The Children of Solaris
Disclaimer: Transformers are the copyright of Hasbro and Takara. This work of fiction is written solely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for profit.
Author's Note(s): This story picks right up after the events in my previous story, The Return of the Thylacine. Most of the locations mentioned are real places in Ohio.
This story follows Season 2 of the G1 Transformers, but should also be considered AU for several reasons:
1: The setting is modern day instead of the 1980s. Some liberties have been taken.
2: Some concepts from later renditions such as the All Spark and Primus will be acknowledged.
3: The elements and subject matter of the story will deal with mature themes that would not be found in a series targeted at children.
Chapter 1: Ohio, the Heart of It All.
Several commercial pickup trucks raced towards a natural gas storage facility located in Southern Ohio. One of the night shift workers radioed in that a large Kenworth T680 semi with a purple sleeper cab and a golden-pink Suzuki Hayabusa motorcycle had broken into and siphoned gas from one of the underground reservoirs. The worker kept blabbering about how the motorcycle seemed to operate under its own power. He couldn't be sure about the semi since it was too dark out to see if anyone was driving it. The facilities manager accused him of being drunk or asleep on the job, to which the worker kept insisting his innocence. He nor the rest of the night crew had signs of intoxication nor drowsiness.
The manager cursed and punched the side of his pickup and regretted it the moment a jolt of pain ran up his arm. How in the hell was his supervisor or the insurance company going to believe this? He walked away and lit a cigarette to help calm his nerves. After the second one, he was able to collect his thoughts. He seemed to remember hearing about those giant robots out west that were working with some Japanese car company. They could turn themselves into cars, trucks…and perhaps motorcycles? Were they responsible for the theft? He admitted it was possible, but he never heard of them stealing energy. His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of bright headlights speeding towards him like a demonic presence. He just barely managed to roll out of the way as a red car circled around the facility and sped off like a bat out of hell. The manager shook with fright. He thought the vehicle looked like a corvette without a driver. The other workers raced to help him to his feet and escorted him to the office trailer.
Teletraan 1 picked up an emergency call from the legal counsel of the Hope Iron Corporation. It was quarter till three on the West Coast when the computer alerted Optimus Prime. The Autobot Leader emerged from stasis with a groan. He transformed and headed to the control room.
A tall, well-groomed man in his late thirties with combed black hair, glasses and a matching suit was patched through on the screen. He was someone Prime never saw before, but he recognized the line used in conversation with the Ohio Capitol building in Columbus.
"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots," Prime said curtly, although internally he was perplexed at the call at this hour. He had hoped to sleep in after consuming energon wine the evening before and was secretly feeling slightly hungover.
Clearing his throat, the man replied with, "My name is Michael Yu. I represent the Hope Iron Corporation."
Optimus nodded in acknowledgement. "If I'm not mistaken, they are located in the Hocking Hills region of Southeast Ohio."
"You are correct."
"Why are you reaching out at this hour? Are you in some sort of trouble?"
Mr. Yu made no immediate response. He cleaned his glasses with a cloth before putting them back on, and gave the large robot a rather ironic look. "That's interesting, you should mention that," he finally answered. "As a matter of fact, at 1:45 am this morning, an entire gas well belonging to my clients was broken into and the contents stolen by a truck and a motorcycle operating under their own power. It is my understanding that you robots have the ability to change into vehicles?"
"That is correct," Prime reaffirmed. "However, I can assure you that none of the Autobots are responsible for the theft of your property."
"Be that as it may, my clients don't know of any other machines that would be capable of this. Not even our self-driving cars are capable of pulling something like this off."
"There is one other group capable of this-the Decepticons. It is possible that they were responsible, but what puzzles me is why they would only steal from one well. Can you provide me with more information in regards to what happened?"
The legal council gave the full account he was given by the employees and the manager, right down to the make and model of the vehicles.
"This is most perplexing," said Prime. "The Decepticons usually restrain humans while stealing energy, but neither vehicle attacked?"
Yu gave a slight nod. "At least not with the truck or motorcycle, but there was an incident with the manager and a red corvette that happened shortly after."
"A red corvette?" questioned Prime.
"The manager was nearly run over by a red sports car. It is unclear if it was intentional, but it went full circle around the site before speeding off down US 33 to who knows where."
Prime scratched his mouth plate. "Is the manager alright?"
"Other than his nerves being shot and a sprained back, he'll be fine. Thank you for inquiring."
The autobot leader paced while in thought. "You said you are their legal counsel. Do you intend to press charges against us?" He paused and looked at the monitor with concern.
Yu replied, "That depends. I personally believe you, but the fact is this was not the work of humans. You mentioned these Decapticons, but you also pointed out this is out of character for them. Is that accurate?"
"That is accurate. If I may be honest, I am also troubled by this. I beg of you not to do anything until we've investigated this matter."
"What do you suggest?"
"I propose this. Myself and some of my team will travel up to Ohio to assist with getting to the bottom of this and patrol the surrounding area in case they strike again. Will you accept those terms?"
"Yes, I think that will be acceptable-if you leave at once. If you can do this, we may reconsider your request."
"We will set out at once. Expect us within an hour," said Prime before the call ended. He raced to the barracks and commanded. "Autobots, wake up and assemble in the common area, on the double!"
The autobots came out of stasis almost immediately. Tracks woke up with a modest headache from the wine, but poor Sunstreaker was feeling sick to his tank. It took Sideswipe to help him up to his feet and hobble out. Bumblebee woke the humans. Prime wouldn't leave without keeping them in the know. He quickly filled everyone in with what happened and asked for volunteers.
Ratchet and Wheeljack stepped forward. Their medical and mechanical expertise would be welcomed. Ironhide, Inferno, Bumblebee, Hoist, and Blaster also volunteered. Beachcomber agreed to lend his geology skills, but with reluctance.
Optimus Prime approved of the ensemble. "I still need three autobots to serve as protection."
Sideswipe stepped forward. Sunstreaker attempted to follow his brother, but he couldn't stop clutching his chassis. Prime shook his head. "You should stay here and rest, Sunstreaker." Powerglide offered to go instead.
Tracks stepped forward. He felt something in his spark that was urging him to undertake this mission. "I'll go, Prime."
Prime nodded. "Very well. Everyone transforms and roll out!"
Dyani ran up to Tracks and hugged him. "Do you have to go?"
The corvette ran his fingers through his girlfriend's hair. "I don't have to, but I want to. I'm a trained warrior, Dyani."
The girl hugged him tighter. "Then I'm coming with you."
Terry started to say something, when Tracks held up his hand. "No, not this time. You're supposed to sign up for your college classes today, correct? I want you to focus on that and help take care of Sunstreaker." he chuckled and looked over at him. "And let this be a lesson for you to heed my advice about drinking energon wine."
The miserable lamborghini saluted Tracks with his middle finger. Kota hugged him. "It's okay, bro. You're sick. We can kick ass on Destiny 2 instead."
Dyani kissed Tracks. "I understand. Be careful, okay?"
Sparkplug announced he and Spike would accompany them. He reassured Dyani and Kota would be safe with the autobots since he knew the Swiftwaters would be heading back for California.
"Let's roll!" shouted Prime as he transformed. The others followed his lead and drove out of the Ark and towards the part of the forest where Omega Supreme lived. The guardian robot awoke and said, "Awaiting directive."
Optimus Prime answered, "Omega Supreme, you are to take us to Southern Ohio as quickly as you can."
"Order understood. Commencing transformation," Omega said and transformed into his rocket alt-mode. The Autobots boarded and they set out for Ohio. They arrived in less than an hour on an abandoned piece of real estate within a few miles of Hope Iron. When they arrived upon the scene, they were greeted by Mr. Yu, the manager, and the night employees. The latter men were a little nervous about the approaching vehicles. The manager nearly bolted at the sight of a corvette being amongst them, but relaxed a little when he realized this one was blue and came to a stop. The vehicles one-by-one transformed into giant robots. The one who had been the cabover semi-truck knelt down.
"Don't be afraid," it said gently to him. "I'm Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We're here to assist you in any way we can."
Two men-well, a man and a teenage boy exited the robot that was a Volkswagon and approached them. The older of the two introduced myself. "I'm Sparkplug Witwicky, and this is my son, Spike. You can trust these guys."
The manager nodded. He was wearing a back support brace. He gazed up at Prime and spoke, "I didn't see the first two. One of my night shift guys said there was a semi truck and a motorcycle. The semi didn't look like you. It was purple and one of those sleeper cab types. The motorcycle was what we call a crotch rocket. It was pink and gold-I think."
"I see," mused Prime. "I understand you were nearly run over by another vehicle?"
"Yeah. I don't think it was out to get me, but I just happened to be in its path. It drove around the facility and drove off like a demon on wheels. It looked kinda like that one." He pointed at Tracks.
"Me!?" Tracks responded, bemused. He gazed down at the man and said, "My dear fellow, I assure you that I was nowhere near this facility."
"That's the thing," the man replied. "It was the same make as you, except it was red. I can only assume it was maybe looking for its accomplices."
The vermillion of Tracks' face paled as if he had seen a ghost. He immediately converted into his alt-mode in front of the man, making sure the flames on his hood were in view. "Please tell me…did the car have this on its hood?"
The man shook his head. "I dunno. It was coming at me so fast. All I know is that it was red and a corvette." He appeared increasingly uncomfortable each time he had to relive that encounter.
"Tracks! That's enough! Please convert back to your robot form and let the man breathe!" Prime reprimanded.
With a sigh, Tracks obeyed and became a robot. "Very well," he muttered. "I apologize, sir." He walked away and pretended to be looking out at the forested hills in the distance. In truth, he was trying to hide his sadness and embarrassment. He supposed questioning about more details was too much for the man's fragile state, but he wondered if the corvette was Sol. They were split from the same spark and forged from the same build, so it would make sense that the C3 Stingray would be the Earth-alt-mode most suitable for her..
Sparkplug had an idea. "Sir, do you have any fresh coffee in your office? I wouldn't mind a cup."
The manager nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. The name's John Matthews, but I go by "Beaver". He was appreciative when the other man offered to spot him as he couldn't walk very fast on account of his back.
Both men sat at a table talking while supping mugs of coffee. Beaver soon felt more at ease being talking with another human, out of view of the robots. He could tell Mr. Witwicky was a working man like himself. The former told him about his work in mechanics in the oil industry. It was Sparkplug's intention to help ease the man into being around the autobots. Sometimes it paid off to have human allies who could be more relatable to other humans. Soon after a second cup and a quick smoke, Beaver felt a good deal better. He started opening up to Sparkplug and expressed some interest in the autobots. Mr. Witwicky explained he had been working with them for several years and how they cared about protecting and helping protect life on this planet.
"Damndest thing I ever heard," Beaver remarked. "So the semi is their leader? He seems okay, but what's with that blue corvette? I'm so confused."
Sparkplug shrugged. "That's Tracks. He didn't mean no harm. He was just trying to get more info to better help you guys out. He's very friendly towards humans."
The other man shrugged. "If you say so. Do they have any clue about what's going on, do you think?"
"I don't know, but I think Optimus Prime has an idea of what they are."
There was a knock at the door. A worker opened it and Mr. Yu stepped inside and said, "Mr. Matthews, the one known as Optimus Prime wanted to know how you are doing and if you need anything. He sent several of his team on patrol and appointed two standing guard while the others are helping with repairs to the damaged well."
Beaver nodded slowly. He turned to Sparkplug with a dumbfounded look on his face. The other man chuckled and responded with, "See, what did I tell ya? You're in good hands."
"At least they are holding up their hand of the bargain this far," said Yu. "I need to head back to the office." He handed Sparkplug his card. "As the robots' human liaison, you are to contact me at once if there are any developments."
"You can count on me," replied Sparkplug.
After Yu's departure, Sparkplug and Beaver went outside. Prime was waiting for them with two robots. "This is Sideswipe and Bumblebee. They will watch over you and your men, Mr. Matthews."
The manager gazed up at the two robots. He identified them as lamborghini and volkswagen. He was somewhat relieved the corvette wasn't around. It wasn't that he was afraid of it, but he had a feeling Mr. Witwhicky's explanation was missing some details. He remembered the leader had told it to back off and wondered if it had sent it away for his benefit. A worker brought out a chair and heat-operated heating pad for him. He sat down, for his back was hurting again.
Prime approached and knelt down. "Mr. Matthews, I sent two teams out on patrol. Wheeljack and Hoist should finish repairs within a few hours. Is there anything else you need?"
"Mr. Matthews is my pop's name. Call me Beaver," the man replied.
"Very well then, Beaver. Is there anything else you need?" Optimus Prime inquired once more.
"I got my favorite chair and a heating pad. One of my guys is picking up lunch from the diner down the road. I'm golden. Thanks though."
Tracks and Beachcomber covered the area to the east of US 33. They were on one of the back roads that ran between Lake Hope State Park and Zaleski Forest. This area south of the Hocking Hills region had a lot of history and was popular with backpackers and haunting enthusiasts. The Moonville Tunnel, which had once been used by railroads, had a reputation for being haunted by the ghost of a railroad worker. Beachcomber cared little about ghost stories and was more enchanted by the green beauty of late summer, decorated by various wildflowers and butterflies. Tracks paid little attention to it and was more concerned with finding the red corvette. The afternoon started waning on and still no sign of the suspects.
"We've been driving around for hours. I need to take a break," said Tracks. He spotted a country restaurant with a parking lot and decided to pull in there with Beachcomber taking the parking spot next to him.
The dune buggy scanned the area. "If you were a Cybertronian with no knowledge of Earth, where would you hide?"
"You're asking the wrong person. I feel like a fish out of water in a place like this. I thought Ohio would be-well more urban than corn fields and forests," Tracks confessed."
"Oh there's plenty of industry here, but there's a lot of what you described, especially in this area," said Beachcomber.
Tracks acknowledged, but stayed silent as some teenagers came outside of the restaurant. They were two boys around seventeen, and were dressed in old t-shirts and jeans. They looked like they were going out fishing. They stopped in front of him.
"Whoa, check out that car!" one of them exclaimed. His companion agreed and said, "I think there was a corvette show in Logan over the weekend. This must've come from there, Dalton."
"Probably, Ryan," agreed Dalton. He adjusted the heavy bag of burgers and onion rings in his hand. "We better get off to the lake. We got an hour till the sun goes down. It'll be a good evening for night fishing."
Ryan stretched. "Yeah. Sucks the Moonville Tunnel is closed. Chris told me something damaged the bridge over Raccoon Creek."
Dalton shrugged. "Probably a drunk driver or someone being stupid. Let's get out of here." He and his friend left the corvette and drove off in an old pickup truck.
Beachcomber turned to Tracks. "I did a quick search on Moonville Tunnel. It's an abandoned railroad tunnel in Zaleski State Forest. I say we should check it out."
"Agreed. I'm going to take to the air. I'll leave the hiking through the woods to you," said Tracks. He activated his radio, "Prime, this is Tracks, do you copy?"
"This is Prime. Have you found something?"
"Possibly. Beachcomber and I overheard humans talking about a nearby tunnel being closed on account of a damaged bridge. We think it's worth checking out."
"Very well, but use extreme caution. If we're dealing with Cybertronians, we can't be too sure if they're friend or foe."
The corvette's engine halted for a moment. He seemed to be deep in thought. Beachcomber pulled up beside him and spoke gently, "You're hoping one of them is your sister. It's possible. But put yourself in her shoes. She may be on a planet she knows nothing about and doesn't know we're here. Wouldn't you be a little untrusting? That's why Prime wants us to take care. Even if she's not, they could still be autobots or Cybertronians from any of the colonies. I have my doubts that they're Decepticons."
Tracks calmed down. "Point taken," he answered. "I'll keep my radio link open. I might be able to see something from above." His wings flipped out and took off into the air.
Beachcomber headed off down the road towards the tunnel. When he came to the bridge, he discovered a large chunk of the middle had been demolished. His sensors picked up traces of energon coming from the bridge. This was the work of a Cybertronian alright. He transformed into robot mode and climbed down into the creek to investigate. It was on the tip of his tongue to radio Tracks, but he feared that would blow his cover. Whether in alt-mode or robot mode, he was one of the most surefooted autobots and could move around quietly for a creature his size. When he came beneath the bridge, his sensors confirmed the damage was caused by a weapon of Cybertronian make. He started to climb up to get a closer look when a net wrapped around his chassis, sending him falling into the creek bed. He was unharmed, but also unable to escape. A figure standing on the other side of the creek stared down at him. It was a Cybertronian of around fifteen feet in height with a slightly bulky chassis that was predominantly red with black accents on the helmet and front of the chassis. The face, servos, and upper arm and thighs were silver. The face and general shape of the robot appeared feminine, but what caught Beachcomber's attention the most was that she had blue eyes and that she was in a weakened state, despite being on the offensive.
The robot slowly climbed down and seemed agile for someone so malnourished. She aimed a blaster at Beachcomber and demanded in a whisper, "Who are you?"
Beachcomber spoke calmly, "I'm an Autobot. Are you in trouble? Don't be afraid."
The Cybertronian gently kicked him over so that his chassis was exposed. It wasn't to harm him, but so that she could get a better view of the symbol on his chest. She scanned it and crouched over Beachcomber. She kept her weapon pointed at him while removing the net. It seemed to disappear. "Climb up there," she ordered and pointed to the direction of the tunnel."
Beachcomber nodded and complied. He scrambled up the other side first and offered to help her. He suspected she was protecting something. The female robot reacted with surprise. She was reluctant at first, but eventually accepted his hand. Beachcomber helped pull her up and followed her inside the tunnel. It was dark and damp, with a strong, musty smell. The walls were covered with graffiti. The female robot lowered her weapon and whispered, "I'm Trailhawk."
"I'm Beachcomber," he replied, keeping his own voice quiet. "Like I said before, I'm an Autobot."
Trailhawk nodded. She stood in front of something huddled in the darkness of the tunnel. A pair of magenta eyes looked fearfully at the stranger. Beachcomber stooped down and saw a tiny robot about six feet tall-lying on the ground.
"I won't hurt you," he reassured. He realized it was a young robot. It wasn't a sparkling, although it was as small as one. It had four propellers that resembled butterfly wings, one of them was broken. It also appeared much sicker than Trailhawk.
Beachcomber looked up at Trailhawk. "I see why you were slow to trust me. How bad is he?"
"I'm a she!" a tiny voice answered, coming from the small one.
Trailhawk laughed quietly as she gently lifted her up. "Save what's left of your strength, Pixie."
"Pixie?" mused Beachcomber. He pondered over so many thoughts and started piecing them together.
"We didn't know Autobots were here," Trailhawk said. "We thought there were only Decepticons."
"There are, but so are we. How many of you are there?"
"Five. Two are en route and one was separated from us," answered Trailhawk, who was leaning over Pixie and scanning her chassis.
"Are you a medic?" Beachcomber questioned.
Trailhawk shook her head. "I'm a naturalist and a tracker, but I have some medical and combat training. I hate fighting, but you have to learn to be a jack-of-all-trades in this line of business. What about you?"
The dune buggy felt his gentle spark soften. He felt like he was amongst a kindred spirit. "I'm a geologist," he responded. "I too dislike fighting, but often it's unavoidable." His optics gazed down at Pixie and noticed she has a symbol. There was no mistaking the sharp, angler design of the Decepticon banner. "Great maximus!" he exclaimed.
The tiny robot trembled with fear. As sick as she was, she was aware enough to realize the autobot recognized what she was. She weakly hugged Trailhawk's arm.
"I won't harm you," reassured Beachcomber. He frowned and examined the drone's injured wing. "What happened to you?"
Trailhawk sighed. "It's too long of a story to tell at the moment, but the truth is we're starving. Pixie here fared the worst, I'm afraid. We made an emergency landing on this planet to hide and search for food. I destroyed this bridge the top wildlife created and set up traps to discourage them."
Magenta eyes glistened up at Beachcomber's blue optics. Pixie continued to tremble fearfully. A gently blue hand comforted her. "I am a bot of my word. I won't let anyone hurt you. Will you both trust me enough to radio my friend? I promise Optimus Prime will help you."
"Optimus Prime!?" cried Trailhawk. That name stirred up distant memories of her small town on Cybertron. The Primes seldom visited there and the last she heard had fled Cybertron in search of energy, but disappeared millions of years ago. She believed Beachcomber and felt obliged to trust him. Riggs and Stardust were on their way, but the wildlife proved to be more resourceful than they realized and didn't take too kindly to the theft of their resources.
Beachcomber radioed. "Tracks, this is Beachcomber. Do you copy?"
"This is Tracks. I'm approaching the tunnel now," a voice radioed. It was Cybertronian, but the dialect sounded more aristocratic than Beachcomber's.
Moments later a blue vehicle landed and drove to the entrance of the tunnel. Two bright headlights shown inside before it transformed into another Cybertronian. It was greeted by Beachcomber, but could see two other robots hiding in the darkness of the tunnel.
Pixie's optics were now blurry. Her core temperature had risen, making her feverish. "Roadie!" she cried out.
Before Beachcomber could provide an explanation, Powerglide came over the channel used by all autobots. "I got some good news and bad news," he called out. "The good news is we found our suspects, but the bad news is they mean business. That truck is a frigging monster! It forced Ironhide off the road and that damn motorcycle clipped my wing. I had to emergency land in the forest. They're headed towards Tracks and Beachcomber's coordinates! "
"I'm on my way," Prime called over the radio.
Tracks was about to respond, when Beachcomber shook his head. "It's a misunderstanding. They're starving and one of them is very sick!"
Trailhawk ran out of the tunnel with Pixie in her arms. "She's taken a turn for the worse." she said with urgency.
Without hesitation, Beachcomber turned to her. "Hand her over to Tracks. Are you strong enough to transform? We have to keep them from fighting each other."
"I think I can manage," said Trailhawk. As she turned towards the taller autobot, her optics widened a little. She didn't have time to say what she was thinking and handed over the tiny drone. "Please," she begged. "Please protect her."
The corvette opened his mouth as if to say something, but soon changed his mind when he saw how bad off the tiny bot was. He held her on his left arm while drawing his blaster in his right. He nodded silently to the red Cybertronian and watched as she and Beachcomber climbed down into the creak and scrambled up the steep bank to the road. He could see them transform and that she was some kind of Jeep. That confirmed her accomplices were also Cybertronian, and maybe-just maybe, the red corvette was Sol? His ponderings were interrupted by a tiny hand of Pixie reaching out to touch his face.
"Roadie…," she cried. "I'm scared."
