EIGHT
The head on the stick stared sightlessly back. How this facsimile of the head of Megatron, former tyrant general of the Decepticon Empire (which one exactly was lost to time) had got there was not entirely clear. What was clear, illuminated from the shaft of light from the hole in the cave ceiling above, was the twisted grimace of the mouth. Whether it was an expression of agony or triumph was...not easy to determine. Perhaps it was both.
Roller concluded his sensor-sweep of the object, nestled high on a plinth in the middle of the cave within the otherwise unremarkable jungle. He ejected a paper read-out from a slot in his side. Optimus bent down to pick it up, his expression grave. It must be sensitive information to be printed on pulped dead wood hardcopy rather than electronically transmitted. Absently, Prime wondered where -and when- Roller had learned that trick.
Optimus stared at the data incredulously. There must be some mistake. The head was not a copy -
Prime bent down and stared into the dead eyes of his once and former enemy. “I wonder what happened to you. I wonder what it felt - “
The eyes snapped open and the head of Megatron shrieked. “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!”
Optimus and Roller simultaneously jerked back in shock. The ground shook beneath them as the disembodied head yelled dementedly at them, at the air, at life itself. They beat a hasty retreat to the entranceway. Prime hovered outside momentarily. Why the sudden, and strangely timed earthquake? He should go back in. There were answers to which -
At this point, a hail of fire from Combat Deck in orbit decimated the cave. Prime snarled back angrily over the inter-link. That had not been necessary! Now...now they would never know what had happened to Megatron. Such a shame.
SEVEN
The spires seemed to go on forever, glittering pinnacles of technological achievement that appeared to reach out as far as the stars, yet at the same time were rooted into the expanses of natural ecosystem that flourished at their feet. Whoever had lived here had applied their technology not only to the improvement of their own lives but to the restoration of the damage that their industrial and post-industrial ages had done to their planet.
“Clear signs of an open-ended technological development curve” Optimus noted in his log. He had heard of cultures who had gone down this path - Skids had once called them 'Singularity Cultures'. They were those whose technological development accelerated at such a pace that if it were to be plotted on a graph it would describe an open-curve. Their technological progress had reached such a point as to have become, for practical purposes, infinite. In the way of these cultures, those that had lived there had found themselves changed in so many ways that they ceased to be the same species they had once been. They had passed beyond the knowledge of Optimus or of any other species that had not attained the same condition. They had lived here once, but now were gone. All that remained were their works, their incomprehensible technologies and their impossibly scaled vertical cities. That and the animals, foraging and hunting amongst the landscape of a planet restored to it's pre-technological state. For a moment Optimus wondered if his own species had walked this same path, and what it would have been like if the Transformers had attained Singularity. But that was a question for wiser minds than his, and he still had far to go on his journey.
SIX
Five continents were on fire and the orbiting defensive systems had shut down in the last wave of attacks. It was down to him, and him alone now. Trapped beneath a pile of burning debris deep within the reactor core, he had at most forty-five humanian seconds left in which to act. Though left alone for many years, this lost outpost of the Humanian Empire had once more found itself threatened by the forces of a rogue band of Decepticon sleeper agents. Even here, this far in deep time, he could not be rid of their kind. In an odd way, it was almost comforting. He could never fully die and neither could they. Cold companions until the end.
Forty-one seconds left for him to shut down the reactor before it exploded, killing everyone left up above.
With supreme effort, he hurled the debris to one side. He had to concentrate on the task at hand, had to hope Roller had evacuated the area above ground and that Deck was busily (and enthusiastically) routing the enemy forces. But down here,so deep no communications could get past the shields, there was no way to be sure.
Thirty-nine seconds.
Re-activate the core, re-initialise the planetary defensive shield. That was all he had to do. Forget what had happened, forget what might be happening out there right now. All that was beyond his control. He was a soldier. He should act like one.
He should have stayed on Earth Colony Blackpool. There was peace for him there. No more conflicts, no more wars. Nothing more demanding than going through the thrice-daily updates with his human assistant, Norman. But no,
something had compelled him to leave. A lust to explore or a lust for combat? Deep down, was there really anything more to his kind than a need to fight? Were they nothing more?
Thirty-one seconds.
Prime staggered to the controls on the far wall. The meaning of them was lost to him. Logging on to the planetary information net, if it was still
operational, would be of no use to him, for such sensitive information was kept off of all networks as a security precaution.
There was a sharp sound directly above him. Something had burrowed through the earth. Rescue?
“Prime! How fortunate I find you here! How fitting
that we should meet again like this!”
“What?! Starscream? Didn't you die?”
“Didn't you? Now, die again!”
Twenty-eights seconds.
Prime staggered, falling to his knees. The enemy blazed away in airborne vehicle mode. This close, the effects of the null ray were immense. Every system felt like it was on fire. Every system
was on fire. “Starscream! Wait! Our war is long since over! Further conflict is pointless! Why continue this? What's it
for?”
Starscream converted to robot mode and kicked Prime heavily in the chest, breaking vital circuits. “It's ever pointless when it's you and me. And I owe you a death, for what you did to me on the Ark Two.”
Twenty-three seconds.
Prime was thrown into fire. He screamed as the flames licked exposed circuits. How could 'Starscream' know that? Surely this Transformer was merely one of the production line of the Starscream Units from long ago on Cybertron One, re-activated by the presence of his Cybertronian spark on this world? How could it possibly have any memories of the original on which it was based? And he didn't recall Starscream sounding so melodramatic.
Nineteen seconds.
“Starscream, or whoever you are, if I don't reach those controls we'll all die!”
“That was my intent!” Another kick, this time dislodging his left auditory circuits. Prime rolled to the ground and swept his legs under his opponents, knocking him heavily against the scorched wall. He ignored an internal computer warning of imminent spark shut-down and punched the air lieutenant repeatedly in
the face. He had no time for subtlety.
Fourteen seconds.
Damn his optics, Starscream just stood there and laughed as he took the assault. Was the Decepticon enjoying it? Was
he enjoying it?
“No, no. I will not fight you, Decepticon. I am not what I was once. Our war is gone to ashes. And so are you.”
Eleven seconds.
Optimus opened a hatch on the far bulkhead and nimbly tapped at the operations controls within. Not too difficult to decipher. Shouldn't take too long at all-
Prime popped his spare rifle from his rear sub-space shunt, whirled round once, and shot Starscream directly through the cerebral cortex.
Eight seconds.
But Starsream did not die. “Foolish Autobot scum! Did you think I had only one brain?”
Prime tapped frantically with his free hand at his controls. “Not really, no.” He tapped twice more, before turning round again, grabbing his enemy boldly
once, throwing him round and disgorging another round into Starscream's secondary cerebral cortex.
Three seconds.
“You always did talk out your rear input, Starscream.”
Two seconds.
Time slowed in Prime's perceptions. Not long to live now. Perhaps his plan would work, perhaps it would fail. And if it didn't...would that be so bad? To be free of conflict once more? Could be ever leave his warrior past behind him? Was it really him anymore? The humans on the new Blackpool looked up him, trusted him...
It would be so easy to let the countdown reach its' end. He could reverse his last action. Less than two humanian seconds was plenty of time for a Cybertronian to act, millions of computations could be run in that time. To just let time run out...could he do it? Did he
want to? This could be his golden opportunity. There would never be a better time. No-one would ever know.
He could just stop.
Finally catching up with the last inputted command operation, the reactor system shut down. Prime felt no joy, merely surprise. His two seconds had passed quicker than he had realised after all. He merely looked down at the fallen form of the commander of the forces who had perhaps once more re-ignited his ages-old war. “I wonder who you really were,” he muttered. “I doubt I'll ever know.”
STOPOVER TWO: IN ORBIT ABOVE A DEAD WORLD
Optimus wished them well, those humans he had met in orbit above that desolate and ravaged planet. Although their meeting had initially been a little fraught, he could not blame them once he learned that not only had they suffered from recent betrayal but that their homeworld had been invaded by powerful alien forces in each of their preceding three generations. Optimus understood how seemingly unending war, especially after recent events, could make a species suspicious and defensive. He admired their courage, this small band who had set out into space in a single starship - alone and unsupported - in search of something they hoped would give them the strength to stand against the new enemy that had attacked them without warning. A band whose spirit was not broken by seemingly endless war, but who had even managed to find the strength to show compassion to defeated foes and even to form emotional bonds across the barricades and to opt to try to make peace rather than to seek the total annihilation of their foes. Although they were in no position to provide aid to Colony Blackpool, Optimus had nevertheless extended an invitation to them to visit should their extended voyage into the depths of space carry them near populated regions in years to come. He hoped that they would find what they were looking for. Their resolve confirmed him in his determination to succeed in his own quest. And he felt a kinship with them, for they too had faced the same race that had invaded Planet Pegasus.
FIVE
“Mirage! I thought you had long since left this life!”
“I have.”
“Then how - “
“I'm not here. And neither are you. Or do you not recall how - “
“Ah, yes. I fell into the memory pool.”
“Yes, and you're about to be fished out in just a moment, but I've got time for a quick story if you'd like. A true story.”
“Oh go on then.”
“Very well. Once, long ago, there was a mighty warrior, cruel and cunning with a charisma unmatched by his contemporaries. One of the names he went by was 'Megatron'. Across time and space his armies ravaged worlds both civilised and barbaric. Nothing could stop them, nothing. Neither their direct enemies, the Autobots, nor the Swarm, nor the Nosmoht. The rival Decepticon Empires were cut down, the Humanian Empire was decimated, the Gobots ran shrieking into their night. Time and again, Megatron would appear to be lost, but always he survived and returned, more determined than ever. Reborn,
regenerated in ever more destructive and evil forms. Until, eventually, there came a day like no other, beyond the Antares Rim, beneath the Far Ridge, down in the Valley of the Kings. It was approaching dusk, the air pregnant with possibilities. It was there that a lowly servant felled him in combat with one clever and incisive move. It is said that when Megatron fell, he said one word, just one word, to his executioner. It was enough to turn him to stone.
Even in death, Megatron was feared. His body was broken up, spirited away. Why, it's even possible that his head was put in a - “
Light flooded through Prime's vision. Strong arms gripped him, hauling him to the deck as viscous fluid drained out of exposed sections of his exo-plating.
A story. It had just been a story. Or...had it?
FOUR
The riot of colour and sounds was almost more than Optimus' sensors could process. So many species gathered in one place. Species whose original homeworlds lay half the cosmos away. Organics, mechanicals and hybrid species. Insectoid, humanoid, Caninoid, Felinoid species were only the beginning of it. There were crystalline sentients, mats of vegetation with advanced cognitive capacities. Species so different that one would have thought that they had nothing in common. Yet they were trying to find some common ground. An entire planet of idealists who had travelled far from home to try to perfect a dream of brotherhood and harmony between different cultures and species. To find a way to celebrate their differences, not to fear them, and to gain strength from diversity. That such a place could exist in the universe gave Prime hope that his quest was not in vain.
THREE
It had initially been a surprise when this world had been revealed to be the same as the third planet surveyed in this voyage, the machine world visited by Combat Deck. They hung low in orbit above the equator, the machine beings below scrambling for cover, or possibly doing something else. If the planet could swing through space of its own accord, who knew what else was possible.
“Move, Deck! Move! I have to kill it!”
“No, Optimus. I will always be between you and the planet.”
“You weren't there when it tore through Cybertron or when it ate half of Earth Two. You weren't there when your sons were sent screaming into its maw! There are not the words for this creature. Look deep within your worst imaginings and there you will find it. And it has a name. A name that you kept from me – from us. How could you possibly want Uni - “
“Ssssssh! Words have power, and that word no longer has meaning for it. Though you once knew it as...something else, it has changed. It has evolved. It has given birth to an entirely new species. Killing it would be entirely against your - our - creed.”
“Attitudes adapt with the times. Perhaps you have not been paying attention recently.”
Roller swung round behind Optimus, also facing Combat Deck. Two against one. “I see. I always was the violent part of us that you just could not accept, Optimus. No wonder you kept me deactivated in your cupboard in the Ark Twelve. Couldn't have the troops see your bloodthirsty side, eh? Oh, you look shocked. Thought I had forgotten, eh? Idiot. An elephant never forgets, especially a Cybernetic one.”
Optimus looked down below his feet at the planet before. It was smaller, the horns and orbital belt were gone, but the malevolence remained. What was it up to now? Could it never die? And how had his Deck become embroiled within its schemes? Cybertron One was gone...
“Deck. It was necessary - “
“Don't talk to me about what was necessary. Your time is passing and, oh never mind –
MIND GAP!”
Instantaneously, Optimus Prime and Roller shut down, vital systems powered down by the kill-switch command pulse from the Combat Deck. They spun slowly in orbit. Starlight flicked off the edges of their limbs. They looked so peaceful.
Deck would take them down to the surface for modifications shortly, install memory patches that would cover recent events, and so forth. They didn't know this world at all. It would do great things. Great and new and wonderful, wonderful things! No-one would ever see it coming. And until that time Deck would remain in silent commune with it, biding time. Optimus Prime would regret the day he had turned his back on him.
TWO
This worlds' place in history was a lie. It had to be. In the histories of many civilisations in this part of space this planet played an important role, and yet analysis clearly showed that the planet itself was only a few thousand years old. The non-sapient species that existed on its surface showed clear evidence of having their origins in the laboratory, not in a primordial soup. A clever campaign of deception had been undertaken, subtly planting information to lead other worlds into believing that this planet had always been here, but it was far from the case.
But that was not what disturbed Optimus Prime most. Even the planet's Cybertron-standard gravity was a lie, created by gravitic manipulation systems embedded into the moulded crust of the planet. The planet itself lacked sufficient mass to generate such gravity. In truth it wasn't even a planet, but a shell of matter formed around a vast hollow space. And inside that hollow shell, according to all of Combat Deck's sensors was.....Nothing. Not simply an empty space, or even a vacuum more perfect than space itself. Nothing, at all. An absolute absence of
anything at all. No matter, no energy, nor space nor time existed within the shell that masqueraded as a world. It was as if it encapsulated a complete absence of the universe.
Optimus turned his course away from the strange shell-world and the Nothing that it hid from view. He was not afraid of it as such, but it would not help him in his mission - and what could be learned in the final analysis from nothing......? He didn't know.
And neither did Nothing.
ONE
In some ways it had felt like an anticlimax. There was no grief or strife upon the last world they visited. No wars to fight, no discrimination to combat. Merely a simple, straight-forward and pleasant exchange of ideas and commerce with the miniature quaint purple organics that roamed within the webbed domes on the surface. Their ears quivered excitedly as they spoke, it was quite something to see. No, they had not met artificial beings before, and yes it was fascinating, and indeed they would love to trade with the humans they represented.
Later, Optimus stood upon a hill, watching another sunset caused by a star he had grown ever more distant from, waiting for Deck to come pick up Roller and himself. He was surprised by how much the sight of the sun ached him. This was a new feeling, something he had not felt for some time. A few of the worlds visited had not met mission parameters, logically he should continue voyaging on for a while longer.
And yet, the further he went, the longer it would take to return to his point of origin and more and more of his new organic human friends would have died of old age by the time of his homecoming.
Home. Yes, indeed.
“Home, Roller.” Verbalising it crystallised his feelings, made it seem more real. “Do you see it? It's over there, second star on the right and straight on till morning.”
No more fighting.
It was time to go home.
ELSEWHERE
A vessel knifed through the blackness of space, hidden behind complex cloaking signals that rendered it invisible to almost any method of detection. The disc-like vessel seemed to rotate around it's axis as it moved through the dark, yet somehow it appeared predatory and dangerous - as if some part of the spirit of its builders was expressed in its nature. It seemed to cut through the space between celestial objects as if the void was an enemy to be attacked and conquered, as all things were to the vessel's masters.
In a great chamber within the throbbing heart of the ship the huge form of an emperor held court, addressing itself to its black-armoured subordinate. It's booming voice echoed around the chamber, making it seem even larger than it already was,
“The forces of Planet Pegasus have been attacked. Our hand has been revealed and our new empire has been placed in jeopardy,” the emperor declared, “we must intervene to correct this matter. We must retaliate against Optimus Prime for his interference in our plans.”
“OPTIMUS-PRIME-IS-OUR-ENEMY. WE-WILL-PURSUE-AND-EXTERMINATE-HIM!” The emperors subordinate grated.
“No,” the emperor ordered, “Optimus Prime is cunning and resourceful. A direct assault stands a high probability of failure. Failure will not be tolerated.”
“I-OBEY”
“ He spoke of his world. We will proceed to this 'Earth Colony Blackpool'. We shall destroy those that Optimus Prime protects. He will learn the futility of defiance.”
“WE-SHALL-DESTROY-Alllllll! NOTHING-WILL-STAND-IN-OUR-WAY! WE-WILL-BECOME-THE-SUPREME-RULERS-OF-THE-UNIVERSE! NO-ONE-WILL-BE-ABLE-TO-STOP-US!”
TRANSIT
Optimus Prime visibly glowered as the message from Colony Blackpool was displayed on the main monitor of Combat Deck's Bridge. There was no doubt, Home was under attack and by an enemy that they knew all too well.
“Damn and blast! Reluctantly, I must concur, Deck,” the Prime unit nodded, “we cannot reach Colony Blackpool in time to intervene. Somehow they have tracked out outward flightpath and located the colony. We have brought great danger to our home.” Combat Deck had been calculating courses and velocities even as the Prime unit had watched the replay of the distress call.
“I see. Yes indeed, we are too far away and the hyperspatial tides are not favourable. We will not be able to reach Colony Blackpool in time to intervene. If only there was something we could...something..,” Prime thought for a moment. “However,” he observed as a plan gathered pace within his mind. He found himself pacing the Bridge as he spoke. Yes, they could try it. “We were not the only one to fall at the battle of Iacon's Shadow. There is...another who might intervene. He does have experience of fighting this enemy.” Prime sighed, “It would have to be him though. Oh, very well, send the signal. If we are to be damned, let us be damned with style. And best speed to Blackpool.”
EARTH COLONY BLACKPOOL
A signal is carried on fluctuations in the space-time continuum. It is a shadow, a mirror-trace of a signal winging its way through a hyperspace, passing through and around planets and worlds until it nears its destination. It passes through the rock and soil of Colony Blackpool's surface. It is a simple signal, not even transmitted in code - because its content is too devoid of context for anyone other than its intended recipient to find much meaning in it. A glyph that in a forgotten language might translate as 'first' or 'best' accompanied solely by the words 'at this time'.
Below the surface - in a deep, dark and long forgotten cave, a mere crevice in the skin of the world - a receiver waits. It has been waiting for a long time, it's only purpose to receive this signal and to act upon it. Alongside the receiver something slumbers. A humanoid form that has waited here for lifetimes, held in stasis against the time when his help would be needed once more - a time of galactic crisis. He has slept here, his wounds healing, ready to return at the galaxy's hour of need. Now, ancient revival mechanisms come to life. They are awakening the slumbering champion, bringing him back from his stasis in order to confront enemies he knows only too well. Eye-lids flick open as he sits up. He takes in his surroundings with a swift scan around the cave.
“Oh gosh! Oh golly! Oh my!” says Longtooth.
NOT THE END
RB/KT
6/12/07
