Duty and Deceit
Chapter 46
Aftermath
And here we go. I don't own Transformers, the Transformers: Prime television series this fic is built in, or any canon Transformers... stuff. I own Terabyte and her story alone.
Also, just as a warning, I'm planning on starting up another fic called A Race Through the Night, which may or may not show up sometime soonish, so my Duty and Deceit updates may most likely move to being bi-weekly rather than weekly.
/Memorandum/
As of this date, Commanders Skyquake and Dreadwing have been released from the medical isolation for spark recovery, and will be reposted immediately by the chief medical officer's orders.
/data:medical-release-memo/
A determined scowl came to the spy's optics as she checked her chronometer quickly. The next thing that she checked was the locations of the two jets, which she accomplished by via the security feeds which her department head had recently, and rather conveniently, granted her access to. Perfect.
The femme offlined her terminal without bothering to close anything she had running. No one else was ever on her terminal anyway.
In less than a klick, she had left the CI department long behind her and was storming towards the commanders' quarters level. When she reached the level she wanted, the spy had to hack the lock just to get onto the level, but that was easy enough. She took a moment to cover all traces of her hack.
Before she'd even embarked on her personal mission, she'd modified and rerouted the security feeds so that she wouldn't get caught. She was fairly confident that not even Soundwave would notice anything wrong. After all, she was on break, so she wouldn't be missed.
She walked with confident strides, as though she owned the place. She noted with a satisfied smirk as she passed a face-masked purple and orange armored commander that he didn't even glance sideways at her. If she weren't otherwise preoccupied, she might have noticed that he scanned of trans-dimensional phase generator particles.
The two-wheeler came to an abrupt halt at the end of the corridor and double-checked the number on the door. Nodding to herself, the femme scrutinized the key pad with skilled optics, running several multi-phasic scans to examine the interior of the panel. She smiled as she noted distinct signs of deterioration on several of the keys.
That left about sixteen possible combinations.
In half a klick, the femme was standing smugly inside the mechs' shared quarters. Now to wait.
About a breem later, the door swooshed open to let in a suspicious and exhausted looking blue and gold jet.
She lunged, catching the mech by surprise, using her weight and momentum to slam the still-recovering mech into the closed door behind him. Her golden optics glinted dangerously in the dimly lit quarters.
"How are your recoveries coming?" She snarled, her tone in opposition to her pleasant words as she extended her Energon dagger and pressed it against his chassis to hold him in his place.
His hands were held up in half-surrender, but they were held as though he was wondering if he'd get away with tearing her apart. Dreadwing growled, "What do you want, femme? For what cause have you come to antagonize me?"
"I think you know well enough." She hissed, pressing the blade in a little harder, but not enough to hurt the mech, just threaten him. She couldn't hurt him. Not unless she wanted to hurt Skyquake too. But that was why she was here. "Your spark is Skyquake's and his is yours."
"Yes." Dreadwing spat impatiently, sneering down at the femme that was hardly half his height. He could easily offline her, yet he didn't dare harm her for the same reason she wouldn't harm him. "Have you truly been so blind and daft as to just now realize this?"
"I'd watch your glossa, if I were you." The Prussian blue and black femme warned darkly, pulling a long scratch across his chest.
"And I'd watch yours, Major." He countered with another deep growl that vibrated her whole frame through her dagger. "Like you say, our spark is one. Snuff me, and you snuff us both."
She snorted derisively, snickering darkly, "Snuff you? Snuff you?! You think that's what I'm here for?" The femme glared up at the blue mech, "How self-centeredly thick! We both know that neither of us will ever be able to kill each other."
"If not that, what have you come for?"
"I have come for your word. For a promise: nothing sinister." In spite of her soft words, the two-wheeler slammed him back against the door, hearing him grunt as she jarred his wing-cons. A frighteningly cold, determined gleam shone in her optics as she went on in more detail.
"You and Skyquake are one and the same. As you said, to take out one is to take out both. That's just how twins work." Her hands balled up into tight fists, "He nearly died because of you. Don't you dare hurt him like this again, or Primus help you if you do, because I will not stop until your life is no more than a living Pit."
"Been there, done that." The jet sneered down at her with a nonchalant shrug. "But I swear to you that Skyquake will not willingly come to harm by my hand or by my actions."
She clenched her jaw tight and wrapped her servos around the cold steel of the handle of the Enforcer's whip, feeling its solid weight like the very world in her hands. Her finials were held tightly so as to reveal nothing.
"Agent Fowler, I understand that it is the childrens' 'supper-time'?" Ratchet said quietly, the unspoken command shortly followed by footsteps and the children's hushed questions as they were ushered out.
Shortly afterwards the man returned, giving the Prime a curt nod before climbing the steps up and standing on the table beside the Matrix-bearer.
"Ready to proceed." The man said loudly, crossing his arms over his chest.
The femme scowled. "The human is to be witness for his race?"
"Well, mainly just the government and the military, but yes." Fowler responded with a smug smirk. He jerked on his striped neck tie impatiently, "I'll be here to take record of the proceedings to report die-rectly to the Pentagon." He glared up at Optimus, tapping his watch rudely, "I'm on a tight schedule, Prime, so could you tell your pet Con to get on with it?"
Terabyte hissed at the arrogant fleshling before flicking her wrist slightly. "The Prime's 'pet Con' is ready to begin whenever you deem you have complained sufficiently."
The man said no more.
She tested the weight of the whip carefully, calculating just exactly how much force to use to inflict sufficient discipline, yet inflict the minimal amount of harm. Satisfied with her calculations, she remained painfully still and quiet as the Prime moved the podium aside and made the two mechs lay their helms and forearms against the wall before motioning her forward.
It seemed as though the harsh silence that she had affected upon herself had brought a sort of quiet in the room that everyone was afraid of breaking.
She went to Cliffjumper first, swiftly unclasping and removing the many layers of his dorsal plating with detached movements until the bare protoform of his back was uncovered from the waist up. She examined the mech's back with medical scrutiny, adjusting her calculations slightly with a minute scowl.
The mech turned for just a moment to, without meeting her optics, hand her a small jar of some sort of pale gray paste. She took it with a quick nod, scanning the paste to determine its composition.
Scowling a bit harder, the little femme adjusted her formula yet again. She didn't feel qualified to make this kind of judgement. To coldly calculate how much damage to deal to mech as justice, without even knowing how much damage the whip would actually do. She wasn't qualified to make that sort of decision.
Her calculations would likely be more accurate if she eliminated some of the variables and estimates. She had never had experience with giving a whipping, or with the Enforcer's whips.
Experiece would grant more wisdom than numbers.
Her mind made up, the femme's dainty servos hastily removed a piece of the light preliminary armor on her thigh. With one steady, precise motion, Terabyte struck her thigh with hard, calculated force, hissing at the sting as already her thigh began to throb. She clasped the armor back on with a wince behind her mask.
The calculations were not wrong. They rarely were. Yet her spark felt faintly lighter with the confirmation she now had.
The little femme was too focused to notice the hum of approval from the Prime, or the grunts of surprise from the medic and the Wrecker.
After she'd applied the paste, Terabyte took in a deep, steadying vent and clenched her jaw before laying the first blow. And the next.
Five.
Cliffjumper's muscle cabling had constricted, and his body was tensed up, his hands straining as he gripped the wall for all he was worth. She continued the lashing, holding herself perfectly still, a feat that made her whole frame ache, especially from keeping her armor flared and not shaking. The red mech's EM field flared out in waves of pain at each stroke, making the femme cringe inwardly with each wave.
Ten.
The red warrior's armor was now beginning to tremble against his frame, and his whole frame jerked involuntarily every time the cybertonium whip collided with his back. Each stroke of the whip tore a gasp from his mouth. Terabyte's fans kicked up to full speed to account for how she was taxing her frame by repressing the whine of her engines, holding the reroute of her coolant flow, and maintaining her stiffly calm, professional outlook.
Fifteen.
In spite of her distinct efforts to assure that no lashes crossed, Cliffjumper was shaking hard enough that he was having difficulties holding himself up against the wall. Ratchet came over at this point and put a steadying hand on the mech's horned helm, just to let his presence give the warrior some sort of reassurance.
Terabyte dealt the final blow, watching the mech collapse to his knees. Her optics locked onto a small pool of coolant tears beneath where the mech had stood, forcing a low keen that she couldn't repress from her vocals.
A convulsive shudder ran down her struts.
She let out the shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding, took the small device the medic offered her, and moved over to Skyquake, leaving Ratchet to replace Cliffjumper's dorsal plating. She vaguely heard the Prime order Arcee to take the red mech back to the brig.
The black and navy femme stopped to briefly examine the round, glowing device. It had three claws on it, and beneath its casing, the Comms and Intel specialist could see an intricate array of wiring and circuitry. It was a fairly common device, designed to temporarily deactivate an appendage. This would be for his wings, like they'd promised.
She placed it gently on the huge green jet's wing connectors, watching the little device whirr and spin before locking down on his wing-cons, making his wings go unnaturally still. Nodding to herself, Terabyte stretched up to unclasp Skyquake's dorsal plating before falling back down on her heels with an agitated sigh.
"Sky, you're going to have to kneel for me..." She whispered, "I- I can't reach."
If it weren't for the gravity of their circumstances, and the prospect of what she was about to do, her plight would have been comical. The two of them would laugh about it for orns.
Skyquake turned to look at her with his usual smirk planted on his face, his ruby optics twinkling, "I would gladly kneel before you, my lady."
Terabyte returned the smile with a weak, sad little upward quirk of her lips. It was a good thing that he couldn't see it, because that pathetic attempt at a smile showed just how broken these lashings would leave her.
Once the mech was turned back to the wall, the femme began removing his dorsal plating, layer by layer, like she had on Cliffjumper, with that same medical detachment. Only the fighter jet had armor as thick as Megatron's, so it took her about half a breem to get down to protoform.
When she did, the femme's whole demeanor and facade crumbled in astroseconds, a gasp tearing through her lips as her armor collapsed against her frame and tightened around her so firmly that her biolights were shielded from view.
"I... I'm sorry, Prime..." She whispered, shaking her helm as coolant began to fill her wide, scarlet optics. She couldn't tear her optics away from the horrific sight in front of her. "I... can't do this."
Thick, jagged scars criss-crossed every inch of the mech's visible protoform, making a stark contrast to the smooth, shiny protoform of Cliffjumper's back. She didn't hear the collective gasp that filled the already tense air, or the angry rumbles of Autobot engines. All she could think about was the many horror stories carved into his protoform.
Permanent welts ran across his back, not finishing at his wing-cons, making her terrified to think of what his wings would look like. Scrapes and poorly done welds weaved through and around the welts, and dark patches of protoform told of many punishments being literally seared into him.
Most of the old wounds showed obvious signs of having never been even partially repaired, simply leaving the mech's self repair systems to hash together the mess that lay before her.
She choked down a sob as coolant pooled over the rim of her mask.
Skyquake didn't turn from where he knelt with his helm and forearms pressed into the wall, but his calm, almost remorseful voice rumbled through the air, bringing her from the nightmarish images that her mind was conjuring, no doubt not coming close to the atrocities that really happened.
"Terabyte, it's okay, it's alright." He said quietly, his EM field brushing out to meet hers, radiating strength and reassurance. "It's in the past, Tera, it... it can't hurt us now. You're alright, everything's alright. You can do this, Terabyte, I know you can."
She whimpered softly, "But I don't want to hurt you... more..."
He sighed heavily. He hadn't wanted her to know, at least not like this. He hadn't wanted to hurt her like this, and he hadn't wanted it to be because she was being forced to whip him. "Trust me, Tera, listen to me. You are strong. You can do this, and we'll get through this. Just like we've gotten through everything else up until now."
"Please, Terabyte..." The fighter jet was practically begging her now, "I need you to do this."
She nodded slowly, dipping two servos into the white paste, carefully ran her servos over Skyquake's back, tenderly applying the paste. Her face was slack as she applied the paste, trying to no avail to ignore the massive welts under her servos that were so numerous as to be unavoidable. She wondered if the scars ever hurt him.
It made her ill just to look at them, much less to lash him on top of it.
He had taken so much hurt, and so much of it was her fault. How could she have possibly not noticed that something so awful was happening in the Decepticon forces? Her spark clenched in guilt and anger at how blind she'd allowed her rage to make her. Had she truly been so naive to it all? No, so willfully ignorant.
This had happened to him because she was a fool, blinded by lust for revenge. Too blinded to see that she was causing harm to the new family fate had given her. She'd been given a second chance and she'd nearly blown it to avenge the first.
But he was right. All of that was in the past now. And she had a duty to perform.
Following one's duty was like having a bipolar madmech for a master. One orn it would be pleasant and she'd hardly even notice that her duty was driving her, and the next orn it would drag her from one cruel task to the next, leaving her with no choice but to perform.
No matter how much her spark wanted her to refuse.
She moved to land the first blow and flinched back before she could do it, averting her gaze to the floor. For several klicks she stood like that, glaring at the floor with an intense loathing as she gripped the whip in her hand. It was a losing battle and she knew it. Duty would always win out, because duty brought order to the chaos in her life. Yet she fought with a passion.
"Forgive me." The Protihexian two-wheeler whispered at last, laying the first stroke.
Five.
Skyquake knelt against the wall impassively, not even flinching as the lashes went on. Not a sound came from the mech, not a single wince or jerk wracked his frame. His only movement was the unavoidable lurch forward from the whip's impacts. Terabyte cringed every time she swung the whip, her armor pressing into her as hard as it could, her finials painfully contracted to try and block out the sound of whip against protoform.
Ten.
Still Skyquake showed no signs of pain, no signs of any feeling at all, though her scans showed that his pain receptors had not been offlined. The only change in his posture was that he'd gone perfectly tense and stiff beneath the lashes. She was certain that she would have felt better if he'd only screamed or at least flinched and gasped. But this was so much worse, because she knew that he was only hiding it for her.
Fifteen.
Now the jet's armor trembled faintly, and his vents came more heavily. His hands shook imperceptibly against the wall. His frame jerked away involuntarily as each blow was landed on his scarred back. Terabyte could hear her own armor rattling against her frame it was shaking so hard. She could taste life-En in her mouth from her biting her glossa, and a low whine rose from her vocalizers. She cringed with every lash as though she were receiving them herself, not dealing them.
Twenty.
Due to the way a flier's wings were connected, she no longer had any way to avoid crossing the lashes. The first time the whip fell across new welts, the mech let out a short gasp, but no more. His armor shook a little harder, and his claws pierced through the concrete walls under the force he was gripping it with. A crunch of a handful of concrete being pulverized in his grip filled her audials. Terabyte's hands trembled enough that it was becoming difficult to land each blow.
Twenty-five.
Skyquake let out the beginning of a howl before a distinctive hiss of static signified that he'd forcibly offlined his vocalizer. Even as she beat him, his only thought was to protect her. He was hiding just how much he hurt, because he knew that it would hurt her. She choked on her next vent at the revelation, but went on, taking a miniscule comfort in knowing she was nearly finished.
Thirty.
As soon as she'd landed the final lash, Terabyte fell to her diamond-shaped kneeplates, where she curled into a ball with her helm buried in her pedes. She flung the Enforcer's whip from her in disgust, not caring where it went, or fully processing that had he not dodged, it would have collided with the Prime's helm.
She rocked back and forth gently, sobbing into her knees with no cares about the Autobots in the room watching her with concern and pity.
A series of clicks of armor being clasped into place were shortly followed by a whirr as the wing restraining device was removed, then she felt Skyquake shift so that he was kneeling beside her. Her engine hitched as a shaky hand landed on her shoulder, giving her a gentle, comforting squeeze.
Terabyte looked up into his face, her own coolant stained face-plates still masked. He had life-En streaming from his lower lip where he'd bitten it to keep from showing the pain. She reached up to slowly wipe the Energon from his chin.
This was all her fault. This was the punishment for her betrayal last quartex. Optimus had hardly punished her at all for what she had done under Soundwave's manipulation. This was how she was being punished. The worst punishment he could possibly give. Not punishing her directly, but making her hurt the ones she cared for.
He smiled weakly, giving her shoulder another squeeze before rising with a more than a little bit precarious sway. He had definitely taken beatings a hundred times worse than this one - he had the scars to prove it - but that didn't make what she'd done any better. Nor did it make it hurt any less.
It just meant that he still could stand, albeit unsteadily.
She leapt to her pedes and placed herself under his arm just in time to catch the mech before he overbalanced and hurt himself falling. Hydraulics in her pedes hissed under the added weight and her whole frame groaned in protest. She felt her logic processors shut down from the emotional stress of what she'd just done.
Warning: Load is beyond weight-bearing capabilities. Dropping load is advised.
The two-wheeler let out a bark of humorless laughter at that, drawing curious gazes to her as her struts creaked again. She could feel Skyquake struggling to get his balance enough to take at least part of the weight off of her, which only made her laugh a little more.
"OP... I think we broke her..." Bumblebee buzzed quietly, giving a concerned whirl of clicks and beeps.
The warning that had her giggling breathlessly popped up again on her HUD, a little more urgently. As she giggled a bit longer, even Skyquake looked down at her with confused worry, "Tera?"
"My processors are telling me to drop you." She explained, grinning up at him behind her mask. "Like, HUD warnings and everything."
Now the green fighter jet chuckled, wincing as it shook his sore frame, "And will you?"
"Maybe, maybe not." She sang, still not caring about their puzzled audience. "Though really, mech, you need to lose a ton or two if you want me to run around with you on my shoulders. I'm gonna blow a hydraulic or a strut or something."
Skyquake looked down at the loopy femme half his size who was currently keeping him from falling flat on his face. He gave her a small smile so she knew that he'd heard her, but his optics shone with concern.
Half of her processors seemed to have simply given up. The logical half. She was beside herself and to cope with it, her logic centers just shut down. Leaving her like this.
He hadn't wanted this to ever have happened. For over a decavorn he had done all that he possibly could to protect her from this. From the pain that this would cause when she came back to herself. He fought with his frame until at last he managed to take some of his weight off of the tiny femme.
The jet glared over her helm at the Prime. There had been no rhyme or reason for the great Matrix-bearer to subject her to this. He didn't care about getting the lashes. They were nothing compared to previous ones. But someone else should have dealt them. It hurt him more that she had been hurt hurting him because of him.
And he didn't care that that made absolutely no sense to anyone that wasn't him.
He didn't need it to make sense; it was just a simple fact that had become a part of him since he had met Terabyte. His spark didn't need for his logic processors to explain it in order for him to understand it.
"My Prime," Skyquake rumbled, carressing her helm tenderly in his hand, knowing that beneath her giggling and her light-helmedness, her spark was in turmoil. "Permission to be escorted to the brig by Terabyte."
The Prime locked optics with him for a moment before nodding regally. "Permission granted. Bumblebee, accompany them."
Skyquake inclined his helm in acknowledgement, striding slowly towards the brig, leaning on Terabyte as much as he dared for support. He hissed and bit hard on his glossa as she wrapped an arm around his back in an attempt to help hold him up, but he didn't say anything.
"Skyquake?"
He looked down at the little two-wheeler who had gradually shifted from supporting him to leaning into him. He smiled fondly down at her, hiding the grimace as he adjusted to hold all of his weight again, plus the added weight of her leaning into him. Her steps were sluggish and uncoordinated.
Each step jarred his bruised back, but he didn't let it get to him. He had taken far worse than this far too often to be affected. It disgusted him how weak he had become. Between the seven vorns of stasis and having his processors partially torn out, he had grown soft. Pain hurt more than it did before.
"Yes?" He asked finally, when the femme didn't continue.
"Where are we going?" She queried, her tone soft and trusting.
He had a feeling he could have told her they were going back to her apartment in Protihex to see her parents and she would have believed him without a single doubt in her poor, over-taxed spark.
"To the brig." He said gently, feeling Terabyte hug him closer with a worried whine at his words, her actions bringing the vivid image of a frightened youngling to the foremost part of his mind.
After a few more steps, she asked innocently with a scared waver in her beautiful voice, "Did I do something bad?"
She was going to fall into recharge soon, he could hear it in her voice, and feel it in the way her frame got continually heavier as she leaned into him more and more for support. She was in denial and her processors were pushing her into recharge to try and bring order to her mind without having to fight with her spark.
"No..." He sighed deeply, waiting for the yellow scout to take down the force field to let them in to the cell he was assigned. "No, Tera, you haven't done anything wrong."
"My spark hurts, Sky..." She whispered sleepily, buring her helm in his chest as soon as they'd sat down on the brig berth, drawing her pedes up under herself. "Why?"
Skyquake leaned back tenderly into the wall, wincing as his back touched the wall. He flicked a wing in annoyance. He reached over with one hand and pulled the light prison-grade blanket over the nearly asleep two-wheeler, then wrapped his arm over her shoulders.
"Because it is kind, Terabyte." He whispered back, his sensors telling him that she would not be able to stay awake much longer. "Because it is kind, and loving, and belongs to the most beautiful femme I have ever had the privilege of knowing..."
She took a huge vent and burrowed into him more. "You're really nice... I like you..." She yawned, her engine purring contentedly as she mumbled blearily, "I-I... I think I'll have'ta keep y'round, pretty winger... Warm and fuzzy pretty winger."
It took great effort for him not to burst out laughing at the little femme's loopy rambling. He smiled down at her fondly as the recharging femme snuggled up against him, pulling the blanket the rest of the way around herself. He sat there, watching her sleep half-way in his lap before slowly leaning his helm back against the wall, taking great pains - literally - not to disturb her.
His optics drifted around the room in a lazy habit of checking his surroundings before allowing himself to recharge. His gaze was greeted with two frames on the second brig berth in much the same position as he and Terabyte.
Cliffjumper sat on the berth with his back gingerly against the wall. Arcee sat beside him, curled into his side with the red mech's arm draped over her shoulders. Sky blue optics met ruby in a single look of mutual understanding.
They both sighed as deeply as they dared without hurting themselves.
He stroked Terabyte's revealed face-plate softly, running his thumb over the scar from her optic to her lip. It was fading, slowly. Seven vorns had smoothed it out considerably, softening the edges that had once been so jagged.
Bending down carefully, and grimacing as the movement stretched his sore back, Skyquake hesitated for a moment before planting a gentle kiss on the top of her ridged black helm, smiling at how her engine purred.
Skyquake slid back against the wall and slipped into the void of recharge.
Next Day. 0400.
"Because it is kind, Terabyte... Because it is kind, and loving, and it belongs to most beautiful femme I have ever had the privilege of knowing."
"You're really nice... I like you..." She whispered blearily, "I-I... I think I'll have'ta keep y'round, pretty winger... Warm and fuzzy pretty winger..."
Terabyte smiled contentedly and listened to the steady thrum of Skyquake's spark. It was such a nice thing to wake up to. It seemed to be happening frequently as of late, waking up to that thrum. She shifted her pedes stiffly and moved her helm from where the jet's arm had slid to put a weird pressure on her finial, giving her a small helm-ache.
Or maybe the helm ache was from half her processors offlining. Then her optics flew wide as she remembered the events that led up to her logic processors shutting down.
A horrified choke sounded from her vocalizers and she bolted upright, waking the green jet with a start. She shuddered, wishing that her logic processors had just stayed offline. Her vents started heaving and she shuttered her optics as coolant began to flow again, her body having synthesized a new coolant supply.
"What's wrong?" Skyquake mumbled, his optics still dim from recharge. He shifted with a low groan.
She buried her helm in his cockpit, trying to hide her tears from him. Not that it did much good since her tears were now rolling down the glass surface of his cockpit. Her sobs wracked her frame as the green jet's arms came around her to awkwardly rub her back as she cried into him.
"Shh..." Skyquake whispered softly, holding her helm in his large hand. She could feel him slowly coming more awake, signified by the stifled moans of discomfort. "It's alright, shh..."
"But it isn't!" She pleaded desperately, even though she knew the answers, "Why did you let me do it? Why did I let me do it?"
"I asked for you to do it, Terabyte." He replied firmly, turning sideways on the berth to push her away and look into her optics sternly, holding her by her shoulders. "And you have no idea how much I appreciate it. My only regret is that you were hurt in the process."
Terabyte shook her helm, her engine hitching loudly, "Sky... I hurt you! How can you be so - so grateful?"
He smiled at her in a way that broke a tiny part of her spark inside. His perfect ruby optics held the same, self-hating gleam of guilt that she'd seen too often in her own reflection. "Because I deserved far more, Tera... I am grateful because you were there for me the whole time. I don't think you fully realize just how much that means to me."
Her revealed, coolant-stained expression contorted in confusion and she cocked her helm in silent question where she now sat cross-legged across from Skyquake, whose hands and come down to hold hers.
He gave a self-deprecating smile, shrugging lightly as though what he was about to say was a long-standing fact, "Terabyte, I love you." He chuckled at her somehow simultaneously shocked, puzzled, suspicious, and thrilled expression, "I told you as much before I ever saw your face, and again before I came to Earth, and I'm telling you again now. And it will only grow truer for as long as my spark pulses within me. Nothing can change that, not this, not Dreadwing, not even Primus himself."
She frowned minutely at the frustrated expression that crossed his face for a split second when he mentioned his twin, bringing her to urge quietly, "What is it?"
"It doesn't matter, just my processors still sorting out old memories."
She pursed her lips in minor annoyance, momentarily filing away what he'd just told her to bring up again at another time. "Sky. Y-you brought up Dreadwing... Is he coming?"
"Yes." Skyquake replied instantly, before averting his gaze. His spark burned whenever his processors brought up the name, but he didn't know why. He hesitated for a moment before venturing to ask, "Who... Who is he?"
Her mouth fell open into a little 'o'. He didn't remember his own twin. She closed her mouth, then opened it again to answer only to hesitate.
If he didn't know his own twin, then he must have inadvertently closed down the bond when he was so badly damaged six quartex ago when he awoke. Which meant that he had nothing in his spark to constantly deride how he just professed to feel for her. It also meant that his other half's damages wouldn't be able to cause him near the pain as before.
Not knowing kept her closest friend safer and more free.
She automatically berated herself for thinking so selfishly, but the thoughts refused to leave her mind. The temptation to keep him in the dark was overwhelming. But she tightened her jaw and shoved the selfish thoughts aside.
She couldn't just lie to him. Not about this. Especially not now.
Because the more she thought about it, she knew that she... that she loved him. She'd never even considered putting that word to how she felt, but for the first time his words seemed to fully click in her mind and she knew that it was true. And love - a concept that confused so many - was not as she had been told so many times before. Love was not an emotion to come and go with ease.
It was a promise.
"Dreadwing..." She started slowly, her processors still mulling over the revelations that were flooding her mind and spark. "Dreadwing is your twin, Sky. You are a split spark, and he is the other half of your being."
His expression went solemn and thoughtful, his ruby optics dimming as he took this in and factored it in with all the memories that had no doubt been confusing him to no end since his recovery. Nearly a breem passed, Terabyte's own expression growing harder every astrosecond.
The other jet hated her.
She'd known that for far longer than Sky had. In fact, she was pretty certain that he still didn't fully understand just how much his twin hated her. The blue and gold mech had kept it well hidden until Skyquake left. Sure, Dreadwing kept her safe just as Skyquake had made him promise to.
That never meant he had to like it.
Given the way twin bonds worked, that had always been a shadow over every interaction. A wall of restraint. To be perfectly blunt with herself, she saw the blue and gold mech as nothing more than a cause of strife from the day she'd learned they were twins.
She didn't hate Dreadwing. Not at all. He was the other half of Skyquake, she couldn't hate him. She just didn't care about him. He was just a way for Skyquake to get hurt without even being on the battlefield. He was a health risk.
Finally Skyquake's engine let out a rumble that jarred her from her conflicted thoughts as he spoke quietly, his tone dead serious. "Was I different when I knew him?"
"You..." She frowned, searching for the right words to express what she wanted to without showing how she truly felt on the matter. "You were not different. Just, a little held back, comparatively."
He scowled, his optics showing that he'd made a decision. "I don't remember him. Not properly. Not enough to throw away what we've worked so hard to build here with the Autobots. He is still a Decepticon, we are not. I do not need him. If I meet him again, and this twin bond you tell me I share with him revives, perhaps I will reconsider."
She leaned back, her optics widening in surprise at his unexpected take on it. Never had she even considered him looking at it like that. His spark would have to be in constant pain from the locked bond, she couldn't let him make this decision so rashly. Though a small portion of her mind told her that it wouldn't hurt to just let it go until it became an issue - if it ever did.
"But what about your spark?" The two-wheeler asked quietly, keeping her tone free of any signs that she didn't want him to change his mind.
"As long as you are here, it doesn't matter, Terabyte." He replied confidently, gently tilting her chin up to look her in the optics, "Together we can get through anything."
She smiled softly, nodding her helm in agreement, then nodding again as though in confirmation. She turned and leaned back against the wall, staring out at the energy field locking the four of them in. "Because... because you... love me?"
"Because I love you, and my only duty is to you." Skyquake repeated quietly, staring at the energy field just like she was, each of them simply sitting side by side, enjoying the other's presence.
Terabyte smirked, laughing an overwhelmed little laugh, her processor still working to totally grasp the concept. She didn't figure she'd every fully grasp it, and for the first time, not understanding completely didn't bother her detail-oriented mind. She was content to simply be and allow it to do the same.
"I think I could get used to hearing you say that."
"Not gonna call me your pretty winger?" The fighter jet teased, making her glance up into his twinkling ruby optics that still focused on the force field in front of them.
She elbowed him in mock annoyance, "Hey. No fair, I was half asleep and mentally incapacitated." She gave a derisive snort, "Pretty winger, hm? I wouldn't be so sure that's a title you want to keep, pin-cushion."
"You could modify it a little..." He conceded with a grin, "Handsome would be more fitting, don't you think?"
She snickered, "If you say so, Knockout."
"Oi!" Skyquake exclaimed indignantly, "I object to that!"
She grinned, her scarlet optics lit with a wicked gleam. "You're really not helping your case, mech."
His engine gave a disgruntled rumble, though the wide smile on his face not fading in the slightest. He flicked a wing, not-quite hiding a wince, "So... can we change the subject now, since I'm not winning this one?"
"Oh, am I insulting your vanity now?" She asked, raising an optic ridge cheekily.
Bing.
Terabyte frowned and opened her comm channel, touching two servos to her finial to let Skyquake know she'd been commed.
/Lieutenant Terabyte, you and Arcee are needed in the ground-bridge chamber./ The Prime sent.
/Yes sir./ The black and midnight blue femme replied crisply, rising from where she'd been seated. Glancing over at where Arcee was still recharging against Cliffjumper's shoulder, the spy continued, /We will be there within the next breem.../ Running a quick scan to see how deep the other femme was in recharge, Terabyte finished hesitantly, /Or as close to that as possible.../
/Thank you, Terabyte. Optimus out./
She let out a sigh of relief as the comm link terminated. She smiled over at Skyquake apologetically, her mask rising and her armor flaring back out from where it had relaxed. "Well... you asked for a subject change."
Terabyte strode over to the other berth where Cliffjumper was seated upright in recharge with Arcee slumped beside him. She reached out a hand to shake the femme, but stopped the action half-way. After a moment's consideration, she pulled on an authoritative tone and said, "Arcee. You are needed in the bridge chamber. The Prime has ordered that you wake this instant."
Nothing.
Behind her, Skyquake was chuckling at her futile attempts to persuade the sleeping warrior to wake up. She ignored him and tried again, a bit louder. "Arcee! Your presence is required in the main chamber, wake up immediately."
"You're not going to be able to talk either of them into waking up." The fighter jet behind her commented drily.
"Oh, shush, you." She shot back, staring at the two sleeping Autobots with her brows furrowed in frustration. "She's in a brig cell with a mech - namely you - who still scans as a Decepticon. If I touch her, who's to say she won't try to kill me on waking?"
He hummed in agreement, though he still seemed far more amused by her situation than concerned, "True. You could probably take her. After all, you survived an ambush by the Autobots' famed Terror Twins."
She gave an exasperated huff. Finally she reached out again and shook the slightly taller two-wheeler, keeping as far away as she could and tensing up considerably in anticipation of the femme's explosive reaction.
Nothing.
Her chronometer informed her of the fact that she only had three klicks left to get Arcee awake and to the main chamber before she would be late. She shook the blue and pink femme again, more vigorously this time.
The femme was moving in an instant, a blur of pink and blue being Terabyte's only warning before she was pinned against the wall with the other femme's forearm blade pressed against her neck. Surprisingly Skyquake hadn't moved from where he sat on the berth, still smirking.
She glanced down and realized with a start that her own Energon blade had extended without her noticing and was pressed against Arcee's abdomen, being the reason the other femme had stopped. Her miniature fusion cannon was charged and held level with the other femme's helm. A small smirk came to her own lips. Skyquake knew her well.
"Good morning, Arcee." She said calmly. In spite of her pounding spark, her tone remained crisp and professional. "The Prime requested our presence in the ground-bridge chamber, if you would be so kind as to stand down?"
"Good... morning..." The older femme replied slowly, frowning as she backed away, sheathing the twin forearm blades. Terabyte likewise sheathed her dagger and powered down her mini-cannon. "Sorry... reflex."
She inclined her helm with a hidden smile, "Likewise."
"And it was written in the Covenant of Primus that when the forty-seven spheres align, a perpetual conflict will culminate upon a world forged from chaos and the weak will perish under the shadow of a rising darkness." Optimus recited gravely, pulling up an image on the main terminal of a map of celestial orbits depicting the forty-seven spheres in question.
Bulkhead snorted, "What? No skies raining fire?"
"Goes without saying." Arcee smirked, resting on hand on her hip, "It is a doom prophecy after all."
Beside them, Terabyte held her expression neutral, her processors still a little distracted from her early conversation with Skyquake. Unbeknownst to her, her scarlet optics went dim as she focused inward while they spoke in dramatic tones about bogus prophecies she'd never heard of.
The large olive Wrecker chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "I say it's a load o' hooey."
Ratchet hummed thoughtfully, scrutinizing the screen with his turquoise optics narrowed. "I'd always assumed the ancients were referring to our home planet, but being that Cybertron has been dark for eons..."
Her pleasant thoughts had shifted to a little farther back, to the painful memories of lashing Skyquake and Cliffjumper. And to think that the jet had continued to talk to her with such loving kindness just klicks after she'd dealt their punishment.
"And considering what evils have befallen this planet since Megatron's arrival here-" The Prime put in, Bulkhead cutting him off holding up his hands to halt everyone, Bumblebee whirring in concurrence with the Wrecker.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The olive mech shook his helm. "We've known about these superstitions for ages and never gave 'em a second thought."
The pink and blue warrior nodded in agreement, "Why all the ominous rumblings now?"
She knew that she had been fair in her whipping. She had used no more force than absolutely necessary to be just, and her thigh still burned to prove that she had made absolutely certain of that. No Energon had been drawn, nor did she come close to drawing life-En. The welts would heal completely, there would be no permanent welting or damage to them. Merely an orn or so of discomfort, probably less with the healing compound she'd applied.
"Because the planetary alignment to which the prophecy refers is nearly upon us." Optimus's deep baritone rumbled solemnly. "And it would seem it's end point-"
"Is Earth." Ratchet finished.
Bulkhead chuckled, a little more tentatively this time, "Uh... Huh. Crazy coincidence, r-right?"
The scars, welts, and welds she'd seen on Skyquake's back made her sick. He was a good soldier. Too good a soldier to have taken the number of beatings each scar spoke of. Sure, a portion of them would have been war scars, and scars from his gladiatorial time in the Pits. But there were still far too many.
Perhaps all those times she'd broken protocol and thought she'd gotten away with it...
"There is no such thing as coincidence." Terabyte declared softly, her optics still dim and her focus still not in the present.
The mechs and other femme in the room turned to look at her curiously, their focused gazes bringing her to look up at them with unseeing optics.
The Prime was the first to gently urge, "Would you like to explain what you mean, Terabyte?"
Hearing her name jarred the small two-wheeler back into reality, forcing her optics to reboot and refocus owlishly. She blinked before finally - sounding incredibly intelligent - asking, "Hmm?"
"You said you don't believe in coincidences." Arcee prompted.
At her confused expression, Bumblebee let out a humored reel of beeps, "So you wanna enlighten us on what about this whole prophecy thing made you say that? Y'know, rather than just standing there with that dead-fish expression?"
She didn't give the scout the satisfaction of an annoyed scowl. He couldn't even see her expression anyway. Instead she turned to the Prime, fumbling to cover for her not paying attention to the conversation, "My apologies, sir... I- I simply said that because..."
"Terabyte," The scarlet and cobalt Matrix-bearer chided gently, "You do not have to be afraid to say that you were distracted." At the way she sheepishly turned her optics to regard her the floor, Optimus went on, "We were discussing the prophecy regarding the forty-seven spheres' aligning, and how it seems to be referring to Earth."
She refused to look up, "I am unfamiliar with the prophecy, sir."
He handed her a datapad with an almost unnoticeable frown. "I was not aware of this... My apologies, Terabyte, I ought to have given you prior briefing."
Her servos curled around the datapad, though she still couldn't bring herself to meet any of their gazes. Especially when Bulkhead scoffed, "A likely excuse. Everyone knows the prophecies! They teach the Covenant of Primus in schools to-"
"Third frame younglings." Terabyte spat bitterly, glowering at the mech with a deeply-rooted hate burning in her blood red optics, "Since you've apparently forgotten, I watched my city burn then joined the Decepticons as an adult that vorn. So, sorry to disappoint, but while I can hack Soundwave himself, I can't tell you slag about the Covenant of Primus."
She could see in their shocked expressions that they hadn't been expecting such an outburst from her, but she didn't particularly care. The negative turn of her thoughts had crushed her good mood and left her bitter and angry with herself, with the Autobots, with the Decepticons, with everything in general.
The black and midnight blue femme scowled, allowing a low growl to sound from her engine as she roughly yanked her wrist panel open, plugging her sync cable directly into the datapad and downloading its contents quickly. Ripping it free as soon as it finished and snapping her wrist panel back in place, dimming her optics as she took a moment to process the newly inputted data.
At last she met the Prime's optics, her tone stiffly cool, her armor held flared painfully tightly, "My best conclusion at the time being would be that Megatron's presence on this planet, the Dark Energon that sustains his twisted spark, and the time of the approaching alignment are not coincidential. It is unsettling to think how the 'Lord Protector' will attempt to warp this prophecy to fit his goals. I can nearly guarantee that he will believe-"
"That it speaks to him alone." Ratchet concluded for her. She flicked an annoyed finial at being interrupted.
She sighed, shuttering her optics and massaging the base of her right finial. She needed to get away for a while. To collect her thoughts and get control of the emotional rollercoaster that was her spark.
She spoke quietly, not bothering to open her optics again, her tone showing a small amount of the stress and exhaustion she felt, "How long until the alignment is at its zenith?"
Optimus' engine gave a short hum, his voice grave, "A few days at most. It is only a matter of time."
It would seem that her much-needed escape would have to come at a later date. They had not had a lull for far too long, and all of the Autobots were as drained as she was. For now, she would simply have to try to keep ahold of herself until this new crisis was passed. They all would.