Lizard: Last chap before the epilogue folks. I'd like to say it took a really long time because I worked on it every day and it was just so long it took forever but...I really just threw it all together yesterday and this morning -_- Cuz I'm lazy.
And so, on with the climax!
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related material does not belong to me. I am only using them for my own entertainment and claim no ownership nor am I making any profit from this venture. Apologies if this offends you.
They could see them now. The Decepticon war ships. Seven great hulking monsters that were slowly descending into the atmosphere, taunting those below.
Echoclick had told them this was essentially all that was left of the main Decepticon fleet. Most of the other ships had been destroyed or at least severely disabled. Of course, on the other side, the Autobots had only small transport carriers left, and absolutely nothing on this planet.
Topliner was no longer lounging calmly around the consoles and had taken to standing rigidly by the door. Though he still grinned smoothly at anyone he caught looking his way, his posture told another story. Echoclick had become completely absorbed in his work, moving faster than he frankly should have been capable of. Below the bay windows the clearing finally had some life in it once again. The heaviest built of the mechs and even a couple femmes were gradually reappearing, forming a mass around the ship's only entrance which was to be sealed from the inside. Among these outsiders were Avalanche and Clippershot, both of whom looked anxious to get started.
For what seemed like an eternity everything held, frozen in a limbo, the calm before the storm. And just as the tension reached a peak, enough you could almost touch it…it snapped.
After the painfully long wait, the actual beginning seemed almost offensively quick, 'Con's suddenly dropping from several shuttle's that swooped down at an unsafe speed and then twisted back upwards to retrieve the next load. Immediately, the tattered remains of the Autobot army launched forward to counter, Avalanche exuberantly at the front. Next to the five "visitors" Topliner visibly twitched.
"Pit," he muttered, "The slagger's gonna get all the fun."
Ratchet turned an incredulous look on the towering young mech, but opted not to point out how severely outnumbered their front-liners were, and that more Decepticons were already on their way.
The outcome of this doomed battle was blocked from view, however, when black covers dropped without warning from above, turning the row of windows opaque. Topliner turned his gaze to a look questioningly at a still distracted Echoclick.
"Protective. Blocks stray shots. Sorry," the disabled 'bot rattled off.
Topliner rumbled softly and gave the other five a shrug, "Guess we'll just have to wait it out then. At least until Shiv calls for you guys."
So they settled in to wait. At first they tried to make conversation, Bluestreak and Topliner leading that motion, but after a while that faded. Specifically when the sound of explosions against the Ark's hull started to echo loudly through the corridors.
"What the Pit-?" Ratchet spit when the first thunderous boom broke the quiet.
Everyone in the room froze, several looking around wildly for the source. Echoclick held very still, optics flickering brilliantly and then fell back to his mad routine.
"Seekers. Firing missiles at the hull," he explained dully, "We're falling back."
Topliner had relaxed at the first comment, but at the second his back jerked ramrod straight, "How bad is it then?"
Echoclick grunted, possibly at something catching in his damaged leg, "Don't know, but it was Opalescent who reported."
The other mech deflated, looking a bit stunned. An awkward glance passed between the others, and Chromia took the initiative to ask what they all wanted to know.
"What does that mean?" she said slowly, cautiously.
Topliner flashed his gaze over to her, "By chain of command….It means Avalanche, Watcher, and Clippershot couldn't."
After that there was no more conversing.
As time passed the explosions became more frequent and louder, a few began to shake the entire ship. Occasionally the sound of someone running past in the halls leaked in. Unbeknownst to those tucked away in the Communications deck, the mechs and femmes fighting were no longer fighting to save their home, but to save their last hope. Ratchet, Prowl, Ironhide, Chromia, and Bluestreak. Those names had finally passed through the ranks and a silent understanding fell on every processor. They would all die, but these five had to live.
So when the call came for Topliner to guide them back to Shiver and Catalytic's lab, the halls were mostly clear in that section. Topliner, drawing a plasma rifle from subspace, poked his helm out into the corridor and slowly waved them all forward. His off-kilter movements were still there, but less pronounced as a focused calm settled over the mech.
"They're holding the 'Cons off near the front, but we don't have much time before they have to fall back and these halls become compromised," he explained, starting forward hesitantly, "Shiver wants me to ask you what you all were doing when the warp occurred."
"A meeting in the med bay, post battle reports," Prowl murmured, his weapon held ready.
Topliner nodded, relayed the information and paused, "She asked what battle."
The tactician thrummed thoughtfully as they came around another corner, "It was two and one half deca-orns after the Day of Primus, more of a slaughter than an attack."
"Yeah," the young mech nodded, "They do that a lot."
Moving quickly yet cautiously through the corridors was a stressful experience, and Topliner stopped them often as he listened to various reports and warnings. By the time they were almost halfway there they started having to detour in order to keep out of the way of the slowly withdrawing frontline. All but Ratchet had their weapons drawn and charged, optics gleaming almost white as battle programs kicked in.
"Pit, they're moving faster than I thought," Topliner muttered after yet another detour, "We're never gonna get there at this rate…."
He suddenly stopped, causing Bluestreak to run into his back with a yelp. The tall mech slowly turned around and tilted his helm, subconsciously dragging the Praxian back upright. At the questioning looks he was receiving he tapped his audios. They all followed that suggestion and listened closely, and within moments they heard it and their sparks sank. Running pedes, only a few halls back.
"They're right behind us," Topliner whispered, sounding distant and disbelieving, "Bowshaft was supposed to…."
He cut off there and shook himself, waving for them to continue, this time at a fair clip, almost running down the corridors. Reports poured in to the young mech and he switched to external communications so the others could hear when the report came that Echoclick was no longer running the comm. deck. Only a hallway later he skid to a stop and tilted his helm, listening. The pedes behind them were closer, too close. With a shuddering expulsion of air, the young mech turned to look at them intensely.
"You know where we are, right?" he asked, and Prowl and Ratchet nodded, "Good, lead the others the rest of the way."
Bluestreak jerked in surprise, "What? Where are you going?"
Topliner grinned faintly, "No where, I'm staying here," at the protests he could see forming on their lips he added, "I'm slowing you down, can barely run in a straight line. Besides, someone needs to hold off those 'Cons, right?"
Bluestreak started to argue, but Prowl placed a hand on the younger Praxian's shoulder, "Good luck, Topliner."
The mech nodded and waved them forward. Passing around another corner, Ratchet stole a glance backward and for the first time saw Optimus Prime in his son as the young mech stood, erect and proud, ready for what he knew was to come. With that last glimpse, they were thrown back into a desperate run for the lab. By the time they reached it, the sound of the Decepticons running behind them had returned.
They burst in and nearly ran over Catalytic, who looked about ready to leave. He stepped back in surprise, assessed the situation, and frowned.
"Topliner left?" he asked.
Prowl shook his helm, "He stopped to hold off Decepticons behind us, but they're back."
The young scientist nodded slightly, "Got it, we have mechs on the way to hold them off, and 'Chrome will be here to help out Shiv in a bit. I need to go help Shatterflash with communications."
The others winced, understanding what he was meant. He had to go replace Echoclick, and Monochrome had to replace him. If this was all going on with the "non-combatants" how were the front liners faring?
"Get going, Cat!" Shiver's voice shouted from somewhere in the bowels of their work place.
He muttered something unintelligible and stepped up to the door, tossing a final, "Bye Shiver, see ya!" over his shoulder plates. He left swiftly and the others backed away from the door, weapons still at the ready.
Shiver was frantically making adjustments on apparently two different machines at the same time. One she indicated was "theirs," the one that would bring them home, but the other was certainly more impressive. It was connected to multiple consoles, and it itself was composed of many parts, including a brightly shining containment chamber directly above a pipe extending down into a hole in the ship's deck, surrounded by thick glass. The swirling light in the containment chamber seemed to be growing brighter by the moment and a few alarms kept going off, but Shiver silenced them.
"Ratchet…what is that?" Bluestreak asked softly, looking at the massive device.
The medic shook his helm, "I don't know."
Whatever it was, it consumed Shiver's attention as soon as Monochrome bolted inside and took her place with the "time machine." The sounds of gunfire and metal bodies colliding had started to drift down the halls to the lab. From what Monochrome briefly told them, their numbers had dropped drastically, and the med bay was now compromised. The young mech paused in his work suddenly and pulled something out of subspace to hand off to them. Ironhide took it and examined the object, a portable communications device. With a shared glance of apprehension with the others, he turned it on.
'Ebonyshield is no longer responding.'
'We're cornered here! I need some help!'
'Is anyone even out there anymore?'
'Primus, hang in there guys.'
'All who are able, pull back to the lab! I repeat, pull back to the lab!'
The last comment was made in the Commander's powerful voice. None of the others were recognizable by the five standing around it. The message, however, was clear. They were loosing, badly.
'Clippershot, pull back.'
That was surprising. They had assumed the young Special Ops head was no longer capable of fighting, if he was online at all, but a sharp reply challenged that thought.
'Yessir. Pulling back.'
He sounded strained, but very much alive. The next voice was even more surprising, though.
'I'll hold them off, move!'
Sideswipe.
He sounded older, his voice rough and stressed, but still, it was definitely the red hellion they knew all too well. The Commander and Clippershot both snapped off some sort of affirmation, and silence settled over the once crowded channel, only broken occasionally. They didn't pay much attention until Shiver reported something through her internal comm. link that came to their audios through the portable communicator.
'Subspace transistor almost at a maximum, I'm almost ready.'
A frighteningly small number of confirmations met her report, but only four of the five were listening. Ratchet had shifted his gaze up to the massive machine and it's brightly shining chamber.
"Subspace…transistor?" he muttered.
Bluestreak looked up at him nervously, "What's that?"
The medic shook his helm, "I'm not a scientist, but…subspace is believed by some to contain immeasurable amounts of energy. To take directly from it…"
Another alarm shrieked across the room. To silence it, Shiver tugged a gun out of a compartment on her thigh and shot the agitated console. Not typical procedure, but apparently it worked because the alarm shut off. Ratchet glanced briefly at this scene, but was looking back at the transistor a klik later.
"That much power being pumped into a machine without anything holding it back is…," he broke off, trying to find the right words, "It's dangerous. And they're going to overload if I'm reading those screens correctly."
The others gave him concerned looks. While Ratchet was not a scientist, as a medic he worked closely with them, specifically with the notorious Wheeljack, and he had picked up enough knowledge to have their respect in such areas. He himself wasn't sure exactly what all this machinery was, or what its purpose could be.
"Monochrome, could you-"
"Already got it!" the young mech answered Shiver's request, whatever it was going to be, without missing a beat.
The transistor whirred louder, and they realized that its volume had actually been increasing with the light, a low, constant thrum that pulsated with the energy. In fact, it was growing so loud that the sounds of battle were almost drowned out. That is, until the door flew open again. For a brief klik the deafening thunder of chaos roared into the room, causing all inside to freeze in momentary panic, before the door was once again shut and locked. Leaning against it were three 'bots; the Commander, Clippershot, and a femme they didn't recognize.
All three looked very much like they had just come from the fight of their lives, and had a haunted gleam was in their optics, especially the two young ones. Cooling systems on high and pouring energon from multiple places, they were quite a sorry sight. It was now apparent why Clippershot was unable to contact the ship earlier, a section of his chassis armor was crumbled inward from what must have been a monstrous blow. A very quick repair job had been done to at least allow him partial communications, but from the various fluids leaking from the injury it was obvious that was all that could be done.
"Get back," the Commander gasped out after a klik, waving them away from the door, "Opalescent, help Clippershot."
The pearly white femme nodded faintly and hurried over to the Special Ops Head's side, carefully supporting him as they both staggered away from the already trembling door. Clippershot winced but allowed her to move him, waving both Ratchet and Monochrome away when they expressed concern. The Commander pulled a torch out of subspace and set to work sealing the door shut.
Shiver paused in her work and stared out at them, an unusual expression on her face. She didn't look hurt, or angry, or even scared, just…sad. Simply sad.
'This is it guys, I'll see ya later.'
It was the last words to come over the portable communicator, spoken by none other than Catalytic.
Then there was nothing.
Because the only Autobots left were all together in one room.
And that was when it started. A soft, murmured voice rippling through the air, speaking words very few understood. Multiple sets of optics turned to Shiver as she continued talking, even as she returned to her work. Bluestreak leaned in towards Prowl.
"What's she saying?" he whispered, optics wide.
Prowl frowned, "It's an old Cybertronian dialect; I believe it translates to 'Great Primus my master, Giver of this spark in me, hear my voice as I cry.'"
The others along with Clippershot and Opalescent looked up at him in surprise as he continued translating the words into Iacon Standard while Shiver murmured amongst her feverish work. Booms and crashes beat against the door and the transistor had hit a deafening wail, but somehow her voice still carried to their audios.
Ratchet frowned at the words, and Chromia tilted her helm curiously. Seated on the floor, Clippershot's optics started to fade slightly and he leaned his helm back against a console. Opalescent gripped his hand tightly, her pale blue optics fixed on Prowl's face. Monochrome was putting the final instructions into the machine he was working on. The Commander backed away from a shaking door, optics alert. Chromia turned her helm to look at Ironhide.
"Here I stand in desperation, my last sparkbeat upon me, my thoughts grow dark."
"Where have I heard this before?" she asked softly.
Ratchet was the one who answered, quietly so only the sparkmates could hear, "It's from an old legend, one of the warriors of old said it."
The transistor was shrieking, and alarms wailed all around, but no one tried to stop them. Clippershot's intakes were slowing and his grip on Opalescent's hand was wavering. With a barely audible whirr, Monochrome's machine jerked to life. He started to wave them over, and Chromia looked back at Ratchet again.
"When?"
Ratchet frowned, "I can't remember. It's a very old story though…."
"Enemies close around me, I see them not. Time grows short for me, thus I call out to you, oh Great One."
The medic's optics widened and understanding followed by alarm crossed his faceplates. He reeled around, away from the chamber they had been motioned towards, and found himself faceplate to faceplate with Monochrome. The black and white youngling smiled brightly.
"It's okay, Dad. This is what we have to do," he assured.
Ratchet looked past him, optics falling on Clippershot and Opalescent. The mech was completely still and silent, and despite the deathgrip on his hand, Opalescent seemed to know her friend would not be getting back up. The Commander, just beyond them, looked up and met the medic's optics.
"Dad," Ratchet looked back Monochrome, "Go home, make it better. We'll be waiting."
Ratchet opened his mouth, stared at the creation he had never known, then looked back at the older, wiser Bluestreak. The Commander nodded once. Optics once again on Monochrome, he backed slowly into the chamber with the others. There was no door to close, but they were still essentially cut off.
Chromia looked at him in concern, "Ratchet? What's it from?"
"My people, my friends, my family all surround me and they know not my intention, but you must, Master, you know."
He turned around slowly to face them, "Novas Prime said the prayer right before…he destroyed the great city in order to stop the invading Quintesson forces."
Confused looks met this and he gave a short, humorless laugh.
"She's going to blow it up."
"For the hope of many and the life of those I cannot see, I will give you what I have no right to take. Forgive me."
Back outside the chamber, Monochrome stepped back to the consoles and started up the sequence. Whirrs and hums sounded as the machine came to life, and sparks flew in the chamber. Only a few more switches and he would be done.
Across the room Shiver held up one hand, preparing to countdown. Monochrome rushed to get the last preparations in place then went to pull the final switch. He turned around. The Commander, or rather, his young self, was staring back with horrified blue optics, and a voice called out assurance behind him.
"Don't worry, just don't try to become the leader, it sucks!" The Commander informed the young gunner.
Smiling dully, Monochrome flipped the switch.
In a flash of light and swirling color, they disappeared.
"This my final plea, Great Primus, take them into you, hold not against them my sin, and forgive me for this murder."
Shiver closed her optics as her fingers reached one.
"To you now, my Master, to you I give. All forever, all together, all are one."
She pulled the lever.
And all was consumed in white.
