Post by grahamthomson on Dec 22, 2010 19:52:56 GMT
THE CHRISTMAS SIREN
Written by Graham Thomson
It was Christmas Eve, 1989.
The Autobots’ spacecraft, The Ark, continued to loop around the planet Earth in a wide, elliptical orbit.
In the bowels of the craft, inside the port-most shuttle bay, a lone Autobot was on one knee, a small instrument held lightly in his hand, looking for clues. The shuttle bay was silent with dim lights that barely illuminated the shuttle it housed. A light flow of cool air brushed past the Autobot.
His name was Nightbeat. He was a detective.
He liked to enter a room, any room, open his receptors and let the data flood his mind. He would correlate input streams with memory reservoirs, mix the present with the past, new events with past experience. He would number-crunch, play a hunch. He would always arrive at the correct conclusion. It was his gift.
He was peerless in his field. He worked best alone. He gazed through his hand-held optical enhancer. It was old technology but he trusted it. It hadn’t been calibrated for over ten thousand years. It was his most personal possession, the key to his fondest memory.
Nightbeat didn’t like change, he didn’t like company. Despite his Nebulan companion—Muzzle, a detective from the planet Nebulos—fitting perfectly, he didn’t like being a Headmaster. But most of all, Nightbeat didn’t like being interrupte—
“Oh, hai!” said Siren, a half-moon grin beaming across his face. His loud, unwelcome voice echoed around the shuttle bay, bouncing from wall to wall before finally hitting Nightbeat.
Nightbeat flinched and dropped the age-old instrument. Its glass lense shattered on the floor.
“Dammit, Siren!”
Siren kept smiling. “Oh no!” he said. “Lubricant fingers!”
Nightbeat scrabbled on the floor, sweeping up shards of his trusted detective tool into his hands.
“We can get you another one!” Siren shouted.
“No you can’t,” Nightbeat replied with a broken voice. “It’s irreplaceable.”
Siren continued to smile. How Nightbeat hated that smile. “Sure it is. It’s only an object.”
Nightbeat decided to keep his next thought to himself.
Siren walked up to Nightbeat and slapped him hard on the shoulder, causing him to drop the pieces of his broken instrument. “So, what’s happening in here, then?”
“Nothing,” said Nightbeat. “And, please, keep your volume down.”
“Oh!” sang Siren. “Sorry. Are you not supposed to be in here?”
Nightbeat rose to his feet. “No, I’m not,” he seethed. “And please: shush.”
Siren took a step back and slowly mouthed: “Sorry.”
Nightbeat turned away and marched into the shuttle. Siren quickly followed. The shuttle was of the standard Autobot template with an elementary cabin design and controls so push-button that even a Dinobot could pilot it.
“Has there been a murder?” Siren asked.
Nightbeat shook his head. “No, Siren. I do investigate other things as well. And, anyway, what makes you think that?”
“Well, you always look like you want to kill me.”
Nightbeat bit his lip. “The thought would never cross my mind.”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
“It’s nothing, Siren, now please just leave me alone. If we get—”
“Caught?” It was Kup. Standing at the entrance of the shuttle. His face, old and dry, was like crumpled tin-foil. “You two shouldn’t be in here.”
Nightbeat glared at Kup and then turned to frown at Siren.
Kup laughed. “We could hear Siren all the way from the central security station on Level 4. Really, Siren, don’t you have a muzzle?”
Siren replied: “Come on, Old Timer, it’s Nightbeat’s partner who’s Muzzle, not mine.”
Nightbeat quickly covered his mouth to hide a smile.
“Very funny, Siren. Get out of here, I want a word with Nightbeat. Now.”
Siren skulked out of the shuttle.
“A ‘no’ from Optimus Prime himself isn’t good enough for you, is it?” Kup asked sternly.
“It’s a quest,” said Nightbeat, “Who better than me to help?”
“You already know the reason. You can’t work as part of a team. You might think yourself a cool, brooding loner, but we can’t send you halfway across the galaxy to look for the Matrix when you refuse to work with anyone.”
“I function better alone.”
“Prime wants teams of three. That’s just the way it is.”
“I can do this, Kup.”
“It’s not up to me, Nightbeat.”
The Autobot detective sunk into the shuttle’s navigation seat. “So who has he picked for this shuttle?”
Kup smiled smugly. “I’m glad you asked. I’m taking this shuttle, along with Hot Rod and Blurr.”
“That must have taken some exhaust polishing...”
“You’re new here, kid, so I’ll let that one slide. I’m in charge of security of the Ark, Prime trusts me.”
Nightbeat stood. “Aw gosh, Kup, but with you gone, how will the Ark be able to defend itself from attack?”
Kup’s posture stiffened. “That’s enough, Nightbeat. You’ll want to change your tone if you don’t want a night in the brig.”
“Do it, Kup. Maybe I’ll get the peace and quiet I crave.”
“Suit yourself.” Kup unholstered his musket laser from his thigh and pushed it into Nightbeat’s chest.
Quicker than Kup could react, Nightbeat snatched the weapon from him and held it up, out of reach. “Leave me alone, Kup, I’m not in the mood.”
Kup considered his options and then quickly turned on his heel. “Don’t think I won’t report this. We don’t need someone like you on our side.”
As soon as Kup had left the shuttle, Siren reappeared. “Has he gone?” he chirped.
“He’ll be back with some muscle. I’ll be spending tonight in confinement.” He threw the musket laser to the floor in contempt.
“Ah, don’t mind him. If I had that much rust in my—”
“Ask me why I like being alone.”
“What?”
“Ask me why the very sound of your over amplified voice pulls at my nerves and your clumsy gestures set me on edge.”
“Now you’re just being rude.”
“Then, please, leave me alone.”
“You’re too goal orientated, Nightbeat. You need to learn there’s more to life than the end result of a one-manned investigation.” Siren approached Nightbeat, offering a hand.
“I said leave me alone.”
Siren’s foot connected with the musket laser and he tripped. Nightbeat dodged the falling Autobot. Siren landed on the shuttle’s main control console, arms spread wide.
The shuttle suddenly hummed into life.
“Oh slag!” Siren shouted.
“Voice command accepted,” said the shuttle’s computer.
“Voice command?”
Nightbeat helped Siren to his feet. “It must be an automatic launch sequence.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say that when Grimlock got the Ark spaceworthy again, he programmed the shuttles to launch at one-word commands; one for each of his Dinobots.”
“But that’s so stupid.”
“It’s also so Grimlock.”
The shuttle’s anti gravity thrusters burst into life and the shuttle itself lifted from the floor.
“How do we stop it?” Siren asked.
“That, I don’t know.”
Siren shouted: “No slag! Un-slag! Slag, no more!”
“Be quiet, you idiot!”
A red alert suddenly sounded as the shuttle bay’s airlocks were activated.
“This is not happening,” said Nightbeat.
“Can you fly this thing?”
“Can you?”
The shuttle automatically positioned itself in front of the bay’s main door and waited. With all the internal airlocks in place, the outer door slid open and within seconds the shuttle shot out of the Ark and into space and any chance Nightbeat had of being assigned to the Matrix quest were sucked out with the regulated atmosphere.
* * *
The traffic on Breezy Point Road had been building up for most of the evening. The harsh wintry conditions had blanketed the city of Winnipeg in several feet of snow. The local news broadcasts proclaimed the weather to be the worst on record. Residents were warned not to travel unless absolutely necessary.
It was advice that Neil Lachance had no choice but to ignore. And not least because of his sister. Poking through the holes in his gloves, his blue fingers gripped the steering wheel of his van. The journey from Seven Oaks General Hospital to home normally took just over two hours, but tonight he wasn’t even halfway there and was already on hour four.
“You doin’ okay back there?” he asked his sister.
Keely peeled the rubber oxygen mask from her face. “A-OK,” she breathed.
Neil glanced into his rear-view mirror and smiled. His white teeth shone through the bristles of his untidy stubble.
Keely smiled back, even raised her arm for a thumbs up. She sat in her steel-framed wheelchair wrapped in a blue blanket, holding the oxygen mask to her face. The oxygen cannisters behind her rattled. She was surrounded by all manner of amplifiers, lighting rigs and various audio equipment. Her brother’s black touring van bore little resemblance to the ambulance she should have been in.
Neil was three years younger than his sister, herself in her mid-twenties. She was always the one to protect him, to act as the buffer between him and their parents, especially when it came to the band. Black Ice, they called themselves, and on a night like this, it couldn’t have been a more appropriate name.
Neil’s van veered from one side of the lane to the other, drifting in the snow. The windscreen, despite the rapid flicking of the wipers, was more like a television without signal than a window. The radio hissed; the thick white weather too dense for any transmissions. He kept his speed steady, just under fifty miles per hour. He knew it annoyed the cars behind, but that was the least of his concerns.
“Much longer?” Keely asked.
“Depends which Christmas we want to get home for.”
“The sprouts will be over-done no matter when we arrive.”
Neil laughed.
“Neil?”
“Don’t mention it,” he pre-empted.
“But what about Natalie?”
“I can restring that guitar another time!”
“If mom heard you talk like that...”
The weather seemed to clear for a moment, and Neil could see the road ahead. He peered out. There was a light in the sky. “Is that a shooting star?”
A moment later, Neil’s van plunged into a wall of white.
“You okay?” Siren asked Nightbeat.
“Fine. All things considered.”
“What about Muzzle?”
“Unconscious.”
“Same for Quig. We’d best stay in robot mode.”
“Agreed.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Leave it, Siren.”
“This wasn’t my fault, you know.”
“...”
Nightbeat emerged from the buckled Autobot shuttle, arms spread wide to help his balance on the ice. He couldn’t see a thing. The air was thick with a frenzied mixture of snow, sleet and hail. The wind battered his audio senors.
As did Siren’s voice.
“We were lucky,” Siren commented. “As soon as we hit that satellite, I knew the only way was straight down. Still... any landing you can walk away from...”
“Please,” begged Nightbeat. “Please, just shut up. Just for a minute.”
“We’re lucky to be alive!”
Nightbeat rattled his head in frustration. “It’s freezing here.”
“Well, trust us to land on a planet with a tilted axis.”
Nightbeat glared at Siren. “Any chance I had of being part of the Matrix quest has plummeted along with the temperature.”
Siren offered a weak smile. “Let’s just get our bearings and get out of this mess. Radios are nigh useless in this weather. We just need to find the nearest Blackrock service station and take it from there.”
“I’ll go,” said Nightbeat.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No!” Nightbeat snapped. “I’m going on my own.”
“You can’t just leave me here.”
“I work best alone. I prefer it.”
“This is something of an emergency, we need to act as a team.”
“No way. You and I are not a team, not even close to a team.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not joking, Siren. I’m walking away from this. You go find a Blackrock station as well, but you do it on your own.”
“But why?”
“Why?!” Nightbeat threw up his arms. “This is all your fault. You got us into this situation. And what a situation! One minute, comfortable at home, and not a breem later, crashlanded on Earth in the worst blizzard I’ve ever seen on any planet!”
“Now, that’s not fair.”
“Fair?! Fair would be me, on my own, indulging myself in some peaceful solitude.” Nightbeat began to walk away.
“Please just let me come with you.”
“How many times must I say ‘no’? Do not follow me. I can’t stand it when you follow me!”
“But I like to follow you. You’re always up to something, it’s interesting.” Siren said, with wide, apologetic eyes.
“You’re loud, you’re clumsy, and you’ve got the most annoyingly sunny disposition that’s two rads short of supernova,” Nightbeat shouted, not quite appreciating how bitter he sounded. “I do not like these qualities.”
Siren’s face dropped. “Point made,” he nodded, his tone drifting towards the sarcastic. “I see I just need a complete personality reboot for you to be able to bear my company. If only they’d just turned down the noise in the Sonic Canyons. You know, that quiet little place where I was poured and programmed.”
Nightbeat continued to walk away from Siren and the shuttle into the white ahead.
Siren continued, but his words faded into noise as the storm raged. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
* * *
The front of Neil’s van had buckled in the crash, his unconscious form sprawled over the steering wheel. There was a cut across his forehead, but the cold had stemmed the flow of blood.
Keely had given up shouting for help over an hour ago. She was breathless. She felt weak and the weather had chilled her to the bone. Outside the van she could hear voices. The line of traffic behind them had shunted into the back of the van like an all-American car concertina. At least Neil hadn’t been travelling fast, and she was thankful for some uncharacteristic caution on his part.
The voices suddenly changed. Though she couldn’t make out the actual words, it was as if a wimpering, pained dog had turned aggressive and began barking and bearing teeth.
A new voice, decidedly synthesised suddenly rang out. “It’s okay,” it bellowed. “I’m an Autobot.”
There was a strange sound, like metal sliding on ice, then a sudden crash quickly followed by: “Dammit!”
Momentary silence.
The door to her brother’s van slid open, giant black fingers wrapping themselves around the edge. Keely stifled herself.
“Anyone injured?” the robot asked.
Keely moved her hands to her ears. The robot’s loud voice shook the van. She pointed to her brother.
The robot, crouched uncomfortably, peered into the back of the van, focusing intently on Keely.
“Let me guess,” the robot said with a smile. “You’re on the way home from hospital, a brother ferrying you in his own van instead of a standard ambulance. You were shot in the line of duty, a clean shot that perforated your diaphragm and part of your lung. You’re a cop, but office-based, which is why you weren’t wearing any kind of bullet proof jacket at the time. Am I close?”
Keely was stunned. “Dead on,” she said. “How did you know?”
The robot smiled. “It’s all in the evidence: the oxygen cannisters, your stiff body language and the propensity of your race for administration errors.”
Keely nodded and allowed herself to laugh. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, my name is unpronounceable in your language,” the robot said proudly.
“I can speak French as well, if that helps.”
“You can call me by my code name: Nightbeat.”
“So, you’re also a cop.”
“In a manner of speaking. What’s your code name?”
“Keely.”
“Pleased to meet you. And your brother?”
“Neil. I think he’s unconscious. Can you make sure he doesn’t swallow his tongue?”
Nightbeat paused and cocked his head, as if checking a database of human anatomy. He quickly removed Neil’s shoes and threw them out of the van and onto the icy road. “There,” he said proudly.
Keely shook her head. “Not the tongues in his shoes!”
Nightbeat was suddenly embarrassed. “I guess I should have known that,” he admitted. “I’m a Headmaster after all.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
“I’ve heard about you Transformers,” Keely said. “You’re all over the news these days. I thought you were a highly advanced alien robot.”
“I am!”
“To me you’re just loud and clumsy.”
“Ouch,” said Nightbeat with no small amount of irony.
“So, you’re here to help, right?”
“It’s pretty treacherous out there,” Nightbeat said. “I have a vehicle mode, but I’m afraid it’s a Porsche, and no real use at all in this weather.”
Keely lowered her head. “I need oxygen.”
“All humans do.”
“No, I mean...” she gestured to the used cannisters that littered the floor. “We only had enough to get me home for Christmas, but we weren’t expecting to crash.”
A wave of guilt flooded Nightbeat’s circuits. “Christmas?”
“Surely your databanks have information about Christmas.”
“Just that it’s a human celebration with peace and goodwill extended to all.”
“That’s about the size of it. That’s why I’m here. We were supposed to be celebrating Christmas as a family, and my parents can’t really afford to come into the city, certainly not to stay in a hotel while I’m in hospital.”
“Your brother certainly seems generous then.”
“He is. Very. He gave up a lot tonight,” Keely smiled. “Do you have a brother?”
“Primus, no!” Nightbeat said. “I prefer my own company.”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s just the way I am.”
Keely shuffled in her wheelchair and pulled the blanket higher up her neck. “Then you probably don’t observe Christmas.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t have anyone to offer any peace or goodwill.”
Nightbeat thought of Siren, of the things he’d said, the way he treated him. He changed the subject. “Look,” he told Keely, “I’m just going to see if anyone else needs help and find a way of getting help.”
“Okay,” she replied. “But watch that ice. Clumsy.”
* * *
Outside the van, the blizzard continued.
Nightbeat tried his radio. Nothing.
The other humans had remained in their vehicles. Headlights tried their best to shine through the falling snow. There was nothing he could really do, except continue down Breezy Point Road and hope he’d reach a human settlement before he ran out of energon.
Through the wind he could hear Keely calling his name.
He returned to Neil’s van. Neil had regained consciousness. Nightbeat was relieved.
“Hello Neil,” Nightbeat said.
Neil blinked. “Uh, hi.”
“This is Nightbeat,” Keely said. “He doesn’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with.”
“Aww,” said Neil. “Well, you’re welcome to come to ours. If we ever get out of this.”
“Thanks, but I prefer to—”
“—be alone,” Keely finished. “You know what?”
“What?”
“There must be someone you’re close to, someone you work with?”
“I’m afraid I have very little tolerance for others.”
“Wow,” said Neil.
Keely shifted again in her wheelchair. “You know, at work we have seminars all the time about ‘tolerance’.”
“Oh?”
“I hate the word. We get lectures on religious tolerance, tolerance for minorities, for immigrants, for the LGBT community...”
“Are you saying tolerance is a bad thing?”
“In a manner of speaking. We shouldn’t be taught to just ‘tolerate’ groups of people we don’t like or understand or who are roll-of-the-dice different to us. We shouldn’t tolerate them, we should accept them.”
Neil interrupted: “This is my big sister’s Christmas message. We get it every year.”
“Yeah, but I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I should say so,” Neil replied. He turned to Nightbeat. “I’m what you might call the bad egg of the family, but Keely showed my parents that they could accept me for who I am, not just tolerate me.”
Nightbeat nodded his head.
“So,” Keely said. “If there are no other Autobots that you can tolerate, are there any that you could actually accept?”
“Uhm.”
“Put it this way: My first impression of you was that you were loud and clumsy, but then I realised, you’re out of your depth down here in these weather conditions. I accepted you.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Neil said.
“There is someone,” Nightbeat admitted. “He is loud. He is clumsy. And when he tags along on my investigations, he is so very out of his depth.”
Keely smiled broadly. “Well, there you go. You can accept him for who he is.”
Neil suddenly slammed his fists on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and screamed: “Help!”
“Neil!” Keely wheezed. “Stop being pointless! There is nobody here than can make any sound loud enough to call for help in this weather.”
“Oh yes, there is!” Nightbeat realised. “I’ll be right back!”
“Nightbeat,” Keely breathed. “Please hurry.” She held up the last remaining oxygen cannister. “I literally have an hour left.”
* * *
“You came back!” Siren sang.
Nightbeat skidded across the ice, arms flailing as he almost crashed into the Autobot shuttle. “I did!” he shouted.
Siren was quite taken aback as Nightbeat threw a hand towards him, cupping his shoulder.
“I’ve been awful to you,” Nightbeat said. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve gone mad with lack of energon,” Siren said.
“No, I’m serious. I’m sorry.”
“Er, apology accepted. Did I pass?”
“Pass? No, no, this isn’t a test. I’m not testing you.”
“Are you sure, because I always feel so stupid around you.”
“I know, and that’s my fault. I’ve just been talking to some humans and they made me feel stupid. I mean, not on purpose, but they made me realise something.”
“That you don’t make much sense when you’re in an uncharacteristic good mood?”
Nightbeat laughed. For the first time he allowed himself to laugh with Siren. “No, they made me realise that all I had to do was accept you for who you are. It’s Keely’s Christmas message!”
Siren shrugged his shoulders. “I think we need to let Fixit take a look at you.”
Nightbeat grabbed both of Siren’s shoulders, almost hugging him. “Be you,” he smiled. “Be loud.”
“I don’t—”
“Be you,” Nightbeat repeated. “Be as loud as you possibly can. Sound your horn, flash your lights.”
Siren smiled, realising what Nightbeat was asking him to do. “Are you sure?”
“Show this dark night how bright you really are.”
* * *
“The humans are calling him ‘The Christmas Siren’,” Optimus said.
“I know, and isn’t he just loving the attention!”
“And quite rightly so. You both should be proud. You saved a lot of lives down there tonight.”
“Well it was all Siren, to be fair.”
“No,” said Optimus. “You were the one who recognised his potential, you encouraged him. Which is why I know you’ll make an excellent mission commander.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nightbeat said humbly. “It’s an honour to be part of the Matrix quest.”
“I know you’ll rise to the challenge.”
“I just hope Kup’s not too upset about getting replaced.”
“Oh, I’m sure at his age, it’s something he’ll forget very quickly.”
“Do I detect a trace of humour in your voice?”
“You’re the only one who can.”
* * *
It was Christmas Day, 1989.
Nightbeat was in his quarters enjoying the calm before the storm. He was packing a storage unit with essential items for pan-galactic travel.
“Oh, hai!” Siren sang as he burst into the room. “‘Merry Christmas!’ as the humans say.”
Nightbeat shook his head. “Merry Christmas Siren.”
“I got you a gift,” Siren said, offering a small black package. “It’s something I put together.”
Nightbeat opened the gift. It was a round lense mounted on a slender silver handle.
“Sorry I broke your old one,” Siren said. “I know you said it was irreplaceable, but I hope this helps.”
“Where did you—?”
“I pinched a spare part optical sensor from Fixit’s med bay.”
Nightbeat shook his head and let a smile break open. “I have a gift for you as well.”
“You do?”
“One of the humans we helped save, Neil, let me have it to give to you.”
Siren clapped his hands.
Nightbeat passed him a palm-sized black box. Across the top was a row of silver knobs and two level indicators. “I thought it apt,” Nightbeat said. “Neil called it an amplifier.”
Siren grinned.
Speechless.
The end
Written by Graham Thomson, 2010.
Written by Graham Thomson
It was Christmas Eve, 1989.
The Autobots’ spacecraft, The Ark, continued to loop around the planet Earth in a wide, elliptical orbit.
In the bowels of the craft, inside the port-most shuttle bay, a lone Autobot was on one knee, a small instrument held lightly in his hand, looking for clues. The shuttle bay was silent with dim lights that barely illuminated the shuttle it housed. A light flow of cool air brushed past the Autobot.
His name was Nightbeat. He was a detective.
He liked to enter a room, any room, open his receptors and let the data flood his mind. He would correlate input streams with memory reservoirs, mix the present with the past, new events with past experience. He would number-crunch, play a hunch. He would always arrive at the correct conclusion. It was his gift.
He was peerless in his field. He worked best alone. He gazed through his hand-held optical enhancer. It was old technology but he trusted it. It hadn’t been calibrated for over ten thousand years. It was his most personal possession, the key to his fondest memory.
Nightbeat didn’t like change, he didn’t like company. Despite his Nebulan companion—Muzzle, a detective from the planet Nebulos—fitting perfectly, he didn’t like being a Headmaster. But most of all, Nightbeat didn’t like being interrupte—
“Oh, hai!” said Siren, a half-moon grin beaming across his face. His loud, unwelcome voice echoed around the shuttle bay, bouncing from wall to wall before finally hitting Nightbeat.
Nightbeat flinched and dropped the age-old instrument. Its glass lense shattered on the floor.
“Dammit, Siren!”
Siren kept smiling. “Oh no!” he said. “Lubricant fingers!”
Nightbeat scrabbled on the floor, sweeping up shards of his trusted detective tool into his hands.
“We can get you another one!” Siren shouted.
“No you can’t,” Nightbeat replied with a broken voice. “It’s irreplaceable.”
Siren continued to smile. How Nightbeat hated that smile. “Sure it is. It’s only an object.”
Nightbeat decided to keep his next thought to himself.
Siren walked up to Nightbeat and slapped him hard on the shoulder, causing him to drop the pieces of his broken instrument. “So, what’s happening in here, then?”
“Nothing,” said Nightbeat. “And, please, keep your volume down.”
“Oh!” sang Siren. “Sorry. Are you not supposed to be in here?”
Nightbeat rose to his feet. “No, I’m not,” he seethed. “And please: shush.”
Siren took a step back and slowly mouthed: “Sorry.”
Nightbeat turned away and marched into the shuttle. Siren quickly followed. The shuttle was of the standard Autobot template with an elementary cabin design and controls so push-button that even a Dinobot could pilot it.
“Has there been a murder?” Siren asked.
Nightbeat shook his head. “No, Siren. I do investigate other things as well. And, anyway, what makes you think that?”
“Well, you always look like you want to kill me.”
Nightbeat bit his lip. “The thought would never cross my mind.”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
“It’s nothing, Siren, now please just leave me alone. If we get—”
“Caught?” It was Kup. Standing at the entrance of the shuttle. His face, old and dry, was like crumpled tin-foil. “You two shouldn’t be in here.”
Nightbeat glared at Kup and then turned to frown at Siren.
Kup laughed. “We could hear Siren all the way from the central security station on Level 4. Really, Siren, don’t you have a muzzle?”
Siren replied: “Come on, Old Timer, it’s Nightbeat’s partner who’s Muzzle, not mine.”
Nightbeat quickly covered his mouth to hide a smile.
“Very funny, Siren. Get out of here, I want a word with Nightbeat. Now.”
Siren skulked out of the shuttle.
“A ‘no’ from Optimus Prime himself isn’t good enough for you, is it?” Kup asked sternly.
“It’s a quest,” said Nightbeat, “Who better than me to help?”
“You already know the reason. You can’t work as part of a team. You might think yourself a cool, brooding loner, but we can’t send you halfway across the galaxy to look for the Matrix when you refuse to work with anyone.”
“I function better alone.”
“Prime wants teams of three. That’s just the way it is.”
“I can do this, Kup.”
“It’s not up to me, Nightbeat.”
The Autobot detective sunk into the shuttle’s navigation seat. “So who has he picked for this shuttle?”
Kup smiled smugly. “I’m glad you asked. I’m taking this shuttle, along with Hot Rod and Blurr.”
“That must have taken some exhaust polishing...”
“You’re new here, kid, so I’ll let that one slide. I’m in charge of security of the Ark, Prime trusts me.”
Nightbeat stood. “Aw gosh, Kup, but with you gone, how will the Ark be able to defend itself from attack?”
Kup’s posture stiffened. “That’s enough, Nightbeat. You’ll want to change your tone if you don’t want a night in the brig.”
“Do it, Kup. Maybe I’ll get the peace and quiet I crave.”
“Suit yourself.” Kup unholstered his musket laser from his thigh and pushed it into Nightbeat’s chest.
Quicker than Kup could react, Nightbeat snatched the weapon from him and held it up, out of reach. “Leave me alone, Kup, I’m not in the mood.”
Kup considered his options and then quickly turned on his heel. “Don’t think I won’t report this. We don’t need someone like you on our side.”
As soon as Kup had left the shuttle, Siren reappeared. “Has he gone?” he chirped.
“He’ll be back with some muscle. I’ll be spending tonight in confinement.” He threw the musket laser to the floor in contempt.
“Ah, don’t mind him. If I had that much rust in my—”
“Ask me why I like being alone.”
“What?”
“Ask me why the very sound of your over amplified voice pulls at my nerves and your clumsy gestures set me on edge.”
“Now you’re just being rude.”
“Then, please, leave me alone.”
“You’re too goal orientated, Nightbeat. You need to learn there’s more to life than the end result of a one-manned investigation.” Siren approached Nightbeat, offering a hand.
“I said leave me alone.”
Siren’s foot connected with the musket laser and he tripped. Nightbeat dodged the falling Autobot. Siren landed on the shuttle’s main control console, arms spread wide.
The shuttle suddenly hummed into life.
“Oh slag!” Siren shouted.
“Voice command accepted,” said the shuttle’s computer.
“Voice command?”
Nightbeat helped Siren to his feet. “It must be an automatic launch sequence.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say that when Grimlock got the Ark spaceworthy again, he programmed the shuttles to launch at one-word commands; one for each of his Dinobots.”
“But that’s so stupid.”
“It’s also so Grimlock.”
The shuttle’s anti gravity thrusters burst into life and the shuttle itself lifted from the floor.
“How do we stop it?” Siren asked.
“That, I don’t know.”
Siren shouted: “No slag! Un-slag! Slag, no more!”
“Be quiet, you idiot!”
A red alert suddenly sounded as the shuttle bay’s airlocks were activated.
“This is not happening,” said Nightbeat.
“Can you fly this thing?”
“Can you?”
The shuttle automatically positioned itself in front of the bay’s main door and waited. With all the internal airlocks in place, the outer door slid open and within seconds the shuttle shot out of the Ark and into space and any chance Nightbeat had of being assigned to the Matrix quest were sucked out with the regulated atmosphere.
* * *
The traffic on Breezy Point Road had been building up for most of the evening. The harsh wintry conditions had blanketed the city of Winnipeg in several feet of snow. The local news broadcasts proclaimed the weather to be the worst on record. Residents were warned not to travel unless absolutely necessary.
It was advice that Neil Lachance had no choice but to ignore. And not least because of his sister. Poking through the holes in his gloves, his blue fingers gripped the steering wheel of his van. The journey from Seven Oaks General Hospital to home normally took just over two hours, but tonight he wasn’t even halfway there and was already on hour four.
“You doin’ okay back there?” he asked his sister.
Keely peeled the rubber oxygen mask from her face. “A-OK,” she breathed.
Neil glanced into his rear-view mirror and smiled. His white teeth shone through the bristles of his untidy stubble.
Keely smiled back, even raised her arm for a thumbs up. She sat in her steel-framed wheelchair wrapped in a blue blanket, holding the oxygen mask to her face. The oxygen cannisters behind her rattled. She was surrounded by all manner of amplifiers, lighting rigs and various audio equipment. Her brother’s black touring van bore little resemblance to the ambulance she should have been in.
Neil was three years younger than his sister, herself in her mid-twenties. She was always the one to protect him, to act as the buffer between him and their parents, especially when it came to the band. Black Ice, they called themselves, and on a night like this, it couldn’t have been a more appropriate name.
Neil’s van veered from one side of the lane to the other, drifting in the snow. The windscreen, despite the rapid flicking of the wipers, was more like a television without signal than a window. The radio hissed; the thick white weather too dense for any transmissions. He kept his speed steady, just under fifty miles per hour. He knew it annoyed the cars behind, but that was the least of his concerns.
“Much longer?” Keely asked.
“Depends which Christmas we want to get home for.”
“The sprouts will be over-done no matter when we arrive.”
Neil laughed.
“Neil?”
“Don’t mention it,” he pre-empted.
“But what about Natalie?”
“I can restring that guitar another time!”
“If mom heard you talk like that...”
The weather seemed to clear for a moment, and Neil could see the road ahead. He peered out. There was a light in the sky. “Is that a shooting star?”
A moment later, Neil’s van plunged into a wall of white.
“You okay?” Siren asked Nightbeat.
“Fine. All things considered.”
“What about Muzzle?”
“Unconscious.”
“Same for Quig. We’d best stay in robot mode.”
“Agreed.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Leave it, Siren.”
“This wasn’t my fault, you know.”
“...”
Nightbeat emerged from the buckled Autobot shuttle, arms spread wide to help his balance on the ice. He couldn’t see a thing. The air was thick with a frenzied mixture of snow, sleet and hail. The wind battered his audio senors.
As did Siren’s voice.
“We were lucky,” Siren commented. “As soon as we hit that satellite, I knew the only way was straight down. Still... any landing you can walk away from...”
“Please,” begged Nightbeat. “Please, just shut up. Just for a minute.”
“We’re lucky to be alive!”
Nightbeat rattled his head in frustration. “It’s freezing here.”
“Well, trust us to land on a planet with a tilted axis.”
Nightbeat glared at Siren. “Any chance I had of being part of the Matrix quest has plummeted along with the temperature.”
Siren offered a weak smile. “Let’s just get our bearings and get out of this mess. Radios are nigh useless in this weather. We just need to find the nearest Blackrock service station and take it from there.”
“I’ll go,” said Nightbeat.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No!” Nightbeat snapped. “I’m going on my own.”
“You can’t just leave me here.”
“I work best alone. I prefer it.”
“This is something of an emergency, we need to act as a team.”
“No way. You and I are not a team, not even close to a team.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not joking, Siren. I’m walking away from this. You go find a Blackrock station as well, but you do it on your own.”
“But why?”
“Why?!” Nightbeat threw up his arms. “This is all your fault. You got us into this situation. And what a situation! One minute, comfortable at home, and not a breem later, crashlanded on Earth in the worst blizzard I’ve ever seen on any planet!”
“Now, that’s not fair.”
“Fair?! Fair would be me, on my own, indulging myself in some peaceful solitude.” Nightbeat began to walk away.
“Please just let me come with you.”
“How many times must I say ‘no’? Do not follow me. I can’t stand it when you follow me!”
“But I like to follow you. You’re always up to something, it’s interesting.” Siren said, with wide, apologetic eyes.
“You’re loud, you’re clumsy, and you’ve got the most annoyingly sunny disposition that’s two rads short of supernova,” Nightbeat shouted, not quite appreciating how bitter he sounded. “I do not like these qualities.”
Siren’s face dropped. “Point made,” he nodded, his tone drifting towards the sarcastic. “I see I just need a complete personality reboot for you to be able to bear my company. If only they’d just turned down the noise in the Sonic Canyons. You know, that quiet little place where I was poured and programmed.”
Nightbeat continued to walk away from Siren and the shuttle into the white ahead.
Siren continued, but his words faded into noise as the storm raged. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
* * *
The front of Neil’s van had buckled in the crash, his unconscious form sprawled over the steering wheel. There was a cut across his forehead, but the cold had stemmed the flow of blood.
Keely had given up shouting for help over an hour ago. She was breathless. She felt weak and the weather had chilled her to the bone. Outside the van she could hear voices. The line of traffic behind them had shunted into the back of the van like an all-American car concertina. At least Neil hadn’t been travelling fast, and she was thankful for some uncharacteristic caution on his part.
The voices suddenly changed. Though she couldn’t make out the actual words, it was as if a wimpering, pained dog had turned aggressive and began barking and bearing teeth.
A new voice, decidedly synthesised suddenly rang out. “It’s okay,” it bellowed. “I’m an Autobot.”
There was a strange sound, like metal sliding on ice, then a sudden crash quickly followed by: “Dammit!”
Momentary silence.
The door to her brother’s van slid open, giant black fingers wrapping themselves around the edge. Keely stifled herself.
“Anyone injured?” the robot asked.
Keely moved her hands to her ears. The robot’s loud voice shook the van. She pointed to her brother.
The robot, crouched uncomfortably, peered into the back of the van, focusing intently on Keely.
“Let me guess,” the robot said with a smile. “You’re on the way home from hospital, a brother ferrying you in his own van instead of a standard ambulance. You were shot in the line of duty, a clean shot that perforated your diaphragm and part of your lung. You’re a cop, but office-based, which is why you weren’t wearing any kind of bullet proof jacket at the time. Am I close?”
Keely was stunned. “Dead on,” she said. “How did you know?”
The robot smiled. “It’s all in the evidence: the oxygen cannisters, your stiff body language and the propensity of your race for administration errors.”
Keely nodded and allowed herself to laugh. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, my name is unpronounceable in your language,” the robot said proudly.
“I can speak French as well, if that helps.”
“You can call me by my code name: Nightbeat.”
“So, you’re also a cop.”
“In a manner of speaking. What’s your code name?”
“Keely.”
“Pleased to meet you. And your brother?”
“Neil. I think he’s unconscious. Can you make sure he doesn’t swallow his tongue?”
Nightbeat paused and cocked his head, as if checking a database of human anatomy. He quickly removed Neil’s shoes and threw them out of the van and onto the icy road. “There,” he said proudly.
Keely shook her head. “Not the tongues in his shoes!”
Nightbeat was suddenly embarrassed. “I guess I should have known that,” he admitted. “I’m a Headmaster after all.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
“I’ve heard about you Transformers,” Keely said. “You’re all over the news these days. I thought you were a highly advanced alien robot.”
“I am!”
“To me you’re just loud and clumsy.”
“Ouch,” said Nightbeat with no small amount of irony.
“So, you’re here to help, right?”
“It’s pretty treacherous out there,” Nightbeat said. “I have a vehicle mode, but I’m afraid it’s a Porsche, and no real use at all in this weather.”
Keely lowered her head. “I need oxygen.”
“All humans do.”
“No, I mean...” she gestured to the used cannisters that littered the floor. “We only had enough to get me home for Christmas, but we weren’t expecting to crash.”
A wave of guilt flooded Nightbeat’s circuits. “Christmas?”
“Surely your databanks have information about Christmas.”
“Just that it’s a human celebration with peace and goodwill extended to all.”
“That’s about the size of it. That’s why I’m here. We were supposed to be celebrating Christmas as a family, and my parents can’t really afford to come into the city, certainly not to stay in a hotel while I’m in hospital.”
“Your brother certainly seems generous then.”
“He is. Very. He gave up a lot tonight,” Keely smiled. “Do you have a brother?”
“Primus, no!” Nightbeat said. “I prefer my own company.”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s just the way I am.”
Keely shuffled in her wheelchair and pulled the blanket higher up her neck. “Then you probably don’t observe Christmas.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t have anyone to offer any peace or goodwill.”
Nightbeat thought of Siren, of the things he’d said, the way he treated him. He changed the subject. “Look,” he told Keely, “I’m just going to see if anyone else needs help and find a way of getting help.”
“Okay,” she replied. “But watch that ice. Clumsy.”
* * *
Outside the van, the blizzard continued.
Nightbeat tried his radio. Nothing.
The other humans had remained in their vehicles. Headlights tried their best to shine through the falling snow. There was nothing he could really do, except continue down Breezy Point Road and hope he’d reach a human settlement before he ran out of energon.
Through the wind he could hear Keely calling his name.
He returned to Neil’s van. Neil had regained consciousness. Nightbeat was relieved.
“Hello Neil,” Nightbeat said.
Neil blinked. “Uh, hi.”
“This is Nightbeat,” Keely said. “He doesn’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with.”
“Aww,” said Neil. “Well, you’re welcome to come to ours. If we ever get out of this.”
“Thanks, but I prefer to—”
“—be alone,” Keely finished. “You know what?”
“What?”
“There must be someone you’re close to, someone you work with?”
“I’m afraid I have very little tolerance for others.”
“Wow,” said Neil.
Keely shifted again in her wheelchair. “You know, at work we have seminars all the time about ‘tolerance’.”
“Oh?”
“I hate the word. We get lectures on religious tolerance, tolerance for minorities, for immigrants, for the LGBT community...”
“Are you saying tolerance is a bad thing?”
“In a manner of speaking. We shouldn’t be taught to just ‘tolerate’ groups of people we don’t like or understand or who are roll-of-the-dice different to us. We shouldn’t tolerate them, we should accept them.”
Neil interrupted: “This is my big sister’s Christmas message. We get it every year.”
“Yeah, but I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I should say so,” Neil replied. He turned to Nightbeat. “I’m what you might call the bad egg of the family, but Keely showed my parents that they could accept me for who I am, not just tolerate me.”
Nightbeat nodded his head.
“So,” Keely said. “If there are no other Autobots that you can tolerate, are there any that you could actually accept?”
“Uhm.”
“Put it this way: My first impression of you was that you were loud and clumsy, but then I realised, you’re out of your depth down here in these weather conditions. I accepted you.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Neil said.
“There is someone,” Nightbeat admitted. “He is loud. He is clumsy. And when he tags along on my investigations, he is so very out of his depth.”
Keely smiled broadly. “Well, there you go. You can accept him for who he is.”
Neil suddenly slammed his fists on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and screamed: “Help!”
“Neil!” Keely wheezed. “Stop being pointless! There is nobody here than can make any sound loud enough to call for help in this weather.”
“Oh yes, there is!” Nightbeat realised. “I’ll be right back!”
“Nightbeat,” Keely breathed. “Please hurry.” She held up the last remaining oxygen cannister. “I literally have an hour left.”
* * *
“You came back!” Siren sang.
Nightbeat skidded across the ice, arms flailing as he almost crashed into the Autobot shuttle. “I did!” he shouted.
Siren was quite taken aback as Nightbeat threw a hand towards him, cupping his shoulder.
“I’ve been awful to you,” Nightbeat said. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve gone mad with lack of energon,” Siren said.
“No, I’m serious. I’m sorry.”
“Er, apology accepted. Did I pass?”
“Pass? No, no, this isn’t a test. I’m not testing you.”
“Are you sure, because I always feel so stupid around you.”
“I know, and that’s my fault. I’ve just been talking to some humans and they made me feel stupid. I mean, not on purpose, but they made me realise something.”
“That you don’t make much sense when you’re in an uncharacteristic good mood?”
Nightbeat laughed. For the first time he allowed himself to laugh with Siren. “No, they made me realise that all I had to do was accept you for who you are. It’s Keely’s Christmas message!”
Siren shrugged his shoulders. “I think we need to let Fixit take a look at you.”
Nightbeat grabbed both of Siren’s shoulders, almost hugging him. “Be you,” he smiled. “Be loud.”
“I don’t—”
“Be you,” Nightbeat repeated. “Be as loud as you possibly can. Sound your horn, flash your lights.”
Siren smiled, realising what Nightbeat was asking him to do. “Are you sure?”
“Show this dark night how bright you really are.”
* * *
“The humans are calling him ‘The Christmas Siren’,” Optimus said.
“I know, and isn’t he just loving the attention!”
“And quite rightly so. You both should be proud. You saved a lot of lives down there tonight.”
“Well it was all Siren, to be fair.”
“No,” said Optimus. “You were the one who recognised his potential, you encouraged him. Which is why I know you’ll make an excellent mission commander.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nightbeat said humbly. “It’s an honour to be part of the Matrix quest.”
“I know you’ll rise to the challenge.”
“I just hope Kup’s not too upset about getting replaced.”
“Oh, I’m sure at his age, it’s something he’ll forget very quickly.”
“Do I detect a trace of humour in your voice?”
“You’re the only one who can.”
* * *
It was Christmas Day, 1989.
Nightbeat was in his quarters enjoying the calm before the storm. He was packing a storage unit with essential items for pan-galactic travel.
“Oh, hai!” Siren sang as he burst into the room. “‘Merry Christmas!’ as the humans say.”
Nightbeat shook his head. “Merry Christmas Siren.”
“I got you a gift,” Siren said, offering a small black package. “It’s something I put together.”
Nightbeat opened the gift. It was a round lense mounted on a slender silver handle.
“Sorry I broke your old one,” Siren said. “I know you said it was irreplaceable, but I hope this helps.”
“Where did you—?”
“I pinched a spare part optical sensor from Fixit’s med bay.”
Nightbeat shook his head and let a smile break open. “I have a gift for you as well.”
“You do?”
“One of the humans we helped save, Neil, let me have it to give to you.”
Siren clapped his hands.
Nightbeat passed him a palm-sized black box. Across the top was a row of silver knobs and two level indicators. “I thought it apt,” Nightbeat said. “Neil called it an amplifier.”
Siren grinned.
Speechless.
The end
Written by Graham Thomson, 2010.
