Somehow, they had managed it without killing each other, and for that Scrapper was thankful.
Everybody but Mixmaster had made planetfall for this, their final day, as they laid their former comrades to rest. Each container of remains was carefully placed within a pedestal (most were too small for a full sarcophagus), a marker was placed on top, the epitaph written and finally they lit the so-called eternal flame. (To save energy, all pyrotechnics were on a motion sensor and would only illuminate if somebody entered the crypt.)
Dirge had been put in charge of the epitaphs, and he was more animated than he'd been in almost two weeks. Even the Autobots noticed it.
"You seem… happier today, Dirge," Arcee told him, with uncertain sympathy.
"Today has been a long time coming," Dirge replied. "Today we lay our ghosts to rest."
"Like I said," Scrapper added. "Hook's also a great doctor. Dirge is just the latest success story from his post-trauma treatment."
Hook inclined his head with false graciousness. He might hate to agree with Scrapper in public, but he never could resist taking credit.
Long Haul brought one of the seeker markers forward, and Scrapper noticed Wheelie react in shock. The minibot caught himself almost immediately, but it made Scrapper wonder where he had encountered a seeker before.
"Farewell, Thundercracker," he said aloud. He wasn't very comfortable with the eulogies—especially when Thundercracker's vital status had been debated since he had been reformatted by Unicron rather than killed—but he would make a token effort. There was a moment of silence while Dirge did the engraving with the laser scalpel Hook had donated for the cause.
"Decepticon graves are more… threatening than Autobot ones," Rewind noted. "Is this typical?"
Scrapper tilted his head to read what Dirge had written. The deadliest weapon is the last one used against you. Apparently, Dirge fancied himself a wit.
"Death's a bit of a cautionary tale, isn't it?" Scrapper replied to the Autobot. "We never like to get too comfortable."
"Speaking of which…" Hook brought forward another seeker marker.
"Oh, yeah… Starscream."
"How can you tell?" Springer wondered as Scavenger bolted it to the plinth.
Soundwave raised his arm and fired, making everybody cry out in shock. Starscream's statue was practically obliterated, leaving only the feet and giving Scrapper vivid déjà vu.
"By the scars," he choked out in answer. "Scars are a dead giveaway."
Every Autobot had their weapons out and trained on Soundwave, but the Decepticon was un-moved, his focus on Dirge. "Traitors may never rest," he dictated.
"Whatever you say," Dirge muttered, applying his scalpel to the still-smoking marker.
"Nobody panic," Scrapper urged, mentally immolating Soundwave. "Old vendettas are an occasional tradition of Decepticon funerals. I'm sure Soundwave has made his point." Finally managing to catch Soundwave's optics, he glared meaningfully at him. Over his com-link, there was a veritable free-for-all happening on the Decepticon channel, but Scrapper didn't trust himself to say anything more aloud.
Springer ignored Scrapper's excuses, both of his arm cannons in Soundwave's face. "Disarm your weapon now!"
"Single charge expended," Soundwave replied.
Warily, Arcee stepped up to him, but he stood, impassive, while she checked his cannon. "It's safe," she reported, frowning at the Decepticon. "Of course, I could have sworn that was the case when you came down this morning."
The red optic band never flickered as it glowed back at her.
To Scrapper's relief, the ceremony continued without further disruption. When they brought out Megatron's marker for Hook's Hallway of Heroes, several of the Autobots looked askance, but none of them protested. No doubt they were as anxious for this all to be over as the Decepticons were.
Of course, there was the small hiccup of the fuel lines failing in the main chamber, so none of the flames would light up, but Scrapper smoothed over this readily, assuring the gathering that his Constructicons would fix it once the interment was complete.
Finally, finally, the last Decepticon—Buzzsaw—was interred and the last epitaph engraved: Death disconnects us all. Dirge's inspiration well had run dry at least two dozen markers earlier.
"Great literary accomplishment, Dirge," Springer declared when it was clear he was done. "Rewind, make sure it gets recorded in some annal or something."
Dirge was no longer letting mockery slide. "Maybe one day I'll write your epitaphs, Autobots."
"Don't bother," the triple-changer replied easily. "I don't plan on leaving enough of me to entomb... Blaze of glory, only way to go, right?"
"Oh, we can still give you a marker," Arcee chipped in, with that slightly-too-sweet courtesy she had taken to using with Long Haul. "Dirge, may I suggest something about remembering an exit strategy? And mine will be how I should have stopped listening to Springer."
Dirge scowled at the irreverence, and Scrapper threw him a warning look. Not now.
Instead of laying waste to all who irritated him, Dirge simply stated: "I'm done here. Going back to the ship."
"Yeah, sure, see you later." Scrapper waved him off with one hand while beckoning the rest of the Constructicons with the other. "Some of us still have work to do."
"Yes, because some of us didn't lay the fuel lines correctly the first time," Hook sniped, and Scrapper bit back a retort.
Not now, he reminded himself. We're so close.
Soundwave and his cassettes were gathered silently around Buzzsaw's marker, so he left them to it. "Transform and scan for fuel leaks, Scavenger. We've got one last fix to put in."