Author’s Note: It saddens me that I’ve had to narrate so much of this story. But for the sake of time, the story must be finished. Also, ‘tu’ means ‘affirmative’ or ‘positive’. Onward!–T.L. Arens

TRANS-SPATIAL INCLINATION
V

Rusti ventured the dreadful walk toward Daniel’s prison. Trepidation fluttered about her stomach like a collection of spiked balls. No matter how she felt, she pressed forward, applying determination to conquer fear. The warm plate on her hand consisted only of finger foods and a napkin. Captain Parthon knew better than to arm someone like her father with so much as a spoon.

Storage Bay 2 echoed the quiet. At its center, Daniel’s cage expanded 10x10 complete with a plywood section wherein sat a small bed and most likely a toilet.

Rusti’s boots softly thudded against the metal flooring. She crouched and slid the plate through the slot. Then noticed a link in the chainlink fencing hung separate from its neighbor. Rounding the right corner for a closer exam, Rusti found a line of disconnected links, like a tear in a shirt.

A THWAK smashed her head. She stumbled forward. A pair of metal hands yanked her up and held her fast.

A handmade two-prong knife moved into her eyesight so that she saw a reflection of her own iris.

Daniel’s voice echoed calm like a snake constricting its prey. “I will personally thank Ultra Magnus for leaving this for me last night. I suppose he was preoccupied, speaking with the ship engineer who argued about calculation for the Mozart. Hm?”

She froze.

“What’s that? Nothing to say, Resonna?” He squeezed tighter.

“I need to get back,” she finally answered. She was surprised by her own calm voice.

“That’s it? Nothing like “I missed you, Daddy?” he did not wait for a reply. “That’s fine. You and I will walk out and have a nice long conversation with the Primes.”

Pain scraped the right side of her neck. She hissed inward and involuntarily bucked.

“Mmmm...” Daniel moaned. “A little death now, a little death later. A little death thereafter.” he paused. “I’ll bet you think I’ve lost my mind.”

Rusti stared at the metal encasing his left arm. What if...? she concentrated on it. Daniel cut her again along the right jaw line. Rusti grit her teeth and traced an underlying power conduit from his thumb to elbow. It clicked off at her command.

Daniel’s left arm dropped. She spun out of his clutches.

He stared at his arm, dumbfounded. “What the hell?” Rusti backed away, inching toward the entrance. Daniel’s eyes caught her like a cat spotting movement. “Oh no you don’t!” He leapt, reaching for her with an outstretched hand.

“No!” Rusti held out a palm and Witwicky froze in movement, suspended in the air like a cartoon character. Her fear gave way to wonder. She tested the moment by ordering Daniel’s right foot to wiggle.

His face turned white with astonishment when his foot moved without permission. “What the hell?” he screamed. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

Instead of answering, Rusti played with Daniel’s exosuit like a puppet. He shouted and squawked. He threatened and screamed then begged. At first his body clunked about like a clumsy outfit made of Legos as Rusti improved her control. With every movement his body involuntarily pranced around the storage hanger. He jumped into the air and hung, suspended before lighting upon the floor on one foot. He stayed there then slowly rotated like a music box ballerina.

He twirled slowly while Rusti approached. She peered into his face; an artist evaluating her work. “Will you get that?” she asked herself. “If only I knew I could do this when I was nine, things would have been completely different.”

“Lemme down!” he whimpered and whined. “Lemme go. Please?” Witwicky openly blubbered.

“Now why would I do that?” Rusti asked honestly. “The minute I let you go, you’ll try to kill me again.” She watched him bawl as he rotated helplessly on his toes. “You don’t like feeling helpless, do you, Dad? You can’t take being picked on. You dish out torment and grief. You relish in other people’s misery. But when the moment catches up with you, you turn into a sobbing pollywog. You are a sorry excuse for a human being.” she let him drop like a piece of junk. “Go back to your cage. If you try to leave, or cause any mischief, I will know. The Infraction will tell me.” Anger slowly kindled with her and Rusti left before she did something stupid. She closed the door, leaned against and drew several deep breaths. If she could do that, control Daniel’s exosuit, what else was she capable of?

DINNER

Rain plopped into a chair beside Galvatron. He clamped his jaws around a large toasted sandwich and closed his eyes, delighted. He stopped chewing when Rain set Roddi’s reassembled ‘Albert’ on the table. Chewing slowly, the Decepticon sent her and eyeball of perplexion.

“Bait,” she answered the unspoken question. “Your friend, Optimus, said that Rodimus is brooding. So I thought I’d see if this meant anything to him.”

Magnus, whose head moved along the diagrams and floor plans of his Mozart, actually joined the conversation. “He might torture you for crossing the threshold of his quarters.”

Galvatron washed his sandwich down with an iced drink. “Your fascination with Rodimus Prime is adorable, Rain. But Rodimus is not relationship material.”

She shrugged. “Who said anything about a relationship? I’ve already beaten him twice in a boxing spar he tried to teach me.”

Magnus took for himself a glass of milk and poured hot sauce into it. “Maybe he thinks you’re cute. Galvatron isn’t always correct.” Magnus drank half the glass as Galvatron grinned.

“Maybe not,” the Decepticon admitted. He took another bite of sandwich. “But I’m funny.”

Magnus almost drank more milk but the incredulity of Galvatron’s comment forced his face to cringe. “You are not funny,” he said as Rodimus entered. “There is nothing funny about you.” He watched Prime take a seat at the table’s end. “Rodimus, tell Baldy here he’s not funny.”

“What?” Rodimus huffed. “Mentally or physically?”

“Both,” the two mechs chorused.

“He’s funny,” Prime said as he nabbed a bread roll, “...looking,” he added.

Milk flooded from Magnus’ mouth and he rushed for a napkin.

Knowing defeat when faced with it, Galvatron shook his head and finished his sandwich.

Rodimus helped himself to another roll as Optimus and Rusti entered. “Rain,” Roddi cooed, “Why did you abduct Albert?”

Optimus piled good things on his plate and Rodimus took them off and put them on his plate. Once both plates were full, Rodimus traded plates.

Optimus looked annoyed. “Will you be going to Mechlatex with us, Rodimus?”

“No.”

“No?”

Rodimus ate a mouthful. “No. You got lots of other people.” he swallowed. “You don’t need me.”

“Don’t say that.” Optimus’ tone was grave enough that Rodimus froze and looked apologetic.

Rodimus tried another excuse: “Someone needs to stay with the ship and keep an optic on Daniel and... um, Jackson. Isn’t that what we should call him?” He aimed the last question at Galvatron who looked displeased. Rodimus knew the attitude was not aimed at him.

Galvatron added salt to a pile of rice. “Maybe we should try an exorcism.”

Rusti forked her meat. “We are going to a library. You might find one there.”

“Not funny,” Galvatron snarled.

“Sorry.”

Magnus added hot sauced to each piece of meat before he stabbed it. “Are we transporting to the surface? I’m not fond of the transporter-thing.”

Rodimus and Rusti: “Neither am I.”

Rain poked a finger at Albert. “We’ll probably land outside a rural area and pick up a transport. Dot will make arrangements.”

Rusti pushed her empty plate away and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Do we need to buy clothing? What do they wear on Mechlatex? What’s the name of the city?”

The left corner of Rain’s lips lifted in a smile “L-L-Lakromycix, I believe. It’s the largest city. Dot’s been there a few times. I was there with the captain once. Plucky knows it better than anybody. He used to work there. But we won’t go there directly. We have to get ‘travel credits’ so that no one’s suspicious of our presence. As for what they wear: it’s not jeans or fatigues. And we’ll have to do something about your hair if you’re going, Rusti. They might mistake you as an alien. We’ll have to find sun visors for the rest of you. Ronduvians all wear visors because they live and work in the southern tunnel systems; burial ground and edible mushrooms. Sunlight hurts their eyes.”

Rodimus smirked. “Can’t wait to see you in sunglasses, Op. Oh to have a camera!”

“How long will we be there?” Rusti asked.

“I don’t know,” their shipmate replied. “Depends on how long it will take to locate Ryumee.”

Rodimus burped. “Ryumee?” he repeated. “The Automatron?”

“Tu.” Rain stared at him until Roddi made a face.

“What?” he asked.

“Just wondering whether or not they can do this without getting into trouble.

-INCLINATION-

DEAR BOOK.

TOMORROW IS THE BIG DAY. TEN OF US ARE HEADING INTO ENEMY TERRITORY TO RETRIEVE A DISSIDENT. ACTUALLY, NOT ALL TEN OF US WILL BE ON THAT HUNT. I’LL BE SAFELY STASHED IN A LIBRARY, SEARCHING FOR A WAY TO KICK JACKSON OUT OF CYCLONUS.

SOUNDS PERVE, DOESN’T IT?

RODIMUS + RAIN FOREVER.

THEY DENY IT, OF COURSE. IT’S SO OBVIOUS, IT’S DISGUSTING. AND OPTIMUS AND RUSTI FILL EVERY PLACE WITH KISSES AND HAND HOLDING.

I SHOULD ASK THEM TO HOLD MY HANDS, TOO.

AND JACKSON. HE’S UNREFINED, TEMPERAMENTAL AND HARASSES THE WOMEN. AND IN CASE YOU’RE WONDERING, YES, I PUNCHED HIM.

IN MY DEFENSE, IT HAPPENED AFTER I TOOK TURN TO FEED DANIEL.

Galvatron’s door buzzed. He closed the journal. “Enter.”

Rodimus opened the door but remained at the threshold. “Can we talk?”

“Is this about my fart chart?”

“No.”

“Yes, we can talk.”

Rodimus stepped in and sat at the edge of the bed. Galvatron stood from the chair, twirled it and sat in it backward. He eyed Rodimus with the critical eye of a veteran teacher.

“Rodimus, you look like someone crushed your pet fish.”

“Magnus had the pet fish. I have Albert.” Roddi’s serious mind set kept him from smiling at Galvatron’s eye roll. “Listen, Galvatron, this is gonna sound weird, but I was with Plucky at the space mall when he met up with this guy who gave him news about Psyklenex.” He paused, grateful Galvatron gave his full attention. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Have you spoken with Prime about it?”

“‘Bout what? Talking to strangers? Meh. He’s having a difficult time concentrating.” Roddi held up a hand when Galvatron blinked a stern look. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk with him sooner than later. I am, however, curious if you knew Psyklenex owned a power device that can instill life like the Matrix. Ever hear of the Oracle of Creation?

Galvatron dropped eye contact and searched his memory. “With all the fun and excitement we’ve had, I never stopped to think about Psyklenox. I know he was a First. As I recall, Mechlatex was an uninhabited world-wait!” The Decepticon met Roddi’s eyes again. “It has been a long, long time, Rodimus. I don’t even think your alternate counterpart knew of him.

“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks.” Rodimus hated to think about Hot Rod and the young Prime’s fate.

Galvatron continued, drawing from ancient memories. “Cybertron roamed into this star system. Of course, the events around Psyklenox occurred between constant civil unrest on Cybertron and the ever-changing government structures. But as I recall, Mechlatex was initially a penial coloney until someone discovered a metal that naturally grew on the planet. Eh...” Galvatron’s eyes panned as he struggled to resurrect memories old as fables: “Xorthium.”

“Xorthium?” Rodimus echoed. “That’s only a myth.”

“Oh no.” Galvatron shook his head with a smile. “No, no. it exists but it’s not found in every star system. Not every... now that I think on it, too, Roddi, Psyklenox was discovered by accident.”

“Psyklenox was found on Mechlatex?”

“Heh. No.” Galvatron realized he enjoyed this Q and A session. “See, it’s always been believed Cybertron wandered aimlessly through space. And that was true at one time. But at some point, the planet was caught in a gravitational orbit f dark energy. Every 240,000,000 years, Cybertron revisited Mechlatex’s solar system. So naturally, the Quintessons know.”

Galvatron blinked back flashes of long forgotten wars, of discoveries, deaths and bad deals. “They found Psyklenox in space. How here’s where the story takes a turn into the ‘Outer Limits.’ They found Psyklenox tethered to the sun, chained in an orbit designed to last for megania.”

Rodimus sat straighter as his eyes widened. “How the hell-“

”Exactly,” Galvatron agreed. “He was alive and fully functional.” He let that sink into Rodimus’ thick head a moment. “Now you say he has a device in his possession? What is it, exactly?”

“Don’t know,” Roddi replied with a shrug. “What I do know is that this guy is over-clocked and has been building a sizable army. The thing-a-majig gives him news from other places and things and history. History of what, I don’t know. That’s why I thought I’d come and tap your top.

Galvatron shook his head. “Could be some sort of multi-dimensional crystal. Otherwise, I have no clue.”

Rodimus nodded more to himself. He stood and slipped hands into his pockets. “You’ll keep an optic on Rusti, right? I won’t have to plan your demise if something goes sideways?”

“We’re going to be in a library, Rodimus. Unless the books, crystals or plastic devices fly off shelves and attack, I doubt there will be very little excitement.”

A watery smile touched Roddi’s lips then faded. “I’d feel better if you could transform into a cannon.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I will be armed.”

Rodimus gave an exaggerated nod. “I’d feel better if we did not have to do this at all.”

“So would I.”

 

-INCLINATION-

“Not one person on Mechlatex has red curly hair. One look at you and they’ll know you’re an alien.”

Rusti sat before a mirror in the room she now shared with Optimus. She tugged a bath towel off her head and revealed locks of long straight brown hair. She carefully combed through the knots and stared at the stranger reflected in the mirror.

She turned to Optimus who sat on the bed watching. “Well, how do you like it?”

“I don’t.” Optimus returned honestly. “It’s not you.”

Rusti batted her eyes. “Not sure how to take that one, Optimus.”

She looked like a whole different person with wet brown hair. Optimus’ heart sank. “I want to spend more time with you, Rusti. I want to spend every nanosecond, every astrosecond, every galactic year with you.” he paused, lost in her soft grey eyes. “You mean everything to me. And were the situation different, I’d let someone else handle it; handle everything and you and I would go on a Sunday driver. Even when it’s Wednesday.”

Rusti’s warm smile melted. She covered her face and wept.

“Oh no,” Optimus said sadly. He picked up her silky robe, draped it over her shoulders then knelt before his extra-species wife. “I did not mean to make you cry, Rusti.”

She cupped his face between her hands. “I have you now. Right here. I can old you and love you and love you. I have all this, the opportunity undreamed and I cannot have your child!” she sobbed and used three, four, five tissues before retaining her composure. “I, I’ll never forgive the Quintessons!”

“Rusti,” he said softly, “Rusti, remember what I once told you?”

She batted her eyes. “No.”

“I once told you only Autobot leaders can have offspring.”

“Optimus, you are humanoid. I am human...” her shoulders dropped when the truth sank in. “I guess our DNA difference would not make a difference.”

He kissed her hands. “Will you be all right?”

She nodded, now calm. “Yes. I should be grateful for what I have right now.”

“That’s my girl. Meanwhile, I must find a way to get your red curly hair back. He stood, still holding her hand. “Come sit with me so I can count your freckles. It’ll make me feel better.”

She stood. “I have a better idea, Optimus Prime.” Rusti disrobed. “I’m going to tuck you into bed.”


A dark snake squirmed and bucked inside his chest. For a while it lay quiet and sedated. But now it stirred as if awoken by a distant voice.
“Be still,” Optimus told it.
It thrashed as if screaming with its body. Eventually, however, the snake wore itself still. Optimus felt its heart beat wildly. What disturbed that Dark Thing? What power called It so that Darkness tried to break Its prison?
Its heart beat with a reverse rhythm. THUMP-THUMP. THUMP. THUMP-THUMP. THUMP. The sound turned Optimus into a wooden doll. Paralyzed, he stared forward in fear as Rusti’s blood gathered about his feet.
RELEASE TO FREE
Optimus stared, unmoving. Internally he refused the demand. The Darkness attached Rusti’s peeled skin and hair to its own body; a gruesome mockery of the essence of purity and love.
FREE THIS.
No.
The snake shook off its ghastly costume. Its long tail whipped through the air, its head arched back. The thing moaned, frustrated and irate.
VOID. GONE. DESOLATE. ABSENT. YOU. THIS. NOW.
Optimus willed himself to move and he pointed a stiff finger at the abomination. “You have no power. Be silent.”
A bitter memory surfaced. But it was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Yes, but listen. That was a memory condemned to the obliteration of Bare A-
NO! No, don’t say it! Don’t THINK it!
Bare-
NO!
Ankles.
Yes, okay. Bare A-
But that’s not right; it’s incorrect. No matter how the truth is dressed up or painted over, it’s still the truth.
Bury it.
Negative. It resurfaces like a dent covered by cheap filler.
Renounce it. Stop believing in it.
That changes nothing. One cannot change the truth by denial.
You were It.
Optimus wept. “I was It. I was the Virus. I watched them in the control center. I hung upside down; an alien spider, silent and unseen and I remember eating Sunstreaker and I remember smelling the Quintesson. I want to eat-“
I was It. I was-
Much like the last nightmare, Optimus shot up from bed and jumped out as if to run from himself. He found the wall. He found the door.
“Optimus?”

There. Go there, to her.

The panic reduced one level at a time. He sat at the edge of the bed. She slipped from her side as he slid to the floor and stared into emptiness.

Rusti knelt beside him, anxious. “What? What did this?” she asked, kindly wiping his tears.

He gave no immediate answer nor did he meet her eyes. “I think... I think I will have my memory purged. I think I’ll have First Aid rip everything out. That will be...” then he met her worried gaze. “If I should ever become something wrong...”

Rusti sat completely down and held his hands between hers. “You know I’ll let nothing like that happen.”

Prime considered what she said and shook his head. “No. No, Little Bell. I don’t want you to share those memories. I know what that place did to you. Only one of us is upset and let’s keep it that way.”

She smiled. “Optimus that’s sweet and had I been twelve or sixteen, I likely would have agreed and allowed you to suffer alone. But I have survived. We both survived and I can hold you. I can finally hold you so let me take that horror and chase it away. Let me be your strength.”

He picked up locks of her straightened hair. “I miss the curls, Rusti.”

She pressed his hand to her cheek then kissed it. “You are a master of subject change, Optimus. Tell me what spooked you.”

“At the science station,” he said to avoid the name ‘Bare Anches’. “I became the Darkness. I became the Virus. It was only a moment. It was... comfortable.” he broke, weeping and turned into himself. “I was already dead, Rusti! I was no longer myself! I was not me!”

She embraced Optimus Prime and held him as he poured months of inner turmoil into tears.

Once Prime settled down, Rusti helped him dress and led him to the kitchen. She bade him to take a seat. “Neither you nor I will sleep. So I’ll make us some breakfast.” He smiled wanly and Rusti hoped a few carbohydrates might make him feel better.

She snooped and puttered through Bookworm’s territory until she found a piece of 19th century American treasure: a waffle iron. She gasped and hugged the appliance. “Miracles are so fabulous!”:” she said aloud.

Optimus quietly laughed.

Rusti opened the refrigerator and her eyes lay hold of a large cannister of coffee. With a welcoming smile, she plotted to brew enough for the two of them. She paused at the second scoop of grounds. Rusti peered at Optimus suspiciously.

“Optimus,” she called, “do you recall that shower we had day before yesterday?"

“When you let me wash your hair?”

“Yeah. Was that before or after breakfast?”

“After.”

“Really? And that morning before when you chased me around the AV room? Um, was that before or after breakfast?”

He looked so clueless, so innocent just then. “After,” he answered. “Remember? Magnus spilt his milk.”

“Right.” she added events and circumstances and smiled. I’m going to make you an espresso.”

“What?”

Rodimus’ voice filled the momentary silence. “I knew you two were up to something.” he took Captain Parthon’s chair and slouched back, arms folded.

“Hello, Rodimus.” Prime greeted.

Roddi frowned. “Hello, Optimus. Suffering from a loaded conscious lately?”

“No.”

Rusti called from the kitchen: “Roddi, you hungry?”

“Yeah. I guess I am. For revenge.” he muttered.

“Hm?” Optimus blinked at him.

Roddi fixed his eyes on Prime, counted five seconds then leaned forward. “Open season for pranking, Optimus? Seriously, you went to extremes this time.”

Optimus tilted his head left then slightly forward. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Rusti entered from the kitchen and set two espressos down, kindly giving Rodimus hers.

Rodimus stood and shucked off his jacket and shirt. “I’m talking about THIS!”

Optimus and Rusti gaped at the canvass of Roddi’s upper body. Angry welts lay between lines of down feathers held fast to his chest, neck and arms. “It’s NOT funny.”

“No, it’s not,” Prime agreed. “It looks like it hurts.”

“Every time I-“ Rodimus froze. “You’re not laughing.”

“Were we supposed to laugh?”

Roddi’s bright eyes narrowed. “If you pulled this pranks, you’d be laughing. Even when you’re not laughing, Prime, I know when you’re laughing.”

Optimus characteristically laced his fingers on the table. “Then logically, Roddi, the culprit is someone else.”

Rodimus snorted and drained his coffee in three gulps. “I’ll give you culprit. Just you wait. This is NOT going unanswered.” He grabbed Optimus’ espresso and downed it, too. “I will find, flog and fry. He paused. “Great power coffee, by the way. I’m gone.”

Rodimus stomped out, a hunter on the highway to revenge. Rusti returned to the kitchen the reentered the dining room. She held a fresh cup of coffee in one hand, a plate in the other.

“I only made enough coffee for three,” she said. “We’ll have to share.”

Optimus smiled warmly. “I’m more than happy to share with you, Rusti.”

She returned the warmth and set a plate of waffles between them. “This is a bad-dream breakfast, Optimus. Aunt Missy made this for me on occasion.

Rusti fed him waffles between jokes and kisses and they were very good.


DEAR BOOK

WE HONESTLY WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE FOR MECHLATEX. BUT RODIMUS CHOSE TO UNLEASH HIS FURY. HE PLASTERED ME TO A WALL AND POURED SYRUP ON ME. TO GET ME TO TALK. AT FIRST I RESISTED. BUT STICKY SOAKED ME IN PLACES IT DOESN’T BELONG. I HAD TO PEEL MY CLOTHES OFF LIKE A FRUIT.

IT WAS RODIMUS’ HORRIBLE JOKES THAT MADE ME BEG FOR MERCY. BUT THE PUNS. OH PRIMUS, ROASTED AND TOASTED! THE PUNS WERE THE WORST! SO I GAVE MAGNUS UP BECAUSE HE’S NOT WORTH THE DEATH OF MY SANITY.

FOUR HOURS IN THE SHOWER DID FUNNY THINGS TO MY SKIN AND I HAD TO ASK RUSTI ABOUT IT. SHE LOOKED AT ME FUNNY WHEN I APPROACHED HER IN A BATH TOWEL. I’M GUESSING SHE DIDN’T LIKE THE COLOR OF THE TOWEL.


The last line was met with several chuckles around the breakfast table. Magnus drank a dose of hot sauce milk before turning the page.

JACKSON IS A DICK. HIS ACCENT IS ANNOYING. HE STARES AT ME AS IF I WERE ALIEN AND HE DRESSES WEIRDLY. DON’T MAKE ME GO INTO HIS EATING HABITS. HE NIBBLES LIKE A RABBIT OR CHOMPS LIKE A TRASH COMPACTOR. NO FINESSE.

RODIMUS + MAGNUS FOREVER

YOU’D THINK THEY HATE EACH OTHER.

MAGNUS HAS A DEBT TO PAY AND I’M FRESH OUT OF CASH.

I MISS CYCLONUS. HE’S THE ONLY MATURE ONE AMONG US.


Magnus set the diary down and took his seat. A round of applause followed until Rodimus stepped in.

“I’m starving,” he declared. “What’s for food?”

Magnus pointed to an array of dishes on the table. “Help yourself, Rodimus. Pissant made a good meal.”

Roddi gazed from the food to the nail who slurped up a juicy, squishy fruit. “Never mind,” he muttered.

Magnus and Plucky laughed. “Just kidding,” Magnus declared.

Dot drank her coffee and bit her toast. “Read us another one, Ultra Magnus,” she urged. “Before that big boy finds his way to the table.”

Plucky and Pitstop agreed, egging him on.

Magnus cleared his throat and lifted the book but Rodimus interfered: “what are you reading, Mags?”

“Galvatron’s diary. You should hear what he’s had to say about you.”

Rodimus scoffed. “Not likely.”

Magnus flipped several pages. “You’ll see.”


...AND THEN THERE’S RODIMUS PRIME; A BAD COMEDIAN’S LAST HOPE FOR A GOOD LAUGH. I’D EXCUSE HIS SORDID LACK OF ORIGINALITY WERE HE NOT A PRIME.


A few sniggers followed the last line. Rodimus bore holes into Magnus’ head with his eyes.


RODIMUS IS NOTHING IF NOT COLORFUL. HE IS LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, OSTENTATIOUS AND FRANTIC LIKE A HUMAN TODDLER DANCING AROUND, SCREAMING AND RUSHING FROM ROOM TO ROOM ON A CAFFEINE HIGH.


The room filled with contagious laughter. In spite of himself, Roddi folded his arms and smiled. Yup, he was so going to kill Ultra Magnus.

-INCLINATION-

Galvatron flew through the air and landed on his shoulder blades. The gym mats cushioned his fall and he sprang up, ready for another hand-to-hand with Rain. She was the toughest humanoid he met as to date. She did not look tough, however. She reminded Galvatron of female bikers; chics not to be underestimated.

“Excellent move,” he praised. “Come. Teach me.”

“Slow motion,” she ordered. “Step in. Hips up into the solar plexis. Roll over the back. Knees bent and heave.”

Galvatron flew again, landed on his shoulder blades and laughed. “This is like having a birthday party!”

Rain’s face turned puzzled. “Non sequitur, Galvatron.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. Galvatron stood and brushed dust off his gym clothes. “But that’s how I feel.”

The strangled sound of a dying ox bellowed down the hall. The two wrestlers ran out the room. Left? Right?

“R-R-R-R-RODDIMMMMUUUSS!”

Right.

Rain jumped to rush to Magnus’ rescue but Galvatgron held her by the wrist. “Careful. Never undo a Prime’s work in progress.”

“What?”

Galvatron smiled and nodded toward Magnus. “Stay casual.” he led the shorter girl on a stroll until they approached Ultra Magnus who hung upside down, swinging side to side.

Magnus looked like he could cook an egg on his face. “GIMME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

“Oh, hi, Magnus!” Galvatron cheerfully greeted. “Looks like you’re testing the ceiling with your weight.”

“Galvatron, you’re still not funny.”

A hyper-cheerful whistle sang from round the corner. A large trash bin wheeled toward them and stopped just under Magnus.

Rain folded her arms. “Rodimus,” she called. “What are you up to?”

Roddi peered from behind the oversized bin, looking as innocent as he was not. “Me? Up to something?”

Galvatron: “Are you going to can Ultra Magnus, Rodimus? What recipe are you following?”

“Recipe?” Roddi repeated. “Uhh, pickled Magnus roots, of course.”

“No Magnus jam?”

Rain could not believe the two. “Guys,” she warned. “Torture is not funny.”

Rodimus ignored her: “I suppose jam is sweeter than pickling. Magnus jerky, extra spicy, maybe?”

Galvatron raised the bar: “Magnus burger with Ultra fries on the side.”

“I’M GOING TO KILL THE BOTH OF YOU!”

Rodimus patted the trash can. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I won’t hurt you... at least, not for real.”

Galvatron looked skeptical. “What’s in the trash bin, Rodimus?”

“Glad you asked Mighty-G! I thought to myself, if I were to pay Mags back for the sticky, bygones needed to be bygones. SO! I thought I could douse him in quicksand. But that’s a temp solution. Then I thought I could cover him with spiders. But that’s cruel and inhumane. The spiders would die of fright. SO! I came up with the ultimate of ultimate tortures: Earworms. And I have plenty of them. You two should not stay here. Earworms are dangerous and could induce insanity.”

Galvatron shook his head. “He’ll never forgive you for this, Rodimus.” He smirked when Roddi shot a shit-eating grin at him.

Rain groaned, took Galvatron by the hand and led him away. They turned down the adjoining hall when a recording of Rodimus’ rendition of “It’s a Small World” started to play.

Magnus bellowed.

-INCLINATION-

Pissant read from a check-off list while the away team double-checked their clothing, gear and wallet at the Infraction’s ‘front door.’ Parthon, Plucky and Dot helped the Autobots and Galvatron double-check their communicators, watches and emergency gadgets.

“Don’t forget,” the snail warned, “you’re from Rondus. Don’t get snotty with the military police. They have no sense of humor. Don’t ask more than one or two questions. These people might have the brains of a paramecium but they are suspicious. If you get arrested, don’t resist; I will handle it.”

“Good Lord, Pissant,” Dot snapped as Rain helped her pack a small bag. “Did you pack us picnic baskets, too?”

The snail smiled wickedly. “Do you want me to?”

“Don’t answer that!” Rain told the old lady. “Alright, everyone,” she added, “out you go. We’ll monitor from here.”

Optimus waited for everyone else to disembark first. He gave Rain a slightly concerned expression. “I thought you’d be coming with us.”

“I’m the security office, Optimus Prime. If nasty things come your way, Pittstop and I will have to keep the Infraction prepared for emergency extraction. What happened on the Cygnus will not happen again. Especially here. Please be careful. Don’t lose contact with anyone.”

“Keep an optic on Rodimus for me, will you, Rain? I’m very worried for him.”

She gave him a broad, happy smile. “Don’t be. I’ll take good care of him.”

Optimus nodded this thanks, took Rusti’s hand and left the ship.


Just as Rain predicted, Dot called for a transport. The drawback: a three-mile walk. Optimus was surprised Parthon, who did not feel well, insisted on taking the journey.

“I never feel good,” the captain answered. “I feel bad or I feel worse or I feel like something stepped on me.”

“Do you have cancer, Captain Parthon?”

“So to speak,” Parthon replied quietly. “I have a rare disease that will eventually calcify my body.”

Rusti softly gasped. “You’re turning to stone?”

“Put simply, yes.”

The party crossed a bridge overlooking a a ravine so deep, they could not see the bottom. Cloudstreaker peered over the rail and measured the distance with her eyes.

“Captain,” the femme called politely, “I thought this planet was controlled by a dictator.”

“So it is.”

“How is it that we landed without security clearance or ordered to land at a regular space port?”

Pipsqueak answered that one: “Nobody wants to come to Mechlatex. It’s not open-business for tourism.”

Cloudstreaker caught up with the group and adjusted her jacket. “You mean there’s no motels?”

“Nnno,” Parthon drawled. “Usually people come here and never leave.”

Rusti froze and Ultra Magnus rounded her, softly humming. “Wait, you brought us here-“

Pipsqueak winked at her. “Don’tchya worry, Missy. We always keep an escape route tucked into our pockets.”

“Exactly,” Parthon agreed, “just like she said.”

The group tracked a path over a long slope and gathered at the base. A glass stall with a lonely metal bench stood nearby a sign indicating a transport stop.

Parthon and Dot sat down while Magnus leaned against the sign post, arms folded over his chest. His visor reflected the ocean-blue sky above them.

“Prime,” he said, “there is something inherently strange about this place.”

“I feel it, also,” Galvatron concurred.

Cloudstreaker gasped and bent to pick up a glowing rock. “Look at this!”

“NO!” Parthon about jumped out his shoes. “Don’t touch it!” All Autobot eyes turned to him with questions. “It’s in mid-transition,” he explained. “Keep watching.”

They did and waited, staring intently. The glowing stone vibrated and pulsed until it popped, sprouted up and branched out. Rusti and Cloudstreaker startled and then gasped when one branched bulged and split apart, revealing an array of dazzling blue crystal flakes.

Parthon grunted with mild amusement. “That’s happening everywhere. It’s not just crystalizing, though, if you look by that tree behind us, you’ll see a shrub with metal leaves.”

Rusti grinned, her eyes enlarged with delight. “That is so unbelievably cool!”

“The natives don’t think so,” Parthon added. “Their world is changing and they don’t think they’ll survive it. Psyklenox has built giant walls along what’s left of the organic planet in hopes of slowing the process. Can’t stop nature, however. And here comes our ride. Plucky, you’re up!”

The transport, a five-compartment train, hovered three feet off the ground and made almost no noise. The double-doors opened and a set of floating steps welcomed passengers. Plucky ascended first. He produced a glass card and slipped it into a slot on the immediate right.

The pilot, an obese female with a bored expression, darted her eyes from Plucky to a readout on her dashboard. “Party of ten?”

“Aye-tu,” Plucky replied. “With General Parthon. Retired.”

“Who’s Dot?”

“Right here, Sunshine,” the old lady stepped up next and handed the pilot her own glass card. “Fresh from Rondues to your transport. We’re all with the General.”

“T’uk. That’s what your card says. Does everyone have an ID? I don’t take non-people on my transport.” the pilot peered around Dot and Plucky and counted the number of customers.

“Yadda-nad,” Plucky assured her. “That there’s General Parthon. He’s the one off and about. Me and the old tune here-“

”Watch it,” Dot growled.

“-we’re his escorts.”

The female with leathery skin and deep eyes weighed her decision then reached to her left and flipped a green switch. “Just show me your ID’s. Don’t have time to process everything.”

Rusti took a window seat. The car, though worn, was clean, polished and painted. The interior smelled of sun-worn rubber and furniture polish. The seats offered some layer of comfort, even if they were not meant for someone with a wide backside.

Optimus sat beside her and took her hand. They kissed, kissed and kissed again.

Galvatron intervened: “Next time you birds hold hands, will you hold mine, too?”

Rusti laughed and leaned over to look at him. “Sorry, Galvatron. I don’t think I’m willing to share Optimus with anybody.”

The transport took off and stopped twice more. With no other passengers, the train sped onward along the length of the countryside.

At first the landscape stretched with long empty fields except for a tree there or a distant mesa. Then the first spire appeared over the horizon followed by another and another. They rose forty, sixty, even a hundred feet high. At the base of each spire lay a mass of wire-like vines. The spires stood tall and twisted like a screw, tapered at the top. Neither leaf nor thorn sprouted from their rainbow-tinted surface.

The transport paused at a small town. People with glittering skin stepped in. The pilot greeted each with the same bored expression and spoke with harsh consonants and grunts. She shouted at one male who shouted back and waved his arms in vulgar gestures.

The obese lady, however, took no guff. She stood from her chair. “Taoug wu to duve stornov!!” she bellowed.

The recalcitrant male gave her another vulgar hand sign and exited the transport through a side door. The other passengers silently found their seats and kept their eyes on themselves.

The transport rolled again, crawling through the town. Rusti saw buildings made of metal sheeting, mud, grass and rock. None of the buildings used doors; everything stood with three walls and a hangover or awning. Every few yards sat either a military vehicle or two or more armed guards.

Where were the people?

Just as the transport picked up speed, it came to a stop outside the town. The pilot opened the front door and two military police officers boarded. They passed one person after another until they encountered Ultra Magnus.

“Spotzu eb tol?”

Magnus looked up. “What?”

“Spotzu. En. Tol.” the first officer repeated.

The pilot said something and the second MP scoffed. “From the Rondues, eh? How much mud did you eat today?” Both MPs laughed. Magnus said nothing and they retreated.

Rusti released her held breath. Magnus’ height garnered more attention than they needed. The transport rolled again. The landscape turned dirty with trash separated into great heaps. At one point the transport passed over a lake so polluted, its black water failed to contain the dross. The worst sight: bodies lying amid the filth, bloated and abandoned.

Rusti covered her mouth and looked away, sickened.

Three miles past the sewage lake, the transport approached a large city. Pipsqueak and Parthon silently notified their shipmates they stopped here.

The pilot eased into a large station where three other transports waited as workers checked the cars inside and out. Upon applying the brakes, the female pilot flipped a switch and a white light blinked on. She used three languages before speaking the language familiar to the Infraction’s crew.

“Remain in your seats. Await inspection. Anyone who leaves their seat will be reported by the staff to the authorities.”

A claustrophobic, anxious feeling crept into Rusti’s gut. She squirmed, worried for Galvatron and the Autobots.

Parthon, who sat behind Optimus, leaned forward in his seat and whispered in Rusti’s ear. “Take your ring off. They might confiscate it.”

Just as Parthon sat back, two military police officers dressed in red armor, boarded the transport. The first MP stomped down the middle isle while the second examined the pilot’s records.

First officer examined each seat and person in it. He checked under the seats and every fifth person was asked for their ID. To Rusti’s relief, the officer passed her and Optimus and stopped at Parthon’s row. “ID and destination.” he ordered.

Parthon produced the glass card before answering the officer. “I am General Parthon. Retired. With me are two escorts, a biographer, a chef, a driver, bodyguard and maidservants. We are traveling north for the games, maybe an afternoon with Judge Irund, a friend of my late tactics professor.” Parthon paused then added, “plus, the girl in white hair there is my niece. I’m hoping to find her a job.”

The officer smirked. “I can give her a job,” he lewdly suggested. His eyes sized her up.

“Eh,” Parthon shrugged, “well, I got a guarantee and that means I can take her to the auction.”

The officer nodded and returned Parthon’s ID. “Enjoy your trip, General.” He turned to his companion. “Next car.” The two MPs exited the back and the pilot opened the front and side doors.

Passengers disembarked once the transport passed inspection. Parthon made sure his group huddled together so they’d hear him.

“There’s a shrub garden not far from here. We cannot all go at the same time. Pipsqueak qand Cloudstreaker will go first. Plucky will follow alone. Magnus, Galvatron, you two go after Plucky. Dot, by yourself. Optimus, you and Rusti can follow but make sure you don’t hold hands. And Rusti, you have to keep two feet behind him. Bookworm, you’re last. Everyone take your time.”

The ladies went first. Cloudstreaker kept her eyes forward while Pipsqueak looked everywhere around them. They reached the shrub garden and sat at a bench.

Plucky counted twelve minutes and made sure the cameras watched him. He made a clown of himself; scratched his arm pit, tugged his underwear up and tripped over his own two feet.

Magnus and Galvatron next, strolled side by side, did nothing to attract attention.

Dot took her turn and pretended to be distracted by writing a list and sat beside Plucky.

Prime and Rusti followed as planned. Rusti watched their surroundings. Most people covered themselves in rags. A few wore fresh clothing. Some females wore metal collars and bracelets. Their dirty faces barely peeked out the shadow of their deep cowls. Law enforcement gathered everywhere; one officer for every seven people.

No children.

“YOU TWO! HALT!”

Optimus froze and Rusti’s face paled. A powerhouse of an officer caught up with them in two steps. Smaller minions marched to his gait.

“What is your destination, Surb?”

Optimus remained amazingly calm. “I have business with a restaurant chef. My wife is headed to the local library.”

“You’re not local. Where are you from?”

“Rohndes,” the Autobot leader answered evenly.

“No one reads or writes in Rohndes,” the officer rumbled.

“I did not say she was going to read, Sir. She likes to look at pictures.”

The officer’s face hardened with doubt. “What’s your name, girl?”

Optimus cut in: “I’m very sorry, Officer. I don’t permit my wife to speak.”

The officer’s face softened with slight amusement. “Business at a local restaurant, you said?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The police officer stared as if making a decision. He nodded toward the transport depot. “Be back on that car you came from by sunset.”

Optimus lowered his gaze and humbly nodded. “Thank you, Sir.” Rusti released her breath the moment they were out of earshot.

Bookworm followed without incident. The group sat quiet until the train passengers faded and with them, most of the Mps. Parthon stood and snapped his fingers to get the group’s attention. He silently signaled for them to follow. Once again, they moved one or two at a time.

Forty minutes later, they filed into a tight alley and one by one descended into a hidden stairway underneath a tall box apartment building. The stairs bottomed into a small cubical. Parthon and Cloudstreaker crouched into balls and Plucky climbed over their backs. Under the light of a single lamp, he produced a two-prong key and entered it into the middle of an old door.

Instead of opening in or outward, the door slid up, grinding against the inside wall as it vanished. Plucky clicked on a small flashlight and entered first. Parthon stood in the doorway, blocking everyone else until a light flooded the room.

“In we go!” he announced.

“Finally,” Galvatron muttered.

They stepped into a large room with a porous concrete floor and disintegrating brick walls. Furniture covered in plastic sheets waited for an unveiling. At the back of the room stood a metal cabinet with drawers and cupboards securely locked.

Dot yanked off the sheet from a plush chair. “Place hasn’t aged much.”

Rusti disliked the musty, moldy smell. “Did you live here, Plucky?”

The Infraction’s second-in-command paused before unlocking the cabinet. “How’d you guess?”

Galvatron, who grew edgy with claustrophobia, hung by the door. “Well,” he said, “You do have the key.”

Plucky smiled sheepishly. “I was a runner for a local medical group before they were discovered by the city and executed. This was the secret stash. We even smuggled children in and out of here.”

“Speaking of children,” Rusti said, “I did not see any.”

“She’s right,” Galvatron agreed. “Are they kept elsewhere?”

Plucky unlocked the last drawer and stood quiet. “Cap’n you wanna tell them?”

“No,” Parthon answered. “But I will.” he panned his gaze from Rusti to Galvatron then Prime. “The state declared pregnancy illegal. All females are sterilized at the age of six. All children are conceived by DNA processors. Adults are screened and hand-picked for their DNA. Children are grown in a laboratory and raised by professional care monitors. There are no mothers or fathers or families. People marry because it’s how the state controls individuals: behind closed doors without cameras.

Rusti knitted her brows. “That is so sad!”

“Got it,” Plucky announced. From the back of a cupboard he dragged out a small box and unlocked it. Parthon picked out two colorless discs.

“These communicators are un-detectable. You put them on your hand and they will take on your skin color. The drawback is they only have enough power for one communication and even then, only five words. So emergency use only.” He passed one device to each person. “Now,” he added, “Each of you will need to take a pill. It’ll hide your DNA for six days.”

Cloudstreaker laid the disc on the back of her left hand. She did not like the squishy feeling it gave her. “Hide our DNA? Do they check people’s DNA?”

“Random ID checks are the norm in the major cities.” Dot confirmed.

Rusti scoffed. “If I sneeze, are they going to measure the pressure and take a sample?”

“I wouldn’t put it pass them, Missy,” Parthon answered. He handed the pills out and gave everyone a little bit of currency. “Sunset is at 11PM. Be sure to return to the shrubs before then.”


Dot, Galvatron and Rusti departed for the library. The town resembled a clumsy attempt to technologically advance a people barely out of the stone age. Streets lit with LED signals on glass panels. Tall business buildings boasted of modern architecture while private homes comprised of three walls, a ceiling and sleeping/cooking areas. Military police officers dressed in complicated uniforms and armor. Conversely, some citizens did not have shoes.

Dot led Rusti and Galvatron off the main streets and into a maze of rock-and-mortar neighborhoods. The weather baked ground beneath them lay like a sponge with cobbled stones and grey dirt. The trio encountered a young woman in her hovel, suffering from illness. In another, an old man sat at a table in his micro-kitchen. Their haunted eyes hurt Rusti’s heart. Despair lay over the streets and alleyways, absorbing the life and energy of all who walked upon them. Rusti tried to quell her anxiety and hoped they encountered no trouble to and from the library.

They took a right turn, passed four empty houses then a left and across the road. The library, a square building with a circular second story, squatted between a run-down, vacated house and a laundromat. A large camera panned in their direction. Rusti tried to hide her face from the cameras. Dot pretended to sneeze as they approached the door.

“Bless you,” Galvatron said as he held the door open.

“For what?”

“You sneezed.”

“Yes. And?”

“Erm...”

Rusti took the door from Galvatron to save him from an awkward moment. “We say ‘bless you’ on Earth when someone sneezes.”

“I see,” Dot replied. “What do you say when someone farts?”

Galvatron leaned into her ear, “I love you.”

Rusti rolled her eyes but Dot wasn’t fooled. “You’re a thematoad, Galvatron,” the old lady sneered.

Galvatron laughed once then spoke to Rusti. “What’s a thematoad?”

She did not answer. They crossed the threshold and passed a pair of MPs just inside the door. Another set stood at the restrooms and a third pair guarded the single flight of stairs. Before Rusti asked the front desk clerk for directions, Dot headed for the science and medical section.

Rusti caught up with her and carefully kept her voice to a whisper. “How are Galvatron and I going to read this stuff? I”m sure it doesn’t come in English.”

“Don’t worry about that, Hon. Pissant will handle it.”

It figures, she thought. Rusti politely smiled at the old lady and claimed a shelf.

Very few ‘books’ were books at all. Most literature sources kept their secrets in small hockey puck discs labeled by title and author. To Rusti’s surprise, other works lay engraved on metal slates, some chiseled in rock and one or two, stamped on plastic sheets.

City Street Parasites

Metal Toxicity and Its 31 Cures

The Virtues of Good Metaxian Health

Rusti snatched the last one off the shelf and took it to Dot. The old lady sat at a screen with a puck lodged into the right side. It spun while Dot previewed page after page. Rusti leaned in close and pointed to the tablet’s title. “Is this what the natives are called here, Dot?”

“Eh?” she roved her eyes from screen to a book written and bound in plastic. “That’s right, Sweetie,” she returned quietly. “How’s that hunk doing?“

”Galvatron?”

“No other.”

“Um...” Rusti withdrew and scanned the immediate area. No sign of Bald and Mischievous. She put the plastic book back and hunted from shelf to shelf until she found him in the paranatural section.

“Dot’s looking in medical, Galvatron.”

The Decepticon did not answer right away. He fingered on puck after another with a deep frown. “I doubt medical science can help Cyclonus, Mizz Rusti,” he answered.

She leaned against the same shelf. “I don’t think we’re going to find the answer here, Galvatron.”

He snapped eyes at her. “What makes you say that?”

She held her arms out, “look at this place. It’s hardly larger than Rodimus’ office.”

“Shhh!” he admonished. “Keep your voice down."

Seeing that Galvatron’s undeterred determination, Rusti gave in and searched in earnest. Why did everything around her feel like a trap?

-INFRACTION-

The rest of the group ventured downtown. Parthon led the way followed by Cloudstreaker and Pipsqueak. Magnus walked beside Optimus while Bookworm tagged behind.

Optimus viewed a sad world through his visor. People passed one another with no eye contact. Their furtive glances always landed at a guard or MP. Neither animal nor plant added color or sound to the streets. People walked or rode on mass transports, wagons or en-tandem on bicycles. A sense of helpless despair weighed their faces. The oppressive gloom reminded the Autobot leader of Earth after Megatron brought Cybertron into the solar system. The destruction led to such desolation that entire cities lay wiped of all human life. The death toll stood in the hundreds of millions.

Yet humans held onto a sense of hope and purpose. Optimus sensed neither of those things here.

Who was humming?

Optimus looked to Magnus with a tilt of his head. “Magnus?” he asked, “why are you humming?”

“Hm? Uh, got this tune in my head. Can’t get rid of it.”

“What tune?”

“Eh... Copacabana, I think.”

“Copa...what?”

Magnus looked slightly annoyed. “You know. ‘At the Copa, Copacabana. The hottest spot north of Havana. At the Copa, Copacabana, music and passion were always the fashion. At the Copa... they fell in love.”

Optimus stared at Magnus until they crossed the road. He could not believe Magnus just sang. In public. “I don’t know that song,” he denied.

They entered a small restaurant where Parthon bade them to sit at a brick-and-mortar bar. A young male with a mop of black hair and light pink skin approached them. With one glance at Parthon, he retreated to the kitchen and rattled off a series of phrases unfamiliar to the Autobots. A slim, older male in a white apron burst out the kitchen, arms open wide. “Parthon Eb Aldor!” He laughed and the two hugged across the counter. Optimus watched the emotional exchange while something sinister but familiar stirred deep inside him.

He prayed it was not Darkness.

As the two males continued in light-hearted phrases, Parthon produced a transparent device the size and shape of a pocket book. He pointed to it, the cook took it and ogled as if staring at a centerfold. His tones and gestures suggested he was teasing the captain then he clearly said “no.” he pointed to the doorway. “That one left two weeks ago. Said she found work in the neighboring region.”

Parthon pocketed the device. “Not... Region Three, I hope.”

“I hope so, too, Parth. But the magistrates have offered jobs... construction or other. Hundreds a’ people passed through here from Deep South. I don’t like it. ‘Course, anytime the government offers gifts, I get suspicious.”

“We could get you out of here, Rabe. You don’t have to stay and suffer.”

The elderly fellow’s wrinkled face lifted int a sad smile. “It’s my home. I was born here. I will die here. Not saying it was the best. But I made do with what I have. If I can’t be content here, can’t be content nowhere. But all the good stuff to you and yours, old friend. I took care of your passes. No worries. Take care of yourselves.” he blinked and smiled at the girls and returned to the kitchen.


Abandoning their exhaustive and fruitless search, Rusti, Dot and Galvatron returned to the benches at the transport depot. Plucky joined them but sat two benches away. Captain Parthon and Cloudstreaker returned a while later. Parthon pretended to adjust Cloudy’s visor, hair and jacket.

“Remember your role,” Rusti heard him say. “You’re a virgin and I’m taking you to an auction.”

Cloudy’s mouth dropped and behind her silver visor, her eyes expanded with surprise. “You’re selling me?!”

“You’re worth a lot of money,” Parthon explained. “White or silver hair is rare. And don’t allow anyone to sample your DNA, all right?”

She nodded like a confused child.

Magnus, Prime and Pipsqueak joined them thirty minutes later. Bookworm appeared but he stayed at the transport gate, waiting for everyone else.

Once they regrouped with the doctor/chef, Plucky scouted and found their next transport revved and ready for the next city. Unlike last time, the group did not sit together except Rusti and Optimus and Parthon with Cloudstreaker.

Half an hour before sunset, the pilot, an older male with hard lines and deep scars on his face, took his seat. He communicated with the dispatch, waited for three more passengers and a final inspection

The transport rolled onto an old, familiar path to the next destination. Rusti held Optimus’ hand but her thoughts were not on him. Her mind sifted through pages and pictures of an alien history. She recalled information she now wished she did not know. The planet’s history soaked in blood and death. The Regime wrote history so much in its favor that Rusti doubted seventy percent of what she read was true.

There were no countries on Mechlatex. The Regime controlled everything and everyone. If people did not live for the Regime, they did not live. They are all puppets, she thought. And at any time, for any reason, the Regime could cut their strings and toss them into the incinerator.

The landscape lay flat and bleak. In many areas, fire burned with controlled intensity. Twice Rusti swore she saw bodies lying on those heaps, engulfed in trash and flame.

Half an hour later the transport arrived at the edge of the next city. A bright orange flare flooded the windows and the transport rocked. The pilot scrambled to stop the vehicle and spoke to his passengers with a panicked voice.

“I’ve lost communication with Cetus City! I’m sorry but we can’t stop here-“ he cut off and Optimus watched while the pilot slipped on an earpiece and spoke into a radio.

The Autobot leader met Rusti’s anxious eyes. “I don’t think that was a manufacturing accident.”

“How do you mean?” she asked quietly.

“I overheard two customers at the tavern talk about a riot.”

The pilot spoke to them again; his voice firm and confident. “Stay in your seats. No matter what happens, remain in your seats.”

He revved the engine and Rusti startled when the outer shell of the transport flipped out like wings. A whine emitted from under the transport and the whole train lifted further off the ground and shot past the city’s border gate lines.

They raced through a town ripe with destruction. Fires ate buildings, roads and people. Explosions boomed from all directions. Flight drones zipped back and forth, spitting laser streams in building windows and shadows on the streets. Bodies lay in the streets, hung from the building wreckage or rotted in large piles, smoldering in bonfires.

Rusti covered her mouth and looked away. Optimus put an arm around her and hugged her reassuringly but said nothing.

They passed through a thick roll of black smoke before bright stars and an empty landscape appeared again. Losing interest in the sad sights, Rusti leaned against her husband’s shoulder and slept lightly until the transport slowed to a stop.

“Everyone exit,” the pilot announced. “This transport goes no further.”

Plucky gaped and turned to Captain Parthon. “It was the only ‘porter to the north! I thought-“ he turned to the pilot. “Master driver, Sir, the General here intended to head further north.”

“Can’t,” the pilot answered unconcerned. “Was supposed t’ stop at Cetus. I’m ordered to turn around.” his dark eyes trained on Plucky. “You can’t come with me. I don’t normally transport Rondites. You’re on your own. Now disembark.”

The native Metaxans stepped off first and complained to one another.

Parthon led his group off the transport and several yards from earshot. They huddled at the edge of a street lamp and kept their eyes out for MPs or spying cameras.

A late night chill gave everyone goosebumps. Magnus hungered. Dot turned cranky. Rusti longed for a good night’s sleep and Galvatron’s jokes turned bad.

Parthon called for their patience and sent Plucky scouting. “We were supposed to go to Cetus,” the captain explained. “We might be in Neugoch. If that’s the case, we’re in luck. If not, and we’ve landed in Obdob, we’re in trouble.”

Plucky ran back to the group with a cheerful expression. “We’re golden, Captain P!” we’re at Neugoch! Good and very good, tu?”

Parthon smiled.

Plucky led the away team down a chilly, damp avenue. Yellow street lamps with cameras lined the sidewalks every fifty feet. They passed one closed business or shop after another and twice the group encountered a spherical building that made Rusti nervous. An icy, foul-smelling breeze forced them to cover their faces and breathe through their mouths. Cloudstreaker compared the stench to Cratis and tried not to gag.

“This way,” Plucky steered them left and out the nasty wind. They wound left again and entered a stone-and-wood building. Oil lamps lit the lobby and at a metal desk, an old male slept, slumped upon its surface.
“Begging your pardon as not to disturb you,” Plucky declared. He produced a wallet while the old man jumped out his clothes. “Yes, so sorry,” the Infraction’s second sang. “We’ve traveled all night. Have you any rooms?”

“Eh?” The old man in tough, weathered skin stood from the desk and approached the counter. “Need names and addresses, folks. Those cameras won’t let me tell the Regime any different.”

Parthon filled out the guest book for everyone while Plucky paid. He balked at the price but paid any way.

Rusti and Optimus shared a room with Galvatron. The first thing their Decepticon companion did was to search for electronic bugs or anything that resembled a camera or microphone. Optimus examined the room for security while Rusti considered sleeping on the sidewalk rather than the bed. The room smelled of stinky feet. The floor, the curtains and bed covers suffered from stains, in spite of their cleanliness. She checked for mold and bed bugs but found the sheets and worn mattresses were sterile and gleaming white.

Galvatron answered the door when Plucky knocked and announced himself. “We’re heading out on the town. Newgoch has its limits but we can relax here slightly more so than had we landed in Obdob. I’m wondering, however, why the transport bypassed Obdob. Hmmm. Well, meet you out and about!”

The door closed and Rusti heaved a sigh. She really wanted to sleep. “Well, I’ll go to the front desk and get a town map.” she did not wait for either mech to object. The sixteen-room motel held its peace and quiet until two older, heavily tanned, male guests stepped out their room. Each held a small black case. One townsman wore an olive green, broad-rimmed hat decorated with fish hooks and flies. He smiled at her as he and his companion walked off, leaving Rusti bewildered.

She stepped into the front office and stepped aside as a burley male with roasted purple skin aimed for the exit.

He smelled of leather, rotted fish and roses. Not pleasant.

An older female with similar skin and brown hair greeted Rusti with a simple nod.

Rusti approached the counter and tucked her own straight brown hair behind her ear. “Um, hi. I’m looking for a library. I mean, um, is there a library here?”

“Not seen anything like you. Where do you come from?”

Rusti blinked and struggled to remember. “R-Rand-um, Rondues,” she stammered.

The lanky female scoffed. “Rondues? And you can read?”

“Uh, my Aunt Missy taught me a little bit.” Rusti realized not only was she a bad actor, but a bad liar.

“You Rondites don’t usually travel this far north. Got business someplace?”

“My husband,” Rusti answered swiftly. “I’m traveling with my husband and he insists I find a library and stay there.”

“Looks out for you, doesn’t he?”

Rusti smiled and accepted a hand-drawn map from the lady. “Are there any places to eat nearby?” The reverberation of a gong hit the outside world. Rusti glanced out the window then back to the office worker. “What was that?”

“The call to mid-week services.”

“Mid-week what?”

“Mid-week services,” the lady repeated. “Don’t you have temple services in Rondues?”

Rusti hesitated. “I guess I never paid much attention.”

“Well, Rondues is pretty far away and less fortunate than the northern and upper-northern cities.” the alien female blinked. “Are you... one of the Faithful, Dear?”

Rusti knew to answer carefully.” I”m not really allowed.”

“You don’t have to attend services to believe and be of the Faithful, Dear. The Faithful watch and wait. Remember what Idus, the Great Elder said, ‘Great must be your patience and steadfast, believe you will survive.’ Our world is changing. But it’s not the end.”

Rusti nodded, feeling uncomfortable under the lady’s coaxing stare. “I’ll give it some thought. Thank you.”

“If you have questions, just ask me.”

Rusti left the office, confused and conflicted. She did not grow up in a religious environment and she never gave much thought to spiritual ideology.

She returned to the room and waved the handmade map. “Food first,” she said to her boys. “Then the library.” Rusti noticed tears on Galvatron’s face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Optimus slapped Galvatron’s knee. “He had a vision.”

“A bad one,” Galvatron added.


Due to time constraints, Galvatron could not divulge his story. The three reunited with Parthon, Dot, Plucky and Cloudstreaker. The captain agreed to a light breakfast but wanted to wait for Bookworm and Pipsqueak to join them.

The small restaurant housed many a burly male and a few females equally as muscular. All of them wore tattoos on their forearms. They chatted, laughed and ate. Rusti likened them to Scotsman with dark skin, brown hair and laughing eyes.

Pipsqueak and Plucky put two tables end to end and the group sat in the same sequence as they did on the Infraction. A waitress approached, pen and tablet in hand. Plucky read the menu and ordered light meals for everyone.

“No muscle sauces,” he added as the waitress completed their order. She glared at him, retrieved the menu and walked off.

Dot, Parthon and Pipsqueak spoke about changes since their last visit. Rusti listened until their conversation switched to news of another planet. She laid a hand on Galvatron’s right fist. He sat silent, brooding like she never saw Optimus brood. His visor met her gaze and he retracted his hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

The Decepticon gave Dot, who sat beside him, a quick glanced before he shook his head. “Can’t get the images out of my head.”

That gained everyone else’s attention and Rusti regretted placing Galvatron under their curious scrutiny. The silence lasted long enough for them to hear Magnus humming to himself.

He noticed the unwanted attention. “What? I have a stupid song running through my head.”

The waitress returned, a cart in tow, loaded with their plates. She confused Magnus’ order with Prime’s.

“Hot sauce,” Magnus said with glee. “Hot sauce is always mine.”

Rusti wrinkled her brows. “Are you addicted to that stuff?”

“Don’t know,” he said with a mouthful, “don’t care.”

Rusti sipped a cup of weak, unsweetened tea and frowned. Looking at her plate, she guessed breakfast consisted of fish with fish eggs, pink rice and something resembling dark cabbage. “Parthon,” she said, “you said being here was better than another town. Obd, or something.”

Plucky answered her: “Obdob. Not a place you want to be. High Governor Augvahn Fracheg resides over that town with a clenched fist. It’s one of three major farming communities with 31-hour sweat shops and constant military drills. They also recycle trash from the northernmost cities like Ruru, Sivich and Laktromycix. Fracheg’s philosophy is ‘if you don’t work, you don’t live.”

Rusti winced, horrified. “Why would anyone live there?”

“No one wants to,” Plucky answered sadly. “People are assigned to live in certain areas. They have no choice, no say. They are controlled and brainwashed from the cradle to the crematory. And the Regime outlaws suicide.” He turned downcast. “It happens, of course. Helpless and hopeless.”

Optimus spoke up. “If no one is allowed to leave their city, how do we move?”

Parthon dabbed the sides of his mouth. “Two reasons: you’re with me. I’m a retired triple-star general. And Plucky knows which towns are more relaxed than others. And thirdly, we’re from Rondues. We sell our services to whomever needs them at the moment.”

Magnus pushed his empty plate away and belched. “That first town, though, we had to play cloak-and-dagger. Why was that?”

Pedamao is run by Nacha Illadu. She doesn’t like anybody and runs three small towns with strict scrutiny.”

Magnus: “and why did we have to go there?”

“Supplies. That story is too long to tell here.”

Rusti used her last question: “what kind of religion do they practice here?”

“Oh, you met a Faithful, did you?”

“The lady at the front office.”

“There’s two types of people on Mechlatex: those who fight against planetary changes and those who believe they will be part of the changes. The Faithful believe their bodies will change when the planet comes into its final stages of metamorphosis. The others volunteer to work at the walls. For some reason, the Regime believes walls will slow down the change. But as you saw, it’s happening anyway.”

Their conversation dropped when three MP’s stepped into the restaurant. They called to the waitress and surrounded her, each asking one demanding question after another.

Rusti dropped her gaze when the waitress pointed to the group. The MP’s approached as if they owned the establishment.

“You will all come with us right this minute.”

Parthon bounced his gaze from one officer to the next. “What have we done, sirs?”

“It’s what you failed to do. You did not register your visit upon arrival. You will come with us for processing.”

Rusti paled. “Are we under arrest?”

“Do you want to be under arrest?” the second officer sneered.

Rusti hurried to her feet. Parthon touched her hand, reassuring.

“I ask your forgiveness, my good sirs,” the captain placated. “It was my fault. I accept full responsibility. We will be happy to accept your guidance to the station.

Without another word, the rest of the group stood in unison and followed the three officers outside.

Rusti tightly folded her arms as they quickened along the streets, crossing twice. They approached a two-story white building braced on either side with flying buttresses. Two sets of double doors forced the group to split up with one officer taking Dot, Magnus, Bookworm and Plucky. The other two MP’s ushered the rest through the left doors.

Everyone was ordered to ‘plant it’ on a row of uncomfortable wooden benches. The officers approached a large desk and spoke in quiet tones. The lady at the desk, an older female with light pink skin, peered at the group between the officers and touched a device in her ear. She spoke quietly then gave her coworkers their orders.

Several males in dark blue uniforms picked the group apart. They dragged Rusti away while her heart pounded in her throat. They shoved her into a closet where a cold mist, a blue light and a brief sonic burst assailed her from all sides. As soon as they shoved her in, they yanked her out the other side and put her in a small room with a bright light, an old, sturdy table and three chairs.

A few minutes turned into several before Rusti lost count. She paced, leaned against a wall, sat in one chair then laid on the table. The moments ticked, unaccounted and unaccumulative.

The door opened and her eyes snapped open. She sat up, groggy from sleep. Rusti slipped off the table as two male officers entered the room. She sat in the chair closest to the wall and tightened her muscles with anxiety.

One officer with a deep scar on his right cheek, set an electronic clipboard on the table. The second officer, an older male with hard eyes, took the chair closest to the door and sighed as if impatient.
“Here we are. What’s your name?”

“Rus-“ she hesitated, not sure if she should answer truthfully or not. The officers stared at her. Not the faintest flicker of patience or mercy touched their expressions. “Rusti Witwicky.

They continued to stare at her as if expecting more. The scarred male sat straight. “You’re not from around here, are you, Rusti Witwicky?”

“N-no, Sir. I’m from Rondues.” she received two entirely different reactions; the scarred male glowered at her while his partner sniggered.

‘Scarred’ leaned forward and drilled her with his eyes. “When you’re done lying to us, we’d like to hear your story.”

“Lying?” Rusti forgot to breathe. “I-“

”Where. Are. You. From?” Scarred jumped to his feet and slapped the table inches from her. “WHO ARE YOU?!”

Rusti jumped, startled. When calm enough she set her eyes on the older male. “I have an ID,” she answered.

The older male feigned surprise. “Oh! Did you hear that, Vies? She has an ID. Tell me, Little Alien Life Form: is it a Metexan ID? Eh?”

Rusti slowly withdrew the glass plate and laid it on the table. The males looked at it then at her and had the situation been different, Rusti would have laughed at their simultaneous movements.

The older man picked up the ID and waved it like a card. “This is the lie. You’re not that smart, are you?”

Then she realized what they meant. Rusti hunch her shoulders and dropped eye contact. Code word: ‘alien,’ she thought. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she begged childishly. “I didn’t mean to break your laws. They made me. They took me from home when I was really little.”

The two softened slightly.

Vies settled bac in his chair. “By ‘they’, you mean the people you’re with?”

“No,” Rusti said sadly. “I escaped my masters.”

“Who were your masters?”

Her answer came in a whisper: “Quintessons.”

Both males swore. “So the Quintessons abducted you? From where?”

“Earth.”

Scarred grimaced. “Earth, what?”

“Just ‘Earth’. I don’t know how far away we are.” she paused. “Am I... am I under arrest?”

“Depends,” Vies answered. “What do you know about the other people you’re with?”

“They have a pet talking snail.”


Her interrogators filed notes on their respective pads and once again left Rusti to herself. Sitting in the worn, wooden chair, Rusti spread her arms across the table and banged her head on its hard surface.
Some time later the door opened. Rusti rolled her eyes up. “Thank God. I was about to start counting my hair strands.”

“This way,” came the feminine, deadpan response.

Rusti strolled behind the female officer until they entered a large conference room. The rest of the group sat or stood, equally as bored as she.

Vies joined three other MPs and compared tablets with his peers. Once satisfied with their shared information, the four alien police faced the Infraction’s crew.

“Stand up,“ Vies ordered. “Stand up and form a line.” he waited until they obeyed then read from the pad in his hand. “Someone is not telling the truth. With mild respect to the General, here, you’re all liars. Too Tall Tobee, there claimed-and I quote-a babe in the woods, discovered by poor people in a distant village. Vies lowered his tablet. “Now, that’s cute. Except there aren’t any forests in, near or around Rondues.” he eyed Magnus specifically. “Are you blind, or just a special stupid? Then someone else told us the whole group escaped some secret evil military science lab.”

Parthon laid eyes on Pipsqueak over the last statement. She did not meet his gaze but grinned anyway.

Vies continued: “Buddy Baldy there said he came to return a friend’s soul to his body.” the officer lowered his pad. “Really?” he asked. “Are you some sort of religious freak? Or did one of those ‘Faithful’ give you an idea you couldn’t keep to yourself?” Vies paused and stabbed each ‘inmate’ with his eyes. “And ‘Ladies man-“ he pointed to Optimus, “-said you were all on a sight-seeing tour. What madness is wrong with you people? You realize you’re on Mechlatex, am I right? Nobody comes here for vacation! We execute invaders, dissidents and spies. So someone had better give me the truth, now.”

“I love it here!” Galvatron blurted.

Optimus and Vies stared at him, incredulous. “What?” they chorused.

“I had to come!” the Decepticon proclaimed. “It called to me and I lied to my companions so they’d bring me here that I may be locked into Mechlatex’s eternal embrace. Oh, and she’s ever so beautiful! I shall sing her praises!”

Rusti palmed her face.

Vies grunted, unconvinced. “So what’s with General Parthon, retired, story?”

“That part’s true!” Pipsqueak answered.

“And nothing else is?” Vies’ face grew harder by the moment. He stepped forward and eyes each person with contempt. “I’m going to execute each and every one of you and dangle your bodies from the street lights like limp flags!”

Rusti’s words fell out her mouth before her brain caught them: “can we meet and greet with Lord Psyklenex first?”

“What?” Vies’ voice pitched with astonishment.

“What?” Optimus echoed.

“You can’t be serious,” Magnus added.

“Me, too!” Galvatron joined, “I wanna see His Glory! Oh, the mighty Grounds Keeper of my beloved planet!” the Decepticon clasped his hands and batted his eyes.

“No!” Rusti objected. “I asked first!”

Vies: “HAVE ANY OF YOU PEOPLE ANY IDEA THE TROUBLE YOU’RE IN?!”

Pipsqueak: “It was initially my idea!”

Parthon: “I’m on vacation and my constituents have cabin fever.”

The room burst with a confusion of bad confessions, falsified reports, petty arguments and four officers who failed to decide who to handle first.

The doors burst open and a female MP shouted Vies’ name. All voices died at her distraction. “Captain!” she cried, “there’s been a horrible accident at the lake.”

“THEN HANDLE IT!”

“Sir,” she insisted, “a fishing boat smashed into the communications array two streets from us.” She stepped aside when the other three MPs fled the room.

Vies took a step toward the door, stopped short and looked at his alien prisoners. His brows furrowed with confusion. He blinked at the female officer then to the prisoners; back at her then at Optimus Prime.

“Go! Optimus urged. “We can talk about this later!”

Rusti could not believe the MP team took Optimus’ advice. He handed the lady his tablet and departed. Rusti looked at the Autobot leader with a dropped jaw. “How did you do that?”

Galvatron walked past her with a grin. “He’s Optimus Prime, Missy.” he winked at her over his shoulder I think there’s a library we need to visit.”

“We are under arrest, Galvatron.” Rusti objected.

Parthon raised his eyes to the wall clock. “No we’re not. We were brought in for questioning. And we need to get moving. Pissant is adamant we find and rescue Ryumee. Motel in three hours, everyone.”

Rusti lingered, confused while everyone else filed out. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

Plucky laid a hand on her shoulder. “Sea vessels don’t crash into communication towers by themselves, Miss Rusti. That was Pissant.”

Dot, Galvatron and Rusti found the library. Rusti did not expect to find an old, small building with a sign on the door ‘CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’.

Defiant, Galvatron folded his arms. “Now I really want to know what they’re hiding!"

With a wicked smile, Dot snapped out a knife. “Me too. Help me out here, Handsome.”

Rusti kept a look-out while Dot and Galvatron searched the old stone building for an entrance. Her brain tried to make sense of what went on a the MP headquarters. No way, no way should they have gotten away! No way.

“Got it!” Dot declared.

Rusti concluded one or all of them were going to be the death of her sanity.

Dot poked her head out a window, hissed for Rusti’s attention then helped her inside.

The library resembled a home rather than a storehouse of knowledge. An eerie lifelessness chilled the building as if the trio broke into a morgue. Dot did not wait to introduce Rusti to the place. She slipped away and joined Galvatron who scanned title after title.

Overwhelmed and befuddled, Rusti roved her eyes from one floor-to-ceiling bookcase to another. What happened at the MP should not have been possible. But why was she the only one confused about it? Was Pissant really that powerful? Or, or did she witness a miracle?

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the situation wasn’t that important. But then, she lived during a moment when Autobots are humanoid and Magnus and Galvatron seemed like different people. Well, Magnus moreso. The Major-general came to life, as it were. He was so much freer with himself, so much more comfortable in his own skin. Rusti tried not to laugh at the thought but it was true. And she loved Galvatron who was more like an uncle; they were her family.

Perhaps, she concluded once again, anything is possible.

A giant plastic cover caught her attention. “Quaynor’s Illustrated History of Psyklenox’s Regime.”

She bee-lined for the tittle like iron to a magnet. The book did not disappoint. One thin, stiff page after another described histories of wars, planets, peoples and maps; lots of maps. This isn’t a book, Rusti thought, it’s a treasure.

The best part of the book hit her like a wrecking ball. At the book’s center, a map folded out three times, displaying an exact copy of the map she and Optimus Prime found at Parsus.

A hail storm of clattering pucks startled Rusti and she watched as Galvatron turned his back on a nearby table cleared of literature. Pucks lay on the ground like discarded coins. The Decepticon bowed over, hands covered his face. He drew a deep breath and stood straight. “It’s not here,” he growled. “The answer is not here.”

“Maybe not, Dot replied calmly, “We’ll just keep looking.”

“We are running out of time,” Galvatron snarled.

Dot opened her mouth to say something when the communication pad on the back of her hand lit up. She read it, ripped it off and threw it in the trash. “We have to go. Now. Something’s wrong.”


The group huddled in Parthon’s motel room.

“Jackson somehow escaped the Infraction.” Parthon delivered the message like a death knell.

Everyone turned to Galvatron who stared at the captain with a glazed expression.

Rusti broke the silence: “Doesn’t the ship have scanners? What about Pissant and his supposed omnipotent little self?”

Optimus: “Perhaps we should head back.”

Galvatron laced his fingers and ran them over his hairless head. “That will accomplish nothing,” he growled. “That fool is fortunate to be in Cyclonus’ body. Otherwise I’d suggest leaving him to rot at the bottom of this communist smelthole.”

“This is bad,” Magnus added. “Once they have apprehended Jackson, they most certainly will execute him.”

“I don’t mean to sound heartless,” Dot put in, “But we still have a mission to find and rescue that Ryyumee girl. Eh, I guess she’s a girl?”

Plucky slapped his legs and sighed. “We could split up,” he suggested. “Cap’n you an’ Dot off an’ go find Ryyumee and I’ll take Bald and Tall and go hunting for a body snatcher.”

Dot pointed at the Infraction’s second-in-command. “Every hour we are here, we are dancing with our demise. No matter how many prayers are said to protect us, Psyklenox will find us out, if he has not already.”

Optimus grew impatient. “What is our course of action, then?”

Parthon shook his head and the group held their collective peace, each one thinking.

“We gotta get intel,” Plucky finally suggested. “No-go without word from around the world. If Jackson Cyclonus has been seen or caught, word is bound to bounce around from city to city, ‘specially if it’s an off-worlder who’s got no ID. And them sailors like to gossip like old ladies.”

“Hey!” Dot snapped.

Plucky ignored her. “I know a place where they make the worst beer in the Regime by the lake.”

Pipsqueak raised her hand. “I’m in. Plucky’s got the right idea. Those ships, lots of them, are retrofitted space vessels. Me and Cloudy can harvest bits and slices for the Infraction.”

Parthon sent her a mock stern look. “Well, then, I’ll have to go to make sure you two don’t end up swinging from a rafter.”

“Ultra Magnus and I will accompany you,” Optimus volunteered. “Rusti?”

His wife shook her head. “No thanks. I hate bars; they’re loud and smelly.” Rusti held up the book she ‘borrowed’ from the closed library. “I have reading to do. And Galvatron can keep me company.”

Optimus tilted his head. “What have you got there, Rusti?”

“I will be happy to stay with Mizz Rusti,” Galvatron agreed. “A bar brawl is the last thing we need and I’m in the mood to punch something.”

Rusti shared her book with Prime before he left. The Autobot leader deduced their unlikely visit to Neugoch was neither a waste of time nor accidental.

-INCLINATION-

Unlike the last places they’ve been to, Neugoch resembled a town that could have been found during Earth’s Dark Ages. Lake-effect moisture hugged old stone buildings and blacktop, encouraging moss growth. The homes were different, too: four walls and doors, some homes even owned a small front yard. Optimus wondered if Neugoch was home to a slightly higher class of society.

The first pier they encountered stood empty, abandoned. A large metal boat creaked in rhythm with the waves as it sat, smashed into a dock. A sour, fetid stench rolled from it. The group walked faster, protecting their noses.

The second pier bustled with activity. Young men and boys barely older than ten cleaned and scrubbed small boats under the waning sun. Bulky, weather-worn men unloaded giant nets bursting with fish. Women treaded the lake shore tending laundry or mending giant sails.

The pier defined the difference between Neugoch and every place else Optimus witnessed. The people chattered freely; some even laughed. The Autobot leader paused long to catch some conversation. Phrases like “It was beautiful...” Or “I loved how...” reached his ears. Optimus wanted to hear more but moved on when Magnus called him.

The group entered a well lit tavern-like place crowded with old tables and burley men. Ladies waited on tables and cleaned the establishment between conversations among the sailors and fishermen.
Parthon rolled up his sleeves with a confident but weary smile. ‘Everyone find a table. I’m going to get menus.”

Plucky picked a semi-circular booth against the far wall. Magnus sat beside Prime and failed to answer Cloudstreaker when she asked about two guys arm wrestling a few tables away. She asked again but he only shrugged. Frustrated with his lack of response, Cloudy sat between Dot and Pipsqueak.

Captain Parthon returned followed by two waitresses bearing round silver trays. Parthon sat beside Plucky as one barmaid set drinks in front of the group. She retreated and the second girl set her tray in the middle of the table. A mountain of bread steamed, fresh from the oven, surrounded by eight small dishes piled with roasted meat.

“Grab a dish, everyone!” Parthon ordered cheerfully.

The second barmaid hovered; “T’will that be enough, General?” she asked politely.

“More than, good lady.” he answered.

Plucky at small amounts before checking his pockets for money. He frowned. “You got one more tak on you, Captain?”

“Do I look like a treasure chest, Plucky?”

“Yes. And I think I need two.”

Optimus and Magnus smirked as Parthon grunted, dove into his wallet and handed Plucky two large coins. “You owe me, Plucky.”

“I got soda for that,” the second-in-command piped cheerfully. He slipped away and planted himself on a stool at the stone bar.

The doors slammed open and all eyes turned. Four large males stomped in wearing thick coats and heavy boots. The first of the four raised a fist before raising his booming voice: “Caught ourselves a hundred-geit beast right outta his grove. Drinks an’ meat on us!”

The room erupted with cheers and applause before the second male, built like a rock, bellowed: “Haul out the harpichordium!”

More applause and some whooping deafened the air while a metal circular object rolled out of a back store room and dropped on one flat side. A female excused herself behind the bar, dragged a chair to the harpichoridum and played a short phrase in E-flat. The room roared with a well-known song while another waiter set mug after mug of beer on every table. Dot tried to say something above the ruckus but her voice failed and she made hand signals instead. Captain Parthon nodded and waived her good-bye as she slipped into the celebration.

Magnus stared at his mug then at Prime’s then raised brows at the Autobot leader.

The song ended and the crowd cheered and begged for more. The lady musician asked for a drink before the next song.

During the interlude, Cloudy turned to Pipsqueak. “How about we take off for our scavenger hunt?” Pipsqueak agreed and Cloudy turned to Magnus. “Won’t you join us, Commander? It’ll go faster.

Magnus pointed a thumb to Optimus. “I’m Prime-sitting.”

Disappointed, Cloudstreaker wordlessly nodded. Bookworm tagged them stating something about safety and numbers.

Optimus and Magnus remained at the table while Plucky and Parthon mingled among the people. Layer by layer downward, the Autobot leader suspected trouble loomed over them like a tornado descending from a wall cloud. Prime hoped their hosts found answers so they could leave as soon as possible.

Magnus drank his beer, finished Dot’s dish of meat and drank Cloudy’s mug of beer. He hummed and bounced his head in time with the music. Optimus watched the crowd as they took turns dancing with a pretty girl. He did not watch as Magnus polished at fourth beer that appeared when a waitress passed their table.

The tavern dropped in noise when the music ended and more food appeared on table after table. People ordered different drinks and turned to private conversations. Optimus watched Parthon speak with a fisherman and two females dressed in thick layers of leather. Judging by their respective body language, they spoke of things Parthon considered important.

Gradually the Autobot leader realized Magnus softly hummed beside him. Puzzled, Prime turned to the city commander. “Why do you keep humming, Ultra Magnus?”

Magnus did not answer immediately. “It’s in my head.”

“What’s in your head?”

“All of them.”

Prime slid away to get a better look at Magnus. “What are you talking about?”

Ultra Magnus, mighty city commander, broke into tears. “It’s his fault, Optimus!”

“What?”

“Rodimus! He gave me earworms!”

Optimus slid a little further away. “I did not know Rodimus was ill.”

“It’s all the music!” Magnus exploded. “It’s song after song after song after song! Prime! Optimus, you have to help me get revenge for this! Every single song; torture! Disney music, Chicano music, Julio Iglesias-Madonna!”

“Madonna? As in ‘Papa Don’t Preach’?”


Magnus gripped his hair. “Borderline.”

Optimus groaned.

Magnus sniffed. “I want it to stop.”

Optimus had no answers.

Parthon reclaimed his seat and frowned at his empty beer mug. Well, seems Laktromycix has been under curfew for four days. Something about contraband or other flimsy excuse.”

Optimus kept a steady gaze on the captain. “Are you certain we need to go to Laktromycix?”

Parthon tapped three fingers on the table top. “I want to say no, on one hand. On the other, I can say ‘yes’ because you and yours do not have to come with us.”

Optimus did not move. “We must find Cyclonus. But I am not comfortable allowing you to go alone.”

Plucky returned with pallid cheeks and wide eyes. He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Decepticons ‘r in Laktro, Captain.”

Magnus perked up. “Skorponok?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t think so by the description.” Plucky smirked. “Says people think they’re boats when they shift.”

Magnus glanced at Parthon. “Blue boats?”

Plucky blinked, surprised. “Yeah.”

Prime sat straight. “Scourge and the Sweeps.”

Plucky tilted his head like an iguana. “What’s that?”

Magnus pursed his lips. “The Three Stooges and their leader, Inspector Gaget.”

Parthon frowned at both of them. ”What are the Decepticons doing in Laktro?”

Optimus never heard the answer. His thoughts tunneled out of his surroundings like a clairvoyant vision.

“It’s called ‘remote viewing.”

“I know what it is, Doctor,” Prime said pointedly. “I want to know whether or not she has it.”
“There aren’t tests for this sort of thing, Prime,” the psychic returned. “If she’s displaying other signs of psycho-kinesis, then she may very well possess the same ability. But Rusti is only six years old. She won’t understand why her connection to you is so... rare.”
Remote viewing.
Rusti sat on the old motel bed, studying her stolen book. Galvatron cast his gaze out the window then turned to her.
“What happened to the communication between you and the Primes, Rusti?”
“Hm?”
“You don’t seem to mentally connect to Rodimus or Optimus anymore.”
Rusti lowered the book and gazed at the Decepticon. “I don’t know for sure. I think it was the Virus. Don’t tell Optimus, but It affected me; It infected me. Yet, somehow,” she paused again, “I think it was Void who saved me when I was dying of the Q-Virus.”

Magnus spoke Optimus’ name but Optimus could not respond. Locked in a trance, the Autobot leader stared into nothing, seeing nothing but those images and events inside his mind. He was aware of Pipsqueak’s and Cloudy’s return. He heard the girls discuss the number of goods they confiscated off fishing boats. He was aware of Cloudy’s attempt to connect to Magnus and of the commander’s vapid response.
Cloudy left the table and Pipsqueak hissed at the Major-general. “You are an asshole!”

“Hu?”

“That girl is crazy about you and you have been either rebuff, blowing her off or you are colossally stupid!”

“She loves me?”

“Are you really that thick-headed, Ultra Magnus?”

“Well, no. I never imagined anyone falling in love with me.”

Dot sneered. “And she won’t much longer if you don’t go talk to her, you over-sized galoot!”

Cloudstreaker screamed and struggled against two muscle-bound males. One told her to shut up; that she was too sweet a piece of real estate to ignore.

Optimus remained stationary, unable to move. He wanted to. He knew Cloudstreaker was in trouble. But something kept him locked, even when Parthon shouted at him and shook him as if to awaken the Autobot from sleep.

What was happening? What was wrong? Prime’s mind raced across Mechlatex’s bizarre landscape.

Magnus leapt over the table in a smooth and graceful fashion. In three long footfalls, he crossed the room, rushing after Cloudstreaker and her kidnappers. Pipsqueak left the table but Parthon called her back and ordered her and Dot back to the ship to finish the assimilator.

“Finish the assimilator, girl!” he repeated. “Me and Plucky will go on to Laktromycix. You be ready to get us out at a word’s notice!”

Pipsqueak acknowledged but Optimus heard nothing further. He lost all awareness of his immediate environment and found himself in a meadow covered in long dry grasses and gains.

Rodimus approached with a sad face. Oddly enough, Optimus was glad to see his friend back in robotic form.
“I’m sorry, Op,” Roddi said upon arrival. “I couldn’t keep It at bay. Desolate... Desolate...” Rodimus looked away in shame. “Sometimes, I think I’m the wimp between us.”
“You are not, Rodimus,” the Senior Prime replied sadly. “Both of us carry a demon within.”
“Yeah. Well, mine escaped.”
“Rodimus, Cloudstreaker’s in trouble.” Optimus did not see the giant image of Desolate rising behind him.
Rodimus broke down and wept. “So am I.”