Author's Notes: I think this chapter turned out okay. I really thought the word count would be higher considering how much happens in this chapter. I guess this isn't montage style, but it's kind of close. Not much else to say except thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy and review this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)
Update: I accidentally put the name Starscream where I meant to put the name Airachnid. I would like to thank Cashagon for pointing this out :)
Chapter 5
Just One Shot
PR-35 made his rounds through the dark foreboding halls of the Nemesis. It was his job to patrol for potential invaders today, and like every day he had prayed that morning to not find any. He knew if he got close to the Autobots he stood no chance of surviving. His only decent technique was long-range shooting.
As he strolled along he suddenly heard music playing. It wasn't one of the weird alien songs those humans produced, but rather an old Cybertronian song from back when the planet was still standing. The song was even older than PR-35 himself.
Just one shot, and the party gets started
Just one shot, and you'll believe you can fly
Just one look, and you know you can't resist it
Just one drink, and your life passes you by
PR-35 saw that another Vehicon was the one listening to it. He forgot the designation, but he remembered this drone was a recent transfer from another outpost. They had been getting more new transfers lately. It seemed like Megatron had a never-ending supply of troops. No wonder nobody cared if a few were destroyed.
"Cool music," PR-35 commented in an effort to start a conversation with the new drone.
"I think so, too," The drone replied nonchalantly, "So, you on patrol?"
"Yes," PR-35 replied, "My serial number is PR-35. What's yours?"
"SS-PLX-04," The other drone replied, "Of course, I just prefer to be called 4."
"I've never heard of anyone shortening their designation to a single number before," PR-35 commented, "So, um...I forgot. What does SS stand for again?"
"Space Station," 4 replied patiently, "I was built off-world since I'm a newer model. I guess most modern drones are built in space these days. What does PR stand for?"
"Praxus," PR-35 informed him, "I was a very early model. I'm the last one from my product line."
4 whistled incredulously and shook his helm. PR-35 had never met a space station drone before. Most of them just stayed in the conquered space stations to guard the newly acquired territory and alien slaves. If Megatron was sending for space station drones, then that meant the Autobots had severely crippled their original forces.
"Well, I need to get back to my duties," PR-35 excused himself, "We should hang out sometime though."
"Yeah, I'll show you some other music I've downloaded over the vorns," 4 offered with a relaxed tilt of the helm.
"Okay, bye," PR-35 waved his gun arm as he walked away from the new drone.
As PR-35 made his round, he found himself humming that song all day. It had a fast and catchy beat, yet the song was a serious social commentary on the dangers of high grade energon addiction. It was nice to hear something from Cybertron again, even if earth music was nice too. When PR-35 went into recharge, the song was still playing on loop in his processor…
Just one shot, and the party gets started
Just one shot, and you'll believe you can fly
Just one look, and you'll know you can't resist it
Just one drink, and your life passes you by
"Prowl, I thought you didn't like this kind of music," Bluestreak observed as he colored his picture of a cyber dragon.
"Normally I don't," Prowl replied stoically, "However, I have two new roommates at the academy that like this song. It has grown on me Since they explained the depth beyond the shallow beat."
Bluestreak was lying on his chassis in his room coloring while Prowl sat on the berth and studied. Bluestreak kicked his pedes in the air over his helm and hummed along to the song as it played on the radio. He was just so happy his big brother was home for the orn since school had let out for vacation time. Prowl had told him all sorts of cool stories about training at the police academy in Iacon.
"Are your roommates nice?" Bluestreak finally asked when Prowl turned off the radio.
"Yes, for the most part," Prowl replied noncommittally, "Barricade can be a bit difficult to contain at times, but he excels at his studies. I have become good friends with Jazz, however. He is an outspoken and gregarious individual. I also admire his skills during training. When I first met him I thought he would be a slacker with no sense of duty, but I am pleased to say I was wrong."
"Are they your friends?" Bluestreak asked innocently.
"Yes," Prowl replied without question, "I would even venture to say Jazz is my best friend. I just wish we could still hang out all the time after we graduate, but it cannot be."
"Why not?" Bluestreak asked, sad for Prowl, "Don't adult mechs have best friends?"
"Of course we do, but distance will be an issue," Prowl replied solemnly, "Praxus is only 30 kliks from Iacon, so my commute is easy. Jazz is a transfer student from Polyhex. His home city-state is over 800 kliks from Iacon, and when he graduates he will return there. His uncle was murdered when he was a sparkling, just a little older than you, and ever since then he has wanted to clean up the streets of Polyhex. The place is a slum that most decent mechs wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near. I think Jazz is very noble for trying to make his part of the world a better place. Unfortunately, it means we will likely lose touch after we graduate."
"Jazz sounds cool," Bluestreak said with awe.
"Oh, he is," Prowl nodded proudly, "So, do you have any friends in primary school?"
"Uh-huh!" Bluestreak replied enthusiastically, "My best friend is an older kid! His name is Sideswipe, and he's 5 vorns older than me! Isn't that cool? An older kid thinks I'm cool enough to hang out with! His twin Sunstreaker is kind of a jerk, but he still lets me hang out with him. One day Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were challenging the other kids at recess to a race around the school. No one is faster than Sideswipe, but I challenged him anyway, and I got pretty close to winning. Of course I didn't win, but he still thought I was cool for coming close, so he and Sunstreaker let me hang out with them! We do all sorts of fun stuff together, but Sire says Sideswipe is trouble, so don't tell Sire I told you."
"Bluestreak, you're not doing anything bad, are you?" Prowl asked sternly.
"Nuh-uh!" Bluestreak replied defensively, "I'm not gonna turn bad just because my best friend likes to pull pranks on the principle! I'm not stupid, Prowl! I only helped him once, and it was to get back at a bully that was picking on littler kids."
"Oh? And who was this bully?" Prowl inquired.
"His name was Tracks, and he was making fun of some kids in my class for being ugly," Bluestreak told him, "Sideswipe and I stuffed dead scraplets in his locker and made him think living scraplets were coming to eat him! You should've seen his face!"
Bluestreak giggled at the memory, but Prowl had a more thoughtful expression on his face plate.
"Bluestreak, I hope you'll remember that revenge is not justice," Prowl explained to his little brother, "There is a difference between serving justice and hurting someone just to make yourself feel vindicated. Next time I want you to tell a teacher what is happening instead of taking the law into your own hands. Do you understand me?"
"Yes Prowl," Bluestreak replied dejectedly, "Are you gonna tell Sire about Sideswipe?"
"No," Prowl shook his head, "While I don't condone your actions, I believe your friendship with this little hooligan is your own business. I won't interfere as long as you promise me to use your common sense. Do you promise, Bluestreak?"
"I promise!" Bluestreak replied resolutely.
"Good, Now would you care to read some of these police procedure questions off to me out of my study book?"
Bluestreak nodded and grabbed the book off the berth. He spent the next half-joor quizzing Prowl on police procedure. It wasn't very engaging, but Bluestreak was just happy to be able to help his big brother help the world.
PR-35 onlined ready to start the day. He looked over his schedule and saw that he was supposed to meet Breakdown in the training room for sparring practice. He had never trained with an officer before, and he considered it a real honor to learn how to fight Autobots from one of the best 'Bot crushers in the business.
He walked down the hall the same way he normally did, but deep down he wanted to skip all the way there. He was friends with a real mech! Despite Breakdown having been on the ship for a couple months he still couldn't believe it.
He only wished Knockout was as approachable as Breakdown. Knockout was Breakdown's best friend, and PR-35 really wanted to be a part of that clique, but Knockout was scary and cold. To be fair though, most medics were like that according to PR-35's experience. Why should this self-proclaimed self-important mech be any different?
PR-35 made it to the training room only to see, not Breakdown, but TGP-538. He was trying to pull a piece of shrapnel out of his gun barrel and didn't notice PR-35 enter the room.
"Hey, TGP-538!" PR-35 called out; causing the other Vehicon to shriek in surprise, "Sorry. Listen, have you seen Breakdown anywhere? We're supposed to train together."
"He went on a mission," TGP-538 replied, "By the way, you've got an assignment too. You need to deliver empty cubes to mine #37."
"I'm on it!" PR-35 declared proudly, even though the job couldn't be more tedious, "Lord Megatron can count on me!"
"I'll be sure to let him know that at our next lobbing match," TGP-538 replied sarcastically, "Just be quick about it. Megatron has been on edge lately, and he's looking for any reason to pound one of us into scrap. Be efficient, and be careful. I've got to report for duty."
"Okay, see you later!" PR-35 waved vigorously as he ran out of the room.
PR-35 delivered the cubes to the servant class drones at the mine, who all bowed respectfully when he entered the opening to their latest tunnel. Warrior class drones were considered superior to servant class drones, and therefore were usually treated with respect by the servants (if no one else).
"Excuse me, but I need someone to sign off on these empty cubes," PR-35 informed the formech as he held out a data pad and a stylus.
"Talk to ICN-994 and ICN-995," the formech replied gruffly, "They're the only ones on break right now. I need to get back to work."
"Thank you," PR-35 bobbed his head to say goodbye and rushed to find the pair of miners.
PR-35 remembered ICN-994 and ICN-995 from other times he came to the mines. Those two were always together, and he suspected they might be a couple. Vehicons didn't have genders or the ability to interface, so generally speaking they had no desire to pair off, but ICN-994 had this weird glitch that convinced the thing it was female. ICN-995 didn't seem too keen on destroying that delusion.
Just as he had expected, the two were drinking their energon together with ICN-994 in ICN-995's lap. It would've been cute if ICN-994 was a nicer individual.
"What are you staring at, gun jockey?" ICN-994 snapped from "her" position on 995's lap, "Let me guess, we're not meeting our quota again. Well you can tell Commander Airachnid to stuff it!"
"Now sweet spark," ICN-995 gently chided ICN-994, "You don't want to get in trouble with Lord Megatron's right hand femme. If you died I'd be inconsolable."
"No kidding, then who would scrape the crud out of your gears?" ICN-994 groused, but PR-35 could tell she was trying to be playful. She then turned back to PR-35 and glared as she shouted, "Well, what is it? What do you have there? We don't have all orn!"
"Um, it's a form to confirm that I gave you a shipment of empty energon cubes," PR-35 explained, "Could you sign this, please?"
"I'll sign it," ICN-994 said as "she" got off her partner, "Poor 995 can't read. So, you got any good gossip from our little palace in the sky?"
"Just that Megatron is angry," PR-35 told her.
"Did I ask for the weather?" ICN-994 asked snidely, "Saying Megatron is angry is like saying mosquitoes are annoying. Everyone already knows! There, it's signed. Now get lost so we can enjoy what precious little break time we've got left!"
PR-35 turned away, glanced back once more at the strange duo, and walked away. He didn't understand why they found it so important to constantly be in each other's company. Vehicon life expectancy was so short, he couldn't help but think those two were setting themselves up for disappointment. If one of them died, they other one would have to live without them. It didn't seem fair.
PR-35 was outside the mine and ready to call for a ground bridge when another miner ran up to him screaming for his help!
"Hey, what-?" PR-35 tried to ask, but was cut off when the other miner said "Come quick! You're a warrior! You can help him!"
"Help who?" PR-35 asked in befuddlement.
"Breakdown! He and Bulkhead are fighting, and Breakdown is losing!" The miner explained frantically.
PR-35 felt his gears hitch with trepidation. Bulkhead. Why did it have to be Bulkhead? PR-35 didn't want to go up against such a powerful bloodthirsty Autobot. At the same time though Breakdown was an officer, not to mention a dear friend. How could he function knowing he left a friend to die at the hands of that overgrown wrecking ball? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He had to fight even if he lost.
He made it to the top of a cliff that overlooked a lush forest filled with trees. He forgot which part of the planet this was, but it was nowhere near the deserts most Autobots seemed to favor. PR-35 didn't know why they didn't fight around trees more often. They were pretty and they made for good cover. Win-win.
His meandering thoughts were cut short by a burst of metal on metal crashing against the cliffside! PR-35 wobbled and came close to falling over, but managed to keep his footing. He looked down to see Bulkhead pounding the scrap out of Breakdown! The big green Autobot didn't even look winded! Breakdown had been holding his own with his hammer, PR-35 could tell, but now the blue and white 'Con was barely conscious and barely able to defend against the blows.
PR-35 only had one chance to save Breakdown without getting himself or Breakdown killed. He would have to fire a shot from above and hit Bulkhead in a sensitive spot. Problem was there weren't many unprotected spots on Bulkhead, and Breakdown was really close to the big green lug, so he could easily get hit instead.
PR-35 vented the air in and out of his tanks slowly as he tried to calm himself down. He would need full concentration. He aimed his right arm's gun barrel at the moving targets, zoomed in with the optical relays in his visor, and waited for Bulkhead to stand still. He got a clear shot of Bulkhead's neck cables, and fired!
Birds scattered from the trees at the sound of the shot and the subsequent thud of a heavy body hitting the ground. PR-35 looked to see if his aim was true. It was! Bulkhead was down, and Breakdown was looking up at him with his good optic. PR-35 wasted no time and slid down the cliff to tend to his superior officer.
"Hey, PR-35...How did you get here so fast?" Breakdown asked with a casual smile that belittled the severity of his injuries.
"I was on duty at the mine," PR-35 told him, "Um, while you're calling for the ground bridge, do you mind if I check on Bulkhead?"
"He's alive," Breakdown said with certainty, "There's no way that tiny blaster of yours took out a wrecker."
"Okay, I'll take your word for it," PR-35 replied timidly, "I didn't really want to get too close anyway. What if he woke up and reached for me? I'd be dead before I could say oh, scrap!"
Breakdown laughed lightly and together they waited the few minutes it took for a ground bridge to show up. PR-35 wished he had recorded this moment. He took out an Autobot all by himself! Sure, the Autobot was still alive, but to PR-35 it was as good as ripping out Optimus Prime's spark with his bare servos.