Fire of Youth
Chapter 10
*Note to Kaleia: Yeah, the "psychic" thing kind of made sense in my mind. Optimus was hugely intelligent, no argument there, but there are some things you sort of wonder how he knew. In any event, the Matrix is a mystical artifact, so mystical "side effects" are pretty much a no brainer in my mind. It's not psychic, not really. It's more like indirect reverse clairvoyance – seeing something from the views of someone else that has already happened. He always talked about "perspective," so maybe there was a hidden reason for that.
That recorded message from Alpha Trion is a good example of the Matrix's mystical side. If anyone else had picked up the Saber, nothing would've happened, and the way it was displayed showed it very plainly as a bizarre "out of body" experience. He was technically in the silo, but at the same time he was also somewhere else and effectively speaking to Alpha Trion himself. That frankly did not seem like a recording to me. That was far too...direct. Also, his optics glowing? Another hint at mystical weirdness going on.
Note 2: When you said "That's...Cool." I honestly don't know what tone you're using there. Are you happy with that or not? o.O I like my readers happy. I don't like unhappy ones. I feel like a failure then. D:
But yeah. Starscream's not exactly one to think things through very well, is he? But make no mistake: here, he knows just he's doing.
Infernus bared his fangs and snarled at the stiletto-heeled creep across from him, the sound so vicious that it actually made Bumblebee look at him oddly. He was pleased to note the Seeker tense and flinch back, obviously recalling the last time he'd tried to fight him; some of the injuries from that last encounter were still plainly visible – gouges, scratches, bite marks, scorch marks. If a beast-related wound could be named, Starscream bore one. And from that wary look in his optics, he didn't want a repeat of being beaten within an inch of his life like last time.
*Yeah? How about if you turn around and run away I don't re-open some of those welds and make 'em a hundred times worse?*
Starscream growled softly but it was clear he was debating listening to such a warning. Vividly he recalled the pain the Primeling had inflicted on him in his grief-stricken wrath at Darkmount. A small number of those wounds Knockout had told him would never fully heal and would instead remain as unsightly scars – reminders to never cross him when he was foul-tempered. But he was perceptive enough to note a faint hesitation in Infernus's optics, even if his body language said otherwise.
He smirked. "You won't do it. That would be against your precious moral code. Optimus wouldn't be too happy with you if you killed me."
The Primeling permitted himself a toothy smile. His claws retracted. *Oh yeah? Willing to risk another beating to prove me wrong?*
He snarled savagely again, then snapping in the Seeker's direction. Again the grey Seeker flinched back, red optics becoming more and more wary as he realized that he quite possibly was serious and would take his life if the situation called for it. The Vehicons, stubbornly loyal creatures they were, dealt with this threat display of his a little better, merely tensing and training their weapons on him with far more scrutiny. But they still appeared understandably nervous.
*I took you down once. I'll slagging well do it again. You know why? You're a coward, 'Scream. You're scared to face me, and you're scared to face death. So run along and neither of those things will happen. Okay? This thing is dangerous to both sides. If you let Shockwave clone this thing, you won't be able to control it. It'll poison your troops before you can even set it on us. Let us take it. We'll get rid of it safely.*
Starscream's smirk transformed into a twisted frown. The Primeling did make a sensible point, but he was nowhere near the persuader that Optimus had been. He had been given the task of collecting this particular tracker-chipped fossil by Megatron, and he was damned if he failed in the mission. After all, the warlord was not happy with him for abandoning him to his fight with Smokescreen. This was his surefire way of redeeming himself. He thus jerked a hand to his soldiers.
"I'll be taking that skull from your dead body if I have to!"
And just like that the Seeker's little armada opened fire, pelting him with energy shots that did little except irritate him. Starscream's missiles did a little more thanks to some upgrades, pounding against his metal hide and exploding with shrapnel that tore into his metal hide like serrated teeth. Another shrapnel-laden missile compounded the bleeding further. Soon his white hide was stained with the pale blue of oozing Energon, the precious fluid dripping to the ground, staining the soil beneath him.
*Smoke! You okay?!* Bumblebee trilled, doing his best to keep the Decepticons off him with concentrated gunfire. It was a wonder he was still standing. Primus, that was a lot of Energon coming out of him...
Rearing back, Infernus spat out a whirlwind of all-consuming flames from his maw. Two of the Vehicons got caught in the lethal firestorm while the others, plus their commander, nimbly dodged out of the way and continued to fire at him. Ignoring the stinging of his wounds, he charged forward and leapt onto one of the three remaining Vehicons, rending its chest open with his claws and spewing fire into the open cavity. The Vehicon thrashed at the agonizing pain, screaming. Then it fell still.
He then surged at the second, whirling around, the spear-tip of his tail impaling it in the neck. The Vehicon choked harshly, Energon gushing from its pierced neck lines. One flick of his tail severed the cables and sent the detached helm flying off into the distance, the body jerking once, twice, before finally falling with a soft thud on the already fuel-stained ground. Its lifeblood proceeded to flow in a torrential river from where its helm used to be. A stream of fire stopped the flow, cauterizing the ends of the lines by melting the openings together.
The third and final one suffered the fate of the first – he tackled it to the ground, tore its chest open, and spewed fire into its exposed spark chamber. Like the first it screamed and thrashed as the searing fire scalded its internals. He watched its spark sputter and go out like a candle being snuffed, the delicate sphere of life energy unable to take the heat. He could've sworn he heard a whispered voice thank him just as that happened – thank him for the cleansing and the release from service in the manner of a warrior.
Bumblebee had the grace to gape. He hadn't seen Smokescreen fight at Darkmount, but what he'd just witnessed – an efficiency that was both brutal and savage – he well understood Megatron's call to retreat that day.
With that task done, he turned to Starscream, stalking towards him whilst emitting a low growl. The Seeker himself looked utterly terrified now, his red optics as wide as they could physically go, wings down and trembling, fear chemicals readily detectable to the Primeling's powerful olfactory sensors. His blaster arm quivered as it followed Infernus's movements. And judging from what he was looking at – an Energon-soaked Predacon who had just dispatched his little squadron with disturbing ease, he well should be terrified.
Before Starscream could make a run for it, Infernus charged at him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there. Snarling, he gave a warning snap at first his neck, then his faceplates. And yet he did not finish the Seeker off. Much as he wanted to, he found himself unwilling to snap his neck as he had with the Vehicon. He loathed Starscream about as much as any other Autobot, but he did not like killing, for each time he made a kill the Matrix itself seemed to protest it, not to mention it brought their race as a whole just that much closer to total extinction. A life, no matter how corrupt, was still a life.
*Get out.* the Primeling hissed. *Before I change my mind.*
Starscream managed a terrified nod of his helm. Infernus then got off him and watched as flew away into the sky, panicked. He was soon lost from sight.
Infernus simply stood there for a moment, air intakes heavy as the pain of his injuries finally caught up with him at last. His vision was beginning to go all blurry from loss of Energon, and he felt weird and light-helmed, too. Alerts for Energon loss flickered in the corners of his optics. He turned to the scout, transforming with a faint grunt of effort, and then proceeded to topple over like a felled tree, the world blurring even further before finally going dark.
Bumblebee reacted in a flash. He darted over to the unconscious form, at the same time opening an emergency distress channel back to the hangar. Ratchet answered almost instantly, demanding what was the matter. When he reported that Smokescreen had taken a hell of a beating from two shrapnel missiles courtesy of Starscream, the old medic let out a hissed curse.
[How bad is he?]
[*Unconscious and looks like he got a new paint job of pale blue.*] Bumblebee replied dryly. [*He's in-taking air, but they're real shallow, and it sounds like the Energon he's leaking is starting to clog his vents up. I know basic first-aid, but he's...it's bad, Ratch. Real bad. You need to get over here, like, right now. If we don't get this bleeding stopped pronto, I don't think he's gonna make it. For once, 'Scream knew exactly what he was doing. He came prepared.*]
In answer, a swirling turquoise portal opened up on the ridge where they'd arrived. Out of it drove Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Ultra Magnus who came speeding over to the excavation site. They arrived at the scout's side and transformed, giving Ratchet room to work. The old medic wasted no time, grabbing his kit from the Commander and selecting a few of his tools – an arc welder, animesh, and what looked like a giant pair of sci-fi pincers. Without turning his attention away from his patient, he crisply ordered Bumblebee to keep a look out. The scout obeyed wordlessly.
He set to work removing the ugly pieces of twisted metal that had embedded themselves in Infernus's white plating, slightly unnerved that he displayed no response. While each piece removed seemed to compound the bleeding, removing them would actually allow for the Primeling's repair systems to begin to work properly. That shrapnel was doing nothing but obstructing them. Regardless, he used his powerful arc welder to seal some of the more life-threatening breaches. They weren't permanent welds by any means. They were meant to simply stem the flow and keep the precious fuel inside him while he worked. Permanent welds could come once they had him back within the safe confines of Hangar E.
Once done with the major wounds Ratchet turned to the more minor ones. A number of these looked merely cosmetic, but a greater number were more significant and posed a real danger. These he sealed with his in-built line welders and covered with strips of animesh – special bandages comprised of thin sheets of highly malleable metal. They would help prevent further leaking, keep some of the more vital welds in place, and stimulate his repair systems.
Infernus's air intake cycles became smoother, less wheezy after this treatment, but they still remained shallow, and he still remained caked in his own spilled fuel.
The medic rose. "I've done what I can out here. We need to get him back to the hangar so I can continue patching him up. We're dangerously exposed out here, and he needs Energon to replace what he's lost. I'll need your assistance in moving him, both of you."
Bulkhead balked a little on hearing this. All the way back up the ridge? With fresh welds? Was that even safe?
Well aware of the absurdity of such a request, Ratchet contacted Rafael back at the hangar and sent him a new set of coordinates. The boy did not disappoint. A pale sea-foam green groundbridge swirled to life almost right on top of the gathering. Though still unconscious, Infernus did seem to react subtly to the soft roar the portal made, though it was barely noticeable. To Ratchet this was a very good sign. It meant he was still functioning, if only just. With as much Energon as he had lost it was a miracle he was still online to begin with. His scanners revealed his spark to be fluctuating from the sudden interruption of energy.
As gently as they could, Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead hefted the unconscious form between themselves and carted him through, Bumblebee grabbing the unearthed skull out of its earthen pit and following them. Then the portal snapped shut.
In the light of the half moon, a piece of jagged metal glittered faintly at the bottom of the pit...
The hangar had been suffused with panic ever since Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, and Ratchet had come through with the Energon-soaked form of Infernus, Bumblebee coming through with a snake-like skull in one hand a mere second before the portal behind him closed. Bluestreak had given a cry of alarm and had tried to rush forward. Prowl held him back, expression impassive but spark pounding anxiously. All the aliens had seen gory wounds before, but this was the worst any had seen in a long time.
Above, the three teens had hurried to the railings, mouths agape and eyes round in horror at the ghastly site below.
"Oh my God...What happened to him?" Jack demanded, blue-grey eyes wide. His hands gripped the railing tight enough for knuckles to turn white.
Bumblebee emitted a low, sharp drone. "Starscream." Rafael translated quietly.
He had been placed on the sole medical berth, precious fuel still dripping from his body and pooling on the ground. Only the welds covering him convinced the others that the fuel wasn't fresh; that he wasn't losing any more was some small consolation. He had already lost a great deal of it, and they didn't have much of the stuff to spare. Using even a small amount of what little they had would cause their reserves to dwindle further.
Ratchet had set back to work in an instant, setting up what little medical equipment he had managed to take from Omega One before its destruction to keep his patient stable. Optics on his arm-mounted monitor, he removed some of the animesh and made the already present welds stronger and more permanent. He set up an Energon drip in order to replenish that which the Primeling had lost, unheeding (and frankly uncaring) that their reserves were now down by two cubes. In his mind such a sacrifice was worth it. He then put him in stasis lock.
Optimus had told him to keep them all alive. And he slagging well wasn't about to fail him in that promise. Energon could be replaced in the end. Smokescreen couldn't. Like Optimus, Smokescreen wasn't just the leader of the group – he was a symbol for them to rally around when hope seemed like a fool's fantasy. Remove that symbol and they might as well give up the fight.
Once Smokescreen was hooked up and sealed up, Ratchet drew back. "I've done what I can for him. The rest is up to him. All we can do now is wait."
"H-He'll be okay though, won't he?" Bulkhead wondered. He'd seen too many 'Bots die because of this war – good mechs and femmes, all of them. But Smokescreen? He was just too young. It would be like watching a kitten die.
Ratchet shook his helm. His expression was haggard, uncertain. "I don't know. For once, I don't know..."
Dark. Darkness around. Cool, inviting darkness interwoven with silvery strands of glowing, star-studded mist. It snaked and wove around the white form that lay prone and senseless on the ground. The mist bound his many wounds while the stars above, within, and below sang a soft healing chorus. Soon the mist thickened, taking the shape of tall, well-built mech that emitted a faint silvery light like the full moon. Its entire form wafted and flowed as if subject to an invisible breeze.
The mist mech knelt and stayed by the unconscious white youngling before it. He could pull through this the mist mech seemed to whisper, though no mouth was apparent on its faceplates. He must not give in to the temptation to lay down arms for good. He was stronger than that. He had friends, worried and anxious, waiting for him outside this place between places. He was here to heal only. He was not to stay.
The prone figure heard these whispered encouragements and stirred, blue optics opening slowly, painfully. For a moment they looked around blearily until they fell on the strange mist mech. They then went round in fear and apprehension, unable as they were to recognize the mysterious misty figure. It sure didn't look like anyone he knew. When the mist mech reached out to him, he tried to move away only to wince, his entire body screaming in protest at the motion.
More whispering met the white figure's audials. He was not to move. Doing so only agitated his wounds. If he would lie still, he would continue binding them. But if he kept trying to skirt away that task would only be made more difficult. Harming was not its intention the mist mech reassured.
Infernus didn't have the strength to argue, and that faint humming coming from seemingly everywhere at once was making him so very tired...
The mist mech watched as the Primeling slipped under from the effects of the wordless harmonies flowing all around, a soft smile seeming to form and dissipate on its ever-shifting faceplates. Then it dissolved into dozens of misty, star-studded tendrils that wove around him like ghostly bandages, their glow increasing slightly to where they resembled strips of moonlight. Slowly, the wounds marring the young mech's frame began to heal.
"Yes. Rest. Heal. But do not linger here, child. The longer you remain, the more tied to this place you become. To become fully tied would mean leaving your friends behind...permanently. The time will come when you can lay down arms and join the others in the light, but not today. That day is far from now. Today you return to them."
Infernus stirred weakly on hearing these words echo in his mind. He heeded the given warning, his subconscious knowing it was all too true. He would stay just long enough to mend. But he so wanted to stay longer in the comforting darkness and soft healing light. Something about this place seemed to call to his very spark, beg him to stay forever...
Tense silence pervaded the hangar, interrupted only by the soft hiss of Infernus's slow air intakes. No one dared speak as time ticked by, fearful that if they did something horrible might happen, even if they knew well enough that speaking posed no danger to the recovering Primeling. All the while, Ratchet hovered nearby at his console as he dove deep into Earth mythology in search of Predacons with wireless help from the three teenagers, his optics constantly straying to where his patient lay. He looked to be recovering, but far too slowly for his liking.
The silence was broken at last when the sound of a growling engine was discerned approaching the hangar. A rugged Jeep pulled up to the entrance driven by a familiar young man in crisp military garb, silver dog tags jingling around his neck and identifying him – Marcus Daily, Private E-2. For a brief fraction of a second a happy smile showed on his face as he shut the Jeep down. Then his eyes went wide when he gazed into the hangar and saw the fuel-stained form of his friend lying motionless on an exam table. Jaw slackening, the man rushed out of the vehicle in a mad haste and pelted inside.
"Infernus!"
Arcee stopped the man in his tracks, one hand holding him back as effectively as a barbed wire fence. Quickly and quietly she explained everything that Bumblebee had said had happened. Daily's face went white even as his fists clenched angrily.
"Is there...anything I can do? I mean, I know a Cybertronian and an Earth car are two totally different things, but I do know basic mechanics..."
Ratchet joined the hushed conversation then. Abandoning his console for the moment, he came over and crouched down to address him: "No. I've done everything that could conceivably be done with what little I have. All we can do is wait. The rest is up to him."
"You don't mind if I stick around, then?"
"I see no harm in that." admitted the medic.
Thanking him with a silent nod, Daily made his way over to the unconscious Primeling. He took a seat on the ground at the base of the exam table, knees pulling up to let his chin rest on them. He listened to the faint intermittent drip-drip of the glowing blue liquid as it hit the ground around him. His smartphone buzzed quietly in his side pocket as a call came through from Neal. After a short moment of deliberation he swiped a finger across the red "x" on the touch screen display. Daily then put the device on silent and stashed it in his pocket once more. Almost unconsciously he looked upwards, noting Infernus's slow air cycling and the unsteady blips of his spark on the nearby monitor.
'Come on, Infernus. Come on back to us. We're waiting for you...'
A voice entered the strange realm of darkness and mist. Not much more than a whisper, the unconscious white figure recovering on the ground heard it and stirred weakly out of its enforced slumber. Compared to the other whisperings that pervaded this place it was faint, almost inaudible, but it held a property they did not – incentive and, more importantly, familiarity. It called to him stronger than they did. As badly as the place called for him to stay here for all eternity, the familiar whispered voice called out louder.
He struggled to his knees, noting that the weird glowing mist still clung to the spots where semi-healed injuries marked Starscream's success. The mist seemed to sense his desire to get up and get out of this place, and it dutifully unwound itself. Briefly the mysterious mist mech coalesced before dissipating on an invisible wind, yet its voice still persisted.
"Go now. Return to them."
The Primeling hesitated briefly as he turned to walk off in what he felt was the right direction, noticing a silvery-golden glow in the distance. Sounds of laughter and merry-making reached him, momentarily drowning out the persistent whisper of familiarity. A wistful, longing smile formed. Unconsciously he reached out...and a tendril of mist very much resembling a hand pulled the rebellious limb down.
"Not today, youngling. You will join them eventually, but not now. Remember your promise."
He shook his helm to clear it, understanding that going into that tempting light would mean abandoning those he protected. Nodding, he spun and darted off in the opposite direction. The mist mech re-formed and watched as the white figure faded into the distance. Soon, he vanished into the gloom altogether. Then it, too, disappeared.
The sun was starting to lower in the sky outside. Almost five hours had passed since Infernus had been put under. Ratchet was frankly starting to worry the Primeling might never come around. Stable as the equipment said he was, doubt was creeping into his spark. He had seen and tended many grisly war wounds in his time, but he had yet to see a 'Bot survive shrapnel missiles fired at near point blank range. Starscream unfortunately had known precisely how to inflict maximum trauma on the youngling. Shockwave no doubt had a hand in it, the devious scraplet. If he could create a Predacon, he knew how to kill one, too.
Daily was just beginning to doze off when a sharp hiss of air and a faint whirring met his ears. He jumped up in an instant, noting the hopeful stares of everyone else as the white mech stirred at long last. He wisely moved out of the way as Bluestreak pelted forward. Before anyone could even think to stop him he had reached the medical berth and flung his arms around Infernus.
"You're okay!"
"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Bluestreak, ow! Let go please! Everything slagging hurts!"
Authors's Note: So sorry for the short-ish chapters of late. Been very busy. Also, very likely I'll only manage to finish my next chapter of "Nature of the Beast" thanks to Finals Week coming up next week. I hate being busy! Hate tests, too. That's only a week and a half, but still...Hopefully once winter break starts I'll get back into the lovely abyss of binge writing. ;3
