TRANSFORMERS: DARK STORM RISING CHAPTER 14 TRANS-SPATIAL INCLINATION CHAPTER 1

Optimus laid in the near-dark. Soft blue emergency light projected conflicting reflections and shadows; the ship was completely offline. Bitter flooring gnawed his exostructure with a type of pain he had not felt in thousands of years.

Optimus failed to account the duration of his stasis. Certainly not a good sign.

When he sat up all his physical senses screamed in a different language. He touched the metal floor. Every scratch, minuscule dent and bits of dirt relayed information in a startling, detailed manner. The enfolding dark prohibited clear visual scans. Looming abstract shapes reflected and absorbed the emergency lights. Something’s wrong, he wordlessly mouthed. Laying a hand on his foot Optimus recognized the sensation of pliancy. No, he thought. “No,” he whispered.

Five toes wiggled. One finger over a thumb confirmed a thumbnail. With a brush over his face: Hair. Nose. Eyes. Lips. Ears.

Optimus’ memories raced back, back; four million years. Five million years. Six million ‘and change,’ as Rodimus might add. Lord Tayroug from Oltalis, somewhere in the Cygnus IV system, traded bodies with Prime. To be sure he did not suffer the same fate as before, Optimus stood and checked for a tail. No. An oblong head? No. But he did have thick hair. Webbed fingers? Negative. His tongue assured Optimus he had one jawline. His tongue was not split nor did he have double rows of teeth with which he might sever his tongue like he did back then.

Air automatically filled his lungs as his shoulders sank with relief. Do not panic, he told himself. First off, it could be a weird dream. Secondly...the moment spiraled from bad to much worse. Maybe if he kept his optics facing forward rather than searching the ceiling, the ceiling would not look at far away as it did right then. The Autobot leader swore in a language he had not spoken for millions of years. His form turned organic then his stature shrank. Damn.

“Okay,” he said aloud, “first: light. Second: something to wear.” Prime raised his voice, “Mozart, light!” He grimaced when nothing happened. “Please?”

Damn.

Prime rifled through memory to recollect his whereabouts; where Autobot Shark stood to his proximity and whomever else worked in engineering that day. J-Breaker, as Optimus recalled from the roster. “Right,” he said out loud, “J-Breaker, Shark and Q-T. Oh! I remember. Kaven, Michelle a-a-and Dennis.” Dennis was the new trainee.

Like a blindman knowing his way around home, Optimus located the team of human/humanoids where he assigned them several days before. Not one of them stirred from unconsciousness even when Prime called their names. Why was he the only person conscious? He double-checked, took their pulse and listened for breath. Their cold bodies indicated death, yet Prime detected nothing of the sort. He stretched forth his awareness and found no death anywhere along the ship.

“Well,” he announced, “I’m sorry to do this to you, Kaven. But you’re closer to my size than either Dennis or Michelle.” Optimus procured Kaven’s informal clothing and armor. To his great relief, Prime found a miniature digipad in Dennis’ pocket. Kavin’s boots squeezed a little tightly, his jeans hung loose about the hips. Optimus scanned the buttress nearby their work station and pried open an undetectable panel along the side.

“In case of emergency, ask Optimus,” he joked. Prime dipped his hand inside the secret compartment and flipped several switches. He waited ten seconds. When nothing happened, he moved on to the next agenda. A flashlight, communication headgear and two standard ion pulse rifles greeted his probing fingers. Extra clips and a weapons belt came next. A bottle of water, a utility knife and two packs of rations hugged the inside wall. Two sets of protective overalls sat neatly folded, used only if the ship’s engines malfunctioned. There was also an emergency tool kit which included everything necessary when working in engineering. “Note to self,” he said to the communicator. “Never, ever, ever tell Rodimus. Hopefully, this awkward situation can be swiftly and quietly rectified.” Prime raised his voice again, “Mozart. Status authorization Orion 619, 2021. Report.”

Silence.

With a soft growl, Prime picked out a smaller flashlight and headed for the entryway. Everything towered above him; an ant in a sterilized, mechanical world. Upon reaching his point of origin, Prime turned the heavier flashlight in Shark’s direction. The Autobot engineer hovered like a three-dimensional statue held fast in time. Optimus read Shark’s life signs but could not tell if Shark hovered there fully conscious.
“I’ll never hear the end of the jokes over this situation,” Optimus tapped into the ship-wide comm frequency. “This is Prime. If anyone is able, please contact me on this channel.”

-INCLINATION-

All the important question came first: Where am I? What happened? Who am I? Why?

Darkness hovered thick and heavy like a void of endless “what the hells.”

The next question: Why am I cold?”

Galvatron sat up and wiped his face.

Wa-a-a-ait a second. Whose hand was that? “Who’s there?” he whispered. He slapped his hand over his mouth. The metallic tone was gone and his face felt squishy. Galvatron squealed and scooted backward. The floor’s cold smooth surface accommodated his movements but his body slapped instead of thunked. Something more was wrong. Oh Primus, don’t... No! His hand crept toward his crotch. He squeaked when he squeezed too hard.

“Okay,” the former leader said to himself. “Let’s, let’s not panic. Wait. First: Where’s Rodimus?”

Galvatron patted the floor until he grabbed warm flesh. Further down, the flesh formed a foot. North of that direction, it turned into a knee. Assuming the foot and knee are parts of Rodimus, Galvatron postulated, it meant that whatever happened was not a fluke, nor was he singled out. Mentally reaching backward, Galvatron recalled carrying Rodimus into the turbolift. The doors didn’t shut. Right! Rodimus was badly injured, they were going to medbay when the floor lost its color. He checked Roddi’s wounds. To his relief, the injury to Rodimus’ back was not wet with blood. His left leg, however, saturated Galvatron’s hand. The Decepticon crouched and accidently smeared Prime’s blood on his own knee.

We phased out of space and time, he assumed. We’re not dead yet. He stood and tried to formulate a plan. Galvatron lifted his eyes against the impenetrable darkness. “If I have to look like this,” he said aloud, “can’t I at least have a super power?”

Galvatron wiped his face with his cleaner hand, scowled and tried to recall the last time he stood in absolute darkness. Nothing recent came to mind. Thi-i-i-ink! He had no idea which way to turn, how far he was from the entrance nor did he know whether or not he and Rodimus were alone. “I can’t just leave,” he said to himself. “Rodimus is hapless and helpless. So, that would... not be good.” Galvatron stood and laced his fingers behind his head. His hands contacted warm skin. Puzzled, Galvatron searched his head. No hair. Not so much as fuzz capped the nudity of his skull. So the strange transformation left him with a polished pate? Amusing.

Venturing in one direction with outstretched arms, Galvatron felt his way around the dark world.

Solid wall.

He tried another direction and stumbled over Roddi’s unconscious form. With a foul word on his tongue, Galvatron caught himself then ventured right. Even several yards off, his path remained clear. Leaving Rodimus alone wasn’t a good idea, but failing to look for help or resources was irresponsible. Something caused the Mozart to shudder and Galvatron stumbled. That was it. He had to find help.

-INCLINATION-

Cyclonus teetered at the edge of consciousness and the dream state. His aerodynamic frame froze in mid-motion while the ship’s interior turned translucent. Cyclonus ordered his body to shift and fly but not so much as a digit moved. Only his awareness continued to function. What’s happening to me?

Was that a voice he just heard? His frozen body responded to none of his demands. As he tried time and again to move, something like a speck of ghostly light floated from the lightless cross-corridor.
The ship bucked and teetered. And an EDC officer from the opposite direction slid across the floor. His weapon followed and discharged. The phaser hit Cyclonus’ right foot and his whole body tingled with scorching pin pricks.

As if attracted by the magnetic destabilizer (EDC-issue) the ghost-light returned, accelerated and slammed into Cyclonus’ chest. A hurricane of sounds, voices and images assaulted the lieutenant from the inside.

 Who are you? What’s your name? Who are you, what’s your name? Who are you? What’s yourname? Whoare you? What’syour name?

If Cyclonus breathed, the air would catch in his throat and down the wrong way. His life traveled backward. Yolthanis. Bare Anches. Cratis. Earth. Mars. Skorponok. Vector Sigma. The Hate Plague. Back and back. Unicron. Megatron. South America. The crashing ship. Bombshell.

He was Bombshell.

No. He flew the Bombshell, a prototype PSX 427 jet fighter that exceeded mach 4.2 with the ease of a hydrojet on grease.

Forward. Alaska. Mars. Europa. The Lunar War. The Hate Plague. Marla. Stephani. His children, Joshaua, Shotero and Courtney. Pricillia DeMarco.

Forward and forward until The Rift tore him apart.

Cyclonus fell face down. He felt nothing at first. His mind flashed from one ambiguous memory to another.

Stop there. Find your center. Count backward. Stop there. Find your center. Find the center of life. Listen. Is that a heartbeat? Cyclonus thought his body melted into the ship’s metal flooring.

What is this? What is this?

“What is this?” he weakly muttered aloud. His own voice brought the Decepticon back to consciousness.

“Cyclonus!” Initially the voice rang clear and foreign, almost as if speaking another language. Rough warm hands gripped his cold body and manhandled him to sit. Cyclonus’ head drooped as if someone shut him off.
“Hey. Cyclonus?”

His weak optics adjusted and by means of the soft emergency lighting, he gazed at a shape. A set of red optics glowed from a human’s face.

“I would never have found you had you not been talking to yourself.”

“I wasss...ssspeaking?” he slurred.

“Yes. Up. Can you stand?”

“Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” the other person snapped.

“I don’t know. There was a light and I was flying and there was a light and... why do I feel strange?”

“You just asked the same thing twice. Are you certain you are alright?”

“No. Something happened to me.”

“Yes. You’re cursed. We’re both flesh creatures.”

That struck a chord of familiarity. Wait. “Galvatron?” Before getting an answer, the other man hauled him to his feet.

“Whom else?” the former Decepticon leader snarled.

Cyclonus’ head swirled like a spinning top and stopped at the last event on Yolthanis III; the fight with the Paratrons and the Mozart’s slow fade out of reality. “What happened?”

“I don’t know and I have no time to theorize. I have to get back to Rodimus Prime before something else goes wrong!”

Disoriented, Cyclonus half walked, half stumbled beside Galvatron. He collided against his commander and would have sent them both to the floor were it not for Galvatron’s sturdy sure-footedness.

“Whoa, there, Old Friend!” Galvatron half laughed. “Are you certain your gyros are aligned properly? Were you drinking something naughty?”

“I don’t think I have any, Galvatron.” Cyclonus replied gravely. He drew several breaths as Galvatron held his shoulders. A short wave of dizziness passed over his optics until Cyclonus recognized Galvatron’s red optic sensors. “Galvatron, what the Pitt happened to us?”

“Someone has turned us into Liliputians. Naked Liliputians!” Galvatron hissed. “Rodimus is wounded and I must get him to medbay.” Cyclonus radiated confusion but Galvatron did not have either time or patience to translate. They back-tracked a forty-minute walk, guided by frozen Autobots, unconscious Humans and the occasional emergency light. Cyclonus failed to appreciate the names Galvatron gave to each unconscious or frozen ‘guidepost’ he used to mark the trail. Even ‘Rip Van Weeney’ failed to penetrate Cyclonus’ state of confusion. By the time they reached the turbolift and a comatose Rodimus Prime, Cyclonus’ head cleared but a nagging headache softly throbbed at the back of his skull.

“Cyclonus,” Galvatron said softly but firmly, “we must retrieve our dignity and find out what’s going on.”

“What of the Autobot, Galvatron? What happened to Rodimus Prime?”

“Right! Where were we before this happened? Oh, he was ambushed by a pair of wannabe Decepticons.”

“Wannabe?” Cyclonus echoed.

“I’ll carry him. You fly ahead.” Galvatron paused a breath when he realized what he said. Then: “Dammit! We’ll be walking all over the ship with dangly parts swinging everywhere!”

“Perhaps, Galvatron, the first thing we need is better lighting. As I recall, there are control access panels for Humans at every corridor conjunction.”

“You always were the smart one, Cyclonus,” Galvatron grunted. “I’ll take Rodimus. You lead.”

Cyclonus waited until Galvatron secured Rodimus over his shoulder. The lieutenant proceeded with an occasional backward glance, meeting his friend’s bright red optics. They walked until Cyclonus found the left wall. From there, the Decepticons traveled until the corridor offered a left turn.

“Here,” Cyclonus announced. Galvatron waited wordless while his companion searched for the assumed panel. And he waited. Cyclonus patted the wall back and forth, up and down. And the minutes drifted. And Galvatron turned impatient.

“Cyclonus, let’s keep moving.”

“Wait. I know there’s one here.”

Galvatron scowled and slumped against the wall. He jumped away when he heard a crack. “Oh! Sorry, Rodimus.”

“You’re going to kill him,” Cyclonus warned.

“A cracked cranium never killed anyone. Hurry up before he widdles on me!”

Cyclonus paused then decided it was not the right moment to call Galvatron on his choice of words. “Here it is,” he declared a moment later.

“Wait,” Galvatron called, “How can you see the panel to activate the lights if there’s no lights to see? What if you flip the wrong switch?” Emergency blue lighting showered the corridor and Galvatron read the smile on his friend’s face.

The control panel allowed Cyclonus to open seven doors down the left hall. They passed three Autobots suspended in time. Galvatron found it eerie, as if something turned the Sagittarian Mozart into a tomb.
The first room: janitorial supplies. Cyclonus closed the door as fast as he opened it.

The room after that: Medbay, Lab 4. Everything towered far above them. Tables, chairs, equipment... they were strangers in their own ‘home realm’. Galvatron unloaded Rodimus like a bag of clothing and Rodimus’ head hit the floor harder than the Decepticon intended. “Damn. Sorry, Rodimus.” He stood straight and raised his optics. “How do we get into these predicaments?” he shouted. “And how come you and Rodimus have hair on your heads and I do not?” he glared when Cyclonus merely shrugged.

They snooped about like a pair of glitch mice. Lab techs, nurses and Autobot patients loomed above them like metallic gods. Galvatron almost hit his face against a frozen Bumblebee. Even a small thing like him stood so high, Galvatron could not make out the lines of the Autobot’s face. With a squint of his right optic, Galvatron climbed up Shorty and leapt to the nearby counter top. “Have you found anything useful, Cyclonus?” he called.

“A Human maintenance worker with clothes and a flashlight, Galvatron.”

“That’s good,” the former Decepticon leader tried to see by the dim blue light. Flasks, digipads, a small cube of energon met his cursory glance. The lab tech’s datatablet and pointer lay on the other side of a centrifuge. The center table at the left supported a microscope surrounded by vials and a female humanoid lay unconscious nearby.

Frustrated, Galvatron climbed back down and met with his companion. “Those clothes look weird on you, Cyclonus.”

“They’re overalls, I believe.”

“Tear off the sleeves. We’ll use them to wrap Rodimus’ leg. It’s still bleeding.”

“How long, Galvatron, do you think he’ll remain unconscious?"

“Are you kidding me? I banged his head twice. Not on purpose.” Galvatron bounded Roddi’s wounded leg while Cyclonus slipped back into the overalls. “There!” Galvatron sounded pleased with himself. “Cyclonus, you’ll have to lead so I’ll know to hide Rodimus should anyone come by.”

Cyclonus suddenly found the flashlight of great interest. He knew no one would see Rodimus first, but Galvatron-all of Galvatron. The Decepticon lieutenant kept his eyes on the new toy as his friend hauled Rodimus back over his left shoulder.

The next room assaulted their humanoid noses with stronger cleaning fluids, dirty filters, old mop water, old oil and soured ammonia. They could not walk fast enough.

The next opened door waited for them two hundred yards away. Galvatron wearily laid Rodimus on the floor against the wall while Cyclonus ventured in. Rodimus’ leg stopped bleeding but Galvatron worried about infection. What an awkward situation, he thought.

“There’s nothing in here, Galvatron,” Cyclonus reported. “Broken equipment, damaged tools and so on.”

Galvatron wiped his face with both hands. “Do you think I’ll grow a beard?”

To Galvatron’s relief, Rodimus moaned and sounded as if he were dying. He moved and hissed inward. “Primus, I hope not.” his voice cracked with pain. He sat up and gazed at two unfamiliar humans. “Why are you naked?” The grimace on his face dropped and his bright blue eyes flared. “No.” Rodimus checked his hands. “NO.” he looked at Galvatron’s nervous smile and Roddi dropped his jaw in horror. “No!” he repeated.

 “This is not happening! This is... this is some horrible dream left over from the Virus, isn’t it? Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!” he stood and pain zapped from the wounded leg to his middle.

Galvatron caught the Autobot leader before Rodimus face-planted. “Whoa! Ha, ha! Whoa there. Can’t transform, can’t run off, cannot ‘pass Go.’” Roddi trembled as with shock and Galvatron heard him whisper something about nudity. “We all woke like this, Rodimus. I mean, you, me and he.”

Prime raised his gaze above Galvatron’s eyes. “You don’t have any hair on your head.”

“Expanding consciousness. Rodimus, we tried to get you to medbay. But the tables won’t fit you and no one else can come to our aid.”

Rodimus muttered something intelligible while he stared at Galvatron first then Cyclonus. “Who dressed you?” he asked. Back to Galvatron: “Duh, Galvatron, did you know we have a comm system?” Galvatron gripped Roddi’s chin and lifted his head toward the lightless ceiling. He turned the Autobot’s head this way so Rodimus might see a frozen Autobot lying nearby, then another direction where the blue light ended. “Yeah,” Roddi said with a muffled voice, “okay. The store is closed and nobody’s working.” Galvatron released him and Prime worked his jaw. “So... what’s with the E-lights? Malfunction?”

Cyclonus pointed the flashlight toward the distant end of the corridor. “I remembered Human-sized access panels.”

Rodimus frowned. “So why didn’t you open the panel on the floor?”

Both Decepticons, awkward as a child caught without pants: “Uhhhh...”

‘Awkward’ became the operative word. Cyclonus led the way and helped Galvatron with a gimpy, cranky Autobot leader. Rodimus hissed as often as he swore until they returned to the corner conjunction.

“Here, Rodimus,” Galvatron untangled Roddi’s right arm off his shoulders. “This was the first place where I banged your head.”

Rodimus’ optics smoldered as he sank to the floor. “You’re just a jar of jelly beans, aren’t you, Galvatron?”

The Decepticon simply smiled in turn and ran a hand over his smooth scalp. He kept watch while Rodimus instructed Cyclonus. The floor panel slid open and the Decepticon tugged out one box after another. Rodimus raided one that contained emergency clothing and another with light armor.

“What size do you wear, Galvatron?”

Galvatron stepped around so that Rodimus had full view and framed his gonads with his hands: “Whatever fits this. Because he is not happy and I am not happy.” that earned him a smirk from Cyclonus.
Rodimus dropped his head and waved a hand to block the sight. “Not-not something I need to see, Galvatron. Here. Try this.” he tossed a pair of fatigues hoping to Primus they’d fit. Rodimus found a pair that fit himself then he sighed short and hard. “Sorry, Cyclonus. There’s just two sets of clothing here, large and extra-large plus light armor.”

“Not working,” Galvatron announced. “Doesn’t fit.”

“They’re extra-large, Galvatron.”

“I’m telling you, Little G can’t get in!”

Rodimus shook his head in exasperated disbelief when Galvatron turned about to prove the fatigues failed to rise above his hips.”

“I’ll take them,” Cyclonus offered.

“NO,” Roddi objected. He pointed a finger at Galvatron, “you are NOT going full-frontal!”

Galvatron stripped off the fatigues, borrowed Cyclonus’ flashlight and read the label. “Medium. The tag says ‘medium,’ Rodimus. Do I look like a Twizzler to you?”

“That can’t be right.” Rodimus eyed the clothing with doubt. “Optimus and Magnus and I all made sure the orders were correct; we triple-checked the lists.”

Galvatron wadded the fatigues and threw them at Roddi. “Consider this a masculine revolution. Little G will be free a while longer!”

Rodimus scrambled to examine the tag himself then stared aimlessly, befuddled by the hapless situation. “This isn’t possible.”

Cyclonus secured himself in the large-size T-shirt, fatigues, jacket and light armor. “Until recently, it was not possible to travel along the light frequencies of a pulsar. Yet, here we are.” He clasped a heavy belt about his hips with a thigh holster and tugged on a pair of short steel-toed boots.

Rodimus caught Galvatron’s expression: not a jeering smile but expectation. “What?” Roddi snapped. “I can’t fit them either. One size stays that size, armor to underwear.”

Galvatron grinned and again pointed at Roddi. “Then you too, can join the masculine revolution! Revel in the freedom of cool breezes while everyone goes out of their way to avoid you!”

Rodimus, not quite amused: “Primus well and truly hates me.”

-INCLINATION-

The thick sound-resistant dark smothered Magnus so that he asked himself whether or not he was conscious. The uncomfortable floor pushed against him with a chilling temperature. All Magnus had to do was move one extremity to fully conclude his situation turned from inconvenient to alarming. “What the hell?” He sat up, took a bodily inventory then sat stunned. “Son of a bitch. As if once wasn’t enough! Wake up, Strike Back. And don’t you dare try anything stupid.” Pause. “NOW, Strike Back!”

Empty sound followed empty air when Magnus reached for his prisoner.

“Dammit!” he shouted. Squishy and short. The Major-general stood and played a game of one: Blindman’s Bluff. Hands outstretched, he walked in one direction until a surface met his fingers. Go slow, don’t trip over anything. He chose to move left until the metal surface vanished. Stay calm, keep going.

That ‘going’ kept going while Magnus found one shape then another, sometimes they conjoined and other times the surfaces ended abruptly. When Magnus tripped over an object on the floor, he finally concluded he was groping Strike Back.

Magnus grimaced and tried to ignore the implications.

Think this through. Magnus searched his memory: how did he and Strike Back end in the turbolift? Magnus was going to throw Strike Back into the brig; literally. Once he dragged the rebellious Paratron onboard, he shoved Strike Back into the turbolift.

Magnus back-tracked to Strike Back’s southernmost end. A few feet from there, the Autobot commander bumped into the elevator doors. Progress: slow but good. Trailing to the right, Magnus followed the door to the Human-sized control panel. Naturally the panel stayed closed until the operator used voice command. Why didn’t he think of that earlier? Magnus stuck the panel with his fist. Bad planning. Of course, neither he nor either Prime expected to end up this size.

“Wait,” he said aloud, “the latch. Where’s the latch?” Magnus’ large fingers traced around the panel before he found the little flip-door and the manual key within. He smiled at the key he could not see. “Always prepared.”

The panel obeyed the key and Magnus fingered his way around while recalling what was there and what was not. Manual override, a catch release, emergency lighting and... freedom! The elevator responded by means of a small door opening into the immediate corridor.

Magnus had to admit that Rodimus was right: emergency manual doors and panels were good luck. “Now,” he declared to no one, “I’m going to find out what happened to my ship.”

-INCLINATION-

Daniel awoke with the god of all headaches pounding his brain. He activated his exosuit and turned on the emergency oxygen. The pain subsided to a low roar and he popped his neck.

Wait. Why was it dark?

“Hello?” he called. “Chalk-Talk? What’s with the lights?” Pause. “HEY! I KNOW SOMEONE HAS TO WATCH ME AT ALL TIMES, SMELTHEAD! ANSWER ME!”

Nothing. Just he and the dark. Spitting another foul word then two, Daniel reached for his tea cup and threw it at the energon bars. He gasped when it dawned on him that nothing stood between him and outside his cell. “Hello?” he repeated more cautiously. “Chalk-Talk? Chalk-Talk you there? Cha-a-a-lk-Talk.” Daniel dared to cross the threshold. “Chalk-Talk?” Witwicky activated the suit’s shoulder-mounted lighting and found his guard frozen against the wall where he sat still as a statue. At first Daniel stared, expecting the Autobot to leap to life and accuse him of an escape attempt. When that did not happen, Daniel crept closer and touched the robotic life form. Then he punched said life form. Nothing.

Daniel yelled and pounded and kicked the guard until an idea came to him. First he scratched his name into Chalk-Talk’s left leg, then the right. And because he knew how and had the opportunity to do so, Daniel dismembered the Autobot’s hands and feet. An hour later, just to be spiteful, Daniel nicked a fuel line so that Chalk-Talk slowly bled to death.

“There you are, Arcee,” he said, satisfied with his work. “You should never have made me do these things.”

Daniel whistled cheerfully while he opened the emergency manual door. With a salute to Chalk-Talk, Witwicky escaped in search of trouble.

-INCLINATION-

Rusti awoke in the familiar territory of pain and a lightless world. She sat up, cringed, rolled right to stand, got to her knees then bowed over. “Ohmigod,” she moaned. “I’m going to die.” Her legs slid flat and she remained face-down. Her brain drifted from one pointless thought to another. She’d fall back to sleep were the floor more comfortable. Twisting her head to the right, Rusti vaguely wondered why it was so dark. Then she woke a little more and realized it wasn’t supposed to be dark. She remembered the fight, she remembered landing hard on her hip and she remembered Magnus, Cyclonus and some message-
“The Mozart,” she mumbled. “I’m on the Mozart.” A long emptiness followed that as if she were the one and only thing in the universe. Someone told her to get to Cloudstreaker. But Rusti recalled nothing thereafter, nor the reason for going to Cloudstreaker.

Which way was she supposed to go?

“Mozart?” she asked quietly. “Mozart? She laid a hand on the wall and tried to read the Autobot ship. It was like reading a brick wall. Was the Mozart dead? Pushing herself off the floor, Rusti intensified her effort to contact the ship. She glued both hands onto the wall and tried to link up. The ship’s computer answered her call but devoid of voice or personality, it merely waited for her to send orders. “Lights,” she said in turn. Rusti rolled her eyes when told there was no power. “Emergency lights,” she amended.

The environment came alive when long strips along the walls glowed blue. Not perfect, but better.

Choosing to continue toward the bridge, Rusti passed Autobots, aliens and Humans either lying unconscious on the floor or frozen in mid-movement. Something important came to mind: there was a bomb on the bridge.

Rusti ran at first but the deep bruise in her left hip forced her to walk. She pushed herself and ran again, paused to catch her breath and ran again until the ache spread down her leg. The half second she reached the bridge, Rusti dropped to her knees and bowed over. She inhaled hard and coughed. Once the worse pain subsided, she searched for a way in. The weak lighting made it difficult for her to find anything and calling for Cloudstreaker was pointless.

She smacked the fifty-foot double doors with her palms. “Mozart!” she called, “open the damn doors!”

Nope.

Rusti spun about and leaned against them. Oh to have a gun or a bazooka or a cannon!

Think, don’t whine about it, she said to herself,. Rusti thought of the ship and the ship’s computer. It indicated to her that the engines were offline. No power; like a disconnected battery on a remote control toy car or an unplugged computer.

Rusti stared down the corridor. Emergency lighting cast thick shadows and dim reflections off the walls, the buttresses and three crew members. She closed her eyes and thunked her head against the impenetrable doors. “Come on, Mozart, I know you’re not dead.” she stretched forth her senses from the doors to the walls, the floor, the ceiling and the blue light.

A whisper of air touched her face and Rusti opened her eyes. From the light panels on the left wall, a shadowy figure emerged, noiseless and graceful. The centaur landed and bowed before approaching her. Rusti instinctively reached to touch his face.

“Don’t be upset. I was worried.” she turned puzzled when the ship’s persona sadly smiled. “Can’t you say something?” she caught herself. “Oh, right. You’re offline.” she pointed to the blue panels. “Oh, you’re riding on those, aren’t you? Are you hurt?” when the Mozart shook his head, Rusti half-twisted and smacked her right palm against the door. “I have to get in. Cloudstreaker could be in trouble.” She read doubt and stress in his eyes and posture. “You HAVE to try!” Rusti insisted. “Use some energy from the lights-“ Mozart touched her face and Rusti’s eyes fluttered. He spoke to her without a familiar language. It took her several moments to dissect Mozart’s communication. It was like ‘hearing’ music through her fingers but she caught on.

“What? No, no, no, no. I control impulses, not power sources. I can communicate with algorithms. That does not mean I can move energy. What did you just call me?” she flinched with surprise when the ethereal centaur dropped his jaw in surprise and stepped back.

Behind her, the doors slid open and the Mozart’s persona caught her before Rusti fell backward. A thick dark cloud rolled over the threshold. It exhumed an amalgamated stench of burnt metal, melted wiring and smoldering circuitry.

Within the damaged bridge, a lady’s trembling voice betrayed her attempt at bravado. “Who’s there? Who’s there?” She coughed three times. “Don’t come any closer unless you want-*cough*-to eat 25,000 volts!”
Rusti assumed Cloudstreaker was alone on the bridge. She glanced at Mozart who shrugged then nodded. “Cloudstreaker?” she called. “Cloud-“

”Who is that?”

“It’s Rusti Witwicky. I was initially told to join you on the bridge.”

Cloudy’s voice squeaked unnaturally. “The girl? I, I don’t think you should come any closer-“ she coughed again. “-or maybe you can help me. Primus, what am I saying?”

Rusti wordlessly looked to the Sagittarian Mozart for help and the persona pointed two-fifteen of their location. She inched forward and grimaced at the pungent bitter smoke. “Cloudstreaker, are you okay? You sound upset.”

“I don’t know what happened to me! I’m small and I don’t know what to do!”

Rusti followed Cloudy’s weeping voice and found a woman huddled in a corner between the navigation consol and the starboard readouts. White page-boy styled hair accompanied her pale naked skin. She squeezed as tightly into the corner as her form allowed, as if trying to disappear. Rusti removed her shirt and knelt before the lady. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

The femme raised her head and Rusti silently gasped at her blue eyes as they softly glowed in the dark. The effected created a remarkable alien look. “I’m not okay. I don’t know what happened to me! Why would someone do this?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know technology like this existed. Can you stand?”

“Y-yes. But-”

“Let’s get you up. You can wear my shirt.” Rusti helped her stand and slip into the long-tailed shirt. The poor femme looked like a ghost. Rusti took her by the hand stepped twice before Cloudstreaker held her back.

“No, wait!” her large, solid blue eyes reflected terror. “You have to promise not to let Ultra Magnus see me like this. It’s embarrassing.”

Rusti smiled lightly before stretching her arm across Cloudy’s slender shoulders. “I think he’d understand, Cloudstreaker. He’s lots of things, but immature isn’t necessarily one of them. If it’s embarrassment you’re worried about, then it’s Rodimus you’ll want to avoid.”

“But I don’t lov-I mean, Rodimus doesn’t bother me.” Cloudstreaker’s lips trembled and she hugged herself tightly.

Rusti brought her to the threshold where the centaur stood as a silent guardian. “Okay, Cloudstreaker, you’re the officer between us. I’m just a civilian. What’s the protocol for a situation like this?” The femme glared at her in horror and Rusti rephrased the question: “The ship is offline and you and I are the only two we know of who are conscious. What’s the first thing we need to do?”

“Communications,” Cloudy finally answered. We need to see if we can contact anyone else or find a way for them to contact us.”

Rusti drew a big nothing as far as ideas went. And for the millionth time, she wondered where her exosuit went.

Cloudstreaker cast her gaze far away. She batted at this tear and that one. “I’ve never felt helpless like this. It’s humiliating. I can’t reach the controls, I can’t...” she looked down at her body. “I can’t handle this. It’s not me.”

“Wait,” Rusti said hesitantly, “Captain Littlefield heads the Sunset Kummya. That means-“

”Right!” Cloudy’s eyes lit up. “The caches. I’d forgotten all about them.”

“The what?"

“The caches. Don’t you kn-oh. You’re not EDC, so I guess you wouldn’t. Let’s go look for one.

This time Rusti followed Cloudstreaker.

-INCLINATION-
 

Daniel whistled Pink Panther as he strolled down one corridor after another. All turbolifts were as useless as the ship’s passengers and crew. He viewed the world through the limited vision of his exosuit but none of that bothered Witwicky. He was a free man. Every living person or thing could lie dead and Witwicky would feel the same: he was free to come and go and do whatever pleased him. He even stopped to urinate on a femme.

“Spreading the love!” he declared loudly. “Optimus! O-o-o-optimus! I’m coming for you!” Daniel tucked himself away and continued the stroll, whistling the Star Wars theme.

Two corridors later it occurred to Witwicky that while he may be free, he also had few to no resources. With the Mozart dead, floating in space or wherever else it might be, there was no water readily available. As for food, he supposed cannibalism might be an option. But even Daniel thought that as bottom-of-the-barrel desperate.

The high-pitched sound of an activated laser rifle sang in the air and a strangely familiar voice followed: “Hello, Daniel. I might have guessed you’d find a way out of your cage-DON’T turn around. I far prefer seeing this side of your face.”

“So you caught me. Congrats. You gonna kill me or talk me to death?”

“Oh, I can be a little more creative than that, Daniel. I’m not Optimus, but I do know how to make someone else’s life miserable enough.”

Witwicky scoffed. “Cock-timus Prime. Tell me, friend, how is it that you’re running around and no one else is moving?”

“I don’t know,” Magnus answered deadpan. “But you and I are going to the bridge.”

“Oh. Okay.” Daniel took one step forward then spun about with a roundhouse kick. To his surprise, the assault was easily deflected and his opponent twisted his foot so that Daniel landed on the floor. The man squatted beside him.

“I know the concept is difficult for you to grasp, Daniel, but I advise you not to mess with me. I might accidently break something.”

“Like I fucking care,” Witwicky grunted. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“You don’t recognize me?”

“Oh, sure! I know who you are now!” Daniel mocked. “You’re Monte Canthensen, the retard Insurance salesman. Hey, didn’t they shove you into the slammer for human trafficking and raping several little kids?”
Magnus grunted, stood and hauled his prisoner to his feet. “I’ll traffic you just for being a smartass.”

Daniel’s eyes climbed the powerhouse of a male who stood as close to six and a half feet as Witwicky could guess. Built like a brick wall, the man looked as if rockets might bounce off his chest. He wore light armor, a laser rifle with a thigh holster and a 9-millimeter in the pocket. However, the one thing that set the stranger apart from Humans were his eyes. Squared eyes softly glowed solid blue. They looked unnatural. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Move.” Magnus ordered.

Daniel turned away and marched forward. He waited ten minutes so as to lure his new babysitter into a false sense of calm. As they turned a corner, Daniel kicked roundhouse to the left and followed through with a second kick to Magnus’ middle.

Magnus doubled over, inhaled and speared Daniel with his shoulder. He rammed Witwicky into the wall and deflected another kick. Magnus gifted Daniel with a punch that hit the Human like an anvil. A second strike forced Witwicky to the floor with a bleeding nose and a split lip.

Daniel spit blood and panted. “My god,” he huffed, “you fight like Magnus.” His eyes lifted as it occurred to him. Witwicky gazed over his shoulder and summed up the person and the situation. “Wait a minute. No way. Magnus?” He read the straight-laced glower and when the stranger crossed his arms, Daniel lost it. He laughed and laughed hard. “No!” he squealed. “It can’t be true! Can’t!” he laughed and laughed again.

“Are you about finished?” Magnus growled.

Daniel wiped tears off his face and a little more blood off his nose. One more look at Magnus, however and Witwicky fell into another fit. “Tell me-ha, ha, Magnus,” he drew a deep breath and tried to contain the laughter. “Is that-uh-flash all over or are you missing a few manly parts?”

Magnus yanked Daniel up by the left arm and got into his face. “I don’t have time to answer that.”

Daniel sniggered before assaulting the Major-general with a sucker punch. Magnus bowed clear over with an oof! Daniel delivered a blow to the diaphragm. Magnus, however, already recovered and snapped his head up. He caught Witwicky by the chin and Daniel staggered back. His exosuit compensated for the moment’s lack of balance while Daniel himself batted his eyes against the stars. He did not see Magnus deliver another ‘anvil’ punch. Daniel staggered again then tumbled from the second punch.

He lost consciousness after Punch Number Three.

-INCLINATION-

Optimus pasted his back to the wall as the deck plates under his humanoid feet vibrated. The angled intruder, though biped, walked like a deer. It took calculating steps, paused to listen then proceeded.
How the holy Pitt did an Inoux find them? How? And how was it that the Inoux remained in its original form and height while Prime’s own body changed? More importantly, how was he going to solve this not-so-little problem?

Prime peered round the corner just as the Inoux vanished into the dark. Only a few sections of the Mozart produced emergency lighting and Optimus tried to figure out why. Yes, the computer was offline. The engines were cold with inactivity and the power crystals hummed with reduced frequencies. In other words, wherever the Mozart landed, the ship landed depleted of energy and out of tachyon synchronization.

And to think he believed their situation was improving!

Concluding it wiser to get to the bridge, Optimus chose a different route. He hoped the Inoux was alone. Optimus found his way to the nearest cross-section and entered the maintenance step well. He climbed two decks before resting. He crouched against the wall and listened. The soundless world still breathed with life energy but it lay dormant. Was he the only one in the predicament? What of Rusti? Was she still on Yolthanis? Optimus hoped so; all the greater a reason to keep going.

“I suppose at some point we’ll actually reach Mechlatex,” he thought. What of the Paratrons? Optimus had no other choice at this point. Strike Back left him no choice. He and everyone who participated in the attempted coup will have to be exiled.

The Autobot leader continued his journey. Every then and again Prime swore he heard a distant tik-tik and it sounded like it followed him. As soon as he stopped walking, however, the noise stopped and he did not hear it again until the next cross-section.

This time Optimus slipped into the maintenance step well and waited. After several breaths, he reached for manual access controls, counted four toggle switches to the far right and flipped the last one. He opened the door just a crack and found the corridor outside the step well lit with emergency lights. On the far side of the corridor a long shape with sharp right angles crawled along the wall as if it were an insect. When it reached the cross-section, it leaped with a tik-tik and continued on the same trajectory.

Optimus closed the door. How did the Inoux know where to find him? Prime took to the ladder, counted seven steps then tugged a latch on either side of the rungs. The next four rungs retracted and revealed a crawl space that ran between decks. It left very little room to move through. Optimus crawled the length of two corridors before emerging into another step well. He rested a moment. The crawl space was too small for him; too close like a burial vault.

He climbed seven rungs down and touched the landing on the main floor. He flipped on the emergency lights and proceeded to the bridge.

-INCLINATION-

Rodimus emerged from the step well leading from Medbay to the main deck. He dropped to one knee then lay face down. “Oh, baby, I’m so happy to see you!”

“There’s nothing to see,” Cyclonus corrected.

Rodimus softly pounded his forehead on the floor and laced fingers across the back of his head. “I am never going to hang around the two of you ever again.”

Galvatron closed the door behind himself. “I’m assuming we’re at another conjunction,” he said.

“Yes,” Rodimus mumbled against the floor.

“Then let’s look into another compartment.”

Rodimus moaned. “Thirteen, Galvatron. Thirteen compartments and not one of them had anything to fit your bloated aft.”

Galvatron crouched before the prone Prime and clicked his tongue. “You simply do not appreciate a good thing when you see it.”

Rodimus lifted his head and glared through the dark. “See it?” he repeated. “See it?!” He got up on hands and knees. “You are the last thing I want to see! No, scratch that, you are the one thing I don’t want to see-you and your hairless egg!”

Galvatron remained irritatingly cool. “Jealousy over my good looks is not improving the situation, Rodimus.”

All three looked up when the emergency lights snapped on.

“Someone must be on the bridge,” Rodimus deduced.

“Yes,” Galvatron answered. “Cloudstreaker. As far as I know, she was...”

“There was a bomb on the bridge,” Cyclonus announced.

“Shit!” Rodimus tried to stand. “Help me up. We need to go!”

-INCLINATION-

Daniel awoke with aching misery. Magnus dragged him along the floor like some little child’s blanket. His left eye burned. His jaws ached and his tongue reported two broken teeth. Witwicky wondered momentarily if Magnus had his way would he have murdered him or just busted every bone in his body. Convinced of the latter, Daniel frowned then grunted with surprise when Magnus dropped him like a flat tire. “Hey!” Witwicky whined. “You don’t have to be such an ass!”

“Shut up, Daniel,” the Major-general growled. “Be grateful I didn’t shove you into an airlock or jettison you out a torpedo tube.”

“You don’t have the balls for that,” Daniel sneered.

Magnus jammed the .9 mil against Witwicky’s exposed throat. “You’d rather I end your life right this second, Daniel? Would you? I would not mind splattering your brain matter all over my ship if it meant not dealing with you another micron.”

Daniel swallowed against the gun barrel. “I suppose I enjoy breathing.”

“Oh, good answer, Daniel!” Magnus mocked. “Now get up and start walking.” Magnus stormed ahead while Daniel’s eyes darted around them. “Are we on the main deck?”

“Yes.”

“Why is the ship dead, Magnus?”

“We’re going to find out, Daniel.”

They approached the open doors and an EDC-issue Taurus .229 appeared round the door frame.

“I better hear a familiar voice or name.”

Magnus blinked. “Rusti?”

“Good enough.” The gun lowered and Rusti emerged into the light. She started to say something when confusion stole her words.

“It’s Ultra Magnus, Rusti,” He watched her attempt to say something while her eyes panned between he and her father. “I don’t know what happened,” the Major-general continued. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Rusti answered on automatic. “I came here, well, I was on my way here. I was told to stay with Cloudstreaker. By the way, Daddy, we found your bomb.”

Magnus grabbed Daniel by the neck of the suit and prepared to punch him again. “You planted a bomb on my ship?!”

“I didn’t plant nothing!” Daniel hotly replied. “I just did the design work. Your precious Paratrons did the rest.” Daniel sneered at Rusti. “How do you know it’s mine, anyway?”

“Your name was on it.”

Magnus shoved Witwicky aside. “Where’s the bomb? Where is it?!”

“What’s left of it is around navigation,” Rusti answered calmly. “Cloudstreaker’s looking at it.”

Magnus inched his face into Rusti’s. “Stay with him.” He stomped off, venting his anger and impatience with each step.

Daniel smiled in spite of his bruised and swollen face. “Resonna-“

”Don’t talk to me.” Rusti snapped.

He ignored her: “I was going to compliment you on your choice of clothing. And how did you get your hands on such a lovely weapon?”

Rusti feigned ignorance. “What? This little thing?”

Daniel’s smile held while he measured her physic and what it would take to overpower her. Rusti wore the same light armor, vest and shirt as Magnus except she wore jeans. The utility belt about her hips contained ammunition and a dagger. “So tell me, Sweetie, where did you learn to use it?”

Rusti dipped her head to the right and pulled the trigger. Daniel’s suit sizzled with a short-out and down he dropped.

Magnus’ voice carried too well across the room: “What the hell’s going on over there?!”

“Nothing,” Rusti sang.

Magnus huffed. “Yeah, I’ll bet,” he grumbled. “Here,” he said to Cloudstreaker, “let me help with that.” Together they yanked off a plastic cover warped and mutilated by the explosion. Cloudy peered inside with a small maglight.

“What are you looking for?” Magnus asked. He could not keep his eyes off her white hair. She also had the cutest nose-

“I want to make sure the device is dead,” she said without looking at him. Cloudstreaker tried to climb into the wreckage but height held her back.

“Can I help you with that?” Magnus offered.

“With what?” she snaked her head back out.

“You looked like you needed to climb in.”

“Oh. Yes. Did you want to take a look at it?”

“I don’t read energy flares, Cloudstreaker. But I can help you in.”

He said her name. Cloudy’s cheeks burned slightly. When he first approached her, Cloudstreaker was greatly relieved she was not the only Autobot in the current state of physical diminishment. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

To her surprise, Magnus crouched on hands and knees like a Human step ladder.

“Thank you, Commander,” she said softly. The femme carefully climbed over his back, scrambled over the ledge and into the broken bomb casing. Magnus stood and watched as she toed over and around the bomb’s charred innards.

“Be careful, Cloudstreaker,” he said. “There might be a radiation leak somewhere.”

Cloudy wanted to thank him for his consideration. But she forced her emotions under control and concentrated on the job. She touched blackened, fried wiring to her left then laid her hand on a chunk of melted parts to determine the heat ratio. Cloudstreaker shook her head. “It’s cold, Commander,” she reported.

Magnus nodded. “I figured, since it already went off.”

Returning to the opening, Cloudy crouched, reading his eyes. “I needed to make sure there was not a second fuse. Daniel Witwicky and I have been...” she picked out her words like nails from a tire. “Adversaries. I had no idea he was as smart as he is. I can’t trust him to be civilized on any level.” She read concern in his features. With a tight smile, she dangled her legs over the entrance and tried to land gracefully. Magnus caught her as she dropped and Cloudy thought her core froze. She smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”

Magnus offered her a curt nod then pointed his thumb toward the bridge entrance. “Let’s go find out what’s going on over there.”

Rusti lifted her chin in defiance when Magnus and Cloudstreaker rejoined her.

“What the hell?” Magnus repeated.

“He’s not dead,” Rusti answered innocently. “I just stunned him, that’s all”

“You could have killed him!”

She drilled holes into Magnus with her eyes. “Even if I did, he wouldn’t be missed. You know that.”

“Revenge is a good road with a broken bridge, Rusti.”

“It wasn’t revenge! My finger just slipped.”

The rhythm of feet and boots approaching caught their attention. Magnus, Rusti and Cloudstreaker came face to face with one humanoid male in red hair, another in dark hair and fully dressed and a third with no hair at all. Rusti again raised the Taurus .229.

Rodimus held up his hands: “whoa there, girl! It’s just me, Mister Spock and Laughing Boy.”

“Rodimus?” Rusti and Magnus echoed. Magnus pushed Rusti’s gun down. “I can’t believe this,” He said. “How did this happen? Why aren’t all the Autobots changed? And, erm, which of you two is Galvatron?”

“That would be me,” the bald one grinned. “With a complete package!” and he framed himself.

Rusti and Cyclonus face-palmed. Cloudy looked away.

Magnus gazed from Galvatron to Roddi. “Why are the two of you running around naked on my ship?”

“We couldn’t find anything in the compartments that fit. Cyclonus here is a large. The other size was a medium. I see you found something.” Roddi’s scowl was evident even in the emergency lighting.

Magnus planted his hand on hips. “Uh, the false bottom, Rodimus?”

“The what?”

“The false bottom, remember? It’s where we stored extra rations, ammo, the Taurus rifles and the extra-sized clothing.”

Rodimus: “Oh. Uhh...”

Cyclonus pushed the awkward moment aside. “Why is Daniel Witwicky lying on the floor?”

Rusti: “Slip of the finger.”

“Alright,” Magnus carried on, “first, YOU,” he pointed to Rodimus, “Get some clothes on and something for him. Cloudstreaker and I will try to get the ship’s lighting and oxygen flowing. Rusti, you and Cyclonus keep watch.

Cyclonus rounded Rodimus. “Are you sure you want to leave these two alone by themselves?”

“Do you think I care whether or not they kill each other?” Magnus countered. Cyclonus shrugged, Magnus nodded and all six separated.

Cyclonus and Rusti stayed silent for a long time. They heard Magnus and Cloudstreaker’s conversation from the dais on which sat the captain’s chair. Daniel remained unmoved and Rusti finally had to ask:
“I’ll bet it’s really strange for you, Cyclonus. I mean, not just small but organic.”

At first the Decepticon lieutenant said nothing then his deep, steady voice aired between them. “It’s not as different as you might think, Rusti. There are details that are different, certainly.”

Rusti’s main focus tracked one thing: “Your eyes. They’re not Human at all.”

To her surprise, he smiled. “Thank you.”

The ship’s lighting flickered twice then came alive. Rusti smiled with relief then rolled her eyes when Daniel moaned as he regained consciousness.

With a hand over his face, Witwicky slowly sat on his knees. “That hurt,” he complained. Upon seeing Cyclonus first then Rusti, his eyes turned hard. “Did you just shoot me, you little bitch?”

Taking a cue from Cyclonus, Rusti chose to say nothing.

Daniel hissed inward and sandwiched his head between his hands. “Fucking damn.”

Cyclonus: “I’m assuming he often uses colorful, uncouth language.”

“Very often,” Rusti quietly concurred.

Daniel sneered. “What is this? The two of you playing psychiatrist?” He clasped his hands together and crawled prayerfully toward Rusti. “Oh please,” he mocked, “I need someone to talk to. I need medicine.”

Cyclonus stepped between father and daughter with the laser rifle resting against Witwicky’s forehead. “Don’t.”

Daniel projected hate. “Which pile of clown shit are you?”

If Cyclonus planned to answer, he did not get the chance before Rodimus and Galvatron arrived, clothed and armed. Galvatron handed Cyclonus a canteen of water then bent over and peered around Daniel’s face. “Hello, Danny. Nice to see you on your knees.”

Daniel grabbed Galvatron round the neck, attempting to drag him down. But the Decepticon merely laughed even as Rodimus drew his rifle. Galvatron stood straight while Daniel dangled from round his neck like a child.

“Why, Danny,” Galvatron taunted, “what an incredibly stupid move you just made!” He licked Daniel from lips to nose. Daniel cried out, horrified and dropped one and a half feet before landing on his ass. Galvatron grinned and leered. “Cyclonus,” he said, “if I end up with some weird disease, be sure to put the dog down and get me to the infirmary.”

“There you are!” All eyes turned right as Optimus approached, smiling with relief. He gazed at Roddi first. “Hello, Rodimus,” He said warmly. “And Daniel, why are you out of your room?” Then he saw her. Sweet locks of red hair tied back. Freckles sprinkled her nose and her fair, touchable skin. “Hello, Rusti.”

Her heart stopped beating, her lungs stopped breathing. She stood before a god, perfect from deep dark hair to the magnificently chiseled body and that voice. All Rusti’s blood rushed to her head and she passed out.

All the males watched her hit the floor.

Galvatron, naturally, said something first. “How come no one’s ever done that for me?”

Cyclonus folded his arms. “You’re not Optimus Prime.”

Magnus and Cloudstreaker joined the group. Optimus picked up his wife and held her until Rusti caught her breath and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She half gasped for air, half laughed and leaned against him for support.

Magnus bounced a four-sided wrench in his palm. “Has anyone here seen anyone else either conscious or in this other state of existence?”

Rodimus pointed to his Decepticon companions. “Just these two freeloaders.”

Magnus frowned. “I’ve only encountered Daniel. Prime?”

“Hm?” Optimus tore his attention off the woman in his arms to the situation on hand. “Oh. No. I’ve seen no one else. However,” here he released one arm from around Rusti to face the others. “Our situation has turned even more complicated. An Inoux followed me around Deck Five.”

“Oh, Primus!” Cloudstreaker covered her mouth.

“Just one?” Rodimus asked.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he’s not ‘Barbie-doll’ size.”

Magnus turned grim. “Which type was it?”

“Assassin.”

Rodimus dropped his head in thought. Magnus lapped his arms over one another. Cyclonus supported his right elbow with the left hand and fingered his chin. Cloudstreaker hunched her shoulders. Optimus lifted his gaze to the furthermost wall and Galvatron stared nowhere to his right.

Dead quiet circulated between them and Witwicky squirmed with uneasiness.

Magnus broke the silence. “Alright. First thing we need to do is isolate the Inoux.”

Optimus shook his head. “They travel through the shadows, Magnus.”

“Then we can isolate ourselves on the bridge.”

Optimus nodded.

Roddi took his turn. “We need to find out were we are.”

“Or when,” Cloudy added. She blushed when too many eyes pinned her.

Cyclonus joined in: “We should attempt to communicate both via radio and subspace frequencies.”

“Um...” Cloudy tried to come out of her shell. “I think we need to realign the ship to match the tachyon frequencies. We might not be in another universe, but traveling across space itself would throw anything out of alignment.”

“Good idea,” Rodimus praised. Then both he and Optimus chorused: “but we’re a little short for the job.” Roddi shrugged when everyone else stared at them.

“We could build exosuits,” Cloudy suggested. “I mean, I know we have exosuits but again, they’d have to be realigned.”

Galvatron finally spoke up. “Realigning the tachyon structure for anything is a long and delicate process. Even the Quintessons found it difficult.”

Rodimus nodded. “That explains why the time window in 2006 was so unstable.”

“Precisely,” the Decepticon agreed. “And we do not have Perceptor among us.”

Magnus laid a hand on Cloudstreaker’s shoulder and she blushed. “No,” the Major-general concurred, “But we have Cloudy.” He paused abruptly and looked to her. “Can I call you ‘Cloudy’?”

The group agreed that Rodimus, Magnus, Optimus and Galvatron should scavenge the ship for parts of the new exosuits. Cyclonus and Cloudstreaker remained on the bridge with Rusti and Daniel.

The Autobot femme and Decepticon spent hours carefully disassembled two scanners and laser equipment.

“I don’t see how that’s going to help,” Daniel remarked sourly.

“We’re just getting the scanners set up enough to read the ship’s lighting,” Cloudy answered.

“And that helps how?”

She glanced at Daniel and wished she had not. “Light exists in every dimension. Unlike sound, it has an unlimited number of frequencies and exists even in the mono-dimensional plane.”

Daniel frowned and dragged his eyes to his estranged daughter who sat against a consol apart from the group. “Hey,” he called, “shouldn’t you be helping out?”

“Shouldn’t you shut your mouth?” she snapped back.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Daniel snarled. “I am still your father!”

“I emancipated,” Rusti returned.

A smirk escaped Cloudy and she smiled as she worked.

Daniel glared at her in disgust. “You think that’s funny?”

“Leave her alone,” Rusti snapped.”

“Quiet!” Cyclonus ordered. “All of you!” He stopped working and tilted his head left then raised his eyes toward the bridge’s ceiling. A distant tap trickled through the ship’s metal plating.

Cloudstreaker gasped and reached for another tool. “I guess we need to work faster.”

Cyclonus laid a hand on hers. “No. Stay steady. We cannot afford to make mistakes.”

They worked for an untold number of hours until Daniel complained of starvation. Cloudy unpacked a small box of energy bars and Daniel threw them at her face.

“Hey!” Rusti shouted, “that was uncalled for!”

Daniel made several rude gestures and spit several four-letter words in succession: “You, you and you!” he pointed at each person in turn. “I happen to know they have real meals around here and THAT’S what I want!”

Rusti stood and her eyes darkened with simmering anger. “You are such a sli’kikik. Cloudstreaker did not have to give anything to you. None of us owes you anything.”

“I am a Human being,” Witwicky seethed. “THAT’S what you owe me!” Cyclonus stared at him with an eerie calm and Daniel sneered at him. “What?!”

“When you decide to act like Human being, we will feed you.”

Daniel pointed to the bars. “I am not eating shit!”

“We were told to watch you, not cater to your tantrums.” Cyclonus turned back to the scanner. Daniel tried to push his temper, testing the Decepticon lieutenant’s patience. When Cyclonus did not react to anything, Daniel finally sat down and sulked. Rusti marveled At Cyclonus’ patience and ability to concentrate in spite of Daniel’s rants.

Hour by hour the bridge turned quiet as a vacant library. Rusti drew a deep breath and realized she fell asleep. She did not see Cloudstreaker. Rusti quietly searched the bridge and all its corners including the lavatory. Then it dawned on her: Daniel was gone, too.

“Cyclonus,” she gently patted the sleeping Decepticon’s shoulder. He sat up, alert and attentive. “They’re gone,” she reported. “Cloudstreaker-“

”Missing?”

She nodded and when Cyclonus re-latched his vest and picked up the laser rifle, she did the same.

“Do not leave the bridge, Rusti,” he said. “Cloudstreaker may yet return.”

“If she’s with him, she could be in serious trouble.” Rusti expected an answer but Cyclonus only stared at her until she conceded. “I’ll wait here for the others.”

He nodded and left Rusti alone on the bridge. She paced restlessly, worried over what Daniel might do to Cloudstreaker. The femme was more scientist and technician than solder and maybe that was why Rusti liked her. Goodness she was shy!

Rusti stopped pacing and leaned against the dias. The Sagittarian Mozart sat quiet but he registered sunlight and plant life outside. She silently asked about oxygen content but since the ship was not a computer itself, he did not understand the question. It was like asking a child about the ingredients of ice cream.

What about the Inoux? She asked. Can you sense an intruder?

There was. The Mozart indicated the intruder appeared to search for an exit. Rusti’s brows scrunched, perplexed. Why was their enemy looking for a way off the ship rather than go on a killing spree?
Rusti smacked herself upside the head. “Ohmigod, am I stupid!” she said out loud. “Mozart, can you locate my demonic father and Cloudstreaker?” she waited a few moments. The Mozart’s lack of energy made his response difficult and slow, since the ship’s internal sensors, like skin on an organic, depended strictly on the emergency lighting. That, too, presented a problem since not all areas of the Mozart were lit.
DECK 2. AIR SHAFT 320-G.

Where the hell was that supposed to be?

“Rusti?” Roddi’s welcomed voice filled her with relief. “I came to get... where’s Cyclonus?” he paused then, “where is everyone?”

-INCLINATION-

Roddi and Rusti joined the other mechs as they disassembled parts of a turbolift, fixtures inside the ceiling above and components from a nearby conference room. Rusti was amazed at their growing collection. But then, Optimus, Roddi and Magnus knew the ship upside-out. She noticed, too, they jury-rigged several pieces of equipment to handle large sheets of metal or heavy, awkwardly shaped parts.

Optimus approached first. He wore a T-shirt slightly too small for his frame. He wiped oil off his large hands then toweled sweat off his forehead.

“Daniel’s gone,” Rodimus grimly reported. “Cloudstreaker is missing and Cyclonus left to find them.”

“Mm.” Optimus dropped his gaze from Roddi to Rusti and the slightest of smiles touched his lips. “When all is said and done,” he said to her, “I am taking you on a vacation.” Rusti smiled in turn and a warm, yummy feeling rose in her stomach. She said nothing, however, knowing the moment was not exactly perfect for a loving, teasing conversation. Well, that and she did not want to appear an idiot in front of Rodimus.
Rusti waited while Rodimus reiterated what the ship told her. Optimus gathered the guys together, repeated the news and redressed. Rusti picked up his cast-off T-shirt before catching up.

Magnus inspected the air conduit the second they found Air Shaft 320-G. He traced the melted and blackened outer edges with his thumb then turned to his companions. “It looks as if he opened this with a laser torch, perhaps something he added to his exosuit.”

Rodimus frowned. “Okay. Galvatron, you and Cyclonus search between six-and-nine of our location. I’ll take Rusti-“ here he glanced at the Senior Prime-“And we’ll go three-to-six. Op, you and Mags can cover nine-to-three.”

“I’d rather that Rusti stays here,” Optimus suggested.

“Optimus,” she annunciated slowly, “I know you’re trying to protect me and that you’ll argue that someone needs to stay with the Mozart. But the fact is, you are not big, bad and mechanical anymore. You are my size. So, everybody does the buddy-system. Even you, Magnus and Galvatron.”

Rodimus folded his arms. “Well, I guess I don’t need one-“

Rusti shook her finger at him without looking in his direction: “you need one by default, Roddi.”

Optimus and Galvatron laughed, then Optimus double-checked his hand gun. “Looks like I’ve already been whipped. Come on, Magnus. Let’s go rescue a damsel.”

Galvatron and Cyclonus left first then Magnus and Optimus. It occurred to Rusti how none of them even bothered to check whether or not the planet was hospitable to carbon-based life forms utilizing oxygen. Rodimus ‘invited’ her to go first while he double-checked the safety lock. Rusti slid down the shaft, landed on the transition platform then climbed down the ladder.

A pristine planet waited for her outside. Lush, blue-green foliage swayed in a sweet, clean breeze. Dark blue mountains peeked between several top-heavy trees. The ‘men’ did the same thing as she: they gazed at the beauty around them. Then Magnus walked off first, partly inspecting the Mozart’s outer hull as he and Prime marched off.

Galvatron and Cyclonus walked about twenty feet apart. Rodimus examined the ground before he landed. The breeze tousled his wavy red hair as the Autobot leader snooped among shoulder-high grasses. Rusti kept his pace about five feet away. When he paused, she did too and searched the horizon.

“You know, Lady-friend,” he said quietly. “Me and Optimus have discussed executing your father.”

She was not surprised. “Why haven’t you? He’s already killed someone.”

Roddi narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure why.” They moved left, about five o clock of the Mozart’s position. “It’s as if Op and me have this weird suspicion that Daniel’s supposed to stay alive for a reason.”
“Is that the Matrix’s position, Roddi?”

He stopped and rested his gaze on her. “Maybe. Or most likely,” he amended. “We’re both getting the same inclination. So, as painfully irritating as he is, it’s just not for us to take him out yet.”
Rusti did not know what to say to that. I’m sorry he’s such an asshole, Roddi. I’m sorry that everyone suffers because of him.”

Rodimus smiled ruefully. “You know, Lady-friend, sometimes good things come out of bad. Sometimes you have to wade through crap and suffering because something better is on the way. And who knows where this incident might lead us?”

Rusti took two steps as puzzlement touched her brows. “That’s very philosophical of you, Roddi.”

“Eh, I’ve had time to think.” He glanced around again and caught the gleam of a metallic object six-thirty of the Mozart. “Hey, he announced, “there’s something over there.” He and Rusti swam through thick beds of grasses until the land dipped and brought them to the inland of a large lake.

“Holy crap,” Rodimus whispered. “It’s huge.”

Rusti beheld a gleaming dark silver arch rising at least fifty feet. On either side floated two blocks of silver and holographic imagery of a control system. She stepped beside Rodimus, unable to look elsewhere. “Is-is that what brought us here, Roddi?”

“I don’t think so, Lady-friend. I think we phased here and the Mozart followed its frequency readings.” Rodimus shrugged. “Or not.”

A thump-r-r-r-umble-thump came at their direction. Rodimus grabbed Rusti’s hand and they raced for a nearby copse of beautiful trees. They stayed down and kept quiet. Trailing out from the grasses came two enormous tortoises, each the size of a twin-engine plane, wingtip-to-wingtip. A harness strapped their shells and they walked like elephants. A long train of energon cubes floated behind the great beasts and at the end, several biped creatures followed. Their smooth silver exterior reflected the world around them. Their hairless, faceless heads displayed no indication of communication or sensory reception. Both caravans aimed for the archway. One silver being pointed to the floating control module on the left. The archway shimmered and the inside of a hanger or shuttle craft or storage bay appeared. The tortoises passed into the arch and once the travelers all entered, the archway returned to normal.

Rodimus gapped. “It’s a gateway,” he stood.

“It’s a time window,” Rusti corrected.

“What?” Rodimus helped her up. “What?”

“It’s a time window. I can feel Quintesson imprints all over it.”

Rodimus smiled and ran toward the gateway.

“Roddi, don’t go near it!” Rusti’s voice caught in her throat when she saw Optimus’ Inoux headed in their direction. It moved so fast and so quietly, Rodimus didn’t see it until the Inoux hand-sprung clear over and landed in front of the window.

Roddi and Rusti held their breath while they looked on. The Inox ignored them and activated the time window. The arch crackled with red lightning and the scenery within it blurred until the black walls of great mountains appeared at the distance. Between them lulled a red ocean. Above that hovered two suns and a ringed planet. The Inoux, however, did not step into the window. It collected spikes of red electricity until a spear of white lightning shot into its faceless head. The window shut down and the Inoux stood in place. A minute passed. Two. Three. Four. The Inoux crumbled like a rock. Little pieces tumbled about the ground and rested.

Glancing at Rusti, Rodimus carefully approached the stone closest to him. He bent over to examine it and the rock moved by itself. Roddi sprung back as the object grew four legs.

Rusti gasped and hunkered closer to the tree. Another piece of the original Inoux vibrated and a long set of arms grew from its small form. The four-legged rock walked around like a headless dog. A scorpion’s tail sprouted from one end, a head and a set of pincers raised from the other.

The biped rose from the rock like a plant in a time-lapse film. Five more Inoux rose from other stones and ten more after that then another three. The aliens gathered about but neither Rodimus nor Rusti heard them speak. A moment later the group split up and all but vanished out of sight. Rusti covered her mouth and held her breath until Rodimus returned to her.

“We need to find the others now.” he said.