.
"Happy. Chipper. Compassionate. Pit-fragging adorable," Echoclick actually laughed this time, "The eternal optimist, quite literally. He's only a youngling but he already just cares about everything. It's almost disturbing how happy that kid can be."
Ratchet smiled dryly, "In other words, nothing at all like me?"
The younger mech cracked a genuine grin, "Nope, though really he's not like anyone."
"Hey, what's going on out there?" Bluestreak suddenly cut in, leaning up to the window curiously.
Echoclick stood and peered around the gunner, "Ah, Ebonyshield's about to talk," he leaned over and tapped a console.
Bluestreak jumped back as the windows all shifted and tilted inward slightly, opening them to the outside world. Immediately the sounds of the crowd below filtered up to them, a low, constant murmur of voices and shifting, metallic bodies. Just as Echoclick had said, the small black femme was climbing onto a raised platform at one end of the clearing, and five mechs followed close behind. One was the empty-opticed Sideswipe standing behind her, Topliner stood next to him, and on Ebonyshield's left hand was Clippershot. Commander Bluestreak stood calmly off to one side, looking over his troops like a father over his children. The fifth was not one they had met before, but no one needed Echoclick to tell them who he was. A powerful black and white Praxian frame, complete with erect doorwings decorated by old decals told exactly who his creator was. His helm was oddly built, with a faceguard that circled his faceplates and a long, thick bar running from the back of his helm over to taper off in front.
"Watcher, our tactician and Ebony's right hand guy," Echoclick explained, "Those are your decals from an organic planet you all went to."
Prowl nodded faintly, scrutinizing his own creation that he had never seen before. As though sensing the attention, Watcher's helm snapped up and two brightly glowing optics stared up at their windows. Prowl took an instinctive step back, but Echoclick shook his helm.
"He can't see us, probably wishes he could. Being out of the loop annoys him," he chuckled, "This has been driving him insane."
Ironhide, standing and pulling his mate with him, snorted, "Sounds about right."
He was given a Prowl-grade glare, which he smirked obnoxiously at. Their discussion was forestalled, however, when Ebonyshield's voice rose over the hum of regular activity.
"Mechs and Femmes of the Autobot Remnant Force, gather!" she called, and instantly every optic was fixed on her and the crowd shifted and morphed to form a half circle around her "stage."
She smiled down at them and waited for quiet to come again before continuing.
"I have called you all here to discuss with you our future. The Decepticons are approaching even as we speak, bringing with them nearly their entire fleet. They will not be chased away and fooled as they have been in the past, yet we are all that stands between them and our refugees fleeing under the lead of Commanders Springer and Arcee, therefore it falls to us to stop their pursuit. We must give them a chance to escape, to rebuild and perhaps one day defeat the Decepticon tyrants. You all know what it is I am asking you to do, and you all know I would never ask this if I had another option, but I do not. The last shuttle leaving to the fugitive colonies will leave in two joors, anyone who feels unable to stay is encouraged to go with it. There is no shame in leaving, just as there is no shame in feeling fear.
"I have lead you now for little over two vorns, and I pray that I have done an acceptable job. I am honored to have served with all of you, and now if this will be our last stand then I am also honored to now have the privilege of dying with all of you. I continue to hope that we will succeed in our battle, but I cannot say this for certain, so I will give you only the facts. We are outnumbered twenty to one at the least by mechs who are far more experienced and well-armed than we are. They have seven fully functional war cruisers on their side, while we have only the hull of the Ark left. Their weapons, armor, and systems are far more advanced and powerful than our own. Statistically Watcher has informed me our chances are next to none," here she glanced over at the stiff young mech who nodded faintly in confirmation.
"This is why I am offering you all the chance to leave if you so choose. No one will think less of you for it, no one will be upset or hurt. It is your choice, and your right. Our creators once declared that freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and it is your freedom to leave. I and my fellow officers will remain regardless, and we welcome any who will stay with us. This is our time, and I call on all of you, whether you stay or go, to remember your creators, your families and friends who have been destroyed by this war and fight however you will for them. Together we will fight, and if we're going down, then by Primus we're going down together! Now who will stand by me?" the crowd erupted in shouts and war cries as Ebonyshield held up her arms.
Clippershot and Watcher exchanged a look, and even Sideswipe's helm ducked briefly. Standing away from his officers, Commander Bluestreak swelled in pride and from their high vantage point those on the communications deck could see the gleam of optical fluid on his faceplates.
Topliner stepped forward and for the first time the spark of his father seemed to shine through as he thundered above the crowd: "Till all are one!"
The army echoed his cry in a mighty roar, and up on the communications deck Ratchet shook his helm slowly in amazement at their passion.
"Till all are one…."
Lizard: Hm...I've never written a dramatic-morale-raising speech before....huh, didn't do to terribly bad, I don't think.
Soon you shall see their plan, possibly next chapter, but I'm not sure yet. Oh, and the characters mentioned last chapter, the flyers? Here's the answers!
Windstorm: Blades! The Protectobot bad boy!
Bowshaft: Silverbolt, our Aerialbot commander!
I love feedback of any kind, and want to improve so constructive criticism is much appreciated! ;)
LIZARD OUT
