~~~POV: Megatron~~~
Within Megatron's helm thrummed the echoes of his war. His great war. The sterile observation dome hung around him like a crowded attic. No one dared to use it since he had taken to retreating here with his thoughts. The observation dome of his ship The Nemesis was really a conglomeration of many things. Archives, research equipment, data catalogs, hard memory storage—really, it was a place for anything the Decepticons found as useless as the stargazing the room had been designed for. The archives the room held were equally untouched. Chips, data slugs, and encrypted files were tucked neatly from sight. The only real decor besides the shadowed hulking forms of abandoned equipment and storage crates were a few flat circular tables from which maps and information could be displayed as semi-solid light projections, but they had not been turned on in centuries, perhaps millennia. Ancient tech, plundered from the archives of Iacon itself back when the war was turning for the worst on Cybertron's surface. Decepticons and Autobots alike had scrambled to seize what data they could, not in the hopes of preservation but in the hopes of keeping the smallest crumbs away from the other side's grasp. What they had not been able to take they had burned. He had watched the great library of Iacon burn to its foundations with his own eyes. The grand culmination of every Cybertronian golden age had been stored within those halls. It was a loss that Cybertron would never recover from. All that remained were incomplete fragments like a massive puzzle. Maybe if each side combined their pieces some tiny fragments of a picture could be formed again, but such an event would mean one side had lost. And, if it ever turned out to be Megatron who kneeled in defeat, he planned to have his own collection burned well in advance.
The stars were cold above him, pinpricks of light like small punctures in a black screen. The reinforced iron glass dome might as well have been completely invisible. Hazy swells of gasses and nebula dust littered this punctured landscape like curls of frozen smoke. But this new sector of space Prime had brought him to was no different than the rest.
Ravage, Soundwave's minicon, had been meant to fail. The mission had been a doomed one, Megatron had only approved it for the simple question of 'why not?' This sort of limp and apathetic decision had festered within him the moment he had made it; he could feel how unrecognizable he had become these past millennia. He used to have passion, the war used to give him his grand purpose. Back then they had hopped through star systems recklessly, fighting in a near frenzy. Asteroid marches came first. The asteroid cloud had been an endless resource of both battlefields and supply mines. So massive their conflict had gotten, Megatron and Optimus had resorted to sealing themselves away in hypercognizant shells—omniglobes. There they each had sat, surrounded in every direction by footage, data, analytics, field reports, battle plans, everything. Battles were fought back to back around the clock, deaths were mere numbers on a screen, battlefronts were shifted millimeter by millimeter. Lunar cycles, they had spent sealed in these chambers. These had also marked the time of the Decepticon K-Class, a shining pinnacle of Decepticon innovation. Shockwave's creation. The disposable K-Class: Decepticons who had deserted or fallen out of line, forcefully re-shaped to transform into bombs to be flung down onto battle.
When their war had moved on, and omniglobes and K-Class had been left behind for good, out of necessity both from the mental strain and thinning troops, planetary warfare had taken their places. Planet after planet, world after world they had fought on, most had been empty but a shining few had been full, brimming. Decepticons and Autobots had carelessly dragged their great war through these civilizations, charring all life in their wake. Call it genocide or extinction, Megatron doubted anything had survived. It had all been so glorious. Their war had meant something.
Maybe Prime had become too grief-stricken, or maybe his self-righteously imposed moral duty had finally caught up with him, either way, Prime had pulled back. Millennia after millennia Megatron's opponent had skirted galaxies and star systems, forcing their war into the wide empty void of space, gluing Megatron alongside with him. It was clear that Prime had no intention of making another landfall anytime soon, regardless if the planet was occupied or not.
Locked in interstellar warfare their war had fizzled into nothing. Because the truth was that interstellar warfare was a farce. Immeasurable spans of time would pass as they chased each other blindly. What little combat even existed occurred only during those small blips when their paths would, by purpose or by chance, cross. No strategy, no variation, no plans. Just throwing troops at one another until one side retreated. Then back to the years of waiting and searching. It was to Megatron, a poison in his spark. It made his head feel like a crowded room of a million voices. Worst of all, he knew exactly why Prime had reduced their glorious conflict down to its tedious drivel. It was to protect the insects of the universe. The ones their war could, and had, vaporized. Because to Prime, the life of an insect was far more valuable than even Cybertron. This truth writhed within Megatron.
But Ravage had not failed. It was rare, in Megatron's opinion, that minicons ever truly earned their place even on the very bottom rung of the Decepticon hierarchy. Slimy, desperate things they all were, constantly trying to worm their way into higher favor by twisting truths where they could. Megatron had doubted the truth behind Ravage's message immediately, but lucky for the minicon the Decepticons had stumbled into evidence of their own. Still, Ravage had disobeyed and he would have to be punished for it, if indeed he managed to ever return to The Nemesis. But if he did, his punishment would be light. In any case, Ravage would keep his spark. He had earned that much at least.
Megatron now stood as still as the stars silhouetting him, a behemoth in his own right, scanning the stars as if to peel back their layers and force the Autobots out of hiding. He knew he needed to be patient. He sent a ping to Shockwave with a simple question: Quantum linking? He knew his mistake the moment the message had been sent. Shockwave did not handle broad open-ended questions gracefully. Page after page of data and information regarding quantum travel poured in. Megatron clicked off the connection. With his internal comm, it took no movement from him, he willed the connection to cease and the link with Shockwave was severed.
Quantum linking, quantum tangling: these words Megatron had learned less than a cycle ago. Why the Autobots were so affected while he was not was a question he'd leave to Shockwave. All Megatron was concerned with was his ability to turn the unfortunate situation befalling the Autobots into a gleaming victory for himself. In these efforts, he had learned another word: Human. Another organic race that had pawed themselves out from the dirt. Ridiculous, like the rest of the insects littering the universe. Hardly of any real relevance. Cybertronains had had golden ages longer and more splendid than any organic creature was capable of. He had been fighting his great war before these races had evolved and by the time he sat as Cybertron's true leader, he was certain these races would be nothing more than dust. It really was fitting that these Humans had found themselves so extravagantly humbled. It was even more fitting that it had been a result of them messing with tech that did not belong to them: Cybertronian tech.
Shockwave pinged Megatron back, this time the scientist's answer was short and to the point, a paragraph of information at most. Megatron reopened the data packet from Ravage, zipping through it again. Whatever the organics had found, he was eager to get it back. Eager to make landfall. Eager to do some humbling with his own hands. But to do that he would need to play his cards carefully. Prime still had information he needed, and it wouldn't be given up easily.
Prime would see just how tired he was of their interstellar warfare. This next planet Megatron vowed to not be so quick—so merciful. He'd make Prime wish for the days of swift destruction. Because this time the Decepticons would be settling in, they'd bury their roots deep—through the planet's core if they had to. This time it was Prime's turn to follow him, to learn to be more careful when selecting his priorities, to watch helplessly as the insects were crushed agonizingly slowly beneath the weight of their war.
~~~ POV: Kathrine ~~~
We rolled into the bridge. It was a large room, curved like a broad half-circle with a long raised platform/stage directly down its center, as if serving as a place for someone to stand and observe the room. The rest of the room rested several meters below, but to the Cybertronians it was really no more than a few steps down. The central stage was level with the hall we had emerged from, and several ramps along its sides allowed bots to descend the few steps to the main floor. At the front of the room long squat windows sat snugly, curving seamlessly with the wall, creating a long wrapping view of the stars. Where the windows ended, screens began, they were large and expansive, flickering with all sorts of unreadable things. Individual seats faced these screens and consoles, about a dozen or so in total were spaced out evenly along the curve. There were even some desk-like seats on either side of the central stage like private cubicles; only the top quarter of these chairs and their screens were visible from our perspective as they were hidden by the stage's edge, and their smaller screens had hoods that curled up and flattened at the top, like a cubby. I imagined without the metal hoods someone walking along the edge of the stage might accidentally kick right through someone's screen. Bots peppered the room, and Cybertronian chatter seeped through Bumblebee's windows.
Stars. My first view since I'd arrived here. I was well beyond any denial regarding my current residence on their spaceship, but to see the proof was sobering. Still beautiful though. Glowing clouds stretched spectacularly before us, only near the edges of these clouds did tiny specks of stars make themselves distinct from their neighbors. I had never even seen the Milky Way without light pollution back home, and now I had a full view in all its splendor, clear and sharp as crystal. Milky Way or not, it still somehow felt like home. Pangs of homesickness washed over me.
Bumblebee turned immediately from the hall and glided down a ramp to the main floor. He stopped along the edge of the room near the wall, right before the massive screens on the wall began, and idled for a moment. He did not open the door for me.
"If you change to a robot with me in here, I swear I will scream."
He laughed in a wonderful trill. just waiting — to see where — they want you. The door popped open and I exited quickly. It was busy, most bots were standing, leaving the seats empty. I did not hesitate to move as close to the wall as possible, I could feel the terrible amount of footsteps through the floor. Bumblebee transformed, a bit too close for comfort from him trying to stay out of the way, but I knew he was being careful. He seemed so cautious and aware of where I was at all times, it was something Misdirect was still getting the hang of, and something even Ratchet seemed to slip up on at times. As soon as he was standing, Bumblebee was looking around, left, then right, and then when it was clear that no bots were walking our way, he stood across the floor like a crossing guard, waving me towards one of the desks next to the stage. I hurried across the gap, keeping close to his legs. No one really noticed me, though I did see one or two heads turn in my direction. Bumblebee beeped some encouragement. When I stood by the desk He crouched in front of me, hands out as if to scoop me under my arms like a forklift. I complied, sticking my arms out and he gingerly lifted me up and placed me on the surface of the desk right next to the screen. He then hesitated half a second before lifting me up again and placing me up on the flat surface of the hood protecting the screen before releasing me. I was probably two meters above the central stage.
There was a hurriedness to everyone in the room, and the atmosphere was quickly changing. Around me, the crowd was thinning as bots found their seats. I could see Magnus on the other side of the room, busy with something or other. Really, he was more so standing looking serious while others scurried around him. Magnus acknowledged me with a curt nod. I looked away. I didn't recognize anyone else really.
I was horribly out of place, in every sense of the word. Do I deserve to be here? I had talked to their enemy, I had nearly given away valuable secrets, and I might have even ruined their chances of getting out of this unscathed. There was no ignoring that truth, not here. Be careful what you wish for. I had asked to be a part of all this, and now I was reaping my reward. I couldn't blame anyone if they hated me for what I'd done to them.
"Kathrine," A familiar baritone voice greeted, "You arrived just in time." Optimus had seemingly materialized from nowhere. I mumbled my own greeting.
"I was surprised to hear you had not yet arrived at the medbay auxiliary since leaving with Bumblebee," He was not really talking to me anymore. Bumblebee gave a shrug that even I found unconvincing. Apparently, I had been dead-on that Bumblebee had been going out of his way to spend more time with me. Optimus didn't seem to mind though, if anything there seemed to be good humor between them. He dipped his head to each of us, "If you will excuse me." As he passed he gave Bumblebee a warm pat on the shoulder.
I watched after Optimus as he navigated the room and I couldn't help but bite at the inside of my cheek. Optimus had obviously heard about my adventure in the brig. But is he mad at me? He seemed like an impossible bot to read. Or, maybe it was just clear he had a million other things going on in his head that probably took precedence over my little incident. Like dealing with the problems you created. I turned to Bumblebee only to find he wasn't standing where he had been. He was shifting away.
"Where are you going?"
He pointed at himself, then at the hallway which exited the brig. The 'wings' on his back were drooped.
"You're not staying?" I sure as hell didn't want to be here on my own. "Why not?"
The language barrier between us seemed thicker than ever, he gestured and beeped in vain. Approaching me again he beeped, pointed at me, then made a big thumbs-up.
I tried my best to understand, "You're asking if I'm doing good? No, I am not. Why are you leaving?"
He chirped a laugh, shook his head and repeated the gesture again, this time pointing at me far more adamantly before giving his thumbs-up.
"You want me to be good?" I said much less enthused, "Be on my best behavior?"
He nodded a little, then shrugged a little. I took it to mean: Not really, but close enough.
"Are you coming back?"
He nodded enthusiastically, backing away once more.
"But—wait, but why?" I protested.
The look that fell over his eyes was a complicated one. Sad and frustrated? I wasn't even sure if the bots could emote as accurately as they wanted, but still, something about it felt natural like the expression had slipped without Bumblebee meaning it to.
The room was getting quieter and he seemed keenly aware of it. He looked jumpier, more unsure. Finally, he nodded to me one last time, offered one more thumbs-up, then quickly retreated for the exit. As he left, a red bot slipped into the seat in front of me, waking up the screen beneath the hood I stood on. When he glanced up we both started in surprise. Quickly, he averted attention back to the screen. My stomach churned, and I stood alone as the new bot and I tried to ignore each other. It was like I had been dropped into a play just before showtime, everyone seemed to know what was going on and where to be, but here I stood on stage clueless.
"Half a klik. You ready?" A silvery and black bot was grinning at me. He looked a bit familiar. The armor on his head looked like a black helmet with nubs sticking up almost like ears or horns, a glowing blue visor was across his eyes. He didn't seem to mind at all when I failed to reply.
"About 80 seconds in human time. Nice to meet you proper. Name's Jazz." He grinned, "Don't remember me, do ya?" He leaned in closer, hand by his mouth as if to whisper to me discreetly, "Back in the medbay's spare room, Kath. Remember, I unfortunately delivered some poor news. The trend might be continuing by the looks of it," he nodded to the activity around us.
My hand went to my pocket which housed Melody's badge. My heart sunk in my chest. He had been the one to bring Melody to the medbay. "Sorry, that's right," I said.
He dismissed it with an easy wave, "Bee said your vitals were being excitable. Asked me to keep an eye on you."
"Why'd he leave?"
"Yeah," he admitted, "He won't be around for this bit. He has some…history with the 'Cons. Not my place to say, Kath, better if you hear it from him. He'll be here when it's all done, don't you worry."
The room around us was quieting down. I glanced back at the red bot in the seat behind me. We accidentally made eye contact again and both of us quickly glanced away. Funnily enough, he also had nubs or horns on his head, though a bit flatter on the sides compared to the blocky ones Jazz had.
As if amused by the awkward interaction, Jazz chuckled, "Don't pay Sideswipe any mind. He's just doin' his job, he'll keep to himself."
Sideswipe said something to Jazz in Cybertronian. Jazz laughed. "Sides' is askin' if you plan on leavin' any organic residue on his station."
I looked at Sideswipe, baffled. An expression was on his face too but I didn't recognize it at all, the subtle way his face had bent felt so unbelievably alien that my brain had no equivalent to read it or even misread it as. Places on his face had moved where my brain was adamant no movement should be happening. I guessed it made sense they weren't restricted to the same set of facial muscles humans had. And I guess without my dictionary these bots had no clue about human expressions.
Something buzzed to life at the very front of the room, right in front of the wide windows. It looked like a massive screen suspended in thin air like some illusion as if a slightly glowing piece of tinted glass had been strung up with invisible fishing line. Optimus and Magnus strode down the center stage, passing me on their way. The combination of their footsteps sent prickles of panic down my spine. They stood before the massive screen; the room was nearly completely silent now. A different black and white bot I didn't recognize was across the room, shooting what could only be described as a glare at Jazz. Noticing as well, Jazz waved. He leaned in to whisper to me, "Prowl ain't so happy I've stuck with you down here."
Prowl? The name sounded familiar, had Misdirect mentioned him?
"Aight, a few seconds left." Jazz whispered, his attention was on the screen too. "You ain't gonna know what we saying until after, when we have a chance to translate it proper. But I'll fill you in best I can." Apparently, I looked as nervous as I felt because he leaned back in, "Ain't nothing to worry about, Kath."
The room was silent. Everyone stilled. A moment of tension seemed to permeate every corner of the space, hanging in the air like an invisible thick fog. A buzz of static suddenly laced the air as the screen quivered where it floated, as if it too waited with anticipation. A single flicker broke the cool translucent surface. Another flicker. A few more. Then it buzzed harshly with clashing waves of static. It stilled, and piercing red eyes glared out at us. The bot that had appeared looked as solid as life despite the ephemeral blue screen that displayed him. Gunmetal gray, he filled the screen, his blocky chest and shoulders giving the impression he was big, maybe even as big as Magnus. His head was adorned with a sturdy-looking battle helmet, and his rather unfriendly face was marked darkly with stains and scarring. Though he observed Optimus easily with a calm and cold air about him, I got the sense of something vicious lying just beneath. I clutched Melody's badge and the cracked plastic dug into my palm. Megatron.
"Prime." Megatron's words emerged smooth as honey despite the gruffness that haunted his tone. He smiled, "Your hospitality never fails to impress me. Please accept my thanks for the kind invitation I received."
Jazz cursed above me quietly. It was then that it hit me that Megatron was speaking in perfect English. Either unfazed, or very good at pretending to be, Optimus replied, "State your business."
"No greeting for an old friend? You act as if you're not delighted to see me."
"Is your intent to bargain with us?" Optimus said.
Megatron wore a look of mock offense, "It's always business with you. I'm eager to hear about the strange few solar cycles you've been having. And of course your new guest… are they settling in well?"
Reasonably, I knew he knew about me—he was literally speaking English—but it was disconcerting to be called out.
"You must mean Ravage," Jazz shot back, "He's settling in just fine."
Megatron's attention finally slipped away from Optimus and landed on Jazz. His pretend concern melted into a slight scowl. Despite me standing right next to Jazz, Megatron didn't seem to notice me at all.
"Yes," Megatron said, "The minicon. How forgetful of me."
Optimus spoke, "I am more than willing to negotiate the terms of his freedom."
"And you best be ready to pack up and bounce," Jazz said, "We ain't returning nothing for free."
"Its freedom?" Megatron mused, "Why would I need faulty equipment back?" The bridge fell into an uneasy silence. Megatron's attention flickered over the space with the faintest curl of a smirk, "Yes, the minicon has no use to me. Do whatever you please with it. I'm here to finish what we started; you owe me a battle, librarian."
After a pause, Jazz scoffed, "And scraplets bite. If you ain't here for Ravage then why you wasting our time?"
"Indeed," Optimus said, "State your business before I end this communication."
Megatron didn't regard the warning very seriously, "Are you declining my request? I must say, I think the organic insect will be very disappointed to hear that."
My spine was ice. What was he implying?
Jazz's words punched through the air, "You gonna finish that threat, Megs?"
"I'm only stating the truth," Megatron said, "I think it must be terribly homesick by now, don't you? I have half a mind to return it myself."
It felt like my wind had been knocked from me. It wasn't possible. Megatron didn't know where Earth was. Ravage didn't know where Earth was. We didn't know where Earth was. I scanned the bridge quickly. Who had lied? Megatron? Ravage? Optimus? I was dizzy on my feet. Around me, the bridge illuminated all the bots in its harsh white light, and I felt how terrifyingly small I was among them. Every molecule of myself was vibrating, and for a terrifying moment it felt as if I might crumble apart as if made of sand. Had I talked to Ravage for nothing? Had it all been inevitable from the start?
"Explain yourself," Optimus demanded.
"Librarian, really?" Megatron shook his head, "How blunt do you need me to be?" Megatron's face flickered away, and grainy footage filled the screen. It showed a corner of a dimly lit room, a human figure was slumped against it. It was a slim man with disheveled brown hair, his head hung low, hiding his face. His white lab coat was dirtied and stained. Concealing his right leg from the knee down was a bulky contraption, it looked like it had been clamped around the limb. The man sat motionless in his slump. Megatron's face flickered back with a cruel smile.
There was a person on Megatron's ship.
Optimus's reply was immediate, "If I agree to meet you in battle will you keep the human functioning?"
"I might consider it," Megatron said.
"I need your word," Optimus demanded, "Or I agree to nothing."
"Who are they?" Someone had a start I realized it was me, I had spoken. The clarity that had washed over me was astounding. Maybe having courage was easier when it was for someone else.
For the first time, Megatron's attention was on me. He scowled as if disgusted. "Of course it's here," he said to Optimus, "Who would but you, Prime?"
It couldn't be Dad. There was no way it was Dad on that ship. "Their name." My voice cracked. Megatron ignored me completely, not even a second glance in my direction, not even a look of disgust.
As if to say he had my back, Jazz shifted the tiniest bit closer to me. He felt like a barrier between me and the Decepticon commander. He addressed him, "I believe you was asked a question."
When Megatron ignored him as well, Optimus spoke, his voice firm, "We will not proceed without an answer, Megatron." It was slowly occurring to me that I had interrupted them. I had butted in where I didn't belong, again. With his back to me, I had no clue how Optimus had taken the interruption. Megatron however, was apparently livid.
"Now you let insects command you?" He barked, "A mighty Prime! Bending down to the will of this thing."
"I will not repeat myself," Optimus said.
Megatron muttered something before turning to shout off-screen. "ShockWav–" His deep bellow cut harshly to static.
For a second I thought the conversation was over. Around me though, everyone remained where they were, waiting. It was then that I noticed that several pairs of eyes were on me, some of the bots had turned to look and I withered inside. If they weren't mad at me before, then this certainly would do it. I stood in shame, I didn't have the courage to even glance at Magnus.
Something bumped me and I jumped. It had been a single finger from Jazz. He smiled down at me, "You made of some tough stuff, Kath."
I didn't know what to make of that. The screen fizzled for a moment and everyone's attention snapped back, but instead of Megatron, a picture was displayed. It was an ID badge, just like Melody's except this one featured a serious-looking man with short dark hair and thin wire-frame glasses. Henry Stewart was the name printed on it. It was not Dad. The screen flickered and Megatron returned with a snarl, "Satisfied, librarian?"
Optimus was looking at me. The room was silent. Optimus was looking at me. I flinched. He was looking at me? Why was he looking at me? Eyes wide, I stared dumbly back. He seemed expectant, as if waiting for me to say something.
"Was the information accurate?" Optimus asked me. I hadn't recognized the man, but I felt myself nod anyway.
Optimus turned back to the screen, "If I have your word that no harm will come to Henry Stewart, I will agree to your duel."
"Your ship too," Megatron growled, "My troops won't be denied their rightful victory."
"Then you must surrender Henry Stewart, unharmed, before our battle," Optimus said.
Rage flickered in Megatron's eyes, "You're pathetic, risking everything for an insect. Does our war mean nothing?" He composed himself, his next words were low and careful, "Fine. You'll get the insect back. But a warning that you stick to your word, Prime. You may have noticed the device we've attached to the insect—consider it a courtesy from Shockwave." A knowing smile curled on his lips, "In the absurd chance that the insect is quantum jumped before we meet, the device will activate. I don't think I need to be so blunt about what will happen next, to the insect or your ship." His face grew in size as he drew in closer, eyes gleaming a gruesome red, "You know where I am, librarian. Don't stay away too long." The feed was cut.
Besides the hum of crackling static, the bridge was deathly silent. I stood, clutching Melody's badge so tightly I was afraid it might snap. The image of the man, slumped in that corner, most likely hungry, alone, and scared turned over and over in my head.
"Well," Jazz huffed, "What a guy."
Low-effort bonus content:
Megatron (whining): How dare you protect all these stupid insects. Don't you care about our war?
Optimus: I am begging you to get a hobby.
Ravage: *Successfully accomplished an impossible mission, and is literally the only reason Megatron found the Autobots at all*
Megatron: Lol. Die in prison, idiot.
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