The Hall of Dead Gods

[rurudyne]

The Hall of Dead Gods

Special thanks to Andrew Turnbull for the title and inspiration from Fictionary 3. I hope it's okay if I keep it.

This story is closely linked to my current project. Cartoon continuity (G1 to Beast Wars). The two books in this series are Genesis and Forgotten Wars. As the larger project is still a WIP, I've attempted to write something that will not cause me to either loose momentum or provide spoilers. Also, reading the books should not be necessary to read this ... or so I hope.

That said, this story is now a project unto itself, since DarkScreamer (of TFW2005 boards) went and got me thinking that there was a way to build a larger (and useful) narrative around the events I'd originally posted. It will update when it does (I've GOT to work on other projects or I'm soooo dead).

As always, I hope you enjoy it.

Comments and criticisms are welcome. As you can clearly see, they CAN make a difference.

Part 1: Spy[/center]



“Spy”

Quin had thought he’d heard that nickname for the last time.

He was an Autobot with an amazing knack for finding his way around Cybertron, for finding places no one like him should even have known about much less have detailed knowledge of.

But even during the long ages when the Autobots depended upon his mysterious skills for survival, they called him: “Spy.”

But they didn’t mean just: ‘spy’ — someone who could help you learn things to survive and win. No, they meant: ‘Spy’ — as in someone who would betray you.

He could never get them to understand that those flashes of inexplicable insight were just that. They dismissed suggestions that he might have some unusual connection with their homeworld and its moons. No, he was always the “Spy” that everyone kept at arms length.

And for his own part, he’d been happy to do his thing without their help. If no one really trusted him then why bother with them? Much less set foot in Iacon?

The day that Optimus Prime left Cybertron was a mixed blessing for Quin. On the one hand he was happy to see Cliffjumper go. Cliffjumper was the worst of all his nay’sayers. A mech who bordered on being paranoid delusional. On the other hand, Jazz was gone too.

But when they didn’t come back, all anyone seemed to remember was that Quin was the one Autobot that Cliffjumper, their hero, had never trusted. Not even a bit.






One day out of the wild black yonder the rumor mill was abuzz that Optimus Prime was back. He was fighting Decepticons on some strange new world. Autobots started coming out of the girders to fight — not for Cybertron, but for Optimus Prime, for the legend. One way or another they found their way to this Earth and Quin’s unit was no exception. His choice was to go with the rest or be alone.

He stayed.

Someone had to provide current intel. He was fighting for Cybertron: not some distant world. Cybertron: not Optimus Prime.

In the meantime, he saw what Cybertron could be in the absence of War. The Decepticons were bringing substantial amounts of energon back from this world Optimus Prime was fighting for. They were rebuilding and repairing the planet. It didn’t take much imagination to see what was happening: soon Megatron would have Cybertron so firmly in his grasp that no one, not even the great Optimus Prime, could wrest it from him.

This “Earth” would probably end up being Quin’s home even if he didn’t care one jot about it.

Besides, if Cybertron was really restored through Decepticon labor ... what moral claim would the Autobots have to their homeworld?

Of course, they would never give Cybertron up.

Until Earth these had been the ones who expressly did not flee to distant and peaceful worlds, the so-called colonies. As before, they would fight. Only this time, they would be the ones bringing war to Cybertron.

Quin finally decided that he could live with that.

By applying his skills and resources creatively, he managed to establish tiny bases on Cybertron’s moons. Then he got word to the other Autobots that they now had positions from which they could start moving soldiers to Cybertron in stages.

Optimus Prime turned his tiny way-stations into industrial scale beachheads. Instead of many simultaneous actions taking key resources or strategic positions all over Cybertron, the great leader opted for a massive frontal assault. For what it was worth, Quin still did his best to help Jazz keep the bases hidden from Decepticon view; but, they’d overbuilt and he knew it.






Then one day the moon he was on was attacked. They could hear some unknown monster tearing everything apart around them — the noise was horrible. While panic reigned all around him, Quin had one of those flashes of insight. He was sure there was a means of escape in a room several levels below their base. He convinced some of his companions to follow him rather than try for the ships. When they got there, walls already deforming all around them, they found what he’d been looking for: the prototype space bridge. It was still operational!

He saved them.

But they still turned on him, just the same.

“Why didn’t you tell us about the space bridge sooner?!”

He couldn’t give them any answer they would accept. What could he claim that he could prove? Why even bother?

He was the “Spy” again.

Through all of what followed, Unicron and the lot, he endured and kept his angsty team alive. They pretty much left him alone in Kaon after that, in the tiny deserted town he’d lived in for thousands of vorns.

[/size]Part 2: Survey[/center]



“Those are illegal.” a familiar voice accused him.

“Why should I care?” Quin leaned back in his chair and made a show of rolling the chilled mug around in his hands, “So Kup, what brings you to Caris?”

“Rodimus has a job for you.”

“Do you want one?” he held out the mug, “I’ve got some of Cashways’ private stock left.”

“Who?”

“The guy who used to run this place.”

“Why would I want some ‘Con’s bootleg energon?” Kup grumbled.

Cashways hadn’t been a Decepticon. Quin wanted to explain that much. But what could he claim that he could prove? Kup only knew that this was Kaon, Cashways was his friend ... so Cashways was obviously a Decepticon.

“So, Rodimus Prime is the new face of Cybertron?”

“You’re just as friendly as I remember.”

“I’ve got my reasons.” He took a moment to glare at Kup.

“I’m sure you do.” Kup glared right back.

“So, what’s the job?”

“Never mind. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“Kup, what ... is ... the ... job?!” Quin demanded.

Kup deflated a bit. The crusty old veteran’s head drooped. He took out a small device and threw it on the table beside Quin. Then he left without another word.

“I’m not going to be around forever.” Quin said weakly to the door.

Why were they always so mad at each other? The wall wasn’t just between them, it was inside Quin’s head. Literally. The answer to why was on the other side of that wall.

He took his time finishing his infusion. Decided that he should hide his stash to keep it safe from his fellow Autobot’s indignation.

He picked up Kup’s little devise. It was just a folded up piece of ‘paper’ ... an Earth substance that had recently made its way to Cybertron. Once unfolded, he read the note. It was scribbled in writing far too haphazard to be the work of a Cybertronian hand.

From a human then? So much for Rodimus being the one who wanted him to do something!

The note said that there was an ongoing effort to survey the damage done to Cybertron by Unicron and this “Spike” was responsible for Kaon. His request was for Quin to investigate the substructure of Kaon, the Decepticon Crypt in particular.

“Actually, that’s not a bad job for me.” Quin allowed.

It was a wise undertaking too. The monster had actually taken a good swing or two at Cybertron and Kaon hadn’t been spared.

“This Spike isn’t a complete waste. It’s sad that his species can’t endure.”






Quin spent the next two days carefully gathering what he’d need for an extended mission. Packing up his supplies reminded him of the old days. Only this time he’d take his private reserve with him too.

As he was leaving he abruptly turned around to look back at the dilapidated structure that had been his home for so long.

“If they come and knock you down while I’m gone, will I remember that you were ever here?”

It was an old feeling, like the way he felt when he’d have those flashes of insight.

He walked back inside and found a long inoperable waitdrone. This he set by the door.

“See to any customers while I’m gone.” he gave it a pat.

Then he walked east out of town.






The Decepticon Crypt sat in the middle of a vast, broken plane. There had once been a huge step pyramid and massive parade grounds. What was left, what had survived a direct punch from Unicron, was a mess. At least on the surface.

On foot, the plane took him four times longer to cross it than it should have. All the climbing and jumping almost made him wish he’d opted for that hover-mode alternate form rather than having been such a prude. Almost, but not quite.

When he finally got to the shattered pyramid he had to poke around three whole days before he found a safe entrance. He climbed in.

He was surrounded by Seekers. Faces he knew all too well.

“Quintus Ray?” a voice sounded surprised.

He blinked hard. Looked around. No one was here.

“Is that really you, Quintus Ray?”

Strange name. Someone else’s name.

“Who wants to know?”

No answer. He was hearing things!

The funny thing was, he mused as he poked his way deeper into the uppermost level of the crypt, the voice had sounded just like Starscream’s. Of all the ghost he could possibly hear, why him? There were so many others he’d have rather heard. So very many besides Starscream.

Hours later he found a huge, gaping hole in the floor. As it was the first sign of internal structural distress he’d come across, he began taking careful measurements of the walls, roof and floor with his scanners. The patterns of stress and deformation didn’t make any sense. It was as if the hole had actually been cut out. But why cut so large a hole?

To add to the mystery, he soon realized that the crypt around him had been braced before the hole was made.

Could some Decepticons have survived and stayed on Cybertron? If so, what could they be up to?

Silently cursing his potential misfortune, he unpacked his climbing gear and his two Mark-17s. Then he secured his pack and started to climb down.

For several levels there weren’t many posed warriors here at all. Just empty space. But five levels down there were lots. Most had fallen off of their pedestals and were jumbled about. He stopped climbing to look around. Hundreds of Decepticons.

He examined one.

His name had been Questcom, a Group Sergeant in the 3rd Corps. Two decorations. He served–

Quin paused in his thoughts. How could he know that? He looked around at the nearby chassis. Each had a name. As soon as he looked at their badges he knew them for who they were. Or rather who they had been.

“Maybe it was a ghost I heard.” he sighed as he looked around, “So, one last job, one last service for Cybertron? I guess so.”

If he was hearing voices from the Allspark, how far away from it could he really be?

Since the hole wasn’t the result of Unicron’s attack, he decided to work his way deeper into the crypt by walking instead of climbing.

He made careful notes of the condition of the crypt along the way.

Mostly it was just jumbled Decepticons, thousands of them, but every so often his scans would find evidence of real damage: cracks in the walls; uneven floors; tilted columns. But in each and every case it looked like repairs had been made.

Which was madness!

The debris of ages was everywhere undisturbed. In many cases his foot prints were the only discernible break in the shimmering, powdery dust that covered everything

Of course the most bizarre fact was that his scanners didn’t even detect the dust! They claimed the whole place was dust free. Even managed to detect residual power in the dust-repellent features of the crypt’s construction.

Another inspiration.

He unpacked his stash and a portable mixing set he’d brought with him. In a sipper he added equal parts mineral oil, enhanced energon and some select granulated minerals. Then he gathered up some of the dust and added that too. He capped off the sipper and started the agitator up. A moment to chill in the portable rig and it was ready.

The iridescent fluid looked normal. He took a sip.

It was almost too sweet to bear. He slammed back the whole sipper to find the sour. Held the mixture for as long as he could to give his highly refined sense of taste a chance.

“It’s cybertronium.” he said as his face contorted.

Quin looked around. The dust was pure cybertronium. The highest grade possible. Why couldn’t the scanners detect it? Was the crypt repairing itself?

Out of curiosity he took a nearby Decepticon, called Tracer, and put him back on his pedestal.

Rather than just sit still and wait for who knows what, Quin started setting up other Decepticons on pedestals. He arranged two dozen in ranks, as if they were waiting inspection, before he returned to Tracer.

Tracer’s feet were secure to his pedestal. The dust that wouldn’t fuse him to the floor had firmly mounted him there. Moreover, neither the pedestal nor Tracer were dusty any more.

The tomb wasn’t just trying to repair itself!

Quin reeled from the revelation.

He watched in silence as the same happened with each of the silent company that he’d restored.

“What kind of a place is this?” he wondered out loud.






For over a day, Quin probed the crypt until he came across the cut hole once again. Only this time there was evidence of a real collapse. The level below was much deeper than all the ones he’d been passing through. It looked like there was a great mound of debris below, like looking at the bottom of a sink hole.

He thought he saw a glint of red from below as his searchlight pierced the darkness.

“Well, I’m here to investigate damage.” he allowed as he started looking for a place to secure his climbing gear.

After he had descended he found himself standing on a mound of clutter: broken chassis; broken pedestals; structural bits. He spent a moment taking in the feel of the place before he brought his light to bear on the red glint he’d seen.

He was looking at a face. A face as tall as Optimus Prime. A face attached to a massive and badly damaged form that dwarfed even Omega Supreme.

“Maximus.” Quin stammered – falling to his knees in horror and reverence, “Prince of Cybertron. Heir of Primus.”

He felt the wall within him crack a little.

It made no sense. Compared to this figure Megatron was a mere petrorabbit. If there had ever been Decepticons like this then how could there even be living Autobots at all? Maximus was ... had been–

Quin shook himself out of the moment and stood up: whoever this Maximus was, he’d known him without seeing his badge.

Yet he had no doubt that, were he to dig he would find it, that very badge. A badge as tall as he was.

Had they been right all along? Maybe he’d been a “Spy?” How else could he even know about Maximus and believe, from his very spark, that he was Primus’ heir?

“No,” a voice of resolve, “I’ve never betrayed anyone!”

He was only a spy, not a Spy.

“I’m sorry, Great Maximus, but I have to see.”

He climbed up on top of the massive warrior, adjusted his lamp, and lit up the darkness.

Before this moment he’d walked past thousands of Decepticons.

Now he was staring at tens of thousands at a glance. Most were still standing up.

“Primus!”






Quin wandered about the massive chamber for days. Along the way he stopped every so often to drink a toast to certain warriors ... as if he was remembering his friends.

Something within him wanted to go back to the surface, to Iacon, and bring them here to this place. Here was something totally inexplicable. Truth, whatever that truth was, was here for the taking.

But what could he possibly claim about this place, about them, that he could prove? He didn’t even know what it was that he wanted them to see.

They would just see an army of dead Decepticons and their terrifying, but equally dead, leader. They’d be happy.

He stopped wandering when he found a wide path that looked promising. Decepticons were posed many ranks deep on either side of the path. They were meant to be viewed from it. In his mind he calculated where it came from.

He laughed: “Of course! Right past Maximus himself!”

When he finally reached the end of the chamber the path became an equally broad ramp that led down.

Quin froze still. Just off to his left was a small side chamber. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there just the same. He ran. Ran down the ramp through several twist and turns. Ran halfway towards the middle of the chamber below Maximus’.

When he finally stopped running, it was because he was trembling so violently that he couldn’t run anymore.

He sank to the ground where he was. Without even thinking about it he uttered a tirade of curses against Alpha Trion so foul that he just didn’t have anything else to compare it to. He didn’t even know he had it in him.

After he became silent, he broke out the mixing kit and put together the most bitter mixture he could remember how to make. He sipped on it till the raw emotions within him subsided.

Then he lay down and stared up into the darkness. Names and faces appeared before him there. Four sons and a daughter. He remembered taking them away from Vector Sigma. Endorsing the transfer of his hard earned wealth to pay for their frames.

Now, only Kup remained.

He closed his eyes, but they were still there. They were always there in the darkness. They and one other.






With a sigh, Quin rolled to his feet.

The funny thing was, that old A-3 was about the only Autobot who really believed in him. If it hadn’t been for Alpha, no one would have trusted him.

Why was he so mad at his friend? Did he even want to know?

He shone his lamp all around.

Here too were uncounted Decepticons. But they had been tossed about in a most unusual way. Some were laying neatly on their side facing one way. Others just by them were facing the other way. And rows in between that were jumbled about randomly. Yet here and there were whole rows of warriors still standing proud. He whipped out his scanners and found patterns of stress with the same strange pattern. As if the whole level had stretched elastically before snapping back to shape.

Which begged the question of why the level above was so undisturbed?

He focused his light upwards and got his answer: the ceiling above was massively reinforced. Further down the path, towards the center of the room, he saw huge support piles too.

“I guess they weren’t taking any chances when they put Maximus up above.”

Of course, the strange jumble he was seeing here didn’t bode well for the levels below him.

Still, he had a job to do....

He came across doors on the far side of the piles in the center of the chamber.

They were ornamental, massive, and thankfully open. All along the walls on either side of the doors were ripples of color caused by stress induced phosphorescence in the alloy used. He could see the shimmer of that cybertronium dust everywhere.

The chassis on the other side were posed and jumbled much the same as before.

An hour later he came across a set of strobe lights that still shone brightly down on a slab of red Iaconian granite. A tiny form laid out for viewing on top of the banner of Cybertron.

Quin stood over him for a long time.

“Megatron.”

The name just didn’t fit. For the very first time he wondered if he was even looking at a Decepticon. He walked on.

But he felt like something within him was breaking. Or maybe it was breaking out?






Quin wondered why he hadn’t noticed that the piles upstairs under Maximus had themselves been forced down? Looking at the partly collapsed roof of this chamber he thought it should have been obvious.

He was directly below Maximus. The roof here was not just deformed but actually broken like shattered glass rods. Beneath the roof’s shattered structural members was the unbroken form of another massive warrior. Though this one was only as big as a Guardian Autobot. Like Megatron, he too was laid out on a slab of red Iaconian granite.

He walked around to where he could see this warrior’s face.

Quin began trembling again, but not from anger. This was the sixth face he always saw in the darkness. Once again, he needed nothing to tell him who this was.

“Father!”

Instead of sinking to his knees as before, he ran forward and began removing debris from the giant Combaticon. He knew he could do nothing about the roof, Artemus the Magnificent’s chassis was the only thing holding it up.

Even in death he was indestructible!

As he cleared out what he could the wall in his mind dissolved.

He was an Autobot because it was an Autobot who had gone to Vector Sigma that day. But when he opened his eyes the face he saw was this face. It had been very irregular, but Artemus had deemed it necessary for at least some Autobots to have the very finest chassis then available. Brexas, the Autobot, had gone in Artemus’ place so the sparks would be Autobots like himself and not Combaticons like their real father.

The memory made him laugh: how could he have forgotten?!

He worked for hours till only the roof beams remained. Then he walked around this King of Cybertron, this friend of Primus, to inspect his work.

“This isn’t the ‘Decepticon Crypt.’” he muttered when he was really sure he was right, “This is the Combaticon Crypt. And this is Artemus’ own tomb. I’ve passed through Megatron’s and Maximus’ tombs too. All Combaticon tombs.”

He really could remember. With Artemus here there was nothing that could maintain the wall of silence that had banished even living memory from his Cybertron. He could remember friends. Battles. Games. A whole life.

Death too. He leaned against Artemus when he remembered death. The way they had all been before the rain....

For a moment his rage against Alpha Trion swelled anew, but he forced it back.

It was one of so many things that had built that wall in the first place.

“I’m free, Father. You freed me. And my name is Quintus Ray. The fifth of five brothers and your Autobot son.”

Now he was ready to go back to Iacon! He had so much he could tell them. Alpha Trion and a few others would back him up 100%. Then they would come to this place and set all of Cybertron’s heroes back like they deserved to be. They would perform repairs and lift the weight of the world off of Artemus’ chest. Maybe even draw Artemus’ other sons home again. It would mean an end to the war.

Quintus Ray was absorbed in his vision for hours, the way things could be, before he gathered up his pack and started back.

But as he set his foot on the ramp going up he felt it tighten again in his mind. He cried out.

What could he possibly tell them if he couldn’t prove it?

Artemus was all the proof he needed.

Maybe all the proof someone like Alpha Trion would need too.

Still, he knew the walls within them could never come down without independent, verifiable proof. Because the wall wasn’t a wall at all, but a firewall.

And the ultimate irony was that he knew exactly who was responsible for it: the dark gods who lay at the end of this long and winding path he was on.

“I can’t tell them.” he sobbed, “I can’t bring my brothers home. I can’t end the war.”

Slowly, he walked back to Artemus.

At least here, he knew the truth. Knew who he was.

Maybe they would come looking for him?

“Father, do you mind a little company? I can keep you from getting lonely.”

He was much younger than he’d imagined possible – which made Kup’s crusty old soldier routine all the more laughable.

Someone would come. He could wait in stasis for millions of vorns if necessary. And when they did come ... maybe he would find a way to convince them, or find some way to corroborate his tale that no firewall could deny.

He set down his pack, got out his data plate and left them a message. Then he drank all his available energon, including his special stash.

Quintus Ray then leaned back against Artemus, closed his eyes and slept.[/size][/font]

[rurudyne]

Part 3: Ghost

When does life end?

If you believed the old operational files it never ends. Your spark eventually gets recycled by the Allspark and you pop up as someone else ... provided you performed your function in life properly, of course.

But is that really continuing to live?

Is the you that will be then still the same you that you are now?

All his life he’d known about the other. It wasn’t some fleeting spark memory. It never faded. It never changed. From the moment he was aware of himself the other was there too.

Proud and assured. Commanding and in control.

The other was all that and more.

It was also dependent, easily cowed, subservient and helpless.

To its peers it had been their commander. The best of them all in a pure meritocracy.

But to its much larger commander it had been nothing.... Nothing that had been torn apart in an instant of horrific pain.

That’s what he remembered. Standing their proudly in front of his warriors as they awaited their glory. His glory! Yet still dreading even a momentary glance of another greater than he.

But in all his life he had never remembered that there had been pain at all, much less what that pain had been like, till he felt it again. Or rather something like it. This second time it had consumed his form, a form composed of plasma based matter. Consumed him like an Earthling insect thrown into a flame.

Plasma fires had always seemed so remote a possibility. There were safe guards aplenty. But safeguards can’t protect you against the power of the Monster in the hands of a vengeful old friend.

But, memory continued even when the pain had subsided.

Only then remembering was all he could seemingly do. After he had stumbled around and fallen backwards into cool darkness, he staggered about and interacted with things that he could neither fully touch nor fully ignore.

“I’m a ghost.” he finally said once panic had subsided.

Nothing else seemed close to what he was experiencing. Nothing but that odd human concept. He wasn’t a disembodied spark. However he knew that to be true: he HAD known it to be true. It just wasn’t the same.

Which obviously meant that he’d been recycled at least once in Cybertron’s long history and he just couldn’t remember it.

Which kinda answered the question about when a life ended.

In that state he had wandered around in the cool dark — moving to where it always seemed warmer even if it was never warmer when he got there — and morbidly compiled essay after essay on comparative metaphysics between Cybertronian and Earthling just to have something to do. Just to have something to keep his mind focused and sharp. He soon gave up on berating his always minimalistic research into this or that human philosophy of existence. Actually understanding humans had never been the goal at the time and it was of no value now to simply act as if it should have been!

One thing he found though was an odd symmetry — at least now that he was finally concerned about something other than manipulating humans through their superstitions and tribal jealousies. A little of something like the Allspark in things otherwise completely unlike the Allspark. A little something totally unlike the Allspark in things otherwise completely like the Allspark. It was as if there was something about Earth that was trying to be Cybertron even as something else were pulling it in another direction entirely.

He had been trying to cobble together a masterpiece of deductive reasoning towards that very end when his world became topsy turvy again and bounced around him.

He was actually quite relieved that it did!

It had seemed like maybe twenty, or even thirty, Earth years had passed. It was getting harder and harder to fight against the fear that he really was some lonely ghost now. That the Allspark was somehow beyond his reach. He had on one occasion even found himself pitying those luckless, sparkless humans ... of all absurdities!

Then the dust settled. Literally.

Somehow his awareness of the darkness all around him had begun to change. There was a shimmering that seemed to cling to him and for the first time since that day he could just barely make out his own form. He could hear too — mostly sounds like intermittent ventilation or sometimes something falling. His mind raced to understand what could possibly be happening till another day when he saw a face....

“Quintus Ray?” Starscream wondered if he’d finally stumbled on the Allspark, “Is that really you, Quintus Ray?”

Ray looked around in confusion. Demanded to know who was there.

“This isn’t the Allspark.” Starscream told himself, “And Quintus Ray is alive?... Interesting!”

He followed the brilliance of a living chassis through the darkness for a while — barely suppressing the temptation to mess with Ray’s mind by going “Boo!” or some human-like nonsense.

It really was Quintus Ray! But why was he wearing his Autobot badge where he used to wear–?

That opened up all sorts of interesting possibilities too.

Then he saw the Autobot do something that didn’t make sense at first. He was moving as if lifting heavy and bulky objects. Then he seems to be operating a small machine. His face winced and he sputtered: “It’s cybertronium.”

Starscream looked at his own ghostly outline. He held his voice box in check.

“I’ve somehow been converted into a standing plasma wave!” he silently crowed, “If this is ... then I must be....”

Inference and deduction: he began making sense of what had happened to him. He was in Kaon. Far away from Iacon where he had ‘died.’

He followed Quintus Ray around for a while till the Autobot started a long climb down, as if from ropes.

He didn’t follow Ray, but began retracing his steps. All of them.

Starscream finally had something to consider besides comparative metaphysics!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQJdClZT6-M

The restored Starscream had been wandering around the crypt in Kaon for weeks now, tracing and retracing once lonely steps that disturbed the ever present cybertronium dust. As dangerous as Cybertron was for him just now this had been the one question, and possibly an opportunity, too big to ignore.

Just where in Primus’ name had Quintus Ray wandered off to?

Absolutely nothing about the Autobot’s grand scheme to restore Cybertron was being done in secret. Or at least that’s the way it seemed. They even broadcast on unsecured channels that one “Quin” had gone missing in Kaon. They had repeated the call for any information about his whereabouts several times.

It almost made Starscream wish they hadn’t killed Iron Hide on that shuttle. He would have loved to have seen the Autobot go into histrionics over the current state of Autobot security. Not that “Galvatron” was any better for being there for the Decepticons! Such raw entertainment value.... But still not enough to keep him away from Cybertron.

He had found Ray cozy up against Artemus the Magnificent. He was in stasis. There was a note on a data plate with instructions on how to wake him.

The question then became: why?!

Which was why Starscream had been retracing Ray’s steps so very carefully.

“Memory.” he finally allowed as he stood over Ray again.

With that figured it out he paced and paced around Artemus and Ray for hours in contemplation. Whatever it was that had kept Ray here, Starscream just wasn’t feeling it too. That meant ‘Plan B.’

He set about examining the Autobot. The next mystery was his badge. Why had he moved it? Was he hiding something else? If he was then there were so many possibilities open for the Decepticon Air Commander. If not....

He carefully disengaged the badge and lifted it away.

Nothing. Just armored carapace.

Starscream sighed “Old ‘Plan A.’” and tossed the badge aside.

“It seems you don’t get to wake up, old friend.” he stood and took careful aim, “I guess this is good bye for real.”

Then it caught his eye. He turned from Quintus Ray and picked up the badge — now ‘fluffed up’ like disengaged badges always were. The back of the badge wasn’t uniform.

“Sneaky little actor!”

Within the confines of the Autobot badge was hidden the glossy black badge of a Seeker. Encoded subcommand grade S-1.... Which was annoying!

“I was only an S-3!” Starscream accused, “How–! ... Never mind.”

Of course Ray would be the one to make good. Even if Comdec had always been properly ambitious.... Funny how he hadn’t thought about Comdec in all this time. What if Comdec could somehow be inexplicably alive too?

Starscream bit his lower lip in an effort to keep calm.

The Vulpax was supposed to have been lost with all hands. Yet two of those missing hands were here, intact before him. Interesting....

“I’ve been promoted many times since we last served together. No fault there.” Starscream crooned confidently as he replaced the Seeker badge to its rightful place before flicking the Autobot badge over his back, “And it would seem there may be previously unexpected possibilities in the works!”

The Seekers. Were they still there? Somewhere? All he needed to do to find out was to be patient and renew one old friendship. How best to proceed?

Starscream picked up the smaller Seeker and began preparations to safely revive him.

[Andy Turnbull]

One of the meatier efforts to arise from Fictionary. Very engaging tale and one of the more interesting stories set in the cartoon universe. So very often they are so bland as the author is hell bent on imitating the tone of the series right down to the last detail and doesn't let the story breathe for itself.

I really felt for poor Quin and loved the way you showed us the differing attitudes to his role as a spy. Cliffjumper's attitude to him reminded me of one of the few S2 episodes I enjoyed - Traitor.

Andy

[rurudyne]

Part 4: Memory

Quintus Ray felt the trickle of consciousness: “They came for me!”

He suppressed his excitement and checked his chronometer. Only a few years had passed? Much better than he’d believed, but not what he’d hoped for.

He opened his eyes.

There was Artemus brilliantly lit up by strobes. He looked as if he’d been polished recently.... Was A-3 here too? There were red eyes lighting up a backlit shadow between Artemus and himself.

“I’d offer you an infusion, but your filtration protocol that you jury rigged to help you hold down that much energon didn’t work exactly right. We’ll need to purify what I drained from you.... And then we can get hammered!” a once familiar laugh.

Ray pushed away from the shadow and fumbled for his weapons.

“Ray,” Starscream was smiling, “do you really think I’d leave you two Mark-17s to shoot me with?”

“What do you want, Decepticon?” Ray spat.

“I must confess my surprise that you have two.” Starscream continued as if he’d not heard the question, “As I recall these were very, very expensive.... And not just for being produced in only limited numbers as they were.”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Just to remember.”

Ray couldn’t argue with that: “One was a gift from Artemus. The other had been Powertech’s.”

Starscream brightened as he examined the two weapons: “So, I’m guessing the one with the low serial number is the one that Artemus gave you,” he held up one pistol — a jewel of satin black, “and this one was Powertech’s.” he held up the other, a plain chromed steel example.

“Yeah.”

“Legal testimony confirmed. I will vouchsafe your memory for that!” the Seeker smiled and held the weapons out.

Ray started to take the pistols but pulled back: “You’ll what?!”

“I said I’ll vouchsafe your memory. That’s why you stayed here, isn’t it? So you could remember? Something about this place lets you remember.”

Ray examined his hands and said nothing.

Starscream sighed as he stood up: “To loose your mind like that.... That must have been horrific, to say the least.”

“I’ll never become a Decepticon!” Ray thundered as he regained his feet.

“So what!” Starscream’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Who’s asking you to?”

“But you said–”

“Is everything about the Decepticons inherently bad? Ray, at least we remember! Many of us, at any rate.” he sighed again, “I’ve seen a few too proud or too paranoid to ever trust another again succumb and loose important bits of themselves. Though I’m guessing that ‘Quin’ had lost more than just a bit. If you want to think of it this way, all it is, is people bearing legal witness of what you tell them before hand so they can confirm it later in court. A tidy little loop-hole that enables you to remember what you told them as well.... Provided you tell them enough of the right sorts of things and keep it all consistent. Leave out important details about the Cybertron you knew, or ever change your testimony if you’re in my packaging, and it will all unravel just the same. I’ve seen that too.”

Ray laughed to realize that a cornerstone of the Decepticon way was honesty, if only so–

“Why tell you? I can tell someone else!”

“For the Autobots it’s all after the fact — already too late. They have to have a reasonable chance to remember for themselves or the trick doesn’t work.”

“What about Alpha Trion? I could bring him here–”

“He’s gone. Merged with Vector Sigma.”

“Gone?!” Ray couldn’t believe it, “When?”

“Years ago. How do you think the Aerialbots got made?”

“No one told me about that....”

“Ray, it’s pretty much a Decepticon or no one else. Do you want to ever leave this place?”

No one had even bothered to tell him!

“If it makes you feel better, I’m in need of a new memory partner too. My old one ... well, he’s gone.”

Starscream got a bemused smile.

“You don’t seem to miss him.” Ray accused.

“I can still remember, Ray. What it was like and why. Knowing that you can remember helps me too. Ray, I don’t want to forget who I was or where I came from. Forgetting seems harder on Seekers than for most others.”

“It ... it doesn’t work quite like that.” Ray stammered.

“You’ve really been there and back!” Starscream almost seemed sad — he wasn’t smiling much right now at any rate.

Ray nodded as he remembered the feeling of that wall starting to slam back down.

“Why would you trust me, Screamer?”

“I’d never trust an Autobot.” Starscream crooned, “But a fellow Seeker?” he pointed at the left side of Ray’s chest.

Ray looked down. His Seeker badge that he’d refused to give up and yet hidden from prying eyes when he’d returned to Cybertron. Something else he’d forgotten about!

“Of course,” Starscream’s voice became deathly serious, “I’d much rather you not wear this thing while we do this.” he was now holding out both Mark-17s and an Autobot badge too, “But if you insist I’ll somehow manage.”

Ray took the badge and his weapons.

He looked at the badge intently. He’d worn it since he was a just boot. For some unknown reason he remembered standing in front of a mirror trying to figure out where it looked best....

He holstered the guns and put the badge in a leg compartment. No need to antagonize Screamer. Besides, once they had done this the odds were that the Decepticon couldn’t chance killing him. Not if he were already in a position of not being able to turn to another Decepticon. And he could always crawl back here if it ever came to that other possibility.

“Thanks, Ray.” Starscream seemed actually grateful.

“So, what do we do?”

“Well,” the larger Seeker sat on the ground, “since this place is your refuge of memory, I’ll go first.”






Ray swirled around the cup and took another sip. Despite the improvised filter they’d worked up and tweaked time and again, there was still a faint trace of cybertronium in the infusion.

“Probably from the cup.” Starscream allowed, “Cybertronium gets in everything.”

“So that it’s then? I can leave this place?”

“Yes and no.”

“No?!”

“There’s one more thing we have to do to make sure this works for both of us. We have to go to one of several worlds where a Court authorized under Primacronian law still operates and enter our testimony into a preset list of case files that address everything from a suit to revoke redaction to personal matters. Once we do that we’ll input a special sequence of appeals and counter appeals disguised as an ordinary barrister program that Shockwave designed. It assures that no case file ever gets to an active docket. I’m hoping that you’re still in good standing too since we can’t, for obvious reasons, give testimony about each other’s lives while the other is there.”

Ray instantly understood: by entering “evidence” they were placing everything about the other in public records; but, since every aspect of the “evidence” contained personal information too these “public records” were also sealed. Not even a Quintesson would unseal them until the proper time. Neat and tidy.

Even some of the things he’d told Starscream, that the Seeker couldn’t possibly have known for himself, didn’t represent any real problems. Shockwave had designed the system to take advantage of legal penumbras, if you could remember big public things then you could remember lesser derivative things too. Starscream knew essentially everything about his personal life, but not nearly so much about his professional. No loose ends.

For either of them.

He reveled in actually being himself for a change! But better to play dumb and let Starscream fill him in on the details for now.

“Yeah, I’m good. But where are we going to find a court like that?”

“Actually, they aren’t uncommon even if no one besides the Quintessons actively employs them. The Galactic Bar was always flush with funds so any Central Court had ample endowment to operate till the end of time if it came to that.”

“Operating off of the interest?”

“Exactly! Most were already automated with only minimal maintenance staff when I was a just-boot.”

“I remember that much. So, Shockwave’s little protocol really bogs the system down enough so that the case files never get to docket?”

Starscream smiled: “Better than that! Each sequence of automated appeals consumes more processor cycles than the last. It’s nearly exponential progression. A living judge could work through it in a matter of hours given a little common sense, but court computrons have to follow the procedures to code level. You have to realize how many Decepticons there were even when this war began. Also remember that the court can’t even consider if someone is dead or alive without there first being a hearing.”

“Here’s to gridlock!” Ray took a long, bitter hit — he had already revised his notion that Decepticon memory relied on honesty, “One thing I don’t get though, Decepticons still do this?”

“It’s mainly for experienced warriors. Most see it as a rite of passage. Punks like the Stunticons openly speak against the practice. The Predacons act like they’re above such ‘petty concerns.’... Losers!”

Ray nodded in genuine amusement: “So where do we go?”

“First we need to leave Cybertron together and stay together until we are actually heading to our destinations. It goes without saying that we’ll need more energon than we have. Once that’s taken care of I have a small shuttle hidden near the old military college. While I go to Terranoir you can take a second shuttle I’ve got at my base and go to pretty much any world you want. Autobots are unreasonably popular just now. Then we meet and exchange case file information as well as confirmation materials about our process to docket. Once those are filed in our own systems we should both be free and clear.”

“Then I can return to my life?” Ray asked.

“Well, you could always call me up every now and again. That station gets lonely.”

Ray nodded like he was sympathetic. It’s good to be an actor. Starscream had brought this on himself. Considering all he’d told him it was a wonder that Megatron had tolerated him that long!

Best of all, he, Quintus Ray, was back! Not Quin. Not some Autobot with a mere knack, but an Autobot who really knew his stuff!

“Funny thing though,” Starscream said as he stood up for the first time in close to a year, “all this time you were working against us on Cybertron and living at Cashways–” he laughed, “I can just imagine the consternation among my fellow Decepticons if you had ever used those guns of yours!”

“Limited payload. Limited range.” Ray explained as he stood up.

“If you say so.”






Starscream watched Ray closely as they started up. The smaller Seeker– The Autobot seemed to drag his feet ever so slightly when he stepped on the ramp up. Admirable bravado in the face of a thankfully unknown-to-Starscream horror.

Quintus Ray’s memory refuge was in Artemus? No wonder he had responded so badly to his condition. Once Artemus had been made to be forgotten how could he even remember who he was? But he’d managed to pull through much better than Galvatron was doing right now.

They spent days leaving the crypt. Mainly because Starscream wanted to put on a show of removing clutter from Maximus or else setting once important officers back on their feet like they should be. He even showed reluctant interest in Ray’s suggestion that they investigate where the Combaticon Megatron’s lights got their power. Once, after Starscream commented that no one had yet to perform any of the survey work that Ray had been asked to do, Ray questioned if maybe the Constructicons wouldn’t be interested in returning to Cybertron to repair the crypt.

“They would be out of action for years.” Starscream pointed out.

“They would be lifting the weight of the world from Artemus’ chest. We could bring all his sons home with them.” Ray confessed.

Starscream acted as if that would be great. Not as great as if Ray could have done it years ago on his own, but tolerable good still. What purpose did this war really serve now anyway?

But for the rest of their time on Cybertron, even when they were “liberating” some energon reserves that Ray’s old team had stockpiled, he was desperate to find a way to keep Ray from doing just that. There had to be something he could engage him profitably with instead of peace? Something somewhere in all that he had told him?

Aside from that, Ray was the perfect memory vouchsafe. The Autobots weren’t going to hurt one of their own. And the Decepticons would probably never find Ray out if either of them had anything to say about it. And if someone was luckless enough to not get the drop on the spy? Well, there weren’t many Decepticons that the Seeker would really miss that much.

It also meant not having to rely on poor old Wildwind who lay in stasis inside a reinforced chamber deep below Iacon. Starscream’s little insurance policy, a pawn best left unplayed, that Megatron never even suspected. Not even on the day the Seeker threw him out of Astrotrain.

Starscream smiled at his private joke. How was Galvatron’s madness treating him these days?

[rurudyne]

I removed the link to the outtakes from Webworld. I had used it to try to indicate approximately what was going on elsewhere in the cartoon at this point in the story; however, having more than one time reference (re: the earlier link to part of Starscream's Ghost) seemed problematic enough that I wanted to check my memory against the Wiki.

What I found is that — this story now stands in late 2008 — is that seasons 3 and 4 were more compact than I remembered them being (A personal Homer moment. I mean, Daniel doesn't grow up even by season 4. Should've been obvious.). Quin's survey happened in 2005 (after the movie), and Starscream returned a little over 2 years later before the Return of Optimus Prime. They were isolated for a while thereafter.

As a result, they've been out of the loop.

Which is actually better for my purposes and this story.

[rurudyne]

Part 5: Alabaster

Ray had been curious about Starscream’s base since he’d first mentioned it. Now as they were on approach he saw how it could be tagging along with Cybertron’s drift through the stars and still not be something worth noticing. It was a collection of old ships that had been lashed together after decommissioning and stripping. Once upon a time such hulks had been sent to ... sent to ... the planet of Junk–

He sighed. He felt more and more like Quin. It was so hard to keep the past straight. Still, he was sure that after Megatron had somehow fired Cybertron’s engines the practice of rafting old ships started up. Once there were hundreds of rafts like this one drifting along in Cybertron’s wake. This one was so far back that it was still years away from passing obliquely through Sol’s Kuiper belt.

Starscream had cut power to the engines and shields earlier that day. Now they had slowly caught up with the raft just with their momentum. In particular: a space-battered heavy transport that looked like it had once been a sparkling white liner, judging from hull style and bits of enamel that were still intact.

“What are the accommodations like?”

“Alabaster has the very finest in neo-garbage renaissance decor, just as you would expect. But looks can be deceiving.”

“Sounds like home.” Quin confessed.

“I noticed.... No offense meant.”

“None taken.” Ray shook free of the old himself.

“Hopefully no squatters have moved in.”

“It’s been a while since you were here. Any chance we could use the sensors?”

“Useless at a power setting we could employ without detection. Even before going to Earth in Nemesis, I had picked this raft out and carefully moved material around to Alabaster and a few other hulls. She has functional passive sensor baffles as a result. It was to be my home away from home. I never got around to addressing mech comforts, which ended up being for the best.”

“So what’s with the maps?” Ray had noticed Starscream’s interest in local space charts.

“The ... raft is out of position relative to Cybertron. Nothing much to worry about, though. At least not right now. Probably some salvage operation adjusting its trajectory so they don’t have to deal with the star system’s debris belts.”

“No change in the raft’s mass?”

“None.”

As their shuttle slowly closed the distance, Ray went aft to stargaze. He was running a Seeker version of an old astronomical calendar of the sort that hardly anyone used these days. It was providing designations, sometimes even names, for every star he could see. Some of the names ... he could almost swear they seemed familiar. One name stood out from the others: Sondal. That’s where he would go.

After several hours ‘alone’ there was the soft thud of docking clamps and Starscream called him forward. He had pulled up a diagram of the raft’s busy network of passages and open bulkheads and already laid out an inspection tour. They were going together and were not to split up under any circumstances.

With no gravity they covered the stable raft in little time. There was evidence of an intrusion in one half destroyed troop transport, but no one was there. Finally Starscream led them to another shuttle bay on Alabaster that looked like it’s doors had been punched in. In reality these hid the second shuttle from prying eyes. It was a beautiful ship’s boat that actually bore the liner’s crest.

“I’ve always liked to ride in style.” Starscream confessed.

“So I see.” Ray observed as he examined the shuttle’s interior.

It was the same type as the other, but still bore the trappings of opulence that tickled the corners of Ray’s memory of Cybertron.

Once the shuttle was free of its moorings, Starscream retrieved its power core from a nearby hiding place. A few easy connections and the shuttle came to life.

“Welcome to S-yber Spacey!” a cheerful femme voice sounded, “Your ticket to adventure!”

Ray groaned.

“It’s part of the ambiance.” Starscream smiled.

While the recorded voice regaled them with the joys of life on the Alabaster, an “elite experience for the masses,” Starscream used chemical thrusters he’d retrofitted to the ship to move it to the other side of the liner where the other shuttle was docked. Once the two were aligned and clamped together he used the still talkative luxport to set both drifting away from the raft.

“Well, while we drift far enough away to avoid detection, lets go over our respective itineraries. Have you picked a planet or do you need me to provide you a destination?”

“Sondal. It isn’t nearby, but that can have advantages.”

Starscream smiled knowingly: “Terranoir isn’t a short hyperspace jump away either.”

After drifting for fifteen days they had reviewed all of the materials needed and downloaded their respective barristers into matching data rods.

As the shuttles uncoupled, Ray found himself staring at the Decepticon on whose shoulders his whole future seemed to hang. His past too.

“Small wonder Shockwave got himself disbarred!” he laughed just to have something to say.

Starscream waved him on before turning away.

“Right, fly straight and true to Sondal.” he turned back to his own shuttle’s plush command chair.






Sondal was a Cybertronian type world that had once been an ally against the Quintessons. An odd bit of information that no one had ever bothered to do anything about. As a result, Ray’s memory seemed better as the planet came into view.

Even so, he was glad that he had gone out of his way to approach from a different vector than if he was coming from Cybertron. These people had obviously fallen on hard times. No telling what their current political situation was like.... Even though he seemed to have recalled contact having been reestablished.

He was almost in orbit before anyone took notice of him. Three old style space fighters rose up to meet him and demanded that the Alabaster fall in line — or else. Ray happily complied and provided all his registry information from when the liner had been brand new.

“Your registry is suspiciously dated.” the lead pilot flatly accused.

“Alabaster hasn’t been home in a long, long time.”

Which was true.

“Nor have I.” Ray added after a moment, which was not.

He took his Autobot badge and placed it on his right side just where Artemus had put it. This move revealed his Seeker badge on his left. Ever since the crypt he’d tried to hang onto what had happened to the Seekers and why he had returned to Cybertron; but, all he was sure of was that the Seekers were still out there somewhere and that they were doing something awfully important. Sondal might be just the kind of place hospitable to Seekers like himself.

As they approached the military base to which he was being led, the lead pilot told him to remain in the ship until he was given permission to leave by the civil authorities. As expected, the luxport landed flawlessly on the parkway, a feat announced by the cheerful voice of an autopilot utterly clueless about where it was and what it was doing.

Soon a small party of soldiers advanced on the ship and demanded entry.

A black bright-chrome mech seemed surprised to see a Seeker.

“Subcommander, I am Thal-6.” he said after a long moment, “What brings you to our world?”

“I have business with the Central Court, Thal-6.” Ray hid his pleasure that his rank had been recognized, “A matter of evidence submission which, I’m afraid, will occupy me for some time.”

The mech seemed surprised again and glanced between Ray’s badges.

“Do you have any weapons to declare?”

“Yes, two Mark-17 pistols, an energy sword, a half dozen low yield grenades and a legendary assortment of bad jokes.”

“Transformation modes?”

“None.”

That really got their attention! Starscream had acted the same way — to discover that Ray had been such a prude. He’d laughed it off then by saying that by the time flying transformations were available he couldn’t afford anything he actually wanted. Which pretty much satisfied the Seeker.

“I see, you have been away from Cybertron for a long time.”

Ray nodded sadly. No need to hide it: he really had been away after a fashion.

“I’m looking forward to going home once my mission is finally complete.” he tossed in one of his contingency tactics just in case the authorities thought he might be about to go Decepticon on them, “I hear tell there’s even a new Prime these megacycles.”

The mech hesitated at hearing the archaic time unit referenced.

“I’m sure we need not worry about Cybertron, she’s in good hands with Optimus Prime.” the mech smiled broadly.

Not Rodimus? Ray didn’t miss a beat. He blinked hard and put his fist on his hips.

“Optimus? What happened to Sentinel?!”

The Sondalan laughed and led him away after he had retrieved his pack from overhead storage.

Ray kept in the conversation as he was quickly brought up to speed on his own world’s recent history as far as the locals knew, information no more recent than some “local troubles” that Thal-6 wouldn’t go into. Ray was suitably outraged and expressed frustration with his own inviolable orders to go to the Central Court.

But he knew they had to have known better. Something was decidedly wrong here on Sondal. He didn’t trust these people even as much as he trusted Starscream.

Which wasn’t much.

[legios]

Rurudyne, my apologies for not getting to this sooner - I've read through the early parts but haven't had a chance to give the most recent parts proper attention. You must be doing something right, as I am still reading it. Most 'fics written in the continuity of the Sunbow cartoon I tend to lose interest in with precipitous speed (in much the way that the Sunbow 'toon itself fails to hold my attention) . However, I like what you are doing with this and some of the themes that you are exploring. (I think that is why you are holding my attention, you actually have some ideas that you are batting about here. Often MIA in many Sunbow-based fics). The crypt was an interesting image, and I like the way you used it in the sense of a literal "buried history".

Must catch up with the most recent parts when I can shoehorn some reading time into my schedule.

Karl

[rurudyne]

Part 6: Terranoir

Starscream didn’t expect much from Terranoir’s space traffic control since the planet was essentially dead. That he got a living traffic controller at all could only mean that Demarcon’s off and on again status as a pirate’s den was more ‘on’ than ‘off’ these days. He wasn’t really interested in Demarcon at all, but needed to be in the old capital on nearly the other side of the planet. Still, requesting landing clearance at the capitol would draw unwanted attention to himself. He was going to be staying in one place for an unreasonably long time on a world where Decepticons might frequent — if only to take in a little sport.

“Cybertron shuttle,” the traffic controller interrupted his thoughts again, “you are clear to land for inspection in bay B-33. Please remain with your craft until you have permission to disembark.”

“Why, I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.” the Seeker crooned.

They were only interested in Autobots with a chip on their shoulders about pirates. Still, no sense in being overconfident. Starscream had already employed a masking tech he’d learned vorns ago that had reversed his normal color scheme. He was modulating his voice too. As far as anyone was concerned, he was ‘Starfury’ — a Seeker of no particular merit whose death wasn’t common knowledge.

Once on the ground, an assortment of armed locals soon made an appearance and searched both Starscream and his ship. That it was actual Terranoirians performing the task was surprising and worrisome all at once. It was ... different to see these people taking an interest in standing up for themselves against the criminal element, but who or what was backing them in those efforts? They rarely displayed such metal without serious backup. He should spend some time in Demarcon rather than just transfer to air traffic control and proceed to the capitol.

After having him declare his weapons and transformation modes, the locals gave him a tracker token to carry at all times and left. Starscream looked circumspectly at the token. It was emitting a steady coded message based on permutations of 21, which meant that it was tied into a global positioning system with 21 hubs. Very elaborate for a place like Terranoir.

And disturbingly similar to an Autobot system he knew of.

“I wonder which Autodolt is in charge?”

‘Starfury’ locked up his ship and set off towards the heart of the dilapidated town.






“Frankly Decepticon, I don’t care why you’re on Terranoir or how harmless you claim to be.” the Autobot ‘in charge’ vented with nods of approval from his equally lackluster companions, “If the locals are willing to let you run around then feel free! But I’m still sending a report to Iacon.”

“Of course, Beachcomer. I wouldn’t expect anything less of a valiant enemy whose hands are tied for the moment. If it makes you feel any better I’ll be staying in one particular place in the old capitol for some time. That way you can send many reports to Iacon about my non-movements.”

“I have better things to do than spark sit wayward Decepticons.... So, Starfury, unless you have anything productive to suggest why don’t you go hang out with your friends down in Pirate Town?”

“Really? Who’s in town?”

The obviously miserable Autobot rapped on his right thigh in frustration before sighing: “Octane, a couple of minis and some Laserbeak clone called Lightwing.”

“I’m sure Lightwing will be pleased to be compared to Laserbeak since she has always looked up to him.”

“Like I–” Beachcomer stopped himself, “Duly noted.”

“Well, have fun with your reports, Autobot!” ‘Starfury’ beamed, “I’ll go check in with my brethren.”

“We’re watching you.” he said matter of factly as the door opened.

“Likewise.”

“The incompetent fools!” Starscream silently fumed as he walked away, “If Lightwing is here then Tonedeaf can’t be far away. That would make the minis Pusher and Fanservice. What is Octane doing with them? Was he still in trouble with Galvatron?”

He ran over possible scenarios in his mind. Had Octane somehow redeemed himself enough to be given a slag-job? Possible. Or maybe Tonedeaf had found him while he was on the run and taken him in? More likely. Soundwave’s foppish protégé was a big concern too. True, he had never been all that Soundwave had wanted, but he was his father’s physical equal by design. That meant he was a dangerous mech.

This was intolerable!

Either Decepticon would sell him out to Galvatron if they knew who he really was, and it was likely that Tonedeaf was one of the few who knew of the real Starfury’s demise. He needed to get to the Central Court quickly without meeting other Decepticons.

He’d barely covered a city block alone in his thoughts when he stopped in his tracks.

“Hello, Lightwing.”

“Do I know you?” came the reply.

Starscream turned to see something like a large Cybertronian vectorhawk peering at him from the gutted roof line of a building — a much more elegant form than what her brothers had been willing to pay for. Her optics were blazing bright red, which meant she was ready to fire on him at a moment’s notice.

“We’ve met.” he used his real voice — he had decided to give Tonedeaf a chance. Maybe he could be useful?

Her optics narrowed in comprehension.

“Fanservice!”

In response to Lightwing’s command, a femme about the size of Rumble or Frenzy jumped down to street level. As she did her arms transformed into oversized impellers nearly too large for her form and her feet grew to help stabilize her should she need to use them.

“It’s been too long, my dear.”

“I don’t recognize the color scheme, but the face and voice I do know.” Fanservice growled, “What do you want here traitor?”

“Fanservice, you wound me! I’ve never betrayed the Decepticons.”

“Really?” Lightwing challenged, “Throwing Megatron out into space? Or how about selling Cybertron out to help Unicron?”

“Megatron was mortally wounded and everyone knew it! You could smell the ionization and carbon scoring from his spark containment, for Primus’ sake!” Starscream balled a fist at her as he emoted defiantly, “As for Unicron, I got the better of him! I would have never let him take over Cybertron. Don’t challenge me on this one birdie: unlike Megatron, I got the better of him!”

“Fair enough.” Lightwing allowed with a chuckle, “It seems I still know how to press your buttons.”

Starscream looked around. The street wasn’t busy, but everyone had stopped in their tracks and was gawking. The Seeker cringed, he might have well danced about singing: “Look at me, I’m Starscream! Why, I bet Galvatron would throw a party in your honor if you turned me over to him!”

He was considering if he could kill every last witness without anyone getting away when Lightwing hovered in front of him, apparently intent on landing on his arm.

Which she did once he’d held it out for her.

“Don’t worry about them. They have no love for Galvatron around here.”

“Nicely parsed.” Starscream allowed.

“Follow Fanservice. And please remember that Pusher has her crosshairs on you even as we speak.”

“My dear Lightwing, I would never do anything to upset Pusher.”

“I’m sure she still has that list of hers, if you want to debate it with her, Screamy.” Lightwing positively laughed as she flew away.

Great! The sniper still held a grudge.

Starscream turned to follow Fanservice, now returned to her ordinary form.

She led him to a part of town that was better looking than the rest — Pirate Town, part of the unusual reversal of conditions that was Terranoir. The respectable parts of town weren’t the good parts of town.

It turned out that their destination was the old docks that were at the center of Pirate Town. For a long moment Starscream took in the lovely sight of the still bright red Cybertronian Ship of the Line — Obliteration. Outwardly intact, she had been salvaged to her hull long ago after the ancient warship’s engines broke in ways that Cybertron’s impious leaders wouldn’t foot the repair bill for. Over the vorns she had been used for storage, for palaces, as an embassy, and even as a public library.

“You’ve taken over Obliteration?”

“I wish! Other tenants have her.”

Fanservice led him to a smaller ship sitting in Obliteration’s shadow. It was the Autobot shuttle that Megatron had built in secret some years before Unicron’s attack. He had used it to help train a select team for an unstated mission that turned out to be his attack on Autobot City. Odd thing though, the shuttle, which had never been more than a mockup, still had no engines. So how had it come to be here?

“I never expected to see this again.” he allowed as he walked up the boarding ramp.

“And I never expected to see you again.” a familiar voice rumbled, “Nice repaint.”

Starscream turned towards Octane and brandished his biggest, friendliest smile.

“No time for chit chat!” Fanservice actually commanded them, “Take his tracker token. He’s got a date with the boss.”

“Typical Autobots:” Starscream laughed as he dropped the token in Octane’s hand, “honor system!”

“Welcome to prison life.” Octane chimed.

“What did he mean?” Starscream asked after they had walked forward towards the bridge, but stopped in the middle of a corridor.

“He means that you’re never leaving.” Tonedeaf’s jovial voice answered for Fanservice even as bulkhead doors closed, sealing the corridor around them.

Starscream looked around, no sign of his fellow Decepticon.

“I didn’t think that you could become invisible.”

“You recall right.”

The area around them began to move down.

“This simply won’t do!” Starscream thundered, “I have important business with the Central Court! I don’t care what you’re up to Tonedeaf–”

“I don’t care that you don’t care.” the voice from everywhere announced, “Your Decepticon friend simply picked a poor partner and will just have to suffer for it.”

“He’s not a Decepticon.”

It dawned on Starscream that he had a token of his own that he could play. It sure beat risking his life in a pointless struggle with Tonedeaf.

“Are we helping Autobots now?” Fanservice was shocked.

“Yes. No. He’s a Seeker. From the old days. He needs my help.”

The elevator came grinding to a halt and one side opened.

“Tell me more about this Seeker, Starscream.” a familiar voice droned dispassionately.

[rurudyne]

Part 7: Missing

“My analysis of this crypt’s structure is conclusive, Optimus. It would have been able to have shielded both Quin and Starscream from the plasma energy release. Furthermore, it is highly probable that they didn’t even notice the event.”

“How is that possible, Perceptor?”

“Speculation? Given the facts at hand, this so-called crypt would appear to be a living component of Cybertron and part of the very same mechanism that includes the plasma energy chamber itself. Spectrographic analysis of the energy patterns we have observed in its details reveal that this structure is slowly repairing itself by means of power derived directly from the plasma energy chamber even as we speak. The amount of energy so derived is not substantial in terms of the plasma energy chamber’s potential; but, it would be more than adequate to power all of Iacon and the surrounding districts. I am simply at a loss to describe how that energy transfer is happening. The only clue is this odd, plasma reactive dust that would seem to cover most everything we see. It must be an integral component of the repair process, but because it fails to register on my scanners its final nature is eluding analysis. There is also the matter of these ... dead Decepticons....”

Jazz turned away from the huge warrior whose chest was propping up the ceiling when he heard how rattled Perceptor was. Like those who had voiced their opinions so far, Jazz’ own first impression was that the Decepti-jerks had taken over some sacred precinct and planted a little dry-rot in Cybertron’s bones. But then they discovered what happened when you set one of these fallen warriors up pretty for all the world to see. The place reminded him of that Chinese emperor’s tomb with all the clay soldiers. Only these were all too real; and, some of them, like the one behind him or the ginormous example they’d found earlier, were genuinely grim.

Perceptor had recovered his wits and continued his analysis, but Jazz wasn’t interested. He’d read the Readers Digest version later. What titillated the Autobot was that, for some unknown reason, Quin had stopped right here. The same with Starscream the not-quite-dead. Why had they both stopped here?

Walking around the reclining giant, the path beyond was clear despite the dust of ages finger tip deep like the grime under Wheeljack’s workbench. Jazz reread the simple homily that Quin had left them on a data plate: “Artemus the Magnificent, King of Cybertron, Friend of Primus. Combaticon. Constructicon. Father. If you are reading this then I have been found at last. In the attached files you will find instructions on how to safely wake me. There is much I have to tell you if only I can.”

But Starscream found Quin instead. Was that why he’d left Cybertron with him? He did intentionally trip his own silent alarm when they took energon from an old hideout. If only that old camp had been part of the central security net....

“Why is it always the ones you don’t worry about?”

“No one ever worries about us.” Mirage stopped setting up a warrior nearby, “Are you implying something?”

Jazz gave him the eye — which would’ve probably been more effective if his visor were ever up. Mirage had come from Earth in the very same shuttle just to be here. No telling why since he hadn’t been ordered to the scene.

“Quin would never turn!”

“Hey,” the blue and white mech laughed, “Cliffjumper used to think I was up to no good too.”

“Yeah, Cliffy always kept it surreal.” Jazz smiled wistfully.

Was that why Mirage was here?

“I never knew Quin.”

“Loner. But he had the best music collection. Real old school stuff. And he knew it too! Quin wasn’t some casual listener just pickin’ up on a bad beat.”

“So.” Mirage motioned towards the unknown, “Want to put our ‘no one worries about us’ status to the test?”

“Looks pretty dusty.” Jazz confessed.

Mirage ran a finger in the dust and wiped it away with a buffing motion. His fingertip was subtly brighter.

“Don’t tell our verbose friend over there, but this is cybertronium.” he whispered conspiratorially, “Good stuff too.”

“For real?”

“He’ll figure it out eventually. Write a scholarly piece about why he couldn’t detect it even though he could see it.”

“If there’s a pool, I claim 185 to 190 thousand words excluding hard math and foot notes.... Mirage, man, why were you ... well?”

“Putting Decepticons up on pedestals? Maybe they don’t belong here? But maybe they do. That’s why I want to see what’s up ahead.”

“Hey, Prime!” Jazz shouted out.

“What, Jazz?” the harried leader called back.

“Mirage and I are gonna take this road less traveled. It’s all good?”

“Just stay in touch.”

“And bring back any samples of unusual materials you may find!” Perceptor jumped in, “In particular I want you to look for–”

More shopping list! Mirage had already transformed and was burning rubber. He left tracks of high polish on the floor. Cybertronium indeed!

Covering ground as fast as they were, they quickly found another partition wall. Big fancy door large enough for that Artemus fellow to pass. Mirage stopped just on the other side.

“Would you look at this one!”

Jazz had to agree, the mech standing there was intimidating. Looked like he was about to punch someone the way he was posed. Bigger than Prime. Unlike almost everyone else posed nearby, he looked like he’d been able to transform in life.

“Those could be wings. Maybe some kind of Seeker? Skyfire lite?”

“Damned if I know, Mirage.”

The black with green sub-giant was actually posed out in the path like he was standing guard. Jazz transformed and walked around him. Looked intently at the ‘con’s seemingly bemused expression that stopped with his silvered visor.

“Whoever he was, he had style! Say, Mirage, this looks like a Kodak moment. Pose while I get set up.”

Jazz tossed out his hovercam and had it position itself to frame them up nicely. Then he stood by Mirage in front of the dead mech.

“Say ‘Limburger!’”

“Just take the picture.”

The hovercam popped off a few shots from various angles before dutifully returning to its owner.

“That’s something for the boys to analyze back home.”

“Why not build more like this guy?”

Jazz looked at the dead mech, then back at Mirage: “Who says they didn’t?”

“That’s not funny....”

This time Jazz took the lead. Transforming while Mirage was still gawking at the unknown type.

He stopped only a few thousand yards down the path.

Just off to the left past a dozen rows of toppled minis was another giant like Artemus. But this one had an Autobot badge. It wasn’t the first Autobot badge they’d seen since coming down here, but everything that had one before this one was so badly beaten around that you couldn’t say for sure what it had been.

Not so with this guy.

Jazz stepped around fallen Decepti-creeps to get a better view.

“A Guardian robot?” Mirage asked as he closed the distance.

“He’s like Omega Supreme.” Jazz corrected, “He was one of ours.”

“So these things were trophies!”

Jazz climbed up on an arm to get a look at the face — which was gone. It had been blown apart. Whoever put him here had draped a black with silver fringe cloth over the gaping hole. That same someone had left a marker on top of this one: “Division Commander Praxicon Supreme: A willing slave for the service of Liberty.”

“Praxicon Supreme.” he informed Mirage.

“I had no idea Omega had a brother.”

“He doesn’t talk much, if that’s what you mean.”

Mirage laughed before opining that someone should tell Omega about Praxicon.

“Maybe so.” Jazz allowed as he had his hovercam take pictures of the giant.

“Jazz, what do you think it means: that Artemus was the ‘King of Cybertron?’”

“I’m more interested in his being ‘the Magnificent’ ... that’s not something people just throw around. Optimus the Magnificent would work. Rodimus would’ve only qualified for ‘the Great.’”

“You’ve been watching too much History Channel on Earth.”

“A fella has got to keep himself occupied!”

“So what about Galvatron?”

“Galvatron the Lame.... Or maybe Galvatron the Mad if I was feeling generous.”

“Which you aren’t.”

“Nuff’ said.”

Jazz scanned the huge chamber from his vantage point. There was a side path that ran parallel to the main one. He pulled out a lamp and lit it up.

“Missing.”

“What?” Mirage demanded.

“There’s a whole mess of bodies missing over there.”

”Missing over where?” he began climbing up to where Jazz was.

Jazz stepped up the magnification on his eyes to get a better look. The dust had been disturbed everywhere over there. You could tell because of the way it sparkled under bright light. Folks had been moving around a lot.

“Jazz to Optimus!” he activated his comm link.

Static.

“Frag me.” he whispered.

“What now?” Mirage asked as he was scanning the place that Jazz was still lighting up.

Jazz synced with his hovercam and downloaded the images they’d been taking.

“Frag me!” he repeated with greater force.

“What?” Mirage asked Jazz’ back.

The Autobot had already jumped down and was making his way to the path. Once there he transformed and started eating through his gears.

“What?” Mirage demanded as he caught up.

They were approaching the partition wall. There was no big Decepticon standing in the path.

“You bastard!” Mirage emoted as they drove past where he’d been.






“You know, I’ve always found it comforting when two of my best warriors come screaming onto the scene, transform and start pointing weapons back the way they just came from.” Optimus was trying to sound positive.

“Dawn of the Dead or Texas Chainsaw, Prime. Take your pick.” Jazz informed.

“We are not alone.” Mirage echoed.

“I’m sure they are tweaking our audio receptors, Optimus.” Perceptor announced, “After all, Jazz is a well known–”

Optimus raised a hand to silence the scientist: “Autobots, take defensive positions.”

He casually strolled over to stand between Jazz and Mirage. His weapon was ready.

“Is there a problem?”

“Unknown Decepti-goon, Prime. Big one too! And something was jamming our communications.” he tossed him the hovercam, “Second to last folder. The last one’s messed up too. We’ve got one Praxicon Supreme, Omega’s long lost brother and a ‘Division Commander’ over this lot.”

Prime inspected the images. Handed the hovercam to Perceptor.

“A very advanced design.” the scientist allowed after a few minutes, “He could be based on the Nova Wing series, so at least he’s not Unicronian. I suppose we should be glad for that much.”

“‘Nova Wing?’” Mirage whispered to Jazz.

“Later.” Jazz whispered back.

“He did look rather pleased with himself.” Optimus pointed out, “But I still don’t see how this qualifies as a Dawn of the Dead scenario?”

Jazz silently cursed himself for not getting any pictures: “There’s also evidence of body snatching. Or maybe they started walking around on their own. We came across it after we met up with gruesome.”

“I thought you said he had style?” Mirage accused.

“Optimus,” Jazz’ voice was haunted, “what are the odds that someone could bring this army back to life?”

[rurudyne]

Part 8: Deposition

Ray noticed it the instant he logged on to the terminal at Sondal’s Central Court.

His own chronometer was out of sync with galactic time. Not by much, but just enough to get his attention. Since he hadn’t uplinked to any external systems since before Kup had met him in Kaon, it followed that the cause was to be found in these last few years. Had Starscream done something to him while he was in stasis? Possibly, but the missing time was inconsequential. There wasn’t much the Decepticon could have done with it.

Just to be safe, Ray set his subsystems for a high level self diagnostic while he got about performing his duty as an officer of the court.

“I hope you’ve brought enough energon to see you through.” Thal-15 — Thal-6’s nearly identical younger brother — said as he dropped onto a bench not far away.

“It isn’t necessary for you to stay.”

“We all have orders to obey.” the Sondalan soldier shrugged, “You really can’t transform? I’ve never met anyone from your world who couldn’t?”

“Well, you’re young yet.”

The automated court clerk was guiding him through the preliminary steps with remarkable speed for a system that was supposed to be bogged down as a matter of course. He uploaded the first of the series of suits and appeals on Starscream’s behalf.

“Waiting for a Magistrate.” the clerk program intoned.

“Good luck getting one soon.” Thal-15 had leaned forward, hands on his knees.

“I never really thought much about it.”

“About what, sir?”

“Transformation. I’d always agreed with an old friend of mine. She said that changing into a thing was somehow improper. And that was before people started coming into this life with the ability to turn themselves into an autoloader or street cleaner or some other utilitarian devise. For some reason, people just didn’t realize going in that for future generations it wasn’t going to be what was fashionable, or neat, or sporty, or even moderately desirable that determined who changed into what. Rather, it would often be what was convenient for the guy paying for your chassis, how he wanted to use you rather than what you wanted to do.”

“Well, they were paying for it.”

“Sure, up front. I don’t know how people do things around here, but on Cybertron the first thing you got was a bill for the chassis.”

Thal-15 seemed stunned.

“I take it you didn’t have to pay?”

“No sir!”

“Good for you. Autobots stopped handing just-boots a bill-of-sale ages ago.”

The monitor before him was still displaying a wait screen. Starscream had told him that after 50 astroseconds he could pull up an alternate screen and enter his depositions as messages for the court rather than with the computron’s magistrate directly. It was part of the carefully choreographed scheme.

“Say, I’m going to get things moving along here. I hope you don’t mind.”

The privacy screen closed and sound baffles started working.






Ray had been at it for a day before he was called on to offer the first of several motions to the court to expedite the matter of Starscream’s service status in public record. The motion was actually a delay tactic designed to keep the computron’s magistrate busy — just in case one was at hand — while he filed a long winded suit that questioned the legality of the redaction of public records. At precise points in this entry procedure he entered another series of motions to the court.

With things bogged down nicely for the moment he finished bringing the suit and started working on the files to appeal. After the first appeal was set, before the judgment against the suit was even made, he uploaded the first of five barrister programs — which were available only because the magistrate was also automated.

Days passed and his energon stores began to be noticeably depleted.

He was sure glad that he could do this with a sync rather than have to speak or type all his depositions. If he couldn’t do that, then he would have been sitting here for more than a year. More than enough time for a court magistrate to show up before he was done with the whole mess and things really go wrong.

It would be another week, Earth time, before Ray had completed all the required steps at their appointed time. He was essentially running on fumes.

With nothing to do but wait for the magistrate and upload the master barrister program, he opened the privacy screen in hopes that Thal-15 was still there — just to have someone to talk to.

“Wow, you’re back among us!”

Ray waved at the Sondalan, who was still sitting right where he’d last seen him.

“So you were saying that Autobots no longer make newly manufactured mechs buy themselves? When did that change?”

Ray blinked hard. Where did that come from?!

He thought back.... Oh yeah, they had been talking about that. He tried to remember if the practice had stopped before or after he was supposed to have left Cybertron on his ‘secret mission?’ Had he ever mentioned a set date of departure to these people?

“You are persistent.”

“So are you. The magistrate put in an appearance yet?”

Ray shook his head.

“Want to get in on the betting pool?”

“Primus help me: no!”

Thal-15 laughed: “Say, there is something you might be able to help me with.”

Here it comes!

Ray readied himself: “Sure, name it.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could tell me if you’ve ever heard of an Autobot named Quin. We got a transmission from your people and they are looking for someone whose description is similar to yours. So I was thinking Quin and Quintus Ray: maybe you knew him.”

“I haven’t been home–”

“In a long time. I know. We haven’t mentioned you to the embassy because of the nature of your mission.... Apparently being a secret mission, not that I actually know what you’re doing.... Of course.”

Ray smiled at the stumble bumble approach, either Thal-15 was very, very good or completely on the level.

“I did know a Quin once. But I haven’t seen him since I left Cybertron.”

“Do you want me to contact your embassy for you?”

“No.” Ray practically sighed.

They had taken the time to establish an embassy here? This far away? What a waste of effort when there was a war to fight. As for Thal-15, he obviously wanted to know more about his mission. Which just wouldn’t do at all.

“As for your other question, the practice stopped not long after the Great War started. At least according to this one fellow I met some time ago. The Decepticons started promising remission of debts for recruits and the government wasn’t about to be outdone.”

“Could they really do that?”

“No, neither of them could. Not legally. It was probably a strange time.”

Ray remembered something that Starscream had said: “or ever change your testimony if you’re in my packaging”.... Was that how the decepticon ranks grew so fast? It occurred to him that this process could just as well be used to create a new identity provided all the details were consistent. If it had been used that way, then what of the old identity?

Could that also explain all the disappearances that the old government used to carry on about before they ran running in defeat to Alpha Trion and Sentinel Prime to save them from Megatron?

“You seem preoccupied.”

Ray nodded.

Was he remembering it the way it had really happened or was he remembering it the way that Starscream remembered it?

“I’m sure they’ll find this Quin sooner or later.” Ray allowed, “No one ever really just disappears.”

It had to be Starscream’s memory, or rather his deposition, that he was working on. There was no reason to expect that his own memory was fully there yet. So whose could it be except Starscream’s?

Could that be the way the Decepticons viewed the Autobot alliance? As the government running in defeat to Alpha Trion and Sentinel Prime? That would mean that they hadn’t been part of the government before then.

But they did command an army....

Quin tried with all his might to remember if he’d even been on Cybertron when this happened.... Which meant that he probably hadn’t been. He could usually remember where he’d been. It seemed like he’d been serving on a ship at the time.

He looked over to the youthful Sondalan sitting there with an eager expression on his face. So what if these people were up to something? Maybe it was time that he was up to something too? But he would have to be careful about what he said.






With barely 10% of energy reserves left, enough to get back to the ship but certainly not enough to get back to Cybertron, the Central Court’s magistrate finally showed up. Ray uploaded the last barrister program which promptly began working on the basis of one of his motions in cooperation with another of the five barristers. Once he was truly out of the loop, he downloaded process status for all case files to his data rod.

“Is there any place around here to refuel? I’d like to continue our discussion somewhere ... nicer.”

“Yes sir!” Thal-15 beamed.

Definitely just some punk kid. Not an agent. So why had they been going on about Optimus Prime leading Cybertron?

As they left the Central Court, Ray mused that he was also a very useful punk kid: working on the basis of Starscream’s deposition rather than his own suppressed memories was proving very enlightening indeed. It would be interesting to see how his own memories would stack up against the list of observations he was compiling on the basis of what Starscream had told him. Very interesting indeed.

He had time too. Because he’d lived so much longer than Starscream had, his junior Seeker friend would still be entering data.

[rurudyne]

Part 9: Pursuit

Jazz paced the bridge of his Autobot cruiser as they were coming down into Demarcon’s space port. Beachcomer had kept them informed of Starfury’s whereabouts — still in the old capitol city on the other side of the planet. They had been receiving daily reports from Hubcap and Dogfight rather than relying on the tracking system alone, so at least it was good information.

As for Terranoir’s other resident Decepticons, including Octane no less, they seemed as peaceful as ever. Or at least they never gave the locals any troubles.

“We’re in a nebula.” Sunstreaker pointed out again.

“I know.”

“You could hide an armada in here.”

“I know.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been jumpy ever since that day in Kaon. The two of them and their special guest were bored too — not a good combination — and were starting to get on Jazz’ and Mirage’s last sensory elements. Especially when playing video games. He hadn’t kept track of how many controllers they had trashed on this trip. Even with beefed up circuitry, Wii Sports: Cybertron Edition was bad news in the hands of a Transformer.

“Nice to know that thing is a junker.” Mirage pointed out the Obliteration, looming large over Pirate Town as it was.

“I think she’s beautiful.” Sideswipe opined, “Prime should see about refitting her. I mean, with Scorponok out there somewhere we could use a real battleship on our side.”

“Obliteration looks too much like Nemesis for my taste.” Sunstreaker countered, possibly just to be argumentative.

“Not bloated and ugly with no style.” Sideswipe shot back.

“Enough with it already!” Jazz’ last nerve had been officially stepped on, “I don’t care about some old wreck!”

“Sure thing, Jazz.” Sideswipe had the chutzpah to act innocent after all that had happened on this trip!

“Mirage, inform Beachcomer to hold off on the reunion bash. We’ll scope out their Seeker first.”

“I remember Starfury,” Sunstreaker pointed out, “he was too lame for even Starscream to consider his markings a worthwhile disguise.”

“That’s telling it like it is!” Sideswipe crowed.

“Lame or not, he’s been here since just after Starscream skipped Cybertron.” Jazz stopped pacing and sat down.

“New course already set.” Sunstreaker informed.

“Speaking of ‘lame.’ Jazz, you never got around to explaining what a ‘Nova Wing’ was.”

“Not much to say. When I was factory fresh there was this museum of sorts in the basement of the old Expo Center. They had a mockup of something called a ‘Nova Wing.’ Said they were the last piloted space superiority fighters ever designed on Cybertron. The one I saw never entered service. Primus, that thing was neat-o!”

“You’re not making me feel any better.” Mirage pointed out as he opened a comm channel to Beachcomer’s humble HQ.

Maybe so. But Jazz wasn’t making himself feel any better either.






“It looks like a perfect storm hit this place.” Mirage had told Optimus once they had pushed several levels deeper than where Quin had stayed.

Jazz agreed. Unlike the levels above, this one had partly collapsed into what ever had been below it. Scarier still were the shapes they could make out beneath the collapsed floor. An easy eleven or twelve more giants like Artemus might be down there.

They had been exploring the crypt in force for days since his and Mirage’s chance encounter. The popular theory was that he was a guard whose only concern was the crypt. Jazz wasn’t so sure — his B.S. Alarm was beeping. Despite the fact that there had been no new sightings, and maybe because folks weren’t worried much, Prime’s interest had been officially grabbed.

Thus the ‘in force’ bit.

Communications were a bust in this place once you were deep enough in, so they had relay teams set up to make sure they weren’t out of touch with the Cybertron of the Living. Blaster was “looking into it.”

“We will definitely have to conduct a structural survey before we can go any further.” Perceptor informed, “We should bring in some hover platforms from Iacon so we can continue to move around without undue risk.”

“Agreed. In the meantime, I want a full survey of the crypt above us including a census of all remains. I want special attention paid to any more areas where there are too many pedestals for the number of soldiers present.”

Prime hadn’t used the term “Decepticon” since coming down here.... Most everyone had clued in. As for the missing soldiers–

“They must’ve been shrimps, Prime.” Jazz pointed out.

“Considering some of our friends, I don’t think we can discount minis.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant!”

“Jazz, I know. Believe me, I know. Besides that, some of those minis had been posed over Cybertron’s ancient crest.” Optimus stared out into the maw of uncertainty for long moments, “Jazz, I need you to put together a team to follow up on our leads, beginning with that sighting in the Proxima system.”

“I have just the mechs for the job!”

“You can have any ship you want.”

“Mirage, you’re with me, man. Go find the Lambo twins and meet me at the docks.”

“Sure thing.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe could use some action and there was a honey of a cruiser just waiting for a good shake down cruise.






“Beachcomer is miserable here.” Mirage pointed out the obvious now that Beachcomer was no longer occupying their view screen.

“He volunteered for this gig.”

“I think he’d be happier on Earth worrying about global warming.” Sunstreaker opined.

“I thought it was ‘global cooling?’” Sideswipe turned to his brother, “You know, from when the space bridge returned Earth to a slightly wider orbit?”

“Yesterday’s news. I overheard Lightspeed and some of his equally geeky human friends talking about how the plasma energy release is causing an unusually strong solar maximum cycle.”

“Nothing goes as unplanned.” Mirage seemed to force back a laugh.

Jazz silently thanked Primus that they’d not heard of Mayan doomsday prophesies.

Then: “Beachcomer volunteered to lead this mission.”

He took extra care to remind everyone that their slightly dodgy friend was the local commander.

“Hey Jazz,” Mirage turned away from his comm console, “I’ve got Hubcap for you.”






Proxima was an old scavenger's port of call. A collection of recycle stations and mining concerns that had been more or less tapped out before Cybertron wandered into this region of space. A fiercely independent population had resisted being drawn into any of Cybertron’s struggles despite various attempts even before the Ark mission had them all take that long nap.

Economically, it had fallen on hard times since the trash it had to sell wasn’t nearly as good as what Wreck-Gar’s Junkions had available to them. Their main commerce these days was actually with humans who liked the low, low prices for raw materials and no fuss about environmental regulations to get them.

Devcon had reported that some locals had seen Starscream in the company of an Autobot. He’d been able to confirm their presence from a distance, but they were settlement hopping so he’d yet to get close.

“We’ve got company.” Mirage reported, “Devcon wants us to open the door.”

“Or I’ll open it myself!” the Autobot’s gruff voice announced.

Jazz nodded. Why had Devcon given up?

The blue mech came pounding down the hall in a most unstealthy way.

“Problem?” Sunstreaker accused as he turned in his chair, “How’s Slizardo these days?”

With a guttural growl, Devcon turned on Sunstreaker only to find him ready for a fight.

“Damn!” Jazz stood up, “Can’t you two learn to play nice?”

“Hey, Devcon,” Mirage stepped between them, “First tell us why you’re here and then go have it out.”

“Starscream lit out of Proxima in a ship faster than me.” he handed Mirage a data crystal, “The details are here.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. ‘Streaker, rec room?”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

“I’m sorry,” Sideswipe apologized after they left, “I thought those two had worked this out.”

“My poor little game box, I hardly knew you!” Jazz pouted.

“I’m more worried about the furniture.” Mirage confided as he dropped the data crystal into his station, “This IS a new ship after all.”

“I’ve got the data.” Sideswipe had taken Sunstreaker’s post, “Initiating course correction now. Best speed.”

“What’s their ride like?”

“J-class merchant with uprated engines. Maybe an old Q-ship.”

“At least,” Jazz silently consoled himself, “we out gun’em as well as out run’em.... Quin, why are you tagging along with Starscream? What’s he got on you?”

Even with Devcon’s data, it would be hours before they had a firm trail to follow. Days before they had visual contact.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like the Decepticons suddenly have energon to burn?” Devcon asked once they caught sight of the J-class.

It was true, a prolonged chase like this seemed unlikely given that Starscream must’ve been on the run from Galvatron. If they had this much then why bother taking Quin’s stash? It would be a drop in the bucket for this mad dash. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Mirage, contact our friends and tell them it’s pointless to run. Stand down and we can all save the energy.”

“No response.” Mirage reported a few moments later.

“Mirage, take over. I want to play before I have to replace all of my controllers.”

“We’ll do.”






Hubcap’s cheery face filled the screen: “Hey there! Just want to let you in on my research.”

“Research?”

“Yeah, Jazz! This place that Starfury is holed up in is an old Central Court for something called ‘Primacronian Law’ — a precursor to galactic law. It’s automated and rarely used. There’s apparently such a backlog of case work that it routinely takes a week or more just to get a magistrate.”

“Which would explain the rarely used aspect.”

“Yeah, but there’s more: unless you’re a lawyer or have legal council you can’t even defend yourself in one of these places, so I guess that makes Starfury a trial lawyer as well as a Seeker.”

“That’s messed up.”

“We can’t break him out. Until he actually leaves the court complex his personal freedom is assured. Do anything to him and the Terranoirians would be obligated to prosecute us.”

Jazz sighed: “Any idea when he’ll come out?”

“Could be any time now. A magistrate must’ve shown up by now.”

“Are you sure he’s still there?”

“Affirmative. According to what I’ve read he can’t leave until his business with the court is done. Well, I guess he could always hire another lawyer to represent him in his absence.”

“About leaving the premises?”

“His ship, such as it is, is here. So we’d have to give him a head start. Good faith respect for the court and all that.”

“Start reciting the Code, we’ll be there before you’re done. Jazz out.”






They had finally closed the distance with the J-class. Without a word, Starscream had pulled to a stop and extended his docking clamp.

“No fight?” Sunstreaker sounded really disappointed.

“This is Starscream we’re talking about here.” Devcon pointed out.

Mirage announced that he was scanning the docking port for explosives or other traps.

Jazz left Mirage behind as they boarded the J-Class. Dim red emergency lights. Maybe they were trying to save energon after all? He led the way to the bridge. The last door opened to reveal Starscream and Quin looking away from them, out towards the stars beyond.

“Well, Starscream, you’ve led a merry chase. Quin, we’ve come for–”

Wait, Quin was too tall to be Quin. The mech turned around. He was familiar, like Jazz knew the mech beneath the disguise.

“Not exactly who you’re looking for.... Eh, Autobot?”

“Who are you?”

“Why,” the Seeker announced in a voice definitely not Starscream’s as he turned, “can’t you tell? I’m Starscream and he’s Quin.”

“We caught their stunt-doubles!” the Lambo twins announced in unison as they started laughing.

Jazz turned on his merry allies: “I did not catch their stunt-doubles!”

Devcon looked confused. ‘Quin’ started roaring with laughter.

“That’s me! I’m a stunt-double!”

Jazz turned back: “I did not catch anyone’s stunt-double!”

Except for Devcon and the Seeker, the bridge echoed with four boisterous laughs. One too many — from above and behind.

“If you say so, chief!” ‘Quin’ was pointing to his own weapon, “But I’m afraid Runamuck has the drop on you.”

Jazz cringed.

“Hey, you know, you might still have time to find the real Starscream or Quin if that tub of yours can go to plaid.” the mech who was obviously Runabout announced.

“You aren’t walking away!” Devcon growled.

“Please, like we are your mission?” the Seeker laughed.

“Return to the ship.” Jazz commanded.

“But–” Devcon started to protest.

“I will not catch anyone’s stunt-double!”

Primus! It will take vorns to live this day down!

He pushed his cohorts back onto their ship and had a confused Mirage pull away and reverse course as soon as the docking clamp was disengaged.

“Why didn’t you bring Quin?” Mirage asked as Jazz entered the bridge followed by the merry Lambo twins and one sullen bounty hunter.

Sideswipe explained the joke to Devcon while Sunstreaker clued Mirage in. The bounty hunter was too upset about the Decepticons getting away to be overly amused.






They had led them away from Terranoir. Based on that fact alone, it seemed obvious that the Seeker that Beachcomer had reported had to have been Starscream. Why was he spending time with that court, though? And where was Quin? Was he ok?

Whatever was going on, now it was personal. Jazz wasn’t normally the sort to take things personally.

They landed in the old capitol right next to a small warp shuttle. A drone attendant met them on the steps to the Central Court and escorted them to the waiting area where Hubcap and Dogfight were waiting.

“He’ll have to walk past us on his way out.” Hubcap explained.

[rurudyne]

Part 10: Confirmation

Starscream finished uploading the master barrister program before he copied the process information for Quintus Ray.

He thought about what Shockwave had told him and pondered if he really wanted to go along with “The Plan.” To do so would almost certainly mean some loss of freedom. At least for a while.

On the other hand, he was genuinely interested in what Shockwave had proposed. What had Megatron been up to? Why did he abuse the kronosphere the way he did? At the time it had seemed like one more stupid misuse of precious resources. One more reason to be convinced that Megatron’s leadership was incompetent.

But as Shockwave had pointed out, there had been lots of seemingly stupid misuses of precious resources down through these last few years, far too many to be dismissed as mere incompetence. Not that Shockwave had believed Megatron to be incompetent. Within his Terranoirian lair, he had lectured Starscream for his lack of imagination.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Starscream grumbled at the memory, “I wonder if they’ve caught up with Duster yet?”

He still didn’t see why Shockwave had thought it important that the Autobots know what he and Ray were doing. Didn’t that invalidate the whole reason why Ray was such a good memory partner in the first place? He was also confident that Ray wouldn’t like the attention either. Spies don’t like attention. Even attention from their allies.

Still, it meant that he would have one Decepticon subordinate handy once Duster showed up on Cybertron looking for the boss. Duster’s ship too. Officially, his fellow Seeker was to have been working for him all along. Couldn’t you tell? They’d always had the same paint scheme.

Only an Autodolt would fall for that line!

But how was he going to sell it to Quintus Ray?

Then there was the off chance that he would be there when Ray finally went looking for the Seekers. That’s when the real fun would begin. Shockwave must have sensed it too.

Starscream opened the chamber and was greeted by the sounds of a conversation not far away. He deactivated the masking tech and reverted to his true colors.

“Well, it would seem I have a fan club.” he announced as he looked into the waiting area, “Do I start signing autographs? Who’s first?”

An Autobot named Jazz stood up: “Starscream, you are under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Misrepresentation: you lied to the Terranoirians about who you are.”

“An easy enough case to make.” Starscream cheerfully confessed, “But since I’ve been a model guest during my stay, they may be forgiving. In fact, I’m sure they will be since I can claim that my life is in jeopardy from my fellow Decepticons.”

“Where is Quin?” Jazz demanded.

“Quintus Ray is waiting for me at an undisclosed location. You may be interested to know it, but I’ve really been here this whole time as his lawyer.”

“Pull the other one!” Autobot Sunstreaker complained.

“Not at all!” Starscream smiled broadly, “Don’t you know that we are, all of us, under oath and subject to penalties for perjury just by being here? This facility is more than capable of detecting a blatant misrepresentation of my relationship with my client.”

That one stumped them, though the small yellow mech seemed to be nodding knowingly.

“So, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with my client that I need to get to.”

“No!” Autobot Jazz said flatly.

Strange, he didn’t remember this one being so very humorless.

“You could bring charges against me, as you said, but beyond that you have no legal right to stop me from leaving on my own terms.... At all.”

“Please excuse me if I don’t believe you when you claim that Quin is ok.” Autobot Jazz grumbled.

“Believe what you will. I’m obligated to meet with him and provide him proof of services rendered. If you interfere you will be held liable to this court!”

Starscream was discovering that he missed this part of being a lawyer!

“That sounds about right.” the yellow Autobot sighed.

Starscream glanced over to the drone attendant: “Do you have any problems with me completing my assigned duties?”

“No, Sir. Have a wonderful day!”

It was hard to not laugh on his way out. So why bother restraining it?

Once he’d swept his ship for tracking devises — there had been several — Starscream boarded his shuttle and took off. He paused to watch the drone attempt to block the Autobots from entering their own, much superior ship.

“Demarcon Space Traffic Control, this is Cybertron shuttle. I’m leaving the planet and have left my tracker token behind along with some unauthorized Autobot accessories.”

“Confirmed, Cybertron shuttle.”

“Also, I’ve been here on business with the court on behalf of my client and I need to confer with him. Would you please delay the Autobot ship so that they don’t attempt further interference with the business of this court?”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Confirmed, Cybertron shuttle.” the space controller sighed, “We will hold them here for one day.”

“Very generous! Thank you.”






Starscream cut the power to his shuttle as before. It looked like Ray was already back so, rather than slowly coast in for a day, he left the shuttle behind to land under autopilot. With his own thrusters running at minimum power he covered the distance in considerably less time.

“Ray?” he poked his head into the secure portion of Alabaster, “Quintus Ray?”

Ray called back to him from within the ship’s darkened interior. He found him in the remains of a gutted engineering bay that now served as Starscream’s own lackluster lab.

“Any problems?”

“Oh, just the same old same old.” Starscream smiled and held out Ray’s data rod, “My mission was a rousing success.”

“Mine too.” Ray nodded as he twirled the matching data rod in one hand, “Though I can’t say this has made me want to hang out a shingle.”

“Why not? We could form a partnership: ‘Starscream and Quintus Ray, LLC.’ Hire a few outgoing femmes for secretaries, maybe some private investigators–”

“And do incalculable harm to galactic jurisprudence?”

“Well ... it wouldn’t be fun if we didn’t.” Starscream smiled.

Ray laughed.

“Did you hear that Optimus Prime is back from the dead? I’ve been listening in on local comm traffic using your gear.”

Starscream blinked hard. Optimus Prime was alive?!? Now Megatron’s failure was complete! No wonder Shockwave was finally willing to break with what had become of him.

“I guess not.... Lets get this over with. I’ve been feeling way too much like Quin recently.”






On Shockwave’s advice, Starscream managed to get Ray engaged in a quick highlights version of what he’d told him as a way of jump-starting his memory back to where it should be. He wasn’t disappointed when Ray mentioned the Ark’s departure. He patiently bid his time till Quintus Ray was done.

“Say, Ray, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you and you reminded me about it just now.”

“Sure. So long as it’s not classified.”

“It probably is.” Starscream made a show of sighing, “It has to do with why Optimus Prime led the Ark mission in the first place. If I recall correctly, they didn’t actually go searching for energy sources, they went to get energy from Earth. I mean, they could’ve bought energy from Proxima with all the scrap lying around if all they wanted was energy.”

“Your point?”

“I remember reading the report that our agent had provided. It said that the Autobots were going to a place called ‘Earth’ to find energy.”

Rays eyes narrowed and his expression became a mask.

[rurudyne]

Part 11: The Ark

“I remember reading the report that our agent had provided. It said that the Autobots were going to a place called ‘Earth’ to find energy.”

“An agent?!” Ray silently reeled.

It took him a few moments more to realize all of what Starscream had said.

“‘Earth?’ Starscream, that’s impossible!”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Were you in the loop for what happened before that mission.”

“I was in Tagon at the time. That was all Jazz.”

Starscream nodded.

“When Megatron learned that the Autobots were going to search for energy off world he pretty much blew the whole thing off. Then he discovered that Optimus Prime had someplace specific in mind. That’s when he became very interested.”

Starscream paused as if hoping Ray would say something.

“You see, our energon reserves weren’t nearly as critical as yours were. Still, ‘If there's a new source of energy to be found, the Decepticons must find it first.’ That’s what Megatron had said. But I don’t think he was really interested in the energy so much as he was interested in the source. He would’ve followed the Ark to Earth without firing one shot if only things had worked out that way.”

“See, that just doesn’t make sense to me. I read the action report for that battle not long ago and the Ark’s sensors clearly detected a loss of power on Nemesis. I’m not buying that you Decepticons were ok for energon.”

Starscream smiled and shook his head: “Ray, you must remember how old Nemesis was. She had been part of the Red Fleet, for Primus’ sake! Her power loss had nothing to do with a lack of energon.”

“She broke?”

“No comical ‘sproing’ noises if that’s what you mean, but yes, just enough to give the Ark a fighting chance. We figured it out after the fact. If he hadn’t died of non-mysterious causes in the meantime, Megatron had sworn that our chief maintenance engineer was going to pay horribly someday.”

Ray nodded contemplatively. Starscream was driving at something but he wanted him to provide some critical piece of information or else he wasn’t going to come out and say it, whatever it was. And whatever it was, it had to be something that accounted for Optimus knowing that he was going to the “Earth.”

“I remember that Jazz had sent out a probe before the Ark mission.” which was both true and the least newsworthy revelation he could possibly make.

“Probes that were once made in Tagon, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Slag me, you’re good!” Ray had walked right into that one. “Earth” was an improbable diversion tactic.

“A probe wouldn’t provide the name of the planet, Ray.” Starscream observed, “Especially a name no one would use for millions of years.”

“You’re serious about them knowing it was ‘Earth?’”

“One probe was all they sent out.” Starscream pointed out what would be obvious if only more people had known about it.

“So what’s your question? What did I say that reminded you of all this?”

“You mentioned a space craft of unknown origin crashing in Iacon.”

The one Jazz recovered?

Ray started to connect the dots Starscream was laying out.

“So what about it?”

“One of the strangest commands Megatron ever gave was sending Astrotrain to the edge of the solar system to lay his hands on a specific human space probe. Megatron sent it to somewhere in the past using a piece of hardware called a kronosphere. That probe had a description of Earth’s location on it.”

Ray stood up and walked around for a bit.

“Are you saying that Megatron set the whole thing up? All of it? That makes no sense!”

“Things weren’t going badly for us at the time.”

“But why?”

“I –don’t– know!”

That much had to be true. Starscream was setting pretty on Cybertron before that mission. Given what he was claiming, the Decepticons could have had the reserves for at least one big offensive push too. With Prime gone, they could have taken out the Autobots that remained.... Had their best not followed Megatron to Earth instead.

“I never saw the probe data.” Ray confessed.

“Neither did I.”

“But Megatron did?”

“I don’t know. He might have. I had suspected that he had an agent in the Autobot ranks before then, but I wasn’t sure. Whoever it was, it was someone he’d cultivated personally. He sent us out to harass Autobots scavenging for low grade energy sources as cover for Soundwave checking up on the Ark’s status.”

All Ray could come up with was that Megatron was protecting the time line, ensuring that events would go the way they had before. But that didn’t make sense! The Megatron he knew was his own master, it was his obsession and had always been so. He would have overturned the whole world to avoid being a mere protector of the way things should be. Wasn’t that the whole point of this war?

Then there was Starscream. He’d actually been to Earth’s star system when it was only a number on the star charts. It was the mission that Skyfire– Ray remembered that mission! He’d been with one of the ships that found Starscream drifting through space.

It was so strange ... to remember.

“Ray, I want to know why he did this!” Starscream pounded a fist on a nearby panel with considerable force, “I can’t accept that he would ever consent to be a mere protector of history.”

“You want me to ‘liberate’ the probe data.” Ray snapped out of it as he finally understood his part in all of this.

No way he was going to do that! Now that he could remember, he also knew all sorts of completely novel and compelling reasons to oppose the Decepticons! Starscream in particular. That mission....

Starscream sighed: “I can’t blame you for saying that. Really. No, what I want you to do is ask Optimus Prime if he’ll let me use what’s left of the kronosphere to go and see for myself.”

“You want to travel in time?” Ray was incredulous.

“The kronosphere was badly damaged when Megatron attempted to send the Aerialbots into the distant past never to be heard from again. It probably can’t be made to serve as a conduit for more than a protoform, or maybe a spark protected within a critical plasma field. I can survive as either. It turns out to be a special gift that I have.”

“And you think he’d just let you use it?”

“I think he’d let you use it — if there were unanswered questions. For all I know, Prime may already have all the answers! But if he doesn’t, this may be the only way to find out.... Besides that, it would be nice to be able to tell my fellow Decepticons why they’re starving in hiding!”

Ray had to admit it, it was a nice bit of acting: Starscream’s concern for his “fellow Decepticons.” Back in the day he hadn’t seemed nearly so concerned about Skyfire, his lifelong friend and mentor.

“You’re asking me to just tell Optimus, point blank, what we’ve done?”

“Ray, you will still not be able to tell anyone what they can’t possibly know for themselves. None of us have that kind of ... clearance. There will be times that it will feel like there’s a fist rammed against your voice box. But at least our memories are our own. You may be more than Quin ever was, but you are still no less Quin.... Besides, I have to confess something. When I didn’t report back in a timely fashion, my only reliable ally, Duster, took it upon himself to act like he and Runabout were the two of us. As a result, I had an encounter with your friends on Terranoir. I told him I was acting as your lawyer so they couldn’t stop me from leaving. That’s the sort of thing that grabs people’s attention. I may not have a home with the Decepticons right now, but that’s no reason for you to end up being an outcast too.”

“Why would you care?” Ray grumbled.

“I don’t care about any Autobot. But you,” he pointed to the badge on Ray’s left shoulder, “aren’t an Autobot where I’m concerned.”

Ray nodded.

And he thought he understood Starscream’s interest too. Ancient Earth had been a remarkable world only for being covered in what was then called carbon-motor life. A very rare but essentially useless novelty. Otherwise ordinary as planets go. Just a blue and green rock in space with the one moon, circling an unremarkable star. Had something changed to draw both Optimus and Megatron to it like turbofoxes after petrorabbits? That’s what Starscream was after. It had to be!






Ray determined that Optimus Prime was in Kaon — of all places.

Actually, lots of his fellow Autobots were there. And they weren’t just anywhere in Kaon either. He’d really stirred up the cyberbats when he tripped that alarm! Strange how things still worked out even with Starscream’s friend running interference. Only this way Screamer didn’t know that he was partly responsible too. Which could have its advantages provided someone didn’t blab. One talk with Jazz should do the trick.

He helped Starscream return the ship’s boat to its hiding place before they took the other shuttle far away from the raft, nearly half way around the system. Once there he made a call to Jazz’ ship on a scrambled channel.

“I was told that you were looking for me.” he did his best to be cheerful.

“Where are you?” Jazz demanded.

“I think he’s upset.” Starscream whispered.

“Starscream informed me about the encounter on Terranoir. I can understand why you’d be unhappy with me.”

“That’s one bone to pick.” Jazz was very unhappy.

“I didn’t know about Duster until he told me.”

“That’s two bones.”

“I didn’t want you to know about this.” Ray casually motioned towards the control panel to pantomime pressing a button.

“THAT’S my wounded pride!” Jazz accused, “Man, why take off with that crumb-bum? If it was that important I would have backed you all the way. We have lawyers too. You do know that? Right?!”

“This wasn’t just about law. Where do you want to meet?”

“Is your friend with you?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Jazz. But yes, he’s here.”

Jazz transmitted the coordinates for a rendezvous and signed off.

“I’m sure I don’t like being called a ‘crumb-bum!’”

“Falls into the same category as Autodolt.”

“Touché.”

My, wasn’t Starscream being understanding today! Either he was really serious about this time travel caper or he was planning something bigger and better. He wasn’t going to dismiss either or both at this time.






Ray had Starscream stay back in the shuttle while he met with his fellow Autobots.

“Nice addition.” Sunstreaker seemed as ‘cheerful’ as Ray remembered Kup describing him.

He ignored the glares from the red and gold mechs.

“Jazz, did you ask yourself why I stopped where I did? Or why I never came back?”

Jazz nodded.

“Memory. You know as well as I do that without some reference material, something besides yourself to point to ... sometimes it just chokes up in here.” Ray motioned towards his neck, “You must have felt it before? You aren’t a just-boot.”

Jazz nodded again as his expression softened ever so slightly.

“Artemus was the sixth face I always saw in the darkness. The nameless face. For some unknown reason, someone decided that he shouldn’t be remembered. But I didn’t just loose him, my own father. No, I lost everything that depended upon him. Everything! It was still there, all those flashes of insight, but I couldn’t grasp it.”

“Why Starscream?” Sunstreaker accused.

“He found me.... Maybe it’s nothing more complex than that. There’s a way around the limit, all that to-do with the court, but it only works when both have the ability to remember for themselves.”

“And that jive?” Jazz was pointing to his left shoulder.

“Once,” Ray spoke with pride, “a long time ago, the Seekers were Cybertron’s guardians. The few who went with Megatron aside, I’m pretty sure they still are ... somewhere. I was among the elite of Cybertron’s civil defense forces. The Seekers were a big step up even then. My rank, by the way, is Subcommander S-1. It’s encoded in the badge along with my decorations I won in Cybertron’s service.”

There was a moment of silence before...

“Kiss and make up already!”

A voice from over the intercom.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe didn’t bother holding it in. Even Starscream, who hadn’t stayed back like he was told, seemed to enjoy the joke.

Frag! Was Starscream’s laugh ever annoying! You just knew his data core didn’t compute complete equations when he laughed like that.

“I believe you chose this crew?”

“I’m still trying to figure out where all the bad karma came from.” Jazz sighed, “What do we do with Starscream?”

“He wants to speak to Optimus. So we should take him to Optimus.”

[rurudyne]

Part 12: Refuge

After their runaway friend had a long private discussion with Prime, and after Starscream had bent Optimus’ ears over some outrageous time travel caper he wanted to pull, Jazz had been left alone with and in charge of Quin.

Or was it Ray now? Jazz actually liked “Ray.” Ray was a buddy’s name. Ray was a name for someone who didn’t seem so alone.

It was weird listening in as Quintus Ray told Artemus about his little adventure. He spoke like the big guy was still there. “Starscream’s loop-hole works well enough I suppose,” he’d told Artemus at one point, “but it’s not the same as being around you. I guess you’re my refuge.” He also went on about how proud Artemus would be of Kup, how he had that whole “crotchety old soldier” thing down pat.

Then he clued Jazz in on the knack for reading a “Combaticon” badge. Turned out that the similarity was only sheen deep, since Decepticon badges weren’t encoded any more than Autobot badges were. Without a word or external hint of what he was doing, Jazz pulled up the best image of their mysterious visitor: Wayside, a 2nd Lieutenant.

Someday, someone should tell Ray about Wayside. But that would have to wait. For the moment Jazz had more than enough to worry about.

That’s where he was now, dealing with the “more.”

Once this had been his office.

Now it was a mass of random boxes and thing-a-ma-bobs that Elita-1 and the girls hadn’t needed, but still didn’t throw out. He’d been excavating the clutter hoping to find the layers that he’d left behind. After a whole day’s work he found his old desk. Looks like they hadn’t thrown anyone else’s stuff out either! He found what he was looking for in a lock box in the top drawer.

Funny how what Ray had called Artemus came to mind as he opened the box. In a way it wasn’t even half a vorn since he’d set eyes on what was inside.

A tiny gold plate etched with symbols. Megatron must’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make his own additions seem a perfect match. He hadn’t changed much. And then there was the now impotent plating of electrum he’d added as a protective coating. The rare energon rich element had only made them more interested in finding this wondrous world called Earth.

But the red data rod from the probe held the rest of the story: a world stuffed to the rafters with energon. Enough to make Cybertron sparkle like a star, never mind merely win some stupid war. An uninhabited world with two moons.

Funny how that just never caught anyone’s attention at the time: a space probe from an uninhabited world. They didn’t even find traces of a destroyed civilization. But things were desperate and the opportunity was too good to pass up. So they went.

“Screamy may just get his caper after all!” Jazz chimed as he wondered about what had happened to the second moon.

The last thing in the box was the gadget that he’d rigged together to play the disk. He turned it on.

The sounds of a world, a greeting given in hope. Low quality images too.

Jazz felt something listening to it. He was seeing faces and hearing voices. Friends he left behind and never saw again. Friends he hadn’t thought of in years.

After listening to the sounds of Earth, he returned the contents to the lock box. Something had to be done with them. Prime would know what to do.

Only– Only he’d try to make sure the golden record was kept safe. Maybe someday it would be nice to listen to it again.

To listen and remember.

Epilogue

“What is the status of Prime’s disciples, Wayside?”

Wayside looked up from where he was kneeling.

“Majesty, because of my carelessness the Autobots are now out in force within the confines of the upper crypt. They have not discovered the between spaces nor have they pushed any deeper than the upper reaches of Timaeus’ tomb, but it is only a matter of time before either is compromised.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Wayside. After all, you only got close to watch some of their number honor our dead. Had I been with you, I don’t doubt that I would have done the same.... What about the two we observed earlier?”

“That Autobot has returned in the company of the two that I encountered. He wears a Seeker badge now. I’ve not seen the other since they left.”

“Very well. Resume your post.”

“Should I inform the rest of the council?”

The smaller mech shook his head: “They have enough to deal with.”

“Sire!”

As Wayside left, the other turned back to the window on the far side of the room. Below his office the operating theater was frenetic with activity as doctors and mechanics constantly attended their patients. No matter how much he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to help them. All he could do was wait and hope that they had enough time.

[rurudyne]

I hope you've enjoyed The Hall of Dead Gods.

I would like to take a moment to address why there was all that stuff with lawyers and the court, which probably seems very unusual for a Transformers fanfic.

The reason has to do with some of the subtext of my Genesis story on which THoDG is based and choices I'd made to deal with one issue from the Sunbow cartoon: that the Autobots seemed to have a very poor grasp of their own history.

Given that the Sunbow cartoon was written to tell a series of sequential stories with minimal overlap — it certainly wasn't a soap opera — it is forgivable that the show's creators didn't sit down an hash out Cybertron's whole history in advance but worked with broad strokes. The apparent result is that show writers made historical stuff up as they went along. On the one hand, such an approach allows for a lot of freedom in coming up with both "history" and subtext — one reason why there are so many different approaches to the franchise that seem to work well. But on the other hand this approach helped to foster many of the plot holes seen in the old Sunbow cartoons as well allow some of the events therein to seem rather contrived.

To deal with this apparent (to me) ignorance of their own past, I had to come up with a somewhat believable mechanism that could account for the phenomenon. For my own purposes: I found this in redaction of the public record and the way that I tried to imagine that Transformers viewed history.

This is what I came up with: if a Cybertronian had lived through a series of events he would remember them personally from his own POV as well as be able to point to the public record of those events (which is a bit different than "history" even if it serves a complementary purpose). There is actually a bias built into them to make them prefer the public record over their own memories. This bias exist as a control mechanism (Primacron, the credited author of this system, isn't a libertarian by any stretch of the imagination).

If the proper authorities (or someone who can mimic same) decide that certain events or documents are too sensitive to remain in the public awareness they can either classify it outright or else "redact" it like it was some old Air Force document with chunks simply blacked out. A few examples of this were given in Genesis and Forgotten Wars. Also, a rather extreme example of the side effects of this process was seen in Quintus Ray in this story.

While this is only subtext and cultural atmosphere in the larger WIP, the end result of those decisions (along with the loop-hole by which the Decepticons managed a work around) meant that THoDG would be a story with a lot of lawyering thrown in.

But please understand that what all of that was about was really this: memory and being able to remember.

Right now, Quintus Ray is in a unique situation among his fellow Autobots. Not only does he find himself in a not-really-friendship with Starscream, of all mechs, but he's also able to remember huge swaths of Cybertron's history that many around him just have no idea about. For a professional spy the two present interesting challenges and opportunities.

One possible example, in the G2 cartoon Ultra Magnus doesn't even know when he came on line — presumably because too many important events from his youth are "blacked out" — but Ray might know or at least be able to remember the first time he met his fellow Autobot if it ever came up in conversation. This would be a "minor" example to most everyone except Ultra Magnus.

I should point out that neither the Autobots under Prime nor the Decepticons are likely to have engaged in any of this redaction nonsense, so younger mechs like Jazz or Perceptor aren't personally as affected since much of the damage was already done by the time they came along (though the destruction of the Autobot archive in the same episode that Daniel wanted to throw Ultra Magnus a surprise birthday party may have dire consequences down the road). As for Alpha Trion, who is much older than Ray, he had extraordinary security clearance because of his previous role in Cybertron's government ... so he was probably no where near as affected as Ray was even if he would have still been unable to simply chat about things that those around him "can’t possibly know for themselves."

As always, comments are welcome.

[rurudyne]

Andy and Karl,

I hope you liked the way this episode worked itself out.

[rurudyne]

The Hall of Dead Gods


Episode 2: Sleepwalking


Part 1: Cashways’

The Autobots were becoming active in Kaon, and tiny Caris, the nearest town to the Combaticon Crypt, was becoming a town again. In the center of it all stood a little street library that had seen much worse days. The small structure’s shell had been repaired, polished, and painted with cheerful yellow trim and a red roof. The yellow on red sign outside read Cashways’ in Cybertronian script — a tribute to its original owner-operator.

Its new owner-operator was a small mech who couldn’t even transform. An Autobot who wore a strange badge on the left side of his chest: a black face. Of course, his Autobot badge still proudly occupied the right side of his chest.

Not that Quintus Ray had much time to let people gawk at his Seeker badge as they were wont to do. He had been busy restoring Cashways’ shell and was now working on its interior. The small establishment had never been fancy — only a dozen tables in a space almost completely open to the street — but there was more than enough work to keep one mech busy for a while.

“Hey, Quin! It looks like you’ve gone soft on us. Or is it Ray, now?”

Ray turned away from the data table he’d been working on upon hearing the familiar voice.

“Resonance! Are you with someone or have you started talking in the plural again?”

The black and tan transformer smiled at the all too familiar sarcasm and pushed his way past the “Closed for Repairs” partition.

“Letting Starscream go like that!” he accused with a smile, “I hope you at least got the better of him!”

“Prime let him go. I only brought him home.”

Resonance startled.

“He booted up here. You didn’t know that, though. Kaon’s his home.”

“He’s a Decepticon.” Resonance’s smile wavered.

“That doesn’t change the fact that this is his home. Mine too. And either Ray or Quin works fine for me.”

“Thanks, Quin.... So, that makes it all better?”

“Starscream’s a Decepticon. Almost the worst. Except for some flunky who has yet to show up he’s also on his own — if you could call being under constant surveillance and guard being on his own or, for that matter, ‘free.’”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Ray sighed and set down his tools. He motioned to a seat and Resonance accepted it.

For a long while the two of them just stared at each other.

Resonance had been the communications expert for the team that Quin had worked with. Like a lot of mechs he’d even changed his given name to reflect his resolve and the pride he had in his skills. For so many vorns he had also been the closest thing that Quin had to a friend of any sort.

“There are worse things in the universe than Starscream. Do you remember when you were a just-boot?”

Resonance scowled at the term. He’d always hated it. It was a term that old timers used. Old timers like Quin who wanted to lord it over their younger brethren.

“Resonance, I’m working on my 129,078th vorn.”

The mech gasped.

“But ... that’s not–”

“Possible? Why would you say that?”

“To be that ancient.... You would had to have been built by the Quintessons!”

Ray laughed with unaccustomed ease, a reaction that drew a cautious scowl.

“As if! Though I was built before what you call Cybertron’s first golden age.”

He felt it, the tightening in his servos and his firewall clamping down. That was about all he could say. At least directly.

“And I’m not ancient!”

Resonance’s eyes narrowed to slits: “Those are pretty bold statements. Care to back them up?”

“Maybe later. But Resonance, I–” he thought about it and maybe he could say something, “My father, the mech who authorized my chassis, Artemus the Magnificent, was built by the Quintessons. He was not quite 590,000 vorns old on the day I first saw his face.... You want to know if I got the better of Starscream? For almost the first time since I’ve known you, I can remember my father. I can even speak his name. I think I came out ahead.”

Resonance tisked loudly and looked away. Ray gave him time to think about the implications of what he’d said.

“What about the archive that Swoop found? The remains of early Autobots?”

His young friend was as sharp as ever. If Artemus’ formidable and sophisticated chassis was in excess of 719,000 vorns old then where did some comparatively primitive frames supposed to be much younger than that fit into the equation?

“What about them? It’s surprisingly silent on the matter of Quintessons. Or Artemus. But we both know they were there. That’s the only reason I can tell you anything about them at all.”

“But ... then you knew about the Quintessons!”

Ray sighed again. Resonance really was too young to understand. By the time he had been a just-boot Cybertron’s government had collapsed and the Autobot / Decepticon schism was already well established.

“I hear you and your crew were fortunate enough to miss out on the hate plague too.”

“Never a straight answer!”

“Do you remember the other madness plague that swept over Cybertron?”

Resonance hesitated before admitting that he wasn’t that old.

“Who do you think caused it?”

“The Decepticons!”

“No, they didn’t. The drones that ran amuck were all driven by logic cores designed long before by the Quintessons. That’s why they called it the ‘sleeper plague.’ Primus! Were we ever blind!”

Resonance was eyeing Ray: “I’ve never heard that.”

“No law against people talking about this one. I guess no one imagined it was an important detail, and so it gets forgotten anyway.”

“So why did it happen?”

“Because the Quintessons want war on Cybertron. They– They knew–”

He couldn’t speak no matter how much he wanted to. They had been pulling strings on Cybertron to cause war since before the original Megatron’s assassination. But almost every record of them and their villainy had been nicely classified and redacted into oblivion.

“Jazz told me to expect troubles getting answers from you.” Resonance seemed to settle down.

Ray nodded. Despite his best efforts to work around the edges of his limits, it had quickly become a theme where he was concerned. Even with Optimus.

“That’s why this library is so important to me.”

Resonance looked around at the shambles that Ray had been working on.

“It didn’t look this bad before I started tearing into stuff.” Ray laughed, “No one ever bothered to redact all of Cybertron’s literature, entertainments or performing arts. They may just be fictions, or songs, or recorded plays, dramas, or even game shows ... but they can tell us something about ourselves now that people have time to consider them. And because there are intellectual property rights involved they can also tell us something about their age. That’s kind of an archive too. The past may be somewhat hidden from view but we can at least know how much of it there’s been.”

“But the archive?”

Ray couldn’t answer. He didn’t even want to consider it for the time being. He wasn’t ready.

“I don’t know.”

“Where did you find all these cultural treasures?”

“What I’ve got was always here in the server cache. It’s still a work in progress, but I’ve come up with a shell program that will let people access old sessions as if they were some of Cashways’ original patrons returning again. One of the nice things about the old system of public ID codes. Think of it as a loop-hole.”

Resonance laughed.

“So, how have you been?” Ray asked.

“Fine. I guess. After our early warning system failed to let Prime know that the Decepticons were coming for the plasma energy chamber, the team got reassigned to search for Galvatron. Even though he has yet to pop up again, it’s been decided to finally scrap the old ship. I’m settling into a new local job.... For the time being.”

Ray shook his head: “I’ll take it if no one else wants it.”

“Why? It’s falling apart!”

“That ship and me, well, we have a lot of history.”

Which was true enough. He’d come home in the old grunt sled to help fight the sleeper plague. It had been a wreck even then. But an undesirable ship had its own advantages. Especially that ship.

“Besides, I’m sure I can get spare parts from the Junkions.”

“You like fixing up old junk?”

“Laying a veneer of the new over the old won’t fix Cybertron. Speaking of which, what do you think about this?”

Ray jumped up and pulled a small sign from off the bar.

“I was thinking about putting it over the entrance.”

Resonance looked at the sign which simply said “CYBERTRON SPOKEN HERE” with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

“I want to be here to see the reaction when you hang that out.”

“Good! Consider yourself hired.”

“What’s the pay like?”

“Are you gonna get greedy on me now and want to get paid for the first time since we’ve known each other?”

“Well, I’ve already got a job maintaining the comm network for Kaon and the crypt.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Sounds like a deal!”

“I’ve got a data plate over there with the beta version of my server shell. Would you double check it for me? We especially need to make sure that no one can actually close out a session since, my own music collection aside, none of it may be replaceable. It would also be nice if they didn’t understand that they were reading over someone else’s shoulder.”

“What about fees from the sessions? I remember getting charged for stuff like this.”

“I’ve tried to make sure those are accounted for. Besides, when I start getting bills from some automated system it will be a new place to start looking for old data.”

Part 2: Dark Legacy

Working with Resonance was unusually fun now that Ray didn’t feel so very old. True, he wasn’t exactly young; but, he would still have to live another 70 or 80 thousand vorns before he was even “old” like Alpha Trion had been when they first met. He even fancied that the rest of the team could learn to get along with him now.

After a while Resonance had to go back to his real job.

Ray finished up working with the table that had occupied his whole afternoon. Once he’d run it through a series of self checks he turned it off. Cybertron might be flush with energy now, but with no significant power sources it wouldn’t last. He might not live to see another lean time, but he wasn’t taking it for granted like so many others were.

Still, there is a time and a place for every concern.

Ray pulled the front gate shut so that he’d have no new visitors for a while. Then he went to the back of the bar area and opened a well concealed trap door. A lift platform rose up and he took it down.

Far below street level was a hidden space that Cashways had built to hold his most prized possession and keep it safe from prying eyes: his energon centrifuge, a now illegal devise capable of enriching the resonance signature of energon from planetary average down to the level of even deep space. It even worked with energon exhibiting stellar or plasma levels of resonance too ... which was good because that was most of what Cybertron had these days. Harsh stuff like that would make his business all the more successful.

But Cashways had hidden other treasures down here too.

Right now the centrifuge was quietly humming away producing what would be Cashways’ stock and trade once he opened up shop. He wasn’t yet interested in either it or the disassembled and carefully stored vehicles present — if Cashways’ own sky cruiser or a racing green Scatterway CT95 that he’d somehow come across. There was also Cashways’ own private library, but that wasn’t what Ray wanted just now.

What he wanted was sitting on a table that normally served as workspace in support of the centrifuge.

A small and seemingly harmless waitdrone.

Ray had already carefully disassembled it and placed it within an isolation chamber he’d cobbled together. It’s carefully laid out circuits were all connected ... and intact.

What a sentimental idiot Cashways had been!

He had several waitdrones in the old days, but this one had always been a pet of sorts. He called it “Stupid” even though he had upgraded it considerably so that it was hardly stupid anymore. But that didn’t mean that Stupid didn’t turn on Cashways once the sleeper plague erupted. Somehow his old friend had managed to deactivate Stupid without damaging it. He had drained Stupid of all energy and stored it down here. If it hadn’t been for Caris getting caught in the middle of a big battle, Cashways probably would have lived and tried to safely reactivate the drone at some point.

The instruments on the isolation chamber revealed the waitdrone’s condition: fully charged and restrained, both physically and comm-wise. Everything was ready. Still, Ray rechecked the firewalls on the data core he’d attached to Stupid earlier before turning the drone on.

It’s eyes became a soft violet color. It tried to turn its head but when that failed it looked around. The eyes stopped when they seemed to find Quintus Ray.

“Master Quintus Ray, how are you doing?” Stupid asked out loud.

“I’m fine, Stupid.” Ray absent mindedly parroted the virtual himself that Stupid was interacting with.

It turned out that he’d been right: either Cashways had somehow negated the Quintessons’ programming or else Stupid knew how to lie if lying got the job done.

“I seem to be unable to move and my internal status data shows that I have been disassembled. Why is this so, Master Quintus Ray?”

“I’m conducting system repairs on your frame.” would’ve been the VR program’s response.

Had Cashways really been able to negate the Quintessons’ programming? It seemed unlikely. Though even if he did, he would have probably still left Stupid down here since its type were a kind of illegal that even scofflaws like Ray respected.

Well ... unless given adequate cause otherwise.

“Master Cashways had informed me that other drones were acting up so he was going to deactivate me for a time.”

Apparently Ray’s virtual counterpart had asked what had happened before Stupid had been deactivated.

Ray waited while his virtual counterpart was supposed to be reassembling the drone, he would know soon enough.

“Thank you for restoring me to full function, Master Quintus Ray. . . . Yes, I would like to return to my duties. . . . Master Cashways?. . . You are the one who activated me.”

Ray bid his time. They would be leaving the basement soon and emerging into a restored Cashways’ above. There were several patrons. One of Ray’s Mark-17s would be sitting there within easy reach.

“Your confusion is understandable.” Stupid’s eyes gained unexpected life, “Please let me explain it to you: Die, Autobot! Die! Now is the time–”

Ray took his finger off of the kill switch.

Stupid had only tried to transmit and propagate the sleeper virus once it was attacking.

Another kill switch and the now corrupted data core became inactive. Had he succeeded in trapping a copy? He hoped so.

It would also seem that the drone was still a ticking time bomb.

How many others were there? Broken and respectful till they had their chance. How annoying! To have to search the whole planet.

Again....

He was going to discover this power for himself. Too many people had died suppressing it the first time around to let their sacrifices be in vain.

But Ray had advantages now that they had lacked back then.

Stupid was one. Knowledge and experience were two more. But possibly the most important was the fact that the Quintessons had moved on to bigger and better schemes — they wouldn’t be watching closely and might not notice his curiosity as a result.

There was also complementary data to be gathered about the so-called hate plague, both in terms of societal effects and any possible research before it had been released on Earth. It would be something to find out that the Quintessons had been responsible for both.

The only question was: how best to proceed?

Ray carefully drained Stupid down again to prevent its accidental reactivation. Then he did the same with the data core.

At times like this, in the bad old days when he was only Quin, he would do something to keep his chassis busy while letting his mind wander. It had always been a good way to help him clear out the micromite webs and retune with real priorities. Would it still work? It should, just like knowing how to fight without the benefit of a combat computer let you watch your own flanks or plot strategy when you were using one. The dagger of awareness ... was he really ready to take up its mastery again?

“I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try, eh, Stupid?”

He turned to the Scatterway. It shouldn’t be impossible to rebuild and tune properly even without instructions.

Besides, it had been ages since he’d taken to the skies on a runabout.

[rurudyne]

Part 3: Clear Black Sky

“Do you ever stop?”

“Hey, Resonance!”

Resonance was looking around the corner into the alley behind Cashways.

“I thought you would be working on the library. What is that thing?”

“This,” Ray proudly patted the runabout, “is a Scatterway CT95. A form of sky cruiser from the days before we, well, you were transformers.”

Resonance came forward and inspected the machine that was currently 82% complete.

“I’ve seen these before. I think. It flies?”

“For me it will. Once I’ve got its engine tuned and aerodynamic shell functioning.”

“Neat! What’s its performance envelope?”

Ray happily complied with estimates that shouldn’t be too far off.

Watching Resonance nod thoughtfully, he couldn’t help but think that his fellow Autobot was looking at the runabout like it could be taken to Vector Sigma — the habit of looking at unliving machines as potential people was that deeply etched into his race. As it was, genuine drones had only become popular again because war had reduced the work force so very drastically. Time would tell if they remained so.

Someday, someone might just decide that Earth’s machines should be alive too. What would become of the humans then? What place would there even be for them?

“You’re drifting away from me.” Resonance said in Cybertronian.

Ray snapped back to attention, glad that his mind’s dagger had pulled back from that subject before piercing it too far.

“Some work is work and some work is fun.”

“You don’t keep regular time?” he continued to speak the old language.

“What is time to us?” Ray transitioned too.

Resonance sighed: “If you’re gonna get philosophical I’ll just leave you to it. I’ve got code to check.”

“I’ll be in after I finish up here.”

As always, Resonance would be his useful self. Ray could finally teach him indirect techniques for gathering intelligence that had always been just out of reach before. At the same time he would be quietly gathering information in support of his own pet projects. Quintus Ray, the spy, was definitely in retirement and running a street library in Kaon. But that didn’t mean he had actually retired.

Instead, he could quietly safeguard Cybertron’s future while seemingly trying to restore her past. He could search all over the planet looking for repairable drones to destroy and old sky cruisers to restore at the same time. Two or more purposes for everything.

Of course, other people might have different plans. Starscream wanted him to manage the time travel caper. Clearly there was no one else the Decepticon could trust like he could Ray, given how they both benefited from their mutual arrangement. Jazz too might want him involved and had hinted that the Autobots could use a spy master. So staying ‘retired’ might be troublesome.

Especially since he’d already let it be known that he wasn’t old.

He wondered if Kup had learned about his return yet? How was the “old soldier” responding if he had?

Ray leaned back against the wall and sighed deeply. He reasoned that he’d finally remembered what had driven the wedge between his only surviving son and himself: he had made Kup pay off his chassis. What the government and the Decepticons were doing was simply lawless and neither had the right to interfere with a private contract. Especially one as important as family. Kup’s sister and brothers had understood.... So why hadn’t Kup?

In all fairness, Kup might not even remember why he was so angry with his father. He might not even remember that Ray was his father at all. Ultra Magnus and Prime certainly didn’t seem to remember that Alpha Trion was theirs. Sons without a father and fathers without sons.... Sometimes letting your mind wander took you to places you didn’t want to go even if you had to go there just the same.

Ray picked up his tools and finished rebuilding the Scatterway.






The repulsor engine was running rough on the available energon. But at sparks-three and just over twice the speed of sound it was hardly the time or place to be rebuilding the engine. It would probably require refined energon to get the machine really running right.

Cybertron’s faint grey haze had given way to ebon black littered with stars that now shone brightly with no hint of twinkle. Far to the north the delicate yellow glow of distant Sol rimmed a crescent of light and cast the rest into a dark deep enough to match the night sky above. Traces of tiny lights like little stars were all that was left of a once brilliantly lit world.

Ray heard the whine of plasma based engines long before he caught sight of the red and blue running lights from Starscream’s wings. The Decepticon pulled into formation with him and said nothing.

“It seems that our energon isn’t of the best quality.” Ray finally observed in Cybertronian through the comm link.

“I’ve noticed much the same.” Starscream was still using English, “Spark containment will be most drastically affected. Possibly reducing longevity by as much as 12% for 300 series spark containment and later. You’re in the clear. As am I due to some design changes made for purpose-built Seekers.”

“There are work arounds.” Ray was thinking of an industrial scale application of Cashways’ small centrifuge.

“I’m thinking a phase shifting protocol might work.” Starscream suggested, “Maybe blended with better energy from Earth.”

“A dual reserve system?”

“Premix.”

They flew on for several minutes in silence.

“Is that the best that thing will do?” Starscream taunted.

“First shake down flights are iffy propositions with no back up.”

“Your point being?” Screamer asked, finally in his native speech.

Ray gunned the throttle and adjusted the trim as the Scatterway accelerated. Serious buffeting from the aerodynamic shell hit just as he passed 3.5 times the speed of sound. He had wanted to rise to sparks-five to help alleviate the problem but the engine issues wouldn’t let him go any higher than sparks-four.

The sounds the engine was making spelled serious problems if he continued to push the envelope.

“How do you manage buffeting with that primitive shape?” he asked Starscream as they slowed and turned back towards Caris.

“The F-15 wasn’t meant for this performance envelope any more than its replacements were. Fleshling pilots simply can’t take the stresses involved for real maneuver either. But that’s the difference between a living machine and a mere piloted vehicle. You know, that antique would make a nice alternate form for you.”

“I’m holding out for a late model Vectorhawk with a variable aspect aerodynamic shell.” Ray wasn’t even half serious — if he could find one of those he’d have no need to become a transformer himself.

Starscream laughed in a somewhat more sane way than his usual fare.

“You could hard mount your Mark-17s.” the jet suggested after a while.

It wasn’t a bad suggestion. Tied into his own power systems like Starscream’s null rays, the weapons would be able to be fired more than five times on a charge. Ray might even gain some incremental benefit from their tiny power maximizers. But that didn’t negate the PR issues that could result from being so intimately associated with two smaller versions of the same fusion technology that had made Megatron or the Nemesis so fearsome. Autobots cringed when they heard that sound. An aversion that couldn’t possibly do Ray’s already troubled reputation any good.

“Maybe.”

“Have you really retired?” Starscream asked after a while.

Ray filled him in on some of what he hoped to achieve with Cashways’. While he wasn’t going to let Starscream know what he was really doing, it made no sense to keep the Seeker totally in the dark. Had he done so, Starscream’s curiosity might have led the suspicious mech to discover some of what was really going on. If, for the sake of plausible deniability, he wasn’t going to tell Jazz there was no way he’d ever tolerate Starscream being in the know.

He finished up his short description as they closed the distance to Caris.

“Interesting.” Starscream chimed as they landed in the street in front of the library.

The few fellow Autobots who were present really took notice when Ray and Starscream landed together. Ray could almost feel their glares. He didn’t let on that it bothered him, only set the runabout’s landing gear and turned off the engine without comment.

“Who have you recruited to help you get this place going?” Starscream asked as if he might be interested in helping too.

“A comm specialist from my old team. You wouldn’t know him except by reputation.”

“Well, it’s good that you aren’t doing this alone. If you ever want to open franchises, I know of a few other establishments like this that physically survived the war.”

“No archives?”

Starscream shook his head: “Even the once secure Autobot archive in Polyhex is missing. It happened sometime before we were revived on Earth. It’s a pity,” Starscream had changed back to English and raised his voice to be heard by those roundabout, “it was once the best on all of Cybertron. The one place you could have read about the true history of the Primes, all the way back to Omega Prime himself!”

Starscream jumped into the sky, transformed, and lifted off.

Ray shook his head in disgust. The Decepticon was intentionally messing with the Autobots present and undermining Ray’s own status just to gloat over a point of lost history.

“Why did it have to be Starscream? Why not Shockwave? Or even Soundwave?” he muttered as he entered the library.

“How should I feel about you actually knowing Soundwave and Shockwave?” Resonance demanded.

“Artemus the Magnificent had many sons.” Ray shrugged, “Only five of us were Autobots.”

“And Starscream?”

“Is just a self-absorbed jerk I know.... Resonance, would you believe me if I told you that very intelligent people will have trusted folks they know they should’ve never trusted, given the benefits of hindsight. It isn’t just me either. We all somehow overlooked the simple fact that Starscream was all about Starscream and nothing or no one else. Even when we found him drifting through space after the mission that saw Skyfire go missing we didn’t notice. It’s the sorta thing that can seriously undermine your self confidence.”

“So why Starscream?”

“‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’” he quoted a human truism he’d heard from Jazz.

“What about ‘Omega Prime?’”

Ray felt the tightening again.

“I guess you can use memory as a weapon even when you can’t use it as an elixir.”

“There really was an ‘Omega Prime?’”

Ray nodded.

Nodding was much easier than talking.

He had no idea why Starscream had even brought up the Polyhex archive. Maybe it had to do with Swoop’s little discovery. Was he wanting Ray’s world to fall apart again? Or was he pointing him in another direction?

One thing was sure, whatever issues or ambitions Starscream had, Swoop’s archive presented the same sort of challenge no matter who you were.

Ray placed a data barrier against that line of speculation and locked the thoughts away till he was ready to deal with them.

“So, are any other sons of Artemus on our side?”

Ray smiled and nodded.

[rurudyne]

Part 4: Dire Intentions

Starscream’s afterburners pulsed.

Up ahead the ruins of the Decepticon War College awaited along with his Autodolt handlers.

At least for the moment he was free!

He suppressed the urge to start his own little war. Even if his enemies had little idea just how much damage he could do on a world where energon was so freely available, there was still the matter of his mission.

As genuinely laudable as Ray’s efforts to fight for everything Cybertron were, it was intolerable that he wasn’t doing what Starscream needed him to be doing!

Why didn’t his fellow Seeker understand?

Megatron had somehow caused all of this! Intentionally!!!

Cybertron only seemed desperate before that fateful trip to Earth. Under Ratbat’s watchful gaze the Decepticons had been carefully skimming off the top wherever Autobots weren’t watching too closely and had amassed considerable reserves — all hidden in shielded caches deep underground. Shockwave’s war planning committee had called it a “war against subsistence.” So even while much of the planet had slept or been subdued, Shockwave had never lacked in their absence. Once Megatron had returned and the Autobots abandoned the planet for Earth, all that energon helped to power the Decepticon Renaissance.

Until Unicron showed up.

It burned Starscream’s circuits to imagine how different things might have been had they just taken the planet first and worried about some new source of energy later!

Four million wasted solar cycles!

His guards, the Aerialbots, were falling in formation with him and for once Starscream was glad that his handsome features were hidden in this form. It wouldn’t do to have them see the look of utter contempt that his face wore just now.

Ray would have to learn that his priorities as a Seeker came first! After they had learned what they could from the past then, and only then, would Starscream willingly help his companion shatter the ill considered cultural bonds between their people and the fleshlings. Even Autobots didn’t deserve to be burdened with such ‘friends.’

“You’re quiet for a change.” Autobot Silverbolt observed.

“Just digesting my observational data from the runabout’s high speed trial.”

Confronting Ray with the fact of Polyhex’ missing archive had been a calculated risk. Hopefully it would limit his plans to Cashways’ and other mundane concerns in the short term.

“If you wanted to help your friend with his toy, why leave us out?” Autobot Silverbolt countered, “One chase plane can’t cover every angle.”

“My ‘friend’ would have gladly shot me out of the sky just a few solar cycles ago.” Starscream acted as if he were defending Ray’s loyalties.

Three of the Aerialbots grumbled. Excellent! They weren’t even bothering to hide their true feelings!

“Besides that, weren’t we a little too high for you, Silverbolt?”

As they came in for a landing, Starscream marveled at how fickle and sentimental Autobots were. He had no illusions about how his fellow Decepticons felt about him: they should and did fear his brilliance and ruthlessness! Yet Ray had not only been loyal to the Autobot cause, he had also been singularly effective too. He was willing to bring war to Cybertron for their sakes. And they questioned him? Idiots!

He hid his smirk as he assumed mech form — the Autodolts would drive Ray out from their midst and into his’ and Shockwave’s waiting arms. Like all Seekers, Ray understood that Cybertron came first. It had been drilled into his core processes long ago. So what if Ray still believed that other worlds should benefit from the exchange? Ultimately he too would admit that they only mattered for how they might benefit Cybertron.

“You seem happy.” Autobot Air Raid observed.

Without elaboration, Starscream informed them of what Ray was hoping to do with Cashways’. He couched it in terms that they would find agreeable and was pleased to see their interest in things Cybertronian.

“It sounds like a noble effort. So why are you interested?” Autobot Slingshot accused.

“It’s my heritage too!” his eyes narrowed dangerously, “Didn’t you clods go to the past yourselves? How could you have missed out on the chance to see a world alive on its own terms? Free of the mitestrands of so-called human culture?”

Their expressions told the whole story. Even now they were little better than just-boots. They had never even considered that they had a culture of their own.

Starscream decided to change his tactics. Once upon a time the Aerialbots had wavered in their loyalty to the Autobot cause and their belief in Prime’s ability as a commander. Could they be made to at least question Optimus’ wisdom and fitness to lead them as a people? Whatever it was that they had experienced in the past had ended any chance of them following him; but, that didn’t mean they couldn’t choose another Autobot in Prime’s stead.

Or another Seeker.

“Blast it! You just-boots almost make me regret saying that....” Starscream made a show of frowning, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It can’t be your fault if, being created to charge into battle, you didn’t get told about the wealth of your own heritage.”

“I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Silverbolt. I was built to charge into battle too. The difference is when we were built and not why we were built. Really, the comparison is telling. You were made and left ignorant. We at least tried to tell the Stunticons but they, boorish lack-wits to a mech, seemed to think it all unimportant. Advantage: Aerialbots!”

The right blend of hostility, contempt and pity seemed to be having the desired effect.

“Have you ever spoken your own language?” Starscream asked them in Cybertron.

So what if Ray officially outranked him? An S-1 surely deserved subordinates of his own and these could fit the bill. It was at least possible that confused loyalties might make them less reliable allies for Prime.

As they entered the one structure that had been restored from out of all of the once impressive campus, Starscream found himself wishing that he could tell the Aerialbots about the true purpose and history of this place. It was a shame to leave such potentially useful information unmanipulated.

[rurudyne]

Part 5: Briefing

“With respect to Quintus Ray, on the basis of the data and observations that Resonance and others have provided,” Perceptor continued without pause after having laid and built on — at considerable length — the groundwork for how the recent revelations could explain much about the Decepticons, “it would seem that the legal loop-hole that he is exploiting is a valid coping mechanism. Of particular interest to us at this time is the change in the dynamic of our fellow Autobot’s personality now that he seems able to remember his own past better; however, his apparent inability to talk about so many important issues with other Autobots is a matter of a particular concern. As you can see from the brief I provided, I have defined 32 different psychological and core logic parameters in which this inability can cause stress. I should make it clear that this list is preliminary and that it will grow longer in time. In the short term there is certainly no need for concern; but, in the long term these may lead to erratic behavior — though I am not yet convinced that any potential issues could equal the problems that arose from Quintus Ray NOT being able to remember so much of his own past. I might add that Quintus Ray himself is clearly focusing his own efforts on expanding the scope and stability of this coping mechanism with his efforts in Caris.”

Jazz glanced at Perceptor’s ‘brief’ that he was expected to read — somehow the data plate felt heavier just for containing the file. Normally he would’ve tuned Mister Word Cannon out and waited for the condensed version that his subprocessors were compiling, but this time it was about a friend.

A few sidelong glances revealed a lot about the others present: Prime was focused; Elita One seemed occasionally distracted; Blaster was nodding thoughtfully while waiting for Perceptor to say something important enough to warrant keeping Resonance in Kaon; Kup, who had snuck back from Nebulos on a shuttle, seemed unusually grim; and First Aid looked down right uncomfortable. Kup aside, they had all come here because of the seriousness of the meeting’s agenda, of which Ray’s situation was only the 9th of 9 discussion topics.

The moment of silence stretched out.

One of the problems with Perceptor was the way his speeches came without brake lights. You never knew exactly when he would want to give folks a chance to get a word in edgewise. Somehow, Jazz mused, saying “Hey, that’s neat-o!” just didn’t fit this situation no matter how much he wanted to say it.

“What about Starscream’s apparent interest in Ray’s project?” Prime broke the silence.

“The effort to revive Cybertron’s culture would benefit Decepticons too. While I’m dubious about the survival of a comprehensive Autobot archive in Polyhex into the recent past — it was the focal point for early Decepticon victories after all — I cannot dispute that both Quintus Ray and Starscream understand that such an archive existed at some point. Further, the mention of an Omega Prime, a Prime unknown in our historical accounts, may point to the possibility that this archive was also associated with the Primal lineage. As such, its loss may be especially telling. What I find compelling about Starscream’s comment is the suggestion that the archive may not have only contradicted the public record that we have, but that its disappearance was for reasons and by means unknown to Shockwave, who was the tyrant over Cybertron at the time. I find it disturbing to consider that there may be a third party operating on Cybertron whose implied motive is to throw the rest of us into cultural and historical ignorance. Still, there is no denying that our public records do not account for certain infamous facts on the ground that we have been forced to face of late. The revelation that the Combaticon Artemus came on line not quite 57,600,000 solar cycles ago is especially irksome—”

Jazz blinked hard. Did Perceptor actually use the word ‘irksome?!’ He was pushing past the bounds of cheesy and into lampoon-yourself-land.

“—in light of what Quintus Ray was able to tell us about the operation of the Combaticon crypt. It would seem that Artemus should have been interred several levels deeper, at the level of our current efforts, but he was instead placed higher up so that those who served under him could be placed with him. Since the actual depth of the crypt is a matter for conjecture, this could substantially alter our perceptions of Cybertron’s past when all is said and done.”

“Speaking of Artemus the Magnificent,” Kup was looking at First Aid, “have you been able to determine anything about his chassis? Could he have actually lived more than 590,000 vorns?”

“I can’t even begin to confirm such a claim. Not only would tearing into his chassis be disrespectful, but it could also be dangerous.”

“And not just because of the roof.” Perceptor interjected.

First Aid shifted about uncomfortably: “I remember Ratchet telling me that certain kinds of spark containment, which he associated with Decepticons, were especially robust. He ... didn’t get a chance to teach me more. That could account for unusual longevity. As for the quality of the chassis, from what I’ve seen it’s simply superb — a work of martial art.”

“We aren’t bowing to you yet, ‘prince of Cybertron!’” Elita One prodded Kup in good fun.

“That’s not what I meant!” Kup grumbled.

“Jazz?” Optimus turned to him.

“He’s protecting us. Sooner or later Starscream will return to the Deciptigoons. I guess we now know how they put up with him this long! I think Ray’s bummed to think someone may hesitate to take Screamer down because of what it might do to him. That’s why he’s retiring the way he is. Short of jumping the fence it’s the best he can do. At least we know he can still find refuge with Big Daddy Artemus.”

Prime nodded: “Anything more about our artifact?”

“Megabum set us up, Prime. Set us up real good! I understand Screamer’s care. By all rights Megs set them up too. Worse than us. I’m not sure this isn’t part of some long term power play, but I gotta ask it too: how did a world with two moons and that much energon become the Earth we know and love? It just doesn’t jive. It’s ‘irksome.’”

“So you would recommend that we try to use the Kronosphere.” Perceptor leaned forward.

“You got another Tardis laying around?” Jazz smiled coolly, “As for Cashways’, I think you’re blowin’ it outta proportion. The Quin I knew always loved old-school. He may be as sneaky as sneaky gets, maybe part of being a lawyer, but he needs no other reason to open up than that. He thinks he’s found something we lost and I’m cool with that. If I found anything ‘especially irksome’ it would be that your third party is laying down tracks for the Quints. And he’s able to cover for them too.”

“Prime, do you think you could contact the old wizard?”

“If he or Vector Sigma wants it or not, I may have to, Elita. Perceptor, what difficulties do we face with the Kronosphere? Do we have to rely on Starscream’s ‘gift’ or can we restore it and send someone else?”






“Hey, you heading back to Nebulos already?”

Kup turned: “The Hive turned out to be more resourceful than we figured. Even if the Decepticons haven’t been seen on—”

“But what about Ray?”

“Hot Rod is helpless without me.”

“Want to borrow the Dinobots?” Jazz smiled broadly.

“Want a punch in the kisser?”

What was with Kup? He had war stories to cover every contingency but this one?

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s not mine.”

“We can’t choose our family.” Jazz pointed out.

“I know you mean well.” Kup laid an index finger against Jazz’ chest, “But my job isn’t in Kaon.”

Kup turned away and took several steps before turning back.

“You know what kind of place Cashways’ was? Right? It wasn’t just a street library. You want to know what’s up with Quintus Ray: he’s a scofflaw. He acts like Cybertron’s got no government worth respecting. For all I know he may even believe that the Decepticons have a better claim to legitimacy than we do. I fought in countless battles for a Cybertron that he doesn’t even believe in. Maybe he’ll come around now that he can remember better, but that’s his own lookout.”

Jazz watched Kup walk away.

“Damn, man!”

He was just glad that he’d never fallen out with his mother, Primus protect her spark! For some reason, maybe it was just an illusion of war, his people seemed to be real good at holding grudges.

[rurudyne]

Part 6: Data

Jazz didn’t wait to watch Kup’s shuttle leave.

He wanted to be in Kaon. Even though Blaster was paranoid about Decepticon doings on Earth and anxious to return to his normal post, there was too much happening here on Cybertron for Jazz to return to Autobot City with him.

And it didn’t feel right holding clandestine meetings about Ray even if Ray was only the last item on the agenda.

In one sense it really would have been better had it been either Shockwave or Soundwave, if only because they weren’t Screamer. Then there was what Kup had felt the pressing need to point out: Ray had referred to Shockwave as if he were still alive. Could Shockwave still be alive and somewhere on Cybertron? Maybe in Kaon? Did Ray know for sure?

“Good thing you’ve never used those pistols of yours in combat!” Jazz laughed as he set out for the nearest functional transit tube.

Whatever was going on, if anything important was happening, Ray would respect his space until he had a real need to know.






Cashways’ looked a lot nicer than it did the last time he’d seen it. The paint spoke of cheerful wisdom, the sort of place you could relax during your down megacycles and do whatever wasn’t productive. The store front was cordoned off behind a “Closed for Repairs” partition that partly obscured the disarray within.

At a glance he could tell that the three days that had passed since Ray’s encounter with Screamer hadn’t been unproductive.

Jazz pushed past the partition and looked around.

The place was empty and the Scatterway was sitting over by the bar area.

“This is what I get for dropping by unannounced!”

With nothing else to do, Jazz decided to check out Ray’s new ride. His mom had once had something almost this nice.... She’d been like Ray: a real prude. He laughed to remember her that way.

Was that why he’d always looked up to this wild mech who appeared from no where and who seemed like he could do anything?

Ray was a Seeker....

Jazz had grown to hate the term. It was like Screamer said, he just didn’t have his normal sense of humor around Decepticons, and especially Seekers. Seekers killed his friends. They forced him from the skies and spoilt the scenery. Seekers were bad news.

But he’d seen that black badge of Ray’s before.

“Remembering?”

Ray was somehow standing behind the bar. One sneaky-Seeker-lawyer!

“Did you know her?”

“Her?”

“Techna.”

Ray’s face got a distant look for just a moment.

“I think we may have met.”

“Is there anyone you don’t know?”

“Cybertron’s a much smaller place than it used to be. Now you really can know everyone.”

He didn’t say it was “sad” ... he didn’t need too. You could see it in his listless expression.

“The kid’s been reporting in.”

“Hey! What about plausible deniability?”

“The big meeting’s done. They’re worried.”

“They should be.” Ray dropped a data plate on the counter and slid it over.

Jazz picked it up. Spies wrote better reports than scientist! None of that five words when two would do guff. It was an analysis, a sketch really, of programming. Very complex and subtle.

“This is?”

“Sleeper plague. Symbolic fragments anyway. A self-regenerating self-propagating virus that can burrow under code and look harmless, necessary even, until it gets let out. Only living processors are immune.”

“Damn, man.”

“Interesting human term.” Ray allowed, “I’m not sure how it applies to drones though.”

“We hunted these things down. Even the ‘cons helped!”

“Cybertron’s a big place. Big and deep.”

“Big Daddy’s place?”

Ray’s expression became quizzical before he shook his head no. Not the crypt then?

“I’m going to train Resonance in some indirect snooping techniques. I figure a good place to start is Earth’s internet because the humans are so oblivious to basic security — they practically scream at each other for all the worlds to see. The problem is defining the parameters: I don’t know them and I’m not taking it for granted that I’ll have all the time on Cybertron to see the job done. I want to learn about the hate plague and also track its spread with the one reliable communication tool that it couldn’t propagate itself by.”

“You think the Quints were responsible for both?”

“I don’t know.... You feel like going to school again? I can’t do this quick without you.”

“Why not ask?”

“Asking doesn’t always get you the same kind of information. I’ve done a preliminary web search using their own engines and found that humans are at least aware of the basic principals of data mining and counter strategies, just enough so to really make them vulnerable. Overall, Earth is a great place to learn the trade.”

“They’re our allies.” Jazz spelled it out in very specific terms.

“They’re also at risk. Even worse than we are.”

“How so?”

“The junk they had when you first met them was so primitive that, with a few exceptions, it would’ve been immune to the sleeper plague. But a lot of what they have today is more than good enough to host the thing. Along with my web search I’ve performed an appraisal of their infrastructure and industrial base: most of them are totally dependent on technology in ways contrary to their basic nature. Unlike us, humans are in the unenviable position of no longer being able to cope with their environment apart from something they made. Also, the drones that they use are more capable of physically harming them than ours were us.”

“Is that all?” Jazz was appalled.

“I’m not sure this plague could bridge over to a human core processor by way of the cybernetic implants that they use. I don’t think it could. But if it did there would likely be no cure.... Jazz, this isn’t something they need to worry about if they don’t have to. If we can isolate and learn to defend against it then they can be protected without ever knowing. Besides that, the technique I’m talking about only depends on publicly available data.”

“Well, since you asked me so proper-like....”






Jazz had been in Kaon’s underground with Ray before; but, this was the first time he’d ever seen anything like this place. It was a ginormous maze of pitfalls and paths that went on and on. It had been an Autobot training grounds for some conflict before the Great War but after the Quints got the boot. Ray couldn’t seem to say more than that. Thanks to Resonance’s persistence, he at least knew that they’d “not really been fighting Decepticons.” Also, the ‘cons knew about it and had maybe used it too.

“Unicron’s kick was probably aimed at Maximus.” Ray finally allowed, “So the crypt took the worst of it and left this place intact.”

“Why would he target Maximus?”

“Sheer spite. I think Unicron’s the kind that holds a grudge.”

“Good thing he’s dead.” Resonance observed.

Jazz grimaced. Unicron’s not-quite-dead status was a closely guarded secret. He understood why Rodimus had made that call, but even then it was still messed up.

They were in a security office of sorts underneath a large platform near the middle of the maze. Ray had converted it into a comm hub with a mishmash of salvaged parts. Talk about chutzpah! Hiding in a place like this....

During the previous four days, while they had still been working together to restore Cashways’, Ray had presented an overview of statistical analysis methods that had been perfected by Cybertron’s law enforcement services in cooperation with the military. Jazz had found no joy in Ray’s frequent use of terms like “tedium” and “slogging work.” Statistical analysis at this level had never been Jazz’ cup of tea. Waaaaay to boring!

Also, he just didn’t see how Ray’s methods could be used on the internet. The data collection aspects seemed to be so hardware intensive that there was no way they could run undetected, much like the search engines that were already in common use. Maybe they would work in a true wireless world where you could listen in on unencoded transmissions, the way the Earth was before he and the others woke up on the Ark; but, in the security conscious wired world that was Earth now it didn’t look functional. Also, they lacked the sheer ground presence to intercept Earth’s encoded wireless network.

“Good, now that we have some real privacy,” Ray motioned for them to take a seat, “it’s time to tell you how this really works. We’ll be running a distributed network that will take three different forms: a locally distributed hub of more of less conventional nature, a large collection of automaton agents similar in some respects to those employed by humans, and a smaller collection of automaton counter agents for security.”

“How will that be undetectable? It sounds like what we’ve got now.”

“In a way, it is similar. But the difference is the nature of the agents we’ll be employing. Let me show you what these agents are actually like.”

Ray sat down at the main terminal and began entering a complex set of parameters. He used odd terminology to explain what he was doing, not whangdoodle like Blaster would spout but engineering and medical terms. It was like listening to a lecture hosted by Wheeljack and Ratchet instead, only one covering a topic they barely understood. Which meant Ray knew how to do this but not necessarily why it could be done this way.

After entering all the data he produced a power cell and plugged it into the terminal.

Then something happened and the power cell started sending status data back to the hideout’s computron.

“What did we just see?”

“On Earth, we will establish a distributed physical data hub where the data transmission is happening through power lines. We have to use those because so much of Earth’s comm system is low power, and we need power to create our agents. We will use that hub to spawn the agents which will then be able to transition anywhere in the internet, even into wireless networks.”

“You didn’t answer me.” Jazz felt the need to say it plain.

“The agents are simple free existing constructs of energy that are self-contained.”

Jazz felt alarms go off.

“These are programmed to search out for specific kinds of data as an above stream observer of the data network rather than as an instream participant. One type to look for our information and another type to look for similar agents or security systems like hardware based firewalls.”

A wave of relief ... not another Kremzeek disaster!

“The second type are also equipped to regulate and guide the others and help keep the entire effort secret. The operational life of agents in a low power situation like this is dependent on the initial energization since they cannot draw power from so much of their environment.”

Ray continued to describe the functions and capabilities of these little automatons made from energy at length. Except for their nature and elegance, they operated exactly as other such ‘web-bots’ did. It was fascinating stuff, but the way it kept reminding Jazz of Wheeljack and Ratchet was making him more and more uneasy. What could be disconcerting about free existing constructs of– “Stop!”

“Jazz?”

“Are these agents of yours intelligent?”

“Not really. They have rudimentary–”

“So they do have some smarts to do what they’re supposed to do?”

“Sure. So does a–”

“Are they really ‘free existing?’”

“No, there’s a built in limiter for how long one will function even when it can draw power from its environment–”

“Without which they could persist as ‘free existing’ entities?”

“I suppose.”

Jazz rubbed the side of his head.

“Is something wrong?” Resonance sounded concerned.

“It’s how this jive reminds me of some of the talks Wheeljack and Ratchet used to give when they were working up to the Dinobots. Ray, are these things sparks?”

Ray blinked hard: “Jazz ... no! No, they aren’t. I’ll be up front with you, I used to know a doctor who used agents like these as part of her research into spark containment design. She even managed to summon dim sparks with a vastly more complex version of what we’re using here. But this isn’t a spark at all. Even her super-duper version only summoned the spark, it didn’t create it. If it helps, I remember asking her the exact same questions myself.”

“‘Dim sparks?’”

“I’m not even remotely sure about the difference between a dim spark and bright sparks like ourselves. I had apparently known a few mechs who had dim sparks for thousands of vorns, and until she mentioned it I had never noticed any difference. Same with afterwards when I knew about them.”

“Quin, could these be developed into something like Vector Sigma?” Resonance pressed.

Ray shook his head.

“But techniques like this can ‘summon’ sparks like us?”

“I’m not that smart.” he shrugged.

Jazz nodded: “So why don’t we get this show on the road?”

[rurudyne]

Part 7: Expedition

Autobot Skydive returned and reported that Quin had last been seen several days ago after locking up Cashways’.

“He’s probably gone off on his own to find some old cache of files.” Starscream cheerfully informed, “Remember: he was left alone down here in Kaon for a long time.”

Autobot Slingshot frowned and clinched his fist several times. The hot head didn’t like being reminded by a Decepticon that Ray might’ve been mistreated in the past. It wasn’t that he cared if some other Autobot stated the facts, since that would only be someone stating the facts, but his temper seemed to flare whenever Starscream mentioned it. Or maybe he was still nursing a grudge about that other time?

Either way, it was fun to poke and prod.

In contrast, Autobots Air Raid and Skydive had as much adopted Ray as a best buddy they’d yet to meet.

“I guess we need to go back?” Autobot Silverbolt sighed.

“You came here to learn and be entertained.”

“We aren’t breaking and entering!”

“Who said that’s what I had in mind? No, I was only going to suggest that while we’re out anyway, why not see if another venue is available?”

“What?”

“There used to be many street libraries like this one. It was hardly unique. If Cashways’ servers survived the war then it stands to reason that others did too. Why not go looking for one of those? Who knows, we may even meet up with Ray.”

They seemed to think it over.

“Sure, why not.” Autobot Silverbolt shrugged, “Do you know where any others were?”

“Of course! There was at least one in any of the small towns whose ruins now litter Kaon. Still, I think the best place to look would be the big city! Provincial towns all catered to similar taste. We might find something better in Kaon proper? Or maybe in Vilnacron?”

“Yeah, if we did we could hand it over to Quintus Ray and he could use it for his place!” Autobot Air Raid beamed.

Give it away? The idiot had no idea about the potential value of such a find! Maybe he should have an ‘accident’ before the Aerialbots decided to follow Ray rather than Prime? Ridding the galaxy of Superion would work for Starscream too.

“Then we definitely need to look in the big city. The difference between Kaon and Vilnacron was life style. Kaon was a dynamic commercial hub like Iacon while Vilnacron was more of a wild party that never quite settled down.”

“Hey, sounds like the place for young mechs like us!” Autobot Fireflight grinned.

Absolutely clueless! It was all Starscream could do to keep from laughing.

As he followed the Aerialbots in formation he absent mindedly let his combat computer scroll its cross hairs across them one after the other.

He’d lived in Vilnacron for a while during the early days of the war. It had been a nice place with an unusually high concentration of femmes. Most of its inhabitants were either retired Seekers or Autobots who had made their fortunes.

But where to find an intact street library?

As the name implied, they usually occupied retail stalls near street level in much larger buildings, most of which were long gone. The arcade and four of five residential districts had been leveled long ago, so it was pointless to search there. The only remaining residential area had been converted into a Polyhexi style prison that had been emptied and scavenged with the collapse of Vilnacron’s last functioning government. The docks and the city’s only industrial sector weren’t completely razed ... so maybe they should look there?

Or maybe they should try Vilnacron’s ancient seat of government? Even though it had been picked over, it wasn’t too badly torn up. Bureaucrats liked to read as much as anyone else. Possibly even more.

“Silverbolt, we should go to the domed structure on the north end of town.”

“The Palace of Gold?”

He’d actually been reading up when he wasn’t playing prison guard? That could be useful.

“That’s the place!”






The “Palace of Gold” was the name given to a structure that dominated Vilnacron’s wartime skyline. That wasn’t its real name, of course, but it was as good as any Starscream knew. It was an octagonal, dome capped structure whose outer surface had once been tiled over with beautiful scenes of life on ancient Cybertron; but, all that had long since been vandalized. Exactly who had vandalized it was yet another mystery that Shockwave had never accounted for.

Personally, Starscream imagined it must’ve been out-of-town Autobots since they also took the trouble to smash to bits every Combaticon statue that was inside. The locals, former Seekers, or old school Decepticons would never do anything like that! After all, there was a lot of important history to this place. It was a significant source of civic pride too.

He let his mind drift as the palace came into view. There had been at least one very nice library around here somewhere! He’d used it as a second office during a time when he’d actually sold his services as a barrister. Wait, why did he close those files? They had been part of what he’d told Ray. Interesting....

Autobot Silverbolt landed near the main entrance of the palace.

“Why don’t we search inside first?” Starscream pointed to the doorless entrance and the once grand staircase beyond.

“This place? I thought it had no commercial function?”

“Well, I’m sure those files of yours are very complete. They even recorded who defaced it, didn’t they?”

“Let me guess? Something else Shockwave can’t account for.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing?”

“So what was it originally like?”

Starscream looked over the ruined exterior: “Skydive, once this place was ... spectacular! There were these murals....”

He found that just knowing there had been murals wasn’t enough. In the end all he could tell them was some of the ordinary activities it had shown. Not that he hadn’t played up the limitation and made it seem worse than it was. The Aerialbots already understood that there was some form of memory glitch from what they’d been told about Ray. Seeing him struggle could only have reinforced that truth.






Starscream kept himself occupied as the Autobots explored the Palace of Gold. They would occasionally ask him questions — which he would only ‘try’ to answer no matter if he actually could or not.

All the pointless searching actually gave him time to consider his own past with Vilnacron and this place. The surrounding buildings had featured not one, but five courts — if you counted the war tribunals that Megatron established in some of the palace’s halls. Besides these there was the local court for Vilnacron, Cybertron’s own Supreme Court and the central court for Primacronian law.

As a lawyer he’d only ever done business with the local court and the Decepticon Tribunal.

The tribunals.... Establishing these had seemed so logical at the time; but, in light of recent revelations, maybe.... Maybe....

Here, Megatron had hammered a line into the ground and told the powers that be that the Decepticons alone would judge crimes which their partisans committed in the service of the cause. Here, something began that, looking back on it now, should’ve been obvious: Megatron established a nation, no, two nations that would slowly supplant the ... ethnic identity of innumerable Cybertronians.

Strange to think that a human term would be so suitable to Cybertron. Autobots, Combaticons and Seekers: all ethnic identities in a world that somehow didn’t know about ethnicity in that way. Except for the Predacons, possibly a world that wasn’t supposed to know about ethnicity at all?

Had Megatron known what he was doing back then? Did he intentionally forge two nations? All the time Starscream had been here in Vilnacron, really on Megatron’s own advice, much of the rest of the planet had taken sides.

By the time Autobot Silverbolt suggested they look outside, these memories had become a hot fire pressed against his palms: had Megatron somehow set everyone up again for the first time?

[rurudyne]

Part 8: 103 Miles North East of Itbayat

The ill planned maze that was Scorponok’s interior was annoying in the extreme to a mind used to order and reason. The Nebulans were worse than humans that way. For being some of their world’s most brilliant minds they were a mixture of disappointment that ran from mild to severe. Not that Soundwave had ever expected much from them: being fleshlings.

A grand door opened to reveal Galvatron standing alone in his personal command room, taking in the familiar scenery of fish swimming in Earth’s oceans.

“Welcome Soundwave! How are our projects in Japan going?”

“Progress is acceptable.... Mighty Galvatron, I’ve found evidence of advanced surveillance techniques being used on Earth.”

“I’m sure Zarak– Oh! You mean ‘advanced!’” he laughed easily, “Please, tell me more.”

“The pattern is unmistakably Cybertronian and of a type not known to Autobots.”

“Your missing heir?” Galvatron’s attention had been officially grabbed.

“Negative. Analysis of the free existing agents observed suggest that the source is either Combaticon or Seeker.”

Soundwave let Galvatron glare at him for a long moment till he was sure his commander’s surprise had abated.

“It was a slight variation on the last standard type used before the war.” he finally informed.

“Well now! This IS an interesting turn of events!”

Galvatron turned back towards the ocean view. His reflection showed a mech whose face was radiant with.... With what?

“How long have these efforts escaped our notice?”

“Our current surveillance inspection cycle has a ten day window for detecting wide scale data mining aimed at humans. Reducing that window will require reshuffling our priorities.”

“An annoyance we will just have to put up with. Allow your current projects to proceed without you for the time being. I want to know what on Earth either Combaticons or Seekers would want to know about.”

“As you wish.”

“And Soundwave?”

“Yes, Galvatron?”

“Please make sure our ally isn’t burdened with concerns about these matters or else find him a suitable part to play if he turns out to be precocious. Hmmmmm?”

“Yes, Mighty Galvatron!”

*He’s changed!* Ravage’s voice broke in on Soundwave’s thoughts as he left Galvatron’s presence.

*How so?* he asked the mech still within him.

*He’s not ... stressed. I haven’t seen him like this since before Unicron.*

*Yes.... I see your point. Something has changed since we began our current operations. He is waging a war of scales and balances. The Galvatron of only a few solar cycles ago would not have had patience for such work.*

*What happened?*

What indeed? One day Galvatron had been arguing with Zarak that this very kind of subtle strategy was meaningless and cowardly and the next he had presented a well considered plan of precisely that nature which divided their forces into smaller groups that were better able to avoid detection, notably sending Cyclonus and most of his erratic flesh infested comrades — not that he had phrased it THAT way — to Nebulos to secure that planet’s significant energy resources. Even his tact had been a dramatic change.

*Ravage, keep your speculations to our secure channels.*

He uploaded four copies of the files that he’d been working with.

“Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, Ratbat ... eject!”

The four cassettes erupted from him and formed an orderly inspection line.

“Qualify the nature and purpose for the data mining but do not interfere or reveal yourselves. Use the systems in our chambers.”

Except for Ratbat they moved swiftly to their assigned task.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, my work on balancing our energy siphoning loads is ahead of schedule. I’m just curious about why you wouldn’t be going with us?”

Soundwave nodded: “You need not concern yourself about my actions. Until I return you are in charge.”

Ratbat almost seemed merry as he flew off to join the others.

“Rumble, Frenzy ... eject!”

“Hey, Bossbot!” Rumble chimed as he landed with a flourish like he was dancing, “What are we doing today?”

“We will be in the comm tower.”

“Vermin control?” Frenzy asked.

“This fortress is currently free of unwanted vermin.”

“Say no more, say no more! After you, bro?” Frenzy bowed.

“No, after you!” Rumble bowed back.






Zarak was sitting on Scorponok’s throne and looking contemplative with his chin lightly resting on his fingertips.

“Mighty Soundwave, my friend!” he beamed as the glass elevator door opened, “Just the Cybertron I wanted to see.”

“Greetings, Lord Zarak.”

“I want you to look at something I’ve found. It’s a mere curiosity, really, but it seems like something you might be interested in.”

The main display showed a symbolic representation of Earth’s internet. There was a faint golden twinkling, a shimmer scattered around the map. Soundwave imagined it had to be the mysterious agents. But if so, why so few? His own sweep had revealed tens of thousands rather than mere hundreds.

“It’s just a trifle, really. But since you’re here I wanted to show it to you.”

Inferior fleshling! He probably couldn’t avoid their counter measures, which would explain why there were so few. The only question–

“What of Galvatron?”

“We can tell him later once we know what it’s all about.” Zarak chimed.

“Prudent. I will have my subordinates operate your substations.”

“If you insist?”

The only question was why he could spot the counter measures if they were successful against him? Normally, this should be an either-or situation rather than both-and. Was Zarak hiding information to test his abilities?

He was certainly being friendly today, so it could be a ruse. The faint trace of Cybertronian interest that the screen displayed could have been easily detected with the somewhat superior equipment here in the city if he knew how to look for it.

Frenzy and Rumble were directing a few of Zarak’s visible agents to move in such a way as to crowd the stranger’s. When these responded and moved clumsily away he noticed how Zarak shifted his posture and crossed his arms. Was he being defensive?

What was Ratbat seeing right now? Unlike his own listening posts, Zarak’s agents were mobile just like the stranger’s. That meant there was a way around the power issue that he had not considered before.

“What is the nature of your logic probes?”

“I’m using Energy Phantoms, a counter terrorist tool developed in the days when the rebel scum still had pockets of political control. Don’t tell me that your people lack such a basic technology?”

Soundwave didn’t change his posture a bit, only stepped up the magnification on his optics to read over Frenzy’s shoulder.

“We have not used our similar data mining ability on Earth because of ambient power needs.”

Which was technically true without admitting the full nature of Decepticon efforts.

“Yes, that would make sense considering your homeworld.” Zarak stood up and motioned to a side screen which zoomed in on one agent that had moved close to another that Rumble had been manipulating — as it paused its motion a ripple of data began flowing down the left side of the screen and up the right side, “They do seem to be able to detect my Phantoms so they aren’t primitive. I’m speculating if I should capture one and inspect it directly.”

“Nebulan technology is superior.” Soundwave somehow managed to say it believably.

So that was it? Nebulan Phantoms were multipurpose and possibly capable of intrusive counter measures too. To be that complex ... they had to carry a power source within them since merely being energy thrifty would be inadequate.

“Yes, of course it is.” Zarak’s pride was reflexive and his posture became less defensive, “Presently I’m considering if this is the work of some old national government or else the Autobots. Since you have not been using your own techniques I would say that the odds are against it being the Autobots. What do you think, Soundwave?”

“Autobots do not use such methods.”

“Really?” his surprise was obvious, “Why?”

“The existence and use of our techniques was considered highly classified by Cybertron’s government and so knowledge of such was restricted to the proper authorities.”

Lies that only contained the truth were the very best kind of lie. Seeing Zarak’s face express a moment of discovery, one quickly suppressed–

“Galvatron will be proud.” Soundwave silently congratulated himself.

“Do you think we should capture one?”

“Why reveal your capabilities needlessly? If, as you say, this is one of Earth’s national governments then they may presume you to be the same. Manipulate the situation and watch them closely.”

Zarak was nodding and smiling.






“Ratbat, report.”

“We have confirmed your analysis and established the number of agents at around 45 thousand decreasing at a rate of 1.3% per megacycle. Since the number of agents that have been observed expiring is steady, it would suggest that they have been in use for five or six days now given our estimate of their internal power reserves and their current numbers. Presently, Buzzsaw and Ravage are trying to locate their source; I’m working at making sense of their search criteria; and Laserbeak is analyzing odd movements among enemy agent clusters that make it appear as if there is also a third party which we cannot see.”

“I can confirm your third party as Zarak. Are the newcomer agents responding to our own listening posts?”

“No.”

“Rumble, Frenzy ... assume stations six and seven and provide your observational data to Lazerbeak. Compare the known performance data of the newcomers with our own countermeasures and determine why we cannot see the Nebulan Phantoms.”

“Aren’t you concerned about the enemy?” Ratbat seemed surprised.

“Affirmative. But newcomer agents are most likely Combaticon or Seeker sourced.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned it. Even if Ratbat had suspected the possibility before, his apparent stunned silence spoke for itself.

[rurudyne]

Part 9: Opening Moves

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! It took almost a week, but we’ve been spotted.”

“Humans wouldn’t have the ability to detect us.” Resonance felt the need to point out the obvious — again.

Ray watched the display as countermeasures continued to herd their other agents away from these mysterious entities. That they were this far from Earth meant that the little critters were pretty much on their own in the face of opposition that displayed all the signs of being intelligently guided. Also, these entities seemed to be able to both gather data as well as perform countermeasures — so they were somewhat sophisticated. Probably had an internal power source to fuel all that sophistication.

“We’ve got’em surrounded and out numbered!” Jazz was upbeat.

“Any evidence of how they found us? Their technique seems a little clumsy.”

Jazz was scrolling back through the data: “Here! One of our countermeasures bit the electrons while near one. It must’ve picked up on its decayed energy signature and communicated it to the rest.”

The movement of the other entities was momentarily aggressive, as if the opposition was trying to trap one of their agents, but they would back away at the last moment. This happened several times.

“These are true general purpose units.” Ray said after watching them, “We’ll need to factor in their abilities next time.”

“They’ve got to have some sort of internal power system.”

If he thought it too, Jazz didn’t say anything about Resonance’s newfound tic either.

“They aren’t Decepticons.” Ray announced.

The confused “Then who are they?” looks prompted him to tell them that, at the very least, Soundwave would be better with this technique than he was. Since they saw these other entities before they were spotted, it would follow that they weren’t up against Decepticons. Or at least any group that included Soundwave.

“I thought you said these things were classified?”

“Not that classified, Jazz. I’m not even command grade.”

“Was Soundwave?”

“No.... But among my Combaticon brothers, other sons of Artemus, a number were fairly high ranked. Shockwave, the highest ranked, ended up being a Division Commander before he threw in with Megatron.”

“Starscream?” Jazz drew out the name comically.

Ray smiled: “I’m two pay grades better than Starscream!”

“How does his ego survive?”

It was good that Jazz had found something to laugh about in their situation. Ray was having a harder time and Resonance barely smiled at learning that the “Decepticon Air Commander” was really a poser.

“If not Decepticons, then who?” the younger mech cut in on Jazz’ merriment.

“Too dope to be humans. Too lame to be Decepticons. So who do you think?”

“Nebulans.” Resonance said without pause.

Ray wasn’t really sure what “dope” meant; but, he thought he understood Jazz’ point. One thing though, these “Earthisms” were starting to grind his gears. He was way too far behind the curve!

“Even better,” Jazz continued, “we may’ve finally ‘found’ Scorponok.”

“If you can call finding evidence of Scorponok on Earth good news.... Do you want to call Prime with this now?”

“Lets see if we can set a trap first, junior.”

“What do you have in mind, Jazz?” Ray kicked his feet up on an empty chair.






“You want me on the next regular shuttle to Earth? What’s the deal?”

“I need you to get a message to Blaster on the QT.”

Goldbug leaned forward over the console: “What’s wrong with calling him? Seems a lot quicker than waiting till tomorrow evening for me to get there.”

“That’s true, it would be.”

“So quiet means quiet. Ok, why not? I’m free for the weekend.”






Soundwave watched the data streams with interest. Not only were Zarak’s Phantoms being outmaneuvered by agents operating on their own, but several new types had been quietly appearing in the e-space beyond the Nebulan’s senses. He had identified these as hunter-killer and capture types. They were congregating in certain areas of the internet in a haphazardly distributed fashion across the North American continent.

The strangers were planning something — and playing it cool.

*Soundwave,* Buzzsaw broke in on his thoughts, *I’ve isolated the common element in the distribution of these new units. They exist only where e-space is contained within power transmission lines. They’re also appearing in everyplace where this is true at the same time and at the same rate. Decrease in the number of data units is increasing.*

That was it! That was how Cybertron type agents were being spawned into the energy deprived atmosphere of Earth’s internet. They had spawned them into the power transmission system where they could be provided with a battery for their excursion onto the web. How simple and yet brilliant! It opened up all sorts of doors to push forward the Decepticon agenda too.

But it also meant that they were either already in North America with direct access to the power grid or they had access to one or all of these hubs through an intermediary. Which was it? Hunter-killer and capture agents worked best when guided; but, with the small number of Phantoms out there they could be planning to use overwhelming force too.

He watched the progress of Buzzsaw’s and Ravage’s work for a while.

Combaticons and/or Seekers interested in Earth? Were they searching for evidence of the Decepticons? Or was it Autobot activities that peaked their interest?

Instead they’d found Zarak. There was a real danger if they captured and analyzed a Phantom that they could find Scorponok — or even learn to control it. The true nature of Hive powers had yet to be determined and Phantoms were an unexplored issue.

The problem was Zarak’s pride.

Autobot interference was both likely and unacceptable; but, there might be a way to keep them occupied.

*Ratbat, continue with your analysis. I have to see Galvatron about a side issue.*






“Yes, yesss, blast you!!! I’m up! I’m up already!!!”

Well ... maybe not? Not if that fuzzy feeling in his nostrils was the rug. Always so sluggish at night.... Stupid federal regulations making a case of how you set your thermostat! Not that they would be sympathetic with his special needs. No, not that....

The phone kept ringing.

Why did he buy the one that rang so cheerfully? It was never an issue during the day. But at night–

Another cheerfully grating ring.

If this was the allergist calling about his bill again he’d flay him alive! He took a snort on his inhaler and gathered his wits.

“Yes?” he rolled over as he held the phone to his face.

“I apologize for calling in the middle of the night. I was wondering if you would give me a bit of your time?”

What?! That strange wind chime voice and smug air of pride?

“Hello, robot. How can I help you? Is your boss planning a cookout in Utah? I charge extra for catering.”

“Commander, please, I can assure you that this is not a social call. I was given to understand that you now perform certain services–”

“Lets be up front, ssshall we? I’ve had wealth: boring. I’ve had power too: pure hassle. Flunkies? Betray you the instant your fortunes turn — I believe YOUR boss knows about that? And I’m not interested in revenge. Right now I’m content to watch all my old foes grow even older and decay into dust before I dance on their graves while still a relatively young man. Or maybe get piss drunk and remember them fondly? I’m really not sure which I’ll do just yet.”

“Commendable.” the chiming voice continued, “But I do believe you left out ‘fun.’”

Of all the–!?

“I’m listening.”






Of all the toys that he’d kept from his days as an ‘adventurer,’ the proof-of-concept weather dominator had always seemed the least promising. It was fairly lame since it couldn’t do more than cause more rain once it was already raining. He had almost passed on the whole grand scheme back then just for that reason. Of course, now he was out for something besides ruling the world like he was some overcompensating lab mouse. Now he was in it for the fun.

“Damn that robot!” he silently cursed, “It would be just like it to know my weakness.”

“You’re not as talkative as I remember.” he said out loud.

The avian robot called Buzzsaw just stared at him before picking up a tool in its beak and handing it to him. All that was left was reconfiguring several power conduits to accept the fuel cells that Soundwave had sent him by Mecha Birdie Express.

“You know, this would be more fun for both of us if you weren’t so ... speechless. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you sssupposed to be the smartest of the cassette types?”

“I believe that Subcommander Ratbat’s intellect edges me out ever so slightly. Though my experience and power exceed his.” the robot said in a cultured voice.

“Thank you, Buzzsaw. You’ve restored my faith in your builders.”

“Because I can talk?” its eyes narrowed dangerously.

“No. Because you don’t pretend that your abilities are absolutely the best at all times. I’ve had my fill of people like that. I was once one of them myself!... It was a hard lesson to learn.”

“I knew at least one Decepticon who never learned that lesson.” its eyes seemed to laugh, “But he’s dead now and no one misses him.”

“Heh! Don’t miss mine much either.... Say, Cybertronian, exactly how much warning will your boss be able to give us for those energy pulses from space? The response time of the weather dominator was never very good, so if we’re going to modulate the coming storm to produce interference we’ll need several minutes for each major adjustment.”

“Soundwave believes he can estimate the signal state up to 5 minutes in advance.”

“Good! Lets just hope that we don’t knock down all the nearby cell phone towers.”

Buzzsaw seemed to laugh.

It was true that using a cell phone for the last data link was a calculated risk, but they were up against Autobots and not Joes. A cell phone signal would probably go unnoticed.

Maybe he should order pizza before they started?






“Earth!” Goldbug was taking in the view from the shuttle’s passenger lounge.

Somehow, saying it that way didn’t make things feel any better. Too many old faces were missing. And some of those who remained were changing way too fast.

His fellow passengers, mostly humans who were working in Iacon on a 9-on-6-off rotation schedule, ignored his outburst. Maybe they’d gotten used to the way that Autobots could find pleasure in seeing the same things over and over? Whatever.

But even Autobots could get jaded to such a view.

–Remember!–

He sighed and chided himself for the lapse. There were friends he could go to see just as soon as his errand was over. Chip had finally settled down and done his part for the future of the human race, so seeing him, Grace, and their new baby Jack was mandatory.

Just a little stop by Blaster’s place, a chat with Ultra Magnus, and that would be it. Maybe he should go see Karen or Ferdy and Gabe too? They were all nearby. That would be nice. He hadn’t seen Karen since they brought Attack of the Alien Robots out of its can at the Center City Film Festival four years ago. As for Ferdy and Gabe, they were still running that bed and breakfast up in Maple Valley. Hopefully they hadn’t picked up any strange tape decks recently.

The shuttle landed at the King County Starport, only a Friday night crawl away from Autobot City down I-5. Goldbug had already figured out how much time for driving and for visiting. It would be a fun weekend!

Fun and wet: it was raining really hard. It brought a smile to what was left of his face. For some reason, bad stuff always seemed to happen around the old stomping grounds when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the rain had always been welcome.






Blaster put down the data plate that Jazz had sent with Goldbug.

“It seems Earth Defense Command patrols haven’t been as air tight as advertised.” Ultra Magnus leaned back against the window.

“You say that every other time the Decepticons pop up!” Blaster laughed.

“Maybe. If Zarak is here on Earth though, Quin’s little training session may turn out to be one of the best things to happen for us in a long time.”

“Hey, if I’m through here, can I roll out?” Goldbug pointed towards the door, “There are some folks I want to see and I figure I’ve just enough time before it gets too late.”

“You sure about that?” Ultra Magnus was looking out the window, “This storm is really coming on hard and your wet road performance isn’t the best.”

“So I don’t weigh much and wear vintage tires? Look, if it will make you happy I’ll update my vehicle mode to something more robust. Just not this weekend.”

–Why can’t I–

Goldbug shook his head, people were always pressing him to update. They didn’t care that the new earth vehicles were so lame, ranging from ultra-bland to ultra-tacky with little in between. There was something timeless about the old cars. Something that wasn’t just about getting you from point A to point B.

“Sure. But stay close. The weatherman says that the storm is gonna be a 25 year drenching. We may need help if things turn bad.”

“Thanks, Ultra Magnus!... See’ya Blaster.”

“Later!”

Something about the road.






“We could have a millennial rain at this rate.”

The view outside of their hotel was getting really dark. Already the weather dominator was slowly ramping up the storm and following a program to make it all look natural. Used this way, the energies it radiated would be difficult to detect.

“Would you really mind if we did?”

“Not really, I was warned that this could be a long job. It’s just that I didn’t order enough beer or pizza to go the distance. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize they sold energon goodies until it was too late.”

Buzzsaw glanced his way: “It would’ve been suspicious for you to have ordered energon goodies. But thanks anyway.”

“Well, why else have an expense account? Maybe we could get you some later? The local Papa Johns will still be able to deliver through tomorrow at a minimum.”

The one bright spot was that he had his DVRs running full time back home. God bless the Weather Channel and a 24-hour news cycle in stereo HD! It would be fun to watch it all again once the drama Soundwave and he were orchestrating had reached its soggy end.






“Still no change in Nebulan activity.” Ray observed.

“That’s one freakishly huge storm.” Jazz was watching the Weather Channel rather than his monitors, “A side show that big could be a problem for us.”

“I thought you said nothing bad ever happens when it rains in Seattle?” Resonance demanded.

“If the rain wants to be the bad, that’s different.”

Rain? Ray sighed. He hated rain. It was one of the reasons why he’d never wanted to go to Earth.

As for the Nebulans: it was out of his hands now. Whatever happened — if Blaster managed to rally the army he’d provided to seize the supposed Nebulan devises and decipher their construction, or even if he managed to find Scorponok — it was all out of his hands.

Even though Jazz knew what they were really doing, Ray could forgive him for being distracted. Catching the bad guys was really much more interesting than gathering data on a world gone mad that no longer threatened anyone.

Jazz really didn’t have what it took to be a spy, after all.

Ray turned to the monitors that kept track of the data mining. Was Soundwave watching their every move? Who knew? Despite his brash attitude, Blaster was a real pro. He wouldn’t take the warnings Ray had given him lightly.

“It’s time!” Jazz emoted.

[rurudyne]

Part 10: Storm of the Century

–Crrrraaaaaack!!!!!!– –Krish!– –Boooooom!!!!!!–

“Waaaaa-hoo!” one human yelled as he raised his active cell phone’s screen towards the sky, “Way to go, God!!!”

The South 320th Street bridge over them seemed to shutter in that moment when the tumult of rain ceased to be the loudest thing around them.

“You know,” Goldbug had his holographic driver lean out of the open door to yell, “smoking and carrying a lighter would be safer than that fool stunt!”

“Leave him alone.” his passenger sighed, “At least he didn’t try to use his hovercar once the winds got bad.”

“Sorry, Chip. I guess I really was corrupted by the Marlborough Man.”

“Heh, it’s not every Autobot who accidentally ends up in a national ad campaign. You never told me what you were doing out there?”

“Just sneaking around behind Prime’s back.” the hologram shrugged.

Chip had been so set on acting like everything was ok, that the two of them had gone to get Starbucks for everyone taking shelter at his house. Only this wasn’t an ordinary storm. The weatherman had already revised it up to a 100 year deluge and the severe weather alerts were getting redundant. Being so light, it seemed a good time to pull to the side to give things a moment to calm down.

“Somehow the storm has grown big enough that it’s pulling moist air directly off of the Sound.” Chip was slowly stirring his otherwise untouched latté, “Or maybe there’s some huge front running down on us? I can’t think of anything else that could cause this.”

“I’m sure Grace is doing just fine.”

“She knows if things get bad to head up to the Commons.” he smiled, “On the bright side, my environmentally conscious neighbors won’t give me any more grief over the old Town Car. Not after she gives them all a ride to safety.”

“We could call them again and tell them to meet us there?”

“No, she doesn’t need to get out unless it’s necessary. Besides, we’ll be home the instant this lets up.”

“Yeah. And for the record: right now I’m ready to become a fuel hog myself.” Goldbug joked, “A big, heavy fuel hog.”

“Not your style.” Chip grinned broadly.

“Goldbug:” it was Ultra Magnus over the comm, “I need you to head over to the Auburn Municipal Airport. The Governor is putting together a relief center there.”

“The Supermall is bigger and can handle more people.” Chip pointed out.

“True, Mr. Chase, but there’s a pocket near the airport where the winds and rain aren’t so bad. Even human vehicles can safely take off and land. This mess is too big for just the few Autobots on hand.”

Chip shifted about in his seat uneasily.

“Right, we’ll head that way.”

Goldbug closed his driver’s side door and began to move back into traffic.

“Goldbug, exit Military to 31st. Take me home.”

“Sure, it’s nearly on the way.”

“Actually, before you head on to the airport I want to check something out in my office.”






Power was off in the cul-de-sac. Dim light from candles and flashlights inside Chip’s home revealed that people were still there.

Goldbug shielded the coffee from the rain as Chip let himself in.

“Hey, go around back and I’ll meet you there.”

“What about Ultra Magnus’ instructions.”

“My office first, then you can go on.”

He looked off to the right of the house. The gate was locked but it would be no problem for him to hop the fence. A minute later Chip appeared in his hover chair at the back door. Goldbug followed him to their guest house that they’d converted into an office that was transformer friendly.

“Lucky for us, what we need is internally powered.” Chip allowed while Goldbug was wiping off the mud.

It was an old human computron of sorts. It looked familiar.

“This is what you wanted?”

“Yeah! Its my old PC-AT that Wheeljack rebuilt for me.”

“Ick!”

“No, listen again: ‘Wheeljack rebuilt for me.’ You know, before Optimus put an end to haphazard technology transfers?”

“... Okay....”

The machine crept to comatose as it began its boot routine — Windows 3 no less. It took several minutes longer than it would take to read a DOS manual, or so it seemed.

“Sorry, Speedy used to seem a lot faster.”

Soon the monitor showed a vibrant color display quite out of character with human technology from the mid 80’s.

“Hey, Speedy, we need your energy scanner. Set the range to 8 miles and focus on the sky.”

“Compliance.” the machine chimed after a few moments.

Goldbug chuckled — Wheeljack had obviously ignored the repo order for this one.

He leaned forward to see what the hodgepodge was displaying.

“This is one impressive storm!” Goldbug allowed as he looked at the energy patterns that were erupting in the skies over the southern end of the Sound.

“A bit too impressive. So my question to you is: how, in the middle of a storm like this, is there anyplace of relative calm that stays put long enough for the Governor to think she can count on it?”

“No idea. Meteorology isn’t my strong suit.”

A massive thunderclap overhead shook the walls. But as impressive as the noise had been, what happened on Speedy’s screen was even more impressive.

“Ho!”






“That’s right,” Goldbug was on his comm to Autobot City, “the storm isn’t natural. Not quite five minutes ago the energy levels in the atmosphere overhead began to double to where they are now. They look like they could double again in only twenty minutes.”

“Is this a new talent of yours?” Rewind asked.

“A friend of mine does this sort of thing for a hobby.”

No way he was telling them about Speedy! If Chip had it, it was because Wheeljack had wanted him to have it.

“Really? Because we aren’t seeing anything but rain in the sky over us. Lots, and lots ... and lots of rain.”

“Primus save me!” Goldbug thought loudly.

“What about over us? Where we are?!”

“No need to shout. This isn’t fourth and long in the last moments of the super bowl!”

“Please get your head out of your tail pipe.” he muttered.

He could barely hear Chip and he was just a few feet away!

“What was that?”

“I said: ‘Please get your scanners set on our area!’”

“Right! Again, no need to shout.”

Goldbug muted his mic.

“What should they look for?”

“Speedy never had the best sensitivity. It almost looks like a warp ship is trying to hover in hyperspace above us. Or emerge from hyperspace.”

“How big?”

“Bigger than the Ark big.”

“Frag me!”

“Now that you mention it, that does look interesting.” Rewind allowed.

Goldbug reactivated his mic: “Can you pick up any spatial distortions?!”

“Pull the other one!”

“Please try!”

A few moments with nothing but monstrous thunder and rattling walls.

“I think we’re loosing the roof.”

“No worries, the guy who put it on lives behind me.” Chip forced a laugh.

“Riiiiight!” Rewind was back, “Say, Goldbug, can you stay on hold for a bit?”

“Sure!”

“Stay right where you are!”

The comm went silent.

“Anything wrong?” Chip yelled.

“No ... nothing.... Blaster is looking for Scorponok and something about his size could be about to crash land on top of our heads at any moment! What could possibly be wrong?”

“I’ll get Grace and the baby ready to move!”

“No way!”

Chip glared at him.

“That hover chair is a disaster waiting to happen in these winds! You say here and live to see W.J. grow up!”

Water was starting to drip through the ceiling. Chip quickly draped a plastic sheet from a box over Speedy.

“If I’m staying here then this is me ‘Staying at my post!’”






“Well burnt without butter.” came the resounding verdict once the data from the weather dominator’s secondary control systems had reported back.

“Your machine couldn’t handle the strain?” Buzzsaw was peering over his shoulder.

“It was for proof-of-concept. Destro always overbuilt these toys, but they weren’t indestructible.”

“I see. Then we’ve failed.”

“I wouldn’t sssay so.” he turned towards Buzzsaw, “The Autobots will be too busy scrambling to save greater Seattle to pay much attention to the skies. Whatever these energy pulses were they will be missed for sure.”

“I see you’ve learned to look on the bright side of things too?”

“Another hard lesson I had to learn. Listen, Buzzsaw, we need to leave while the rain isss still coming down. If you want,” he coughed a few times, “you can ssstay with me until you know it’s safe to go home.”

“That cough is getting worse.”

“It’s my sssinusesss. Get me back to the dry air of Utah and I’ll be– Heh! Right as rain! I think I’ll go ahead and set the timer on the demolition charges. As much as I want to leave it as a calling card, it wouldn’t be prudent.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

How much longer would the robot keep up its act now that the dominator was out of commission?

He set the explosives to detonate on a proximity basis instead of a timer. That way it might do a bit more damage than just blow itself up. Then he disconnected his cell phone from the controller, opened the window and acted as if he were about to throw it as far out into the night as he could.

In that moment Buzzsaw pushed past him and perched in the window sill.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ll need to go back to Utah with you.”

“Really? I’m recording the whole affair in HD.”

The robot hesitated as if actually swayed by the promise of seeing the devastation, but shook its head instead.

“You are an interesting person, Commander. But no. No hard feelings?”

“None at all. And Buzzsaw,” he produced a tinfoil package from his pocket that he opened to show the energon goody within, “I lied earlier. I figured you’d need sssomething for the road.”

Buzzsaw took the treat and left without a word.

“Take care robot.” he muttered as he closed the window.

It had been fun so far.

Soundwave may’ve been feeding him a line about some all-important signal from space — seriously, if they could pick it up here then they could’ve picked it up on Cybertron too — but it hadn’t broken its promise about the fun aspect. The rest of his fun for tonight was in his own hands.

He would start by leaving this improvised ‘command center’ for something a bit more suitable. He walked to the bathroom and pulled out a small transmitter. One short range signal later and the shower rotated to reveal a hidden stair.

“Thessse old airport motels do have their charms!” he laughed before starting down.

Halfway down he snapped his fingers from realization: “The pizzas!”

[rurudyne]

Part 11: Cat and Venomous Mouse

“The Technobots were searching for your energy source when it went dark. I need you to go over to the airport and help them look for it on the ground.”

“Hey, Magnus,” Chip shouted over the still loud storm, “I’ll be glad to help out too if you send someone to get Grace, Jack and my guest somewhere safe! I think I lost my roof not long ago.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Chase, but no. Though you seem capable, this just isn’t a battle you have to fight in. Besides, you have your family to protect. If you really want me to, I’ll send around a Protectobot to look in on you later?”

“Thanks,” Chip sounded disappointed, “but that won’t be necessary.”

“Roger that! Goldbug, report to the District U.S. Marshal at the main terminal building. The President and Governor have agreed to let him run the show.”

“Will do!”

Goldbug waited while Chip turned Speedy off.

”How can you tell that it was your roof? It looks ok to me.”

“I’m the only one on the cul-de-sac with a tan roof.” Chip sighed, “Help me get over to the house and I’ll take it from there.”






Old fluorescent fixtures flickered and cast uneven patches of light in the darkness. The hum from their ballast was noticeable too. He should really have a talk with the boys in procurement! They were apparently buying cheap– Oh, that’s right! The boys in procurement were all dead — they’d only assumed that being Cobra’s top accountants would mean they’d be safe. Rather foolish of them to assume!

“What the twinsss won’t do to trim benefits cost!” he laughed.

The sound of dripping water brought the laughter to an end.

“Damn contractors!”

With the power being out this place had probably seen some flooding.

Another coughing fit seized him.

“Damn humidity!”

There was supposed to be a controlled environment lab attached to Destro’s executive suite on the middle level. If it was intact he could dry out and warm up the air. It would be better than running things from up here. But first there was the matter of bringing independent power on line. The first two banks of power breakers had proved temperamental and reminded him of something from a Frankenstein movie for all the sparks. Thankfully no one had looted this base’s reinforced rubber rods so the situation wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it could’ve been. Now only the third bank of switches remained.

“One down.... Two — and it’s the 4th of July!” he waited as he listened to the hum of generator #1 off in the distance, “Three.... And four–!?!”

He patted his face plate to put out the cinder before using the hammer end of the rod to break contact.

“My favorite face plate!” he whined.

Oh well, that’s what expense accounts were for. Soundwave wanted a distraction and he wanted more fun. Still, it had been his favorite....

Only two of three generators? It would have to do.

“Almost forgot to close the front door!”

From the main engineering panel he closed the shower entrance before disconnecting from external power and easing off of the batteries.






Goldbug squeezed through the doors.

The main terminal building was a bee hive of activity: there were hundreds of refugees and relief workers; armed soldiers from the Army and National Guard were scattered about; Police too; even people in Earth Defense Command uniforms were present; but, these last seemed to be in a decidedly subordinate role here.

A tall black man wearing a perfectly tailored suit and sporting a Federal Marshal’s silver star took notice and waved Goldbug over.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem, Bumblebee!” he smiled, “We owe you a debt of gratitude! I’m U.S. Marshal Apollo Creed — no comments from the peanut gallery!” he barely turned away at that moment.

No one said a thing, but it was obvious that the name had already caused some unwanted comments among those not in suits.

“Actually, it’s–”

“What was wrong with ‘Bumblebee?’” he asked himself.

“Never mind, glad to help any who I am!” he laughed.

–a name–

“Good! We believe the technology used to cause the storm must be somewhere in the airport based on our information from just before it quit operating.” he pointed out a map spread across a table, “I’m going to assign some officers and soldiers to you and let you check out the hangers and grounds on the north west side of the field. You’ll be working with Captain Dan Brisco of the National Guard and Lieutenant Cassy Williams of the SDPS Tactical Unit. Lets go meet them and get you on your way.”

“Sure.”

“They’re putting me in charge?” he silently emoted, “Sweet!”

As they walked to the other side of the main terminal the Marshal filled him in on procedure and call signs. His team would be Alpha Charlie. He also told him where his fellow Autobots were searching just in case.

Goldbug stopped in his tracks for a moment: “You didn’t–”

“The Technobots are pretty young to be given supervisory responsibility; but, Ultra Magnus told me you had a good head on your shoulders. You’re his representative so they answer to you if anything big starts. Just keep me informed, ok?”

“Also sweet! Do I get to be a deputy?”

“Sorry, but the 1991 amendment to the Posse Comitatus Act forbids deputizing non-humans. No offense?”

“None taken.”

All his humans were in different flavors of antiriot armor under rain slickers and had those plexiglas shields too. The Lieutenant was a medium sized woman with tan features who came with three other officers: Fred Bacon, Jim Kimball and Norman Peebles. Brisco was somewhat short and looked like an accountant who could break down and reassemble his weapon in 8 seconds flat while laughing about knowing 50 different ways to kill someone with a toothpick — that was the impression he gave at any rate. He came with another five Guardsmen: Damfort, Kleen, Rove, Saunders and Zwikolonovich.






“Well, that’s better!”

The air was dryer and warmer now. Along with it the feeling that he would cough his head off had subsided too.

“Really, it’s not a bad little base. Downright posh. Maybe I shouldn’t throw this one away just yet?”

Still, he needed to risk using the communications array. No good reason to throw away once expensive assets for free if you could get paid for it, was there? The robot hadn’t given him a phone number to call but it had left a trace to the Far East that he could use.

“A computer game company? Interesting....”

The screen before him flickered with occasional static. The red live signal light lit up and a familiar voice rang in his ears.

“You don’t know when to cut your losses? Do you, Cobra Commander?”

“Losses? I’ve been having a grand time! In fact, I think I can add to the Autobots woes in the short term, and at bargain prices too.”

“Inexpensive distractions — it would seem that you know my weakness as well. But you’ll have to do better than just ‘short term’ if you want my patronage.”

“Of course! The thing about snakes isss, if you’re properly conditioned you can be made to see them in every shadow and hear them from under every rock.”

“An interesting proposal.”

“Would you be willing to accept my numbers?”

“Considering that anything you would have to offer would be obsolete, I will expect heavy discounts. Though if you actually manage to disable or kill an Autobot at some juncture I might see my way to offer a bonus.”

“Of course. The same arrangements as last time, then?”

“Acceptable.”

The screen displayed an account number which he could draw from later.

“Most acceptable indeed!” he laughed, “‘Trash for cash: Hey Uncle Sam, I’m recycling and doing my part!’”

In any of several dark pits hidden alongside the nearly flooded drainage system for the airport’s runways, dull red overhead lights broke up the darkness and figures began to move for the first time in decades. Their uniform lockstep both lifeless and ponderous.






“Sorry again about the mud.”

“Hey, would you believe that Autobot City has one of the best detail shops on the planet?”

Officer Williams looked confused: “Then why do I always see you guys at the Jiffy-Wash?”

“It’s cheap?”

Apologizing about mud in a storm like this: humans could be funny that way.

It was still raining and the visibility was poor. Which was making looking for this weather machine all the more difficult. Even the Technobots, with all their gadgets, must be having a time with it. Speaking of which–

“This is Alpha Charlie,” he activated his comm, “to home plate. Are you there Marshal Creed?”

“The one and only.”

“Grid 11 in our area is clear. Proceeding to grid 12.”

“Copy, Alpha Ch*hsssssssssss*.”

Static?

“Hey Autobot, looks like we’re getting reinforcements.” one of the soldiers, probably Kleen, was waving and pointing back towards the terminal building.

Sure enough, another 9 figures were walking their way.

The soldier with ‘Kleen’ seemed encouraged that the search would be expedited. Captain Brisco didn’t seem so sure. He was trying to use his radio but was only getting static too.

“Shit! Zwickster, Kleen ... get back over here!”

Goldbug stepped up the magnification on his optics and tried to enhance the detail in the backlit figures. It seemed like they were dressed in dark clothes but their lack of rain slickers or shields made them seem less like reinforcements.

“Hey guys, why don’t you pull back and let me greet our reinforcements?”

At maybe 50 paces away the tidy group began running towards them.

“Get down and be ready for the worst!” Officer Williams barked from where she had assumed a prone position.

Human attackers? That made no sense. Why would Nebulans or Decepticons employ human mercenaries? Goldbug stepped up the gain on his comm to a range beyond what local jamming tech could easily block. He’d just figured out that the ‘locals’ had unexpectedly good jamming gear when the newcomers opened fire.

It was an odd motion, the rifles on their backs just popped up to be grabbed mid stride and effortlessly swung into firing position. Even odder was the way they did it all at once as if this were some over-choreographed battle scene in a Hollywood movie. Oddest of all was their silence as they fired in unison.

Not even one: “Go get’em guys!”

Goldbug took two hits that burned and sizzled, leaving pockmarks and cracks in his armor. There was –something– familiar about these rounds.

Without thinking about it, he charged forward under the guidance of his combat computer. His CC was actually having an easy time predicting their shots, so he was able to close the distance without taking any more hits.

One of the humans tried to fire at him at point blank range; but, Goldbug ripped the rifle from his grasp and performed an open palm slap on the chest instead — a move that Prowl had taught them as a reliable, non-lethal way to subdue humans. The soldier went skidding back and fell to his knees.

The others continued to run forward and fire as if they hadn’t even noticed him attack their friend. Talk about discipline! Then Goldbug felt something impact his side hard and the rifle he’d just seized was ripped from his grasp.

“No way!”

The human was back on his feet and had just delivered a blow that any four Mike Tysons would be proud of! At point blank range he fired three times into the surprised Autobot.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Goldbug delivered another non-lethal blow — though with greater force — to the human who promptly staggered back and fell again.

Something was wrong here!

Shots from the M-16s that his police and soldier friends were using seemed to be peppering the enemy but they acted like it meant nothing to them despite the obvious damage they were taking.

He heard something.... The soldier getting up again?

Goldbug activated his headlights — which had always been located on his feet — to try to get a better look. The enemy wore a black uniform with orange trim and had an orange hooded serpent emblazoned across his chest. His features were hidden behind a silver mask and a wide, vented helmet.

“Cobra?!?”






“Well, that’s got those properly mobilized.”

The display from the airport’s own security cameras showed the different preliminary engagements. Of the six Autobots present only one, a smaller yellow mech, seemed to have figured out that it was up against other robots. The others were still trying to fight so as to not injure their “human” enemies.

Cobra Commander pulled out the thick illustrated guide he’d bought from a book store earlier. He didn’t find the yellow one but the others were “Technobots” and could form a slow moving giant super computer called “Computron”.... Couldn’t have them go and do that now, could we! While the stats the guide provided were dubious at best, it did at least offer one possibility: unlike the other Technobots, Nosecone looked like it should be rather slow moving.

He directed half of the deployed but still uncommitted BATs to surround and attack Nosecone’s group at the exact same moment the other half would attack the main terminal.

Even if they didn’t take out the Autobot it should give him enough time to set up for Act Three.






“Yo J–!?! *groan*”

Damfort was coughing and sputtering from Lieutenant Williams’ well placed right hook.

“Niiiice.” Brisco offered.

“Thanks.”

“Is there a ‘Mr. Williams?’”

“But ... Captain?” Damfort was still gasping for air.

“We are soldiers and guardsmen! Not some disbanded hoity toity special forces team too good to wear regular uniforms!” Brisco bristled.

Humans certainly were interesting. Within moments of putting down the last Cobra drone they had turned on each other in different and even unexpected ways. Judging by her momentary change in body language, Brisco may just have an outside chance too.

“Goldbug, we need to see about the other teams.” Williams’ reasserted her take charge persona.

“They’re still scrambling communications. Since Scattershot is closest to the terminal and reinforcements we should move to Strafe’s position. Send Damfort and Rove to tell Scattershot who and what these guys are and then get Peebles to the relief station.”

“You heard him!” Williams picked up her barely usable plexiglas shield.

“Hey, Damfort?”

“Yeah, Goldbug? Sir.”

He was obviously still hurting.

“If you can mention they’re drones without making it seem like you’re telling him they’re drones it would be a great help to me.”

Last thing he needed was Scattershot thinking he’d been insulted or called dumb.

Goldbug transformed and had everyone not heading back to the terminal either get in or hang on. In the back of his core processor he knew that if Strafe hadn’t gone battle-bonkers yet it was only a matter of time.

[rurudyne]

Part 12: Madness



–I knew you were somewhere:
I knew somecycle I’d see your face:
But did I know you were here:
Did I know the microcycle I’d return for you?–

“Goldbug?... Earth to Goldbug?” Lieutenant Williams was tugging at his steering wheel.

“Eh?... Sorry.”

“You started drifting a little. Are you damaged?”

“No, I’m fine. I was just remembering an old song.”

“Cut a car off from his radio for a few minutes and he falls to pieces.” Brisco half-laughed.

“Patsy Klein I’m not! Sorry, I just got a bit nostalgic there.”

“Must be some song.”

Goldbug’s whole frame gently flexed the way it did when he had no head to nod.

“It’s about looking for a friend.”

He’d heard it performed live on Cybertron. Once in a club in Iacon.

“Listen, we can assume that the others have already come under attack. The Technobots are more powerful than me, but sometimes their nano-switches don’t click right.”

“And you’re telling us this ... why?” Brisco sounded uneasy.

“Strafe is a bit nervous at times. Good guy, but high strung.”

“Roger that.” Lieutenant Williams sighed, “This is just between us, too.”

“Thanks!”

The rain was coming down hard again and water was standing everywhere on the tarmac. Wind gust were playing havoc with them on the wide open runway too. Still the extra weight was providing Goldbug some real info on how much, or rather how little, extra mass he’d want.... Assuming he actually followed through on his pledge to Ultra Magnus and update.

Through the darkness and rain he could just make out a flash of light — Strafe’s weapon.

Clearly his fellow Autobot had figured out they were drones.

He began accelerating. Hydroplaning on the standing water.

He hoped that was the case.... What if Strafe–?

More flashes of light and the sounds of gun fire. Radio was still jammed. Did Cobra really have that kind of technology: to jam line of sight ranges?... He told his team what they were heading for.

“Then let us off and we’ll go in as a unit.”

“Right. But let me go in first. Autobots wouldn’t throw in with Cobra.”

He let them off and they formed up behind him.

Strafe had stopped shooting. That was a relief!

A flash of lightning changed his mind though. Strafe was surrounded by his team and he didn’t look happy.

Goldbug began running as fast as he could — ignoring Brisco’s calls to wait.

This was bad, really bad!

“Strafe! Hey buddy!” he began calling out at maximum volume.

Strafe looked away from his team. The way his eyes flashed behind his visor spoke of recognition and hope. The Technobot literally jumped into the air with a burst of thrust from his feet and somersaulted over the humans surrounding him. He landed like a skier and skidded towards Goldbug.

“Primus!” Goldbug silently marveled, “If I could fly you can bet I wouldn’t forget and let myself get surrounded like that. What a doofus!”

“Goldbug!!!”

Strafe looked like he was about to swoop him up in his arms and twirl him around like some child’s rag doll.

“I’m glad to see you too!”

Instead he stopped and his expression became a blank mask.

“Um, Strafe?”

“It’s all a lie!” his voice sounded haunted.

Then he pointed a weapon over Goldbug’s shoulder: “Stay back! All of you stay back! I know what you are!”

“Strafe?!”

Goldbug grabbed Strafe’s arm and pushed up.

“Strafe!!!”

“It’s all a lie! They’re robots too!” he shrieked, “They’re in league with the Decepticons!”

At that moment two thoughts crossed Goldbug’s mind: “I miss Red Alert.” and “Why me?”

Strafe was both larger and stronger. At long last he was full on crazy too. It was taking all Goldbug had to keep the bigger Autobot’s left arm pointed at the sky.

Then the right arm came up as he pulled away: “You– ... You’re with them?!?”

Goldbug’s CC began providing data plots and routes for escape all weighted on past observations of Strafe in combat.

–No!!!–

He stepped forward, leapt actually, and grabbed Strafe’s right arm. The bigger mech seemed nearly weightless as Goldbug spun him around only to slam him face down in the concrete with enough force to create a Strafe-shaped impression. He had kicked Strafe’s weapons away before he even felt the rush of energy leave him.

“What are you talking about?!” he shouted at the prone Technobot, “Human beings aren’t drones! Where did you get that stupid idea?!?”

“I ... I did what they taught me. Open palm to the chest with only so much– ... He died! And I saw–”

Strafe was actually trembling. Goldbug knelt by his side and sighed.

“Hey? Those were drones. They’re called BATs made by a bunch of loons called Cobra.” he forced a laugh and hoped Strafe hadn’t hurt anyone for real, “Humans aren’t drones, not even the really boring ones.”

“Are you sure?” came the nervous reply.

“I’ve known humans longer than anyone else.” he reassured, “They aren’t robots.”

He saw the soldiers gathering nervously around them.

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked without taking his eyes off of Strafe.

“Not by the Autobot.” someone said.

Goldbug nodded and thanked Primus for that much.

“Can I get up?” Strafe asked.

“Sure, you’re among friends! Everyone trust you here.”

The humans apparently got the message since no one was pointing their weapon at the distressed Technobot when he rolled over and sat up.

“You’re stronger than you look.”

“I’ve been working out.” Goldbug joked even as he kept track of a self-diagnostics routine that he’d just started.

It almost looked like the surge had come from his power attenuators, the unique gadgets that helped him to be so fuel thrifty. But that made no sense. All that energy had to have come from somewhere else instead.






“Fascinating!” Cobra Commander had taken a moment away from his preparations to watch the two robots grapple, “I may have sent the BATs after the wrong Technobot.”

Should he change his plans to take advantage of this Strafe?

No, even with all the BATs at his disposal he didn’t have enough to waste trying to take out these particular alien machines. Best to keep what was left, Mark-2s and a few prototype BAAT models, for some now feasible upgrades. Maybe if he was useful the Decepticons would see their way to let go of some of their own technology? He never really understood why they would buy almost any unique example of Cobra technology — mostly semi functional prototypes or even castoffs — but would never return the favor.

Still, in only moments 63 BATs would close in on Nosecone and the main terminal respectively.

It was too bad that airport security wasn’t in stereo HD!






“Are you sure he’s ok?” Brisco asked as they watched Strafe take off.

“Strafe can get the wounded soldiers to the hospital a lot quicker than I can. Besides, a few blood stains on his upholstery will help keep his mind clear.”

“What happened?”

What indeed?

“Hey!” Zwickster was pounding on his leg.

“Careful of the paint job!”

“No, look!”

He was pointing to the south where some large fire fight had broken out — it was Nosecone’s area.






Goldbug wished someone had a camera to get the shot. Or that he owned a hovercam.

An immaculate yellow Super Bug charging through the driving rain with armed soldiers clinging to each other over his roof and to his C-pillars for dear life. The Autobot symbol proudly visible on his hood.

It would have made the cover of Time, maybe even of Life. Maybe even Optimus’ wall.

As it was, if any one did remember this night it would probably only be the crazed heroes who would’ve been in the picture anyway.

Brisco was still trying to boost the power on his own radio.

“I don’t get it!” he vented, “Shouldn’t interference this strong screw up anything electronic?”

“Present company excluded, yeah, you think it would.”

The fire fight was still raging and it looked like the bad guys had some heavier weapons in the mix. Goldbug began slowing to a safe stop.

“–bug? Technobots? *crissssssssh hissssssss* me?”

“Who was that?”

“Rewind, Lieutenant. Autobot City must be trying to punch through the interference. Their signal is way too powerful for me to match.”

“No chance of responding?”

It had to be a distributed source of interference. No way humans could block a return carrier signal if they were using a point source. Not even Blaster or Soundwave could do that with a point source!

“Not yet. But soon.”

Just for a moment Goldbug’s mind drifted back to 1985 and a meeting between Optimus and Megatron which no one was supposed to have witnessed. Had the Decepticons helped Cobra after all? So much for Megatron’s distrust of the “local vermin.”

100 yards away, behind the cover of a large sign, he let his passengers off and out before transforming. A quick glance confirmed that Nosecone was doing his best to bodily shield his vulnerable companions from the drones’ punishing fire.

“These drones are supposed to be really dumb,” he told his team, “so we should be able to break their formation just by hitting them hard. I’m going to charge and I want you to keep the ones I knock down from getting back up.”

Goldbug transformed and gunned his motor.

“I needed a new paint job anyway.” he muttered.

Even with poor traction he was going over 60 by the time his bumper and hood found that first drone with a commanding *thud!*

Hard turn to the right, tail swinging wide with over steer, and another BAT bit it. The third one had barely noticed him before they impacted.

Speed was under 40 after only three? Primus were these drones heavy!

As the first shells began exploding against him, he transformed and knocked two more drones down — one of which had something like a minigun — by smashing his forearms into their head or neck.

“I think you broke their freaking necks!” a rejoicing Nosecone shouted as Goldbug’s fist found purchase on a sixth drone.

Drones with regular weapons were letting up on Nosecone to concentrate on him. He started firing across the way with his own weapon while using his right fist to take down whatever stood before him.

Weapons fire from Nosecone’s friends started peppering the BATs in front of him; however, Nosecone didn’t look free to do anything more than shield them.

Moments before he brought his fist down on a tenth drone, his own team finally opened fire on the run. They were soaked and tired, so should he be surprised that they had taken this long?

Then seven damaged BATs, the ones he’d just waded through, tried to wrestle him down in a dog pile.

“They’re like Junkions!” he shouted in exasperation as he clawed a headless drone from off his back and used it like a club against its allies.

Where was that burst of power he’d seen before? He could really use it now!

Some part of his mind was compiling a damage report and faithfully telling him how many times he’d been shot or punched.

*Pwum! Pwum! Pwum! Pwum!* he began firing at point blank range even while madly slinging around his improvised weapon.

The drone’s legs came clean off after only three blows.

Face smash; elbow back till something new crumples; stomp on that; shoot; kick; shoot; head butt; roundhouse and follow through with fist down; elbow to a head; knee; shoot; shoot; claw another one off the back– “Prime! Not you again?!?” –circular sweep of the arm and release — pretty arc into the distance far away from the fight.

By now seven had increased to twenty or more. Didn’t these guys want to play with Nosecone anymore?!

A hail of bullets from M-16s, now at point blank range, proved a beautiful noise. He couldn’t let up though. Even with their armor his people were vulnerable.

He transformed and began dragging his dog pile around while trying the shovel even more of the drones onto his hood. Anything to keep them off balance.

“Hey! That’s my steering wheel!” he yelled as a hand reached in and pulled the slender shape out of its proper place.

Then something sharp took out his left rear tire and he had to transform again.

For just a moment as he leapt from the dog pile he had a panorama of the battle around him. Nosecone looked about the way he felt.

But the BATs looked even worse.

He began shooting into the battered collection of chassis that he’d just been pulling around. Slowly the mass of drones were beat down.

None so much as laid a finger on Goldbug for the rest of the fight. Their shells were another matter though....





“Goldbug? Technobots? Protectobots? Anyone?! This is Autobot City. Answer on our carrier wave if you can!”

“I’m here Rewind.”

He heard others report in too. He wasn’t really interested since there were injured to tend to.

“We lost communications with the whole city.” Rewind needlessly explained, “The Decepticons are using a multiphased neucleon particle field. You need to check for radiation levels in your area ASAP! Protectobots, prepare for mass evacuation efforts!”

Radiation?! Goldbug, numbed from the revelation, looked over to where Brisco was examining Cassy’s shoulder wound.

“Goldbug?” she asked, forcing a smile to her face.

“Rewind,” he practically shouted as he stood up, “we aren’t up against Decepticons. The enemy is Cobra! Repeat, the enemy is Cobra!”

Rewind was asking him to pull the other one –again– when the ground around them started trembling as if from an earthquake. Then, somewhere off to the north, a plume of bright smoke and a fire ball lit up the night sky accompanied by a thunderous explosion.

[rurudyne]

Part 13: Act Three

“Someday we will have to deal with these robots no matter how powerful they are.” Destro had been pacing especially fast that day, “Just because they seem to want to leave us alone now doesn’t mean that the situation will last!”

The resources of an entire Terrordrome, almost two thirds of their discretionary budget for several years running, had been poured into a conflict that never materialized. At least not until today.

Then it had all been abandoned, diverted, or else quietly used for training purposes once more pressing realities had hit home hard. No complete Terrordrome. No great army of piloted battlemechs or endless waves of BATs.

Act Three was a mouse and not a lion. A nasty, venomous mouse ... but still a mouse.

“And that’s that for the nucleon piles!”

While it was true that the original plan had been to use the piles to break up all transmissions for the whole duration of the attack, it was likely that the Autobots had already found a way around them. Realities had changed anyway and, besides that, if all broadcast communications were blocked then what would his DVRs back home have to record? This low resolution footage from the airport would only carry the show so far.

Only, he needed to let the news crews know they could transmit once again.

Cobra Commander cleared his throat to make sure he wasn’t about to have another coughing attack. Then he double checked the communications patch program again, after all, he should be in Siberia and not on some Hawaiian beach!

The cameras red light came on.

“People of Ssseattle, the United States, and of the World: I am Cobra Commander!

“It is with dismay that we’ve watched you flailing about in testicle-less international union as you kissed the polychromed alloyed toes of mechanicals and aliens alike. What worthless toadies you truly are! To think of all the glorious wars and heroic struggles you’ve fought for your ideals and grandiose visions, that it has come to this: an era where no one tries to be anything but mediocre! Where are your stirring speeches of sweet liberty or your passionate howls for renewed tyrannies?

“Have you nothing you value? Nothing you lust for? Is peace with 900 channels worth of entertainment all you desire? You’re beneath contempt!!! I don’t even think you’re WORTH enslaving anymore; but, I guess I’ll have to make due with you when the time comes.

“In the meantime, I’ve arranged for a little entertainment, really a wager: would our decades old preparations to defend our very home world from these alien machines really have worked? Could we have pushed these interlopers from Earth and saved this world for men alone to rule even though Cobra hadn’t yet been anything but a rag tag collection of your best and brightest who understood that power and authority wasss their destiny? With that in mind I’ve scraped off the rust from what little has survived over a decade of neglect and recycling.... The streets are clean for your master’s feet, so enjoy the show. I’m sure the ratings will be excellent!...

“Stupid scum....” he muttered before, “Cut off that camera!”

Cobra Commander had cut the camera off midway through the last sentence. But this was a grand moment — one for which he was glad for that old dress uniform and spare faceplate that he’d found — and playing the part to the hilt was essential. He would have had a cameraman after all.

A moment to check his communications equipment and he was sure that his efforts to make the transmission look like it had come from a secret base in Siberia had worked.

The Russians didn’t much like or trust anyone and no one really liked or trusted them no matter what they said to Putin’s face, not if they needed Russian oil or cooperation. Given the common historical amnesia, it would be relatively easy for people to believe that he would give Cobra safe haven. Cobra: infamous as America’s foe. Birds of a feather and all that.

He took one final glance at the progress made by the withdrawing BATs and medium units before disconnecting all remaining external links — save, of course, those to airport security. Whatever was going to happen, it was out of his hands now.

He removed his faceplate.

“Hawaiian, veggie or meat lovers?” he questioned, looking over his remaining pies.






Despite all that had happened and was happening, Goldbug hoped that his friends could forgive him that he didn’t tell them about the radiation hazard first rather than tell Rewind that Cobra was the enemy. In retrospect, even those moments of acting surprised at the shaking ground now seemed like an extravagance. They were putting on their gas mask and trying to act reassured, but it didn’t help the way he felt.

Rewind was going on about some transmission they’d gotten but it was all clutter and background noise. The ground was still shaking. And something was moving around in the darkness off to the southwest.

“There are nine of them.” Nosecone reported.

“Nine?”

“That’s what Scattershot says. He actually ... ah, I mean he took off and got a nice ground radar image of the airport. He wants me to come over to the terminal so we can finish this together.”

Goldbug shook his head in dismay: by the time Nosecone got to the terminal; Strafe returned from taking people to the hospital; they became Computron; and only then settled on a course of action the situation would already be out of control.

And if there was only nine of whatever they are then why was the ground still shaking?

He activated his comm and hoped the Technobot leader would be reasonable.

“Scattershot, this is Goldbug. Listen, we need to move quickly against these things rather than wait for Computron. I want you to send Afterburner and Lightspeed after the nearest–”

“We need to act together!” Scattershot interrupted.

“We will be. But Strafe is taking some of his people to the Hospital.”

“I didn’t tell him to.”

“I sent him!” Goldbug growled impatiently, “I want you to tell me where these things are. Until Strafe gets back I’ll team up with Nosecone, Lightspeed and Afterburner can work together, and you’ll be our eyes in the sky and attack anything that tries to leave the airport. We will keep this contained!”

“Yes, Sir.” Scattershot grumbled.

“Thanks! Nosecone, can you sense what’s going on underground? I want to know why the ground is shaking.”

“My ground imaging sensors are only really accurate when I’m below; but,” he knelt and seemed to be concentrating, “I think it’s a series of underground explosions. There’s a pattern.... Something big is coming.”

Goldbug was considering his response when Scattershot transmitted the locations of nine large machines moving in groups of three. They were bigger than he was and moved on multiple legs. All three groups were heading towards the main terminal.

“Do you know where it’s coming up?”

Nosecone shook his head: “Everywhere.”

“What is it with megalomaniacs and doomsday machines? Isn’t the rain bad enough?”

“The rain....”

Nosecone was looking towards the sky and you could see the proverbial gears in his head turning.

“What about the rain?” a guardsman who had been with Nosecone asked.

“I’m more interested–” Brisco began.

“Give him time to think!” the other officer held up his hand.

Goldbug knew that Nosecone was really smart, but far too methodical. He might take too long coming up with whatever it was he was coming up with. There was something bad nearby that needed to be dealt with first.

“The drainage system has to be beyond its limits. Water is standing everywhere.”

Well, that was unexpectedly fast.

“If ... if I dig down.... Dig down and I might be able to flood whatever is down there. It might slow it down. Or stop it altogether if I can engage it while it’s still coming up.”

“What about people?”

“I don’t think there are many, if any. I listened in on the transmission that Rewind was talking about and it sounded like we’re up against drones.... But I can’t go. That would mean leaving you alone.”

“Go!”

“But–”

“You heard me: go! I can take care of myself.”

Nosecone nodded.

It sometimes seemed to Goldbug that people thought he was just a kid, a punk. But as Bumblebee he’d been among the Autobot’s very best and it was no accident or fluke that he’d been on the Ark — folks somehow seemed to forget that.

Goldbug watched as his fellow Autobot transformed, pitched up and began drilling down.

“What do we do?” the other officer, one Captain Killborn, asked.

“We fight dirty.”






The machines stepped onto the runway and into the light on their way towards the main terminal. They were scorpion-like with four rotary guns up front in place of claws and another pair in the tail. It had already been reported that the irregular bumps along their sides hid missile launchers, though these had proved useless for attacking fast targets.

Rather than go to them, Goldbug and those with him had fallen back to the far side of the runway, behind the landing lights where they would hopefully be less visible.

From what Scattershot and Lightspeed had told him they appeared to be made for pilots; but, were operating independently instead. In addition to being much better armed they were much smarter than the BATs and their tactics were proving effective. Against Lightspeed and Afterburner they’d adopted a formation that allowed them to provide good covering fire and remain somewhat mobile. Against Scattershot they had linked into some sort of mini fortress that maximized the ability to protect themselves from air attacks.

They were being worn down, but it was taking time since even Scattershot understood that the only thing between them and hundreds of helpless humans was now just four Autobots and far too few soldiers.

Still no word from either Nosecone or Strafe.

Goldbug’s problem was that he had no way to wear his trio down.

“Are you ready?” he asked the soldiers who had been working on the tow ropes he normally carried for more conventional emergencies.

He had bent a number of metal post into crude hooks to be tied to ropes. Lieutenant Williams held up a number of bumper hooks attached to a spreader bar, part of a trapeze arrangement, and nodded enthusiastically.

He transformed and felt the all too real goosh of mud and water attack him wherever he folded in on himself — fighting dirty had rarely been this literal! They connected the improvised tow rig behind him and loaded his interior down with their packs and gear to help him get as much traction as he could.

He reviewed the self-diagnostics program he’d run earlier. His power attenuators really could be made to operate differently, increasing power rather than just improving efficiency. It must have been something that the Quintesson did to him when he’d rebuilt him.

“Here’s something ventured!” he muttered as he put his attenuators in this ‘overdrive’ mode and started accelerating on his now bare rims.

The extra power was instantly noticeable and even pushing through standing water he was rapidly accelerating.

From behind several layers of plexiglas shields, Brisco opened fire with Goldbug’s own weapon — they were using Zwickster as a human tripod. The others followed suit behind what cover they could manage.

The lead Cobra drone opened fire even as the others widened the gap between them. He could feel his hood and windshield give way beneath their shells.

“Eeeyeeaaggh!” both a battle cry and shout of pain.

His rubber-less rims found purchase in the tarmac as he began weaving — not to dodge but to set the trapeze in motion. He ran straight at the lead drone. 50 ... 60 ... 72 miles per hour. He dodged to the left and set his sights on the next machine in case he missed.

But the trapeze found purchase and ripped his back bumper off even as the great bug it had ensnared flipped over onto its back where it would hopefully stay.

Transform and leap.

He landed caddywompus on the second scorpion and clung to its slick armored surface.

He barely saw the tail swing up and take aim at him. Grabbing a leg he let himself slide and roll under the bug.

It still fired?! So these things weren’t that smart after all.

It was dragging him along and picking up speed. The cockpit should be just above him so maybe the core processor would be too? With only one chance and no margin for error, he let go and kicked upwards with all his now enhanced might. His feet penetrated! Then he dropped from the still moving mechanoid and rolled.

“Transform!” he yelled at his inner mechanisms to no avail.

“Blast it Goldbug, Transform!!!”

Without his hood and with his right arm still not tucked away, Goldbug rolled out again to overtake the injured drone.

He reached it and was able to jump on its back just as the tarmac gave out — which was good because rims in the mud would’ve been a bust.

This time Goldbug was close to the base of the tail where it couldn’t fire at him. The armor there was surprisingly durable — it took him four swings just to get a starter hole going. He tore on this till he saw something that looked important.

The scorpion shuttered and stumbled to a halt when he smashed whatever it was that he’d just punched.

“Everyone!” he shouted over the comm, “Their processor core appears to be near the base of the tail. Aim there! Scattershot, one got past me. I need you to take it out ASAP!”

“If you really insist.” came the curt reply.

Goldbug let himself laugh despite the pain as he rolled off the machine.

“I really, really ... ouch!” Water wasn’t supposed to get in that! “I hope this thing doesn’t blow up before I limp away.”

Despite all expectations that it would, it didn’t.






It was still raining, but now brilliant shafts of morning light had broken through the clouds.

“I’ve never been so happy to see the sun over Seattle!” Goldbug emoted while First Aid continued his repairs.

What was left of Auburn Municipal Airport was still collapsing into a new lake. Cobra had apparently built a massive base beneath it and the explosions that Nosecone had sensed turned out to be demolition charges. Nosecone was all right. Everyone was all right. Except for maybe Strafe ... but that was arguably just being Strafe.

“The rain is helping to solve our radiation problem,” First Aid observed in his ever friendly way, “so I’d really rather it kept raining.”

“What do you think?” Marshal Creed was watching the destruction that was still slowly unfolding, “Lake Creed? Or how about Goldbug Pond?”

Laughter from the nearby peanut gallery.

“I’d never live down the in-jokes.” Goldbug groaned.

Which was true, his race had inordinately long memories when it came to in-jokes.

“I’m just glad Ultra Magnus recalled my team when the rain started getting bad. Lots for us to do!” First Aid observed, “By the way, I heard someone say you might be in the market for a new alt mode? If you’ll give me some advance notice I’ll start working on the design.”

This again?!

“I’ll tell you what, can I be the Starship Enterprise? Only painted in my old Bumblebee-yellow with a black racing stripe on the saucer section?”

“Ummmm ... I don’t see how we could– Sorry, but no.”

“Then I’ll stick with being a Super Bug for now. Thanks anyway!”

[rurudyne]

Part 14: Control

For some reason, Vilnacron’s ruins were depressing in ways that other cities’ ruins were not — including Kaon’s. It was as if the destruction were somehow desecration — an odd feeling that Starscream just couldn’t explain away. But maybe it was that same sort of feeling, only in others, that had spared the Palace of Gold and a few other structures in the first place?

As for the thought that Megatron hadn’t presided over a fair trial, it was seeming less and less likely that it would’ve made a difference if he had. The evidence against Onslaught’s team was simply too compelling and the precedents in law that supported their justification too strained. Along with the sealed files about the trial, Starscream had also forgotten the sense of heroic and futile resistance surrounding his own presentations — an acquittal would have transformed him into the darling of the age.

All he knew for sure was that Megatron had purposed from the start to be “merciful” in his own novel way. He had said it would highlight the Decepticon Code and how the Decepticons upheld the importance of any given person’s identity rather than respect some supercilious mystical notion about the Allspark. So rather than the death penalty, the Combaticons would be imprisoned as disembodied sparks for a time — if they were convicted, of course. And they had been.

But thanks to the Nemesis mission, the Combaticons spent millions of years too long in that state. No wonder they were vengeful! Even now, with all the safe guards in place, they were still dangerous–

At the other end of the large chamber they were in, Autobot Skydive stumbled through some weak spot in the floor and tumbled noisily for a dozen astroseconds.

–allies....

Starscream could feel the oil surging towards the corners of his optic covers as he suppressed his laughter.

The Aerialbots were quick to leap to their friend’s aid and soon confirmed that he was wedged tight into a previously concealed drop shaft.

“Blame the inelegance of your designs for this one.” Starscream chimed, “Maybe I should take this opportunity to ask it: how do you even sit down?”

“Will someone just shoot him already?!” came an angry grumble from below.

It was something to consider that, by sheer reputation, these five were the most stable Autobot combiner team.

Starscream turned away from the Autobots to continue shifting through a jumble of scavenged components that they’d found here in the basement of the old Central Court of Primacronian Law. The fate of the court wasn’t what interested him so much as the recycle cache that had been made of it. Someone had obviously gone through the pile before him, so he wasn’t expecting to find anything they might’ve considered useful. Since there was an abundance of processors and comm hubs left behind, but no power or memory systems, things didn’t bode well for finding any intact data bases in Vilnacron. If the locals had been hungry for power and memory systems then the street libraries, with their modern and easily accessible equipment, would’ve been among the first to go.

“So why go on with the charade any longer?” he asked himself, “If there was even a little hope of finding something here, I could use the opportunity to work on these Autodolts bit by bit and undermine their ‘Great Leader.’ But, as it is, this is a fool’s errand and even they will realize it before long!”

Starscream paused to examine a partly dismantled “CORE LOGIC BOARD” — it was actually labeled that way — and for a moment reflected on the sheer age of the artifact in his hand. In theory it could be as old as Vilnacron, or maybe even as old as Cybertron herself. Had it not been ripped apart it would probably be functioning quietly in some ancient computron somewhere around here.

“There’s not much hope for restoring that!” Autobot Air Raid chuckled.

Starscream reminded himself that this one, along with the one in the hole, were the two he had hopes for — so he suppressed a snide comment about it being “About as easy to restore Cybertron.” and mutely dropped the board back onto the pile.

“What do you think I’ve been doing going over this recycle cache while you five have been exploring?” he said without turning.

“You don’t want to know what I think!” the Autobot spat.

He let a smile creep onto his face: “By knowing what they took from this pile I know what they needed: power and memory components. Since those make up the kinds of systems we’re looking for I can already tell you what we might find here in Vilnacron.”

He turned in time to see the Autobot’s expression become sullen.

There was more commotion over by the pitfall — the sounds of the trapped Autobot falling even farther.

“But it seems we need to poke around in this basement for a while yet.” Starscream laughed, “Unless there’s a chance he didn’t survive?”

“Skydive’s too tough to die in a fall, Decepticon!” the Autobot needlessly informed.

“I’m sure he would be!... Silverbolt,” he called across the room, “if Skydive can’t fly or climb out, tell him to stay put. Vilnacron’s under city was shielded so if he wanders off you may never find him. If he stays put you’ll at least know where to dig if it comes to that.”

It didn’t matter if the Autobot had reached the same conclusion or not. Starscream wasn’t about to take orders when he could give them instead — even if it meant play-acting concern about an Autobot’s welfare. No matter what, he wasn’t going to just surrender his fate to someone else’s plans — his life was in his own hands.

He walked over and examined the features of the now partly collapsed pitfall. It had obviously been excavated and possibly had something to do with the recycle cache. Could there be a colony of survivors down there?

The Autobot had just started climbing out when his leader told him to stay put.

“We’ll look for another way down.”

“Don’t want to scuff your paint?” Starscream taunted.

“I won’t fit down that hole.”

“Silverbolt, this was the old Central Court so it probably lacks under city access besides this pit. Or at least anything large enough for us to fit through. Granted, some newer building wouldn’t have the same problem; but, if you want to see what’s down there this hole may be your only sure way.”

“There should be a better way down than this.”

Starscream contemplated what they might find if there were survivors. The worst case scenario would be finding Decepticon deserters. The best possibility, the remote chance of finding retired Seekers aside, would be an encampment drawn from the general population with no strong ties to anyone. Of course, they might find nothing but lifeless bodies.

So how to spin any discovery to his advantage? The Aerialbot’s utter ignorance about Cybertron definitely was an asset.

“Then we need to move fast.” he told the Aerialbot leader, “If the people responsible for that pile are still down there, and we have no idea what to expect from them, we should expect the worst. We might even find Decepticon deserters.”

“Kinda sucks to be in the Decepticon leadership!” Autobot Slingshot laughed, “So maybe we should let you go first?”

“Skydive has already gone first!” the Seeker corrected.

That shut the cretin up!

Whatever they decided to do, he would make this work to his advantage. He’d already seen how the right blend of contempt and praise could work wonders. Down that hole, where his experience and his knowledge would reign supreme, may lay the proverbial promised land. They were so like kyanite waiting for the kiln in his hands!

Epilogue

“What were your findings?”

Galvatron didn’t turn away from the window as he acknowledged Soundwave’s entrance.

“The source of the data mining was Kaon. The human embassy in Iacon was compromised. They used an old ground line that was only partially secure.”

“Kaon.... I see.” Galvatron nodded, “And Zarak?”

“He is aggravated that you have taken no disciplinary action against me: for moving Scorponok; for scuttling his Phantoms rather than see them captured. His pride has been wounded.”

“A calculated risk if my Decepticons are to know how I value their efforts on my behalf. Did either Zarak or these strangers detect you?”

“Negative.”

Galvatron nodded thoughtfully and continued looking out the window.

“Analysis of their data mining suggest they were looking for information encompassing the madness plague incident; but, their interest was not in the madness plague itself so much as it was in the events surrounding its progress and the effect it had on human society. Hypothesis: they are proving ideas for the effectiveness of a similar weapon. Also, since the techniques used were dated, similar to those used before the war, Decepticon involvement is most unlikely.”

“Combaticons or Seekers in Kaon.” Galvatron said breathlessly.

“Yes, Mighty Galvatron.”

“Any way to prejudice which?”

“The search parameters were tightly focused. Given that and the behavior of the counter measures deployed, it would seem to suggest Combaticons unfamiliar with covert operations.”

Galvatron half turned, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Are you sure this chamber is secure?” he demanded.

“Of course.”

“Soundwave, I never told you why I opened the plasma energy chamber, did I?”

“Confirmed.”

He had never told –anyone–.

“Alpha Trion came to me in a vision and told me to.” Galvatron turned to take hold of his chair at the head of the room’s conference table, “He said that it was Vector Sigma’s will.”

“A vision?”

“Yes, foolish of me to trust in such things — I sound almost as mystical as a Prime!” he laughed as he pulled the chair away and sat down, “But that wasn’t the only vision I’ve recently had.... I’ve seen ... Primus.”

He seemed introspective as he looked at his hands while he flexed them several times.

“I saw Cybertron transformed to become Primus.” his voice carried the familiar sonorous tone of someone else, “He reached down into a great pit and pulled Unicron up from its darkest depths and they fought. As they fought, Primus tore fragments of light from Unicron. Two fell into his own chassis, somewhere on Cybertron. Others were scattered across the stars. And the last–” Galvatron’s voice became soft and reverential, “After he had beaten Unicron and thrown him back into the pit he presented the last to me.... To me!!! It was to me a crown of light and the renewal of lost perfection!”

When Galvatron looked up, his face had that same strange radiance about it as before. In his expression, countless vorns seemed to evaporate from him even while every mark of age deepened and etched his features. It was as if wisdom and folly, solemnity and laughter, were combined and yet unmixed.

“The Autobot’s golden age isn’t going to last.” Galvatron pronounced, “What they have ill gained in the wake of Unicron’s attack will shriek in terror, tremble, fall and fade away from before me! Cybertron and Primus are against them ... so who is there who can stand against me?”

Soundwave couldn’t think of anything to say in answer to such a revelation. So he fell to a knee and bowed his head in homage instead.

“But first, old friend, we must purify ourselves from all our unwise alliances. Use them up for our singular benefit. Tell everyone who isn’t corrupted in their very chassis and command them to respect silence: I may be Galvatron in my form and in my preeminent power, yet I am Megatron again, now and forevermore!”

[rurudyne]

Incidentally, I need to give credit where credit is due: neumatic.deviantart.com/art/Enterprise-Bumblebee-66295952