Transformers: Steel Reign

[General Havoc]

Hornet said nothing for a moment, his engine idling at cruising speed, not even bothering to steer for a few moments. Someone else, someone older and more mature, might have gotten angry, or shouted, or cursed Slipstream for a thousand different things. Hornet did not. It was not his way. When he finally did reply, his words were not so much angry as hurt, shocked, and apalled.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, and his voice revealed that he meant that question extremely seriously. "An inferior species?! The humans are our friends! They're my friends! They're not dirt! You're the dirt! Just 'cuz you're made of metal instead of organics and because you're bigger and stronger and tougher, that doesn't make you any better than them, or me! We're not the one whose logic processes are broken! You are! You sound just like a Decepticon!"

His words had the sound of tears in them, even though in this form he couldn't cry.

"I know I'm not a human," he said, "but I would rather be a human than be like you. Even if every human I know now is dead in a hundred or two hundred years, there'll be more humans that aren't even alive yet that I'll be able to know then. And if there aren't, it'll be because bots like you decided that they were as worthless as dirt and let them all die."

Now he WAS getting angry, and his words were shrill and upset as he shot accusations back at Slipstream.

"And not only that, but you're a liar!" he shouted. "Your mission didn't have anything to do with it! You didn't just wanna make me run, or else you'd have done what Deathstrike said when he told you to stop! You were just trying to scare me because you liked it! Because you're just like a Decepticon! And now you're pretending that it was all just a game and that I shouldn't be so sensitive or something when you tell me you're gonna rip my spark out and feed it to something, even though you know that every Decepticon in the universe wants to do the same thing and threatens me with that all the time, you just did it because it made you feel powerful or strong or whatever! You're nothing but a bully, a coward, and a Decepticon monster!"

And with that, Hornet winged over and dove as fast as he could for the ground, not so much out of fear as out of being so terribly upset by everything. With all the things he was terrified of, and all the enemies that he apparently had, did he need to have Autobots doing the same things to him every chance they got?!

[B4UTRUST]

Slipstream was fairly certain that Hornet was slipping a cog or three, or maybe he was hanging out with too many humans and absorbing their faulty thought processes. After the exercise he had not said a word to Hornet and hadn't spoken to the autobrat until Hornet came to him. Not that it mattered to Hornet, and probably would not matter to most of the others. He was not sure he cared either way at this point.

For a second he contemplated following Hornet. But that too would probably fighten him, scare him, or otherwise be percieved as a potentital attack or threat. He would not do that. He would give them no more reasons when it came to Hornet. They wanted the bot left be, he would left be.

Slipstream shrugged to himself and simply floated there on his back contentedly for the moment.

[LadyTevar]

One thing that flying does give is a good view. Thus, anyone paying attention above would have noticed the two lovebirds getting cozy ... and then something went wrong very quickly and caused Crimson to once again take her alt-form and roared off in loud anger.

While Stryke rolled back to the Ark, Crimson took out her anger by racing up the side of the mountain at top speed, engine screaming.

[Agent Fisher]

Stryke reached the Ark, transforming back into his 'bot form. The green warbot walked through the halls, an angry look on his face.

Finally after wandering for a while, the bot reached the firing range. Stryke punched in a target set while grumbling. As the targets appeared, his raised his laser machine pistol and opened fire.

[rhoenix]

Having taken a wrong turn down one of the passageways of the vast Ark, Blindside managed to get somewhat lost, though managed to map out a good portion of the place before finally reaching the firing range. From the sounds of it, it was already occupied. Curious, he walked in, and saw Stryke, shooting with an angry expression on his face.

This made Blindside feel concerned, as he hoped this had nothing to do with his stunt earlier. However, many vorn of facing his own worst demons made any possible fear he felt of asking nonexistent. Walking without his usual heel to toe silent walk over to the practice armory, and selecting an automatic laser rifle, he walked to a firing space two over from where Stryke was. As he walked by, he spoke up to Stryke, his voice showing some of the concern and curiosity he felt. "Good evening, Stryke. Want to talk?"

[Agent Fisher]

"Hey, Blindside." He said, moving into a kneeling position and firing in bursts at the targets. "What do you want to talk about?" He asked, firing off a burst.

[rhoenix]

At this, Blindside shrugged while walking to his firing post. "Well, I saw that you were alright before I pulled my little joke on you two, and you aren't alright now. I wanted to know if I'm the cause of you not feeling alright now, and regardless, I wanted to know if it's something you want to vent about. If so, I'm willing to listen."

After saying his piece, he lay down, and started up a firing routine with random targets in assault groups, similar to what he had faced during his firing test, but with the waves of targets coming less often.

[Agent Fisher]

Stryke chuckled. "Nothing you did, Blindside." He said, changing the target set.

[rhoenix]

Pausing his simulation, Blindside thought for a moment at Stryke's words. After a few moments, he nodded. "Alright. If you want to talk though, I'm willing to listen. I may have been an exhaust-plug at the time I knew Crimson last, but I still knew her."

He smiled slightly as he resumed the simulation. Given his rather deplorable accuracy, he enjoyed having a weapon that had a much higher volume of fire. It actually improved his accuracy some.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike approached the console to Teletran-1. "Display local star map, one thousand lightyear radius around Earth. Display star map, four million years ago, five hundred light years radius around Cybertron."

Two masses of lights filled the screen. "Cybertron display, magnify upper left quadrant. Again. High light current position of star O7-T9 on Terran star map." Four million years and a damaged nav system left a lot of room for stellar drift to move things around. A single star flared.

That was enough for Deathstrike. His refurbished nav system was able to plot a route involving jumps of fifty light years or less to O7-T9. With a payload of a few energon cubes as a reserve, a solar collection system, and a hydrocarbon energon converter he would be able to choose the most promising systems for fast refueling and make the trip back to O7-T9 whenever he desired.

He addressed Teletran-1. "List locations of small portable hydrocarbon converters and solar energy collectors," he said and downloaded the data to his central and reserve data banks.

[frigidmagi]

There is nothing for me to do at this moment and frankly I am tired... Not n the physical sense that humans mean, but otherwise. With Teletran I set to alert me if anyone in the squad submits a report to it, is injured or causes trouble, or when Thundercracker wakes up I retreat to quarters.

They are basic standard single bot quarters. There is a resting mat of standard Autobot issue in the far corner of the room, a terminal and a chair. While I can link to Teletran I there are parts of the database that can only be accessed through hardlines as a security issue.

I have a single container at the foot of my mat that contains all my personal effects. Compared to most of the bots, it's not much. But to many possessions and a war machine becomes just another overweighted tourist. I decide indulge myself.

"Computer play track 000012, please." I ask. A slow soft melody plays. The natives of this planet would not enjoy it, they can only hear half the song, I find it... beautiful. It was written by a semi-aquatic organic mammal race, called the Meloranions by the other species of that sector. Their names for themselves was a high luting cry that most could not reproduce. I guarded a colony world of theirs for 15 rotations of that planet around it's star as part of an extended campaign against Decepticon allied aggessors. That was over 120,000 local years ago... I don't even know if the species still exists, but their music lives as long as I do.

It my first real contact with organic sapients. My alt mode had been a Amphibious armored vehicle. I found I liked water. I liked music... I loved music., especially the Meloranion's songs.

This song was about a female whose mate had gone off to war. It sang of her hopes and fears. Her joy at seeing her offspring remain safe due to her mate's sacrifice and her saddness at her mate's inability to see their offspring grow safe, strong and happy. This is why there are warmachines, I think. This is why I exist... I think.

In my container lies two objects more important to me then I can express. One is a large hand (bigger then my head) belonging to an Autobot... Besides myself it is the sole physical remain of the headhunters. It belonged to Salient. Who was the most powerful of the unit. He was a creation of Prime, like myself. He was a warmachine who served without doubt or fear. Organics would call him my brother. He died with the AEF, ambushed. There is no one left to brag about killing him or any other headhunter... Or to threaten the Meloranions.

The other is the only gift I have ever had. It is a giant sized creation of the main musical instrument of Meloranions. I take it out gently. It is made of the same alloys as a battle cruiser, but shaped by the hands of masters. It was created in thanks for my actions. They even taught me to play.

My quaters are isolated, for a single reason. I begin to play along with the song. I am fairly skilled at it after a long time of practice. I do not know the Meloranions fate. I do not know if they still exist, have gone extinct or have evolved into new a species or whatever. But I do know the fate of their music. Like myself it remains and endures as long as I do.

I am a Cybertronian Warmachine. It is my duty and function to fight, to destroy, to attack and defend. I will not forget why I fight. The music will always remind me.

[Agent Fisher]

Stryke looked over at Blindside. "Was she always so stubborn and quick to make rash choices?"

[rhoenix]

Stryke looked over at Blindside. "Was she always so stubborn and quick to make rash choices?"

Pausing his firing program, Blindside thought for a moment before replying. "Stubborn, yes. But as for the rash choices part...I don't know. She didn't do anything I'd really call rash back then."

He thought for a few more moments before continuing. "Perhaps the people she's kept company with before she came here have woven webs of deceit with their words around her, and so she expects people to say what they think she wants to hear, rather than what they mean. If this is right, then if someone's being sincere and honest with her, she automatically will assume they mean something else, or are speaking with ulterior motives."

After this, he shook his head. "But, as I said, I don't know for sure. If I'm right though, it would explain why she feels so attached to Hornet - he doesn't know how to be anything but honest."

This conversation was bringing uncomfortable worries about Shadow to the forefront of his mind, such as what horrors had she endured in the past few millennia? He ignored the worries though, as they solved nothing, and went back to firing practice.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike consulted the Ark's sensors and located Slipstream. The Decepticon warrior walked outside of the half buried space ship and jumped up into the air, activating his thrusters as he did so. Although he wasn't nearly as fast in robot mode as he was in plane form, he was able to quickly reach the spot where Slipstream was loafing.

"Mind if we talk?" he said mildly.

[B4UTRUST]

"Last time someone in charge asked me that, they sucker punched me. We can talk, but give me some warning before the talking starts with the fist."

[Cynical Cat]

"Certainly," said Deathstrike, flying back a few meters and widening the gap between them. "We have a problem and you've caused it. You decided to torment your teammate in a skill testing and building exercise. You subverted my instructions and attempted to cause damage to your team."

"Now, I'm not going to bother threaten you or beat you and tell you how wrong your actions are. You know who I am and what I am capable of and you obviously feel neither fear nor respect for me. You did it anyway.

"I'm not interested in whatever excuse or rational you've cooked up. I need you to be a good team player. You need a solid team to support you in combat if you want to live. That's the way I see it.

"Maybe you see it differently. You don't have to answer immediately, but I need an answer and sooner would be better than later."

[B4UTRUST]

Slipstream stared at the former 'con, his processors running through the possibilities.
"I do see it differently. Pull my record and scan it. I'm sure Breakout can give you access if you can't get to it. Teamwork and tactics don't work for me. Every time I have to use them, bad things happen, usually to me. Last time I had a city-state dropped on me. It wasn't fun, let me tell you. Being buried alive for millions of years, trapped and low on energon and totally forgotten.

"I'll get you you your answer."

[Cynical Cat]

"I see," said Deathstrike. "I must say I find your honest disrespect freshing. Most of the Autobots are so mealy mouthed about it. Are you proud of what you did to Hornet?"

[B4UTRUST]

"I didn't intend for him to, as Breakout put it, 'quake in fear at my very sight' if that's what you mean. I don't think I really feel one way or the other about it, though. At the time of the exercise I felt it was the quickest and easiest way to accomplish my goal. As I told Hornet a little bit ago, it was unconventional but psychological warfare often is.

"I figured you of all Cybertronians could appreciate it. I'm sure you've noticed by now that the honorable and upfront tactics we've been using aren't working.

"Maybe I've just slipped a cog or a chip is lose somewhere, but the way I see it, the only way to have a chance is to, as the humans say, fight fire with fire. Even if the others don't agree with me."

[Cynical Cat]

"Enough," said Deathstrike. "Perhaps I wasn't clear. I'm not interested in whatever excuse you've cooked up to try and explain away your bullying. Your a bully and far too cowardly to admit it. I would say I've seen petty thugs like you in the Decepticon ranks, but since they were honest about being motivated by fear and sadism they are your betters."

"You are cruel, petty, and weak; a catalogue of organic flaws that are made manifest in your processors. Despite your manifest failings, you have a few useful abilities. Let's see if you can successfully fulfill my next order: report immediately to Optimus Prime and explain your behavior with Hornet to him."

[Agent Fisher]

Stryke shook his head. "Never mind, Blindside." He said, firing one last burst at the targets. "Nice talking with you." He said, before shutting down his target set and walked out of the firing range. The warbot simply walked through the halls, not sure where he was going.

[rhoenix]

Stryke shook his head. "Never mind, Blindside." He said, firing one last burst at the targets. "Nice talking with you." He said, before shutting down his target set and walked out of the firing range. The warbot simply walked through the halls, not sure where he was going.

Pausing his firing again, Blindside spoke up as Stryke left. "Take care, Stryke."

After the green warbot left, Blindside was feeling uncomfortably like an exhaust-plug again. He resumed the firing program for a few minutes, but his processors really weren't on the targets. Deciding to stop for now, he set the automatic rifle back on the training rack, and decided to go for a run.

He sent a private message to Breakout as he was walking toward the entrance to the Ark. "Blindside to Breakout. I'm going to go for a run in the forest area surrounding the Ark for a while."

With that, he seemingly melted into his dire lupine form, and ran out from the entrance. His senses in this form picked up on the conversation above him in the night air between Deathstrike and Slipstream, but he didn't pay attention; he simply ran on a direct route to the forests a few miles away.

Gaining the entrance to the forest, he took in the smells, sights, and sounds of the living, organic place; so much different from Cybertron, or the desolate dust plains of the nameless planet orbitting the star Kleitall where he had learned his art.

He did find that walking quietly was much more difficult on the forest floor, especially for a wolf of his size.

[B4UTRUST]

Slipstream absently wondered why people seemed to think he was going to change his answer the more people he told it to. Of course that wasn't his only thought, and the others involved wondering why people kept asking questions when they didn't want to hear the answers. He just wouldn't talk to anyone. That would solve the issue.

Slipstream's computer ran through the computations to project the quickest flight path from his position to the entrance to the Ark. It went through Deathstrike. As much as he would love to fly through the former 'con, he doubted that would make matters any better. But still, one must report to higher ups as quick as possible.

He transformed and oriented himself towards the Ark entrance. He rocketed downwards, vernier thrusters blowing him sideways to avoid Deathstrike, then blowing him the otherway to go back to the projected path. When he got close enough to the ground he transformed, stopping a few feet above the ground before silently moving into the Ark itself, still hovering.

[Cynical Cat]

Slipstream buzzed by Deathstrike, fulfilling the predictions of the Decepticon warrior. Continued insubordination and subversion of orders. And he placed himself within easy reach of warrior with extensive pit fighting skills.

As Slipstream jinked around him, missing him my less than a meter, Deathstrike struck. His powerful and heavily armoured hand closed upon Slipstream's wing, crumpling the parts under his hand. His own jets fired at full power, helping to match speed with the more maneuverable transformer.

He clung to the small Autobot with his right hand and swung his left fist into Slipstream's fuselage. Hard.

[B4UTRUST]

Slipstream felt his armor being rended and torn by the heavier stronger Cybertronian. But even with the added weight, Slipstream's engines that comprised such a significant portion of his form were more then capable of handling it. It would throw his manuverability off some, to be sure. Primus, what did this guy eat for breakfast anyway? Insecticons?

"You're not going to like this," stated Slipstream coldly. He had been around a few cycles. This wasn't the first time he had encountered this tactic and it probably wouldn't be the last. Gravity aided the movement, his massive power planet did as well. Engines screamed as he overrode safety locks and dumped enough energon into his engines to allow him to move a gestault at mach speeds.

Humans had developed terrain-following radar technology decades ago and had nearly perfected it with some of their higher end military aircraft. For a Cybertronian, this was protoform's play.

He dove straight down at the ground, dragging the larger 'con behind him before snapping his level out only a few feet above the ground. Flying right next to the rock wall he hit his vernier thrusters, using the same manuver that let him turn nearly on a dime he spun around using the momentum of the heavier 'con to swing him into the wall at the high speeds they were traveling at. No matter how hard your armor, hitting solid rock at high speeds didn't feel good.