Credits!
Tempest, Harrier, Stormrave, and Chopper are mine...also the incidentally mentioned Beretta and Deuce.
Cavalier and Artemis Prime belong to Amy K. Cyrway.
All other characters are property of Hasbro, as are Transformers, Autobots and Decepticons.
TIME SETTING: The Quintesson Occupation, circa 2190.
***TEMPEST***
Fire. Fire all around me.
I pick the spot where the flames seem thinnest and jump through, feeling the searing heat beginning to melt the paint on my metal skin. My head rises up as I struggle to get my bearings. Hallway. I'm in the hallway between the spaceship's command deck and the loading hatch. The ship has hit earth on an angle; the corridor is tilted a good twenty degrees. Alarms are blaring and my optics can barely pierce the thick smoke that's pouring out of the vents. Somewhere in the guts of the ship there is a muffled explosion.
Get out. I have to get out, before the whole ship blows. I'm racing down the corridor when there is an explosion very near by that knocks me off my feet, sending me tumbling several meters along the hallway and into the wall. I lie there for a moment, curled up in pain, the back of my left leg pulsing waves of agony.
I'm injured, but I'm not dead. Yet. That may change if I spend much more time in here. I've got to get out, got to live. Gritting my teeth, I yank myself to a standing position. The pain is almost unbearable. I pry open a panel on my left thigh and, with a tug, tear out the first pain receptor cables I see.
My left leg goes numb; the hellish fire becomes a dull ache. Fine. I'll get it repaired later when I'm done with the business of surviving.
I make my way to the loading hatch. It's already open. I waste no time in leaping out of the ship and running clear.
Two familiar faces turn to look at me. A pair of survivors, a safe distance away, watch me approach. One of them, thank Primus, is Harrier--my second in command. The other is a white Autobot. I think her name is Cavalier. She doesn't like me much, I know that. Both of them seem uninjured.
Harrier's face brightens immediately when he sees me. He holds out his arms, but I do not run into them. I don't like the look the Autobot is giving me and I will not show weakness in front of her. Instead I limp over to Harrier and stop by his side.
"Did anyone else get out?"
"Springer's around the other side of the ship," Harrier says to me. "Are you all right?"
"I'm living," I mutter, and dart a look back at the star cruiser that had been my command. The right rear side of the ship is gone, thanks to a direct hit from a Quintesson death buster, and the right front is badly crushed from the hard landing. I can see the swath it cut into the planet when it crashed. The automatic extinguishers seem to be taking care of the fire in what remains of the ship.
Crew. I need my crew. I flip open my comm link. "Cybertronians, report in!"
"I'm here!" comes a voice from a distance away. Springer.
The link crackles to life. "Chopper here. Over."
A pause, and then, "Stormrave here..."
My sister. Thank Primus. She continues, "Tempest, we've got a situation. Pipes is badly injured. We got a medic?"
"I can do a few field repairs," Springer says hesitantly, "but I'm no doctor."
I don't even bother asking Harrier. Deuce was Phoenix Corps' medic, and Deuce isn't here. Deuce and Beretta are aboard another ship in our Quint-killer squadron. "What about Hacksaw? He was our repaireon..."
"I don't think Hacksaw made it," Cavalier replies, looking back at the ship.
"Can Pipes be moved?" I ask Stormrave on the radio.
"Yeah, I think so. If he has to be. I'm gonna need some help, though. I'm just about done sautering the worst of the damage."
"Springer, can you help her?" The green triplechanger nods and moves off.
"So that's all of us then," I say softly. Seven survivors of a crew of twenty. "SLAG those Quints! They clipped us but good."
"We'll get them," Cavalier says, her dislike of me overridden by her hatred of the Quintessons. "We'll get them for EVERYTHING they've done to us."
"That would be easier if we had a ship," Harrier mutters. He looks over at the white Autobot. "I don't suppose you've got space-flight capability."
Cavalier shakes her head no. "Neither does Springer. Or Pipes."
"Then we're stuck here," Harrier moans, "until the others come to pick us up."
The white female shrugs. "So we get a vacation for a while. We deserved one anyway." She looks back at the ship and her expression becomes grim. "Though not at this price."
I cast a glance around the landscape and a shudder ripples through my metal skin. I fight to control it, to hide it from the others.
The place itself is not so remarkable. It's a sea of old ruins and wreckage; it looks as if some gigantic creatures first pushed over the buildings, then made it their personal garbage dump. Here and there half-demolished towers thrust their way up from the debris. There's a vague pattern of streets, though the thoroughfares are cluttered with trash. ~What is it, ~ I ask myself, ~what is bothering me?~ Could it be that the ruined city reminds me of my homeworld of Kilair, destroyed by raiders on the horrific day that ended my childhood forever?
But Kilair was never this ruined. Kiliar was blitzed and then abandoned, to be overgrown with metallic plants as the years went by. This place looked as if some kind of guerilla war was still being fought here. There were no signs of life whatsoever--no plants, no wildlife, nothing. And some of the devastation looked fresh, almost as fresh as that caused by our crashed ship.
The sun is a nova star, dim despite the lack of clouds. Organic life could not live here. There would be no fossil fuels. Solar power is impossible. I'm liking this place less and less. It's far too familiar...~where the hell are we?~
"Harrier, where are we?" I ask my old friend.
Harrier, the master tracker, frowns. "The star charts were lost in the crash, but my internal memory banks should be solid...accessing..."
And then his jaw drops and an expression of dismay crosses his face. There's something wrong. I know it. Harrier and I have been friends for most of our lives. I know him well enough to realize that we are in trouble.
"We're in the Forbidden Sector," Harrier whispers. "Remember? We were passing by the borderline when the Quints attacked us. Our evasive maneuvers must have taken us into the Sector and we've crashed here on..."
"Tartarus," I choke, and my eyes grow dull.
Primus help me.
I'm back.
***CAVALIER***
"Where the hell is Tartarus?" I demand.
Tempest doesn't answer me. She doesn't look well at all, and I wonder if she was injured in the crash more than she wants to let on. She's leaning heavily on Harrier, and I can see blast damage on her lower leg. It doesn't bother me half as much as the glazed look in her optics.
Great. That's the last thing I need, to have our leader go postal. Typical Decepticon.
"It's a planet in the Forbidden Sector," Harrier responds, telling me nothing I don't know already.
There's a scuffling nearby. I look up to see Stormrave, Chopper and Springer coming towards us, carrying Pipes. They set the wounded Autobot down near us.
Pipes looks rough. They've sautered plates over his chest, but long black scorch marks are visible radiating out from under the plates, all the way from his shoulders to his hips. Stormrave and Springer both do fine field repairs, but Pipes needs a full med lab.
Chopper is peeking at me with an idiotic smile on his face. "Slice and dice," he chants softly, "slice and dice...gonna slice and dice me some Quintessons..."
I shudder and instinctively run a hand over the face plate that covers my jaw...or rather, what's left of it. I lost my full jaw centuries ago to Chopper's corrosive blade. That was back when the Autobots and the Decepticons had been at war, back before the Quintessons had attacked Earth and Cybertron and forced us to join together. That's why I hate Chopper and Tempest and her whole damn Phoenix Corps and anything else carrying the Decepticon logo. I can't ever look in the mirror without being reminded of what they did to me. If it weren't...if it weren't for the Quintessons...
...but it is. The Quints are here now, and there's nothing I can do about it. Once this reckoning is over, then the Decepticons will pay for what they've done.
I hate being on Tempest's team. I wasn't supposed to be on her ship at all--Artemis Prime knew better than to put me on the same vessel as any members of the former Phoenix Corps--but Tempest's gunner was late in getting down to the docks, and I was early. I was supposed to take that gunner's place for one short flight, just one flight...and then the Quints jumped us, and now we're Primus knows where.
And I'm stranded with Tempest.
"We need to get out a signal," Tempest says at last, her voice wavering. "Need to tell the others where we are."
"Our intergalactic communications are in there," Springer says, gesturing to the burning ship.
"But some of us are capable of space flight," she replies, looking at the other two jets--Stormrave and Harrier. "You two get to civilization as fast as possible and send back a rescue ship. Speed is of the utmost importance. Code Black."
Springer blinks. "Wha...Code BLACK?"
Code Black is our most severe emergency code.
The green triplechanger looks around, as do I. The planet is ugly, but I sense no immediate threat. "What's so bad about this place to rate a Code Black?" I ask.
Tempest's eyes flicker red. "This place is Hell," she hisses. "We have fallen into the very heart of the Inferno."
Stormrave does not question her sister's seeming madness. "Roger." Through her visor she casts a concerned glance down at Pipes. "We'll be back as soon as possible with a medic."
Tempest continues, "We'll try to build a transmitter to give you a direct fix on our location. If you don't pick up any signal from us, land here. We'll monitor the area." She grows grim. "And if you can't find us in one solar cycle, don't bother looking for us. Get out while you can. Now get going."
Stormrave transforms, but Harrier does not. Tempest glares at her old second-in-command. "You too."
"No."
I stare. I've never known Harrier to challenge Tempest before.
Tempest is staring at him too.
"I'm not leaving you here," he says quietly.
"It's your funeral," she growls, but she seems willing to accept his decision. "Stormy, get out of here. Get our location out and get back as soon as possible."
The red jet fires her engines. "Take care Tempest, Cav, hang in there Pipes." And with that, Stormrave is gone, streaking into the vault of the sky until she vanishes from sight.
***TEMPEST***
When Stormrave is gone, I take a deep breath through my air intakes and face the rest of the survivors.
Survivors. I hope they are survivors. Simply living through a crash isn't enough to make you a survivor, not on Tartarus.
I survey the group. Springer's pretty tough, for an Autobot. He has my respect. So does the white female, even though I know she despises me. Harrier--I would be angry at his refusal to obey if I wasn't so glad to have him with me...
~...I hope I don't kill him...~
~Don't think like that. Can't think like that. We are a team and that is our strength. If you...WE...are going to survive here, you must hold the team together.~
Pipes. He is severely injured, unlikely to make it more than a few megacycles without medical care. He is no longer capable of fighting, and in his condition, he will slow us down. It would be better to kill him now, quick and clean, for the survival of us all...
I know the Autobots will not respect this decision. They believe too much in defending their own. They will not see the logic of my viewpoint, and I know that if I challenge them, they will take Pipes and split off from us. Splitting the group would kill us all. Autobots are idiotic but I do not have the luxury of pressing my point.
Hopefully Pipes will die quickly.
"So what do we do now?" Chopper asks me.
"We ask ourselves," I say grimly, "whether we want to live or die."
Cavalier looks at me with a sort of sneer under her faceplate. "Live," she says, as if there was no other choice.
"How badly?" I ask, feeling my temper spark. "How much do you value your life? More than your beliefs? More than your soul? Because I can tell you, in this place, if you have any concerns beyond your own survival you will die."
Harrier takes my hand and squeezes it tight. I do not look at him.
"She's mad," Springer whispers, but loud enough for me to hear him.
"No," I say firmly, pinning him with my gaze. "We have a chance to live here. We are a team." ~A team with internal problems but a team nonetheless...~ "And that is our ONLY chance...to hold together."
Springer and Cavalier nod begrudgingly, staring at me as if to say, "if anyone is going to tear us apart, it will be you."
If anyone is going to LIVE here, it's going to be me.
I dart a glance around. The crash will have drawn attention...but I don't see them anywhere around. I'll bet they know we have lasers. They're waiting, biding their time.
Good for them. I'm ready for them. I know their ways. I've been here.
"Harrier, find some fuel tanks, jerrycans, whatever and fill them with the ship's fuel. I'll stay out here and keep an eye on Pipes."
Cavalier looks at me suspiciously. "Would you rather take guard duty?" I ask her, an edge in my voice. She keeps quiet and takes an empty jerrycan from Harrier.
"This place has a severe fuel shortage. Take all the fuel we can carry. It may be all we get until we're rescued. Fill your own tanks."
***CAVALIER***
Walking through the twisted corridors of our star cruiser, I almost stumble upon the dead body of one of my former crewmates. She's damaged beyond repair, with a beam piercing right through her core processor and most of her head gone. I am no stranger to carnage, but this sight disturbs me. Harrier has already made it plain that we will not be taking the time to bury the dead.
Who the hell made him leader? I'd probably question him if I wasn't still a little bit in shock.
We're full up with fuel and burdened down with canisters when we leave the wreckage of the ship. Tempest is still standing guard over Pipes, her optics restlessly scanning the horizon, for what I cannot imagine. She is tense, battle ready, and I feel my metal skin twitch. By her stance, there is a danger here, and yet I have seen nothing, sensed nothing but desolation.
She turns as we approach. "Any more fuel left?"
Springer shakes his head. "We drained the tanks. Most of them got split open in the crash."
Tempest nods curtly, takes a partly-filled jerrycan from Harrier, and drinks the contents to top her own tanks up. "Follow me, then. Chopper, you take point."
"What about Pipes?" I insist.
"We can mock up a stretcher out of the wreckage," Harrier suggests.
Minutes later, we move out, following Tempest into the ruins of the city. The yellow Seeker walks as if she knows where she's going. Harrier is right at her side, pointing his laser hunting rifle around every corner. Springer and I come next, carrying Pipes and a load of energon cubes on the stretcher, and Chopper brings up the rear.
My optics dart around. Some of these ruins looked lived in...
...and then my feet stumble as my distance vision picks up something on the side of the thoroughfare. It is a robot, a Cybertronian-design robot, and he is very, very dead. His chest has been ripped open as if by giant claws.
"Good Primus," I breathe, scrabbling for a grip on the stretcher as its poles almost slip from between my shock-slackened fingers. Pipes is delerious and I doubt he knows what is going on. He moans and stirs in our arms; his head flops sideways.
"Don't stop," Tempest says tersely. "Keep moving."
"He's like us!" Springer breathes as we get closer. "He's an Autobot!"
"We can't bury him either," Harrier replies, somewhat sadly, as if he knows what I'm thinking. "He's dead, just like our crew, and all the burial in the world can't save them. We have to look after ourselves now."
I suddenly get the feeling that Harrier knows something he is not telling us. He knows something--or Tempest's told him something--and the rest of us have been left out of the secret. It's only now that I realize that Harrier is not carrying fuel. Instead, he's transporting a large pile of components stripped from the ship. From the looks of them, they appear to be communications equipment.
Our situation is getting more and more surreal by the second. Tempest leads us in through the big double doors of what might once have been a warehouse. Halting in a back room, she begins lifting large crates from one side of the room to the other. Wordlessly, Harrier helps her. Springer, Chopper and I exchange glances, and all our expressions say the same thing--what is going on?
Looking back at Tempest, I realize with a chill that there is a trapdoor buried beneath the crates. Tempest draws an energon knife and pries the trapdoor open. Stairs fall away into the blackness. Wordlessly, the yellow Seeker descends.
Harrier motions us forward, holding the trapdoor. I can see the steps leveling out into a sort of corridor; then Harrier closes the trapdoor and the darkness engulfs us. Springer reaches out his arm to guide me as I heft Pipes' stretcher. I can only assume that Tempest has a hold of Springer. It's pitch black and I can't see a thing.
Then, my audio sensors pick up the sound of two laser shots in the darkness, and a pair of torches on the wall spring to brilliant light.
We're in a large room, a damp room that has been converted into a primitive shelter. It hasn't been used in some time, but it was used once--there's a badly tattered blanket on the floor, a crate that would serve as a chair, the torches on the wall, a pile of dried organic material to fuel the fires...
...and the writing on the wall. I can't read what it says because Tempest is in the way. While the rest of us were staring around the room, the yellow Seeker was walking forwards towards the writing. In her hand she grips her energon knife. She leans forward and puts a single mark on the wall.
Below the writing is a pair of long blades, brilliant blue like the trim on Tempest's wings, almost half the yellow jet's height in length. She picks them up by the hilt, hefting them; then almost defiantly, she half-turns towards us. The look in her eyes is terrifyingly blank.
With that turn, she's out of the way and I can finally read the graffiti that covers the wall. Most of it looks like tally marks, grouped in sets of ten. There must be more than a Cybertronian solar cycle's worth.
And overtop of them all is crude, childish writing.
TEMPEST WAS HERE.
***TEMPEST***
~Did I ever really leave?~
The words stare back at me. TEMPEST WAS HERE.
Tempest IS here. I look down at the blades in my hands. They are shorter than I remember them, but I was shorter then too...an adolescent, still two upgrades short of maturity. I wonder if I still know how to use them.
I'd better.
I turn back to my crew. "Welcome to our new base."
Harrier, unsurprised, is sorting the communications equipment. I turn my attention to the Autobots. "Springer, Cavalier, make Pipes as comfortable as possible," I order. The Autobots obey, shooting me looks of surprise and gratitude. I hope they remember this. I need their allegiance as never before.
"Everybody listen up." I make sure I have everyone's attention. "We are on a planet known as Tartarus. This is a survival situation. Fuel is in short supply here and so are photon charges. There will be a limitation on movement. Try to conserve as much energy as possible.
"Think carefully before using your lasers. The amount of charge you have right now is all you're going to get. Lasers will be used in emergencies only. This base is reasonably secure. We will have two guards on duty at all times." I see the glances they exchange. It is our custom to have only one guard. "Two," I stress. "No one will go anywhere, not ANYWHERE, alone. Unless you are detailed for forage duties there is no need for you to leave this base. Cavalier, you and Springer will be detailed to work on a transmitter to bring the rescue ship as close as possible to our current location."
"What's going on here?" Springer interrrupts, a note of anger in his voice. Chopper and Cavalier appear stunned at the urgency in my voice. Harrier--I don't even want to look at him. I know what's on his face. Concern and a touch of fear. He knows the story of this place. I told him years ago in a moment of weakness. I cannot afford weakness now.
"Where in the Pit are we?" Springer continues. "Tartarus--I've never even heard of it!"
"I'll tell you what I know," I say flatly. I need the others on my side, need my team. "This was once a thriving planet of robotic life, and I will venture that it was a former Cybertronian outpost. I presume the system's sun went nova and sent a shockwave over this planet. Those who could escape, did. Those who could not, found themselves trapped on a ruined world with precious little fuel left. And, until our comrades rescue us, we are now in the same predicament."
Silence as the Autobots assimilate this information. Wordlessly, Cavalier points up at the writing on the wall.
"I lived here," I snap. "Welcome to my world."
"How'd you get away?" Springer asks.
A reasonable question. He wants to know if my old escape was conducted on a route which we could repeat.
~I could not repeat that never never~
"Privateers," I choke out. "A chance encounter with a ship that found its way here by accident."
"And they took you out of here," Cavalier says.
~at a price a price too high a price...~
I nod and say nothing.
Springer snorts. "No way we'd be that lucky."
~No, you idiot...~ Flashbacks race through my mind. Vicious brutes, those privateers had used me for sport until they'd tired of me and cast me out along their way. I still debate whether it would have been better to stay here and...
~no you survived you SURVIVED.~ I would never have lived this long had I stayed on Tartarus.
The Autobots are staring at me. I'm blacking out, getting too wrapped up in the roils in my mind. I must not show weakness before the troops. ~Divert yourself and speak.~ "Our best chance is to wait for a rescue ship--and to contact one, we need to build the transmitter."
I look at the dangerously small stack of energon cubes that's been piled in the corner. We're going to need more fuel and I know where to get it. I also know the Autobots aren't going to like the answer. For that matter, neither is Harrier, but he at least is going to be understanding. Still, I don't want to subject him to the experience unless I have to. I pick Chopper to accompany me. Chopper, the little psychopath, will have no qualms about executing the task at hand.
"You three get started. Chopper and I are going for fuel."
"You know where to find it?" Springer asks.
I nod curtly; then Chopper and I leave the base together.
***CAVALIER***
"Figure we can rig a working transmitter out of this stuff?" Springer asks.
"We'd better," Harrier mutters.
I've had enough. "Okay, Harrier, what exactly is going on here?"
The Decepticon looks down at an electrical connection, avoiding my gaze. "We're on a savage planet in a survival situation, and we have to get off as soon as possible. You heard Tempest's briefing."
"What isn't she telling?"
"I say, I don't know what you mean, old girl. I..."
"Shut up," I snarl.
Springer looks concerned. "Look, Cav, picking a fight with him isn't going to get us anywhere."
"We're stuck on some Forbidden Planet, in a tight spot according to Tempest, and HE is holding something back." I glare at Harrier. "Tempest's scared. I've never seen her act this way before. There's something about this place that has her on edge and I want to know what it is. I have a RIGHT to know. YOU know--I can tell--and I think that if you keep this secret, you might endanger all of us."
Harrier weighs my words and finally speaks. "There are hostiles on this planet."
"What kind of hostiles?" Springer demands.
"Robots. Not Autobot or Decepticon."
"And we can't talk reason to them?"
"Not a chance."
"What would they want with us?" I ask.
"Us dead."
I blink my optics. "It's that simple?" I whisper questioningly.
It's never that simple.
"Yes," Harrier replies curtly, almost angrily. "Put it this way. We've landed on a world gone mad."
Springer shifts nervously. "Something in the air? Or the fuel? A virus, maybe?"
"No," Harrier says. "It's all..." he taps his head "...up here. Think about it. There's hardly any fuel here. We have to take what we can wherever we can get it, and we have to take it from the locals--who've been doing the same thing for years. Living hand to mouth will make anyone a little crazy."
Springer rolls his optics. "Oh, and you would know, Mr. Duke of Decepticons."
"Shut up," Harrier hisses, and I've never seen the good natured jump jet look so angry before. "You have no idea what I've lived through!"
"Stop it!" I bark. Looking somewhat guilty, the two males comply. "The last thing we need to do is get at each other's throats now. As long as we don't go crazy, we'll be fine."
Harrier agrees, "If we stick together and watch our backs...and set aside everything but survival...we should make it through. Still, the sooner we fix the transmitter, the better."
In the corner, Pipes groans piteously. I feel sick and helpless. Pipes is leaking fuel, badly, but there's nothing more we can do to repair him. I go over and check the field patches anyway. He smiles gratefully up at me; I take his hand. The contact is comfort enough to help him slip off to sleep.
His face retains the faint smile as air whooshes in and out of his vents. He looks peaceful, relaxed, and for a moment I envy him his peace of mind.
***TEMPEST***
Empty.
We've come up EMPTY.
The Scavengers beat us back to the ship. The bodies of the crew were broken and damaged when we left; now they're barely more than skeletal frames, having been stripped bare of paneling, gears and, of course, fuel tanks. In some cases, entire limbs are missing.
"We need some parts," I hiss, "for Pipes."
"Pipes is a goner anyway," Chopper whines. "I say we slice 'im open and save fuel for the rest of us..."
"As would I, but you know as well as I do that the Autobots would never stand for it."
"So we slice up the Autobots too! Come on Boss, you remember the glory days, don't you? Decepticons forever and all that?"
"We're all scrap if the Quintessons win this war. First we beat those tentacled creeps and THEN we slag Autobots. Get your priorities straight!" I suck air into my intakes, producing a growl. "And we need the Autobots here. The more of us there are, the better chance we stand of fighting off the Scavengers."
"I ain't afraid of no Scavengers or no NOTHINGS!"
"Then you're an idiot," I snap. I'm tense again, struggling to keep from twitching, and I keep thinking that I hear something moving in the ruins behind me. I tighten my grip around the hilts of my blades.
"So what do we do now? Go back to the camp empty-handed?"
"Not hardly. I'm game for a little hunting." I slide the swords one against the other, sharpening the edges. "Some of the Scavengers will be lax after glutting themselves on our dead. Full of fuel..."
Chopper smirks as he understands my meaning. "You know, Boss, this is a side of you I've never seen before. And you call me uncivilized."
"I can at least put on a display of manners." Chopper snorts at the rebuke. I allow myself a cold smile. "There is a time and place for everything. This...well, this may be the proper place for you and your attitude."
On to Part Two
