The High Road: Part 2
A long journey back to Cybertron to clear the Maximal's names. Many mysterys about the present siuation, the crew and the part are solved.
PART TWO
[Onboard the Xavior – Switchblade and Weede]
“Switch-chick?” Switchblade repeated, staring at the strung out Weed with unconcealed resentment. The tie-dyed sloth only giggled in response. An end of his neon green ‘bong’ slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a clack. Weede gave a nervous smile and withdrew the offensive object from sight again. He continued to giggle though. Switchblade shook her head in disbelief. Her optics traveled from Weed, to the bong, and then back to Weede. The gangly Transformer was leering at her, and the hallway smelled faintly of smoke. His eyes had a blank yet puzzled look on them that said his CPU, or part of it anyway, had effectively left the building. “You’re stoned aren’t you?” the badger ‘bot asked with a hint of contempt.
Weede’s smile broadened. “Nope, nope,” he said. “I am not…stoned” he managed. “Just…umm…loaded!” The giggling laugh returned. The multicolored ‘bot doubled over, coughing and trying desperately to breath. Apparently he had though his joke quite funny. The courier rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Real cute,” she replied. Weede smiled and thanked her for the compliment. After which he doubled up again with laughter. “Just point me to the commons.” Switchblade finished. Weede gestured toward half the ship. “Thanks,” the courier said, and walked on. Behind her, the other ‘bot continued to laugh as he pulled out his bong and loaded up some more.
As Switchblade approached the commons area, she began to hear the muted sounds of conversation. Even from a few rooms away she could tell that most of the Resistance was gathered there. The noise of conversation grew and grew, always changing, until she at last stepped into the Commons proper, and beheld most, if not all, of her teammates.
‘Temporary teammates.’ she reminded herself. Her time with all of them had nearly reached its end. Once the Xavior landed on Cybertron that bond would be broken, and she would walk away. The question, of course, was whether she would walk out alone. Switchblade had tentatively decided to ask Solarflare to go with her. And there was at least one other she wanted to ask. The badger ‘bot didn’t think she would get anywhere with her, but it was worth a shot. Friends, or at least what passed for them in her business, were rarities. Switchblade supposed she considered this ‘bot a friend, and one she didn’t want to loose so soon after they had met.
The courier surveyed the busy room from her place at the door, acknowledging sporadic greetings and congratulations with a simple nod of the head. At length, Switchblade’s eyes fell on the songbird Rhapsody, alone in one corner of the room, clutching a drink between her hands. Tucked away in the corner, her demeanor was a far cry from the gaiety of the rest of the room. Something was bothering her. Something big Switchblade supposed. She picked her way through the crowd and sat down beside the Resistance leader, praying that what bothered her in no way affected her own plans for the future.
“Rhapsody,” Switchblade said as she slid into the seat opposite the songbird. “Rhapsody, wake up, I need to talk to you.” she continued.
Slowly Rhapsody raised her down-turned head and looked at the ‘bot who had intruded into her little bubble of privacy. Her optics looked tired and washed out. A little bit sad perhaps, and that was understandable. After all, they hadn’t exactly accomplished their goal of ousting the Predacons from Endport. The realization of failure seemed to have seeped into every pore of her metallic frame.
“What can I do for you?” Rhapsody asked in a soft voice.
Switchblade folded her hands under the table. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving when we reach Cybertron. And that I’ll probably be taking Solarflare with me. At least. Figured you should know before we docked, not that it comes as a surprise or anything.”
Rhapsody’s face fell imperceptibly. “I won’t stop you.” was all she said.
The badger ‘bot nodded. “I tried to help,” she said, “But truth be told, this thing was a million to one shot long before I showed up. It’s just not something I think I can do anymore.” She paused. “I’m sorry.” Rhapsody remained silent, unmoving. Switchblade sat still for an awkward moment, and then stood to leave. She felt bad for Rhapsody, in a distant sort of way. The Resistance leader seemed lost and terribly alone. That at least, was a situation Switchblade could empathize with.
“One last thing before I go though,” the courier said as she stood. “Have you seen Timber anywhere? I need to talk to her before we land. It’s fairly important.”
For an endless moment Rhapsody failed to reply. Then, without looking up, she spoke. “Last I saw her, she was floating in a CR tank. She was rather heavily injured bringing Relic in. From what little I understand, that is.” The proud ‘bot opened her mouth as if to say more, but seemed to think better and closed it. “Find Querion,” she finished, “He’ll know where she is.”
Switchblade nodded and moved on. All considered, perhaps it was better that Rhapsody have some time to herself. The courier threaded her way carefully back through the assembled ‘bots with an ease brought on by years of negotiating larger, meaner crowds. First she’d find out what had become of Timber, and then she would talk to Solarflare. Things would fall into place or not. But either way, she would know where to go from the Xavior.
In another corner of the room, the Predacon Cutter watched nervously as Switchblade exited the room. The badger ‘bot worried him. Well, they all worried him, all the Maximals. But the one with the knives disturbed him most. Her presence sent his mind back to places he didn’t want to go. Back to Endport, to the army…and to Spat.
Cutter gnashed his metallic teeth at the mere thought of the winged terror. Memories of pain and humiliation came to him n flashes. How he had hated his former master. What an insipid little creature he had been, so full of himself, and convinced of his own superiority. Convinced of his own cunning. A cruel smile alighted on Cutter’s lips as he remembered something far more pleasant than his constant degradation. He remembered the feel of the badger ‘bots throwing knife in his palm as he wrenched it from the wall. He remembered the metallic ping with which it had pierced his masters throat cables, and the frantic banging as he thrashed about on the marble floor, bleeding to death. A surge of near joy filled his small frame. The little maggot was dead. Dead!
But then the smile faded as reality set in. Spat was dead. Dead beyond help of medic or artificial regeneration tech. Spat had been a General. He had been a Predacon General for Pits sake! And that meant reprisals. Violently his mind warped from the past to a myriad of possible futures, in all of which he met with a grisly death.
Cutter’s stomach turned and he nearly vomited. He was a dead ‘bot, caught between a hoard of filthy Maximals, and an army of Predacons that wanted his neck. He began to shake involuntarily, his thin blue body pressed as far as it would go back into the wall. Unconsciously his hands clenched into pitiful little fists. His optics darted from ‘bot to ‘bot around the crowded commons. It was all that he could do to keep from screaming.
There was no way out!
No way out!
The shaking stopped. Cutter finished the thought. ‘No way out…save death.”
[Predacon Headquarters – The City of Endport]
The room was silent save for the steady rise and fall of the CR bath machinery. Half lit and cloaked in shadows as it was the young Predacon CR jockey couldn’t have made out the face of his sole patient even had he wanted to. And that was a good thing. He had recognized the frightening ‘bot when he had arrived, and that was bad enough without a constant reminder. General Grapple had come, just as he had every few hours since his “accident”; to try and heal a set of wounds the young Pred didn’t think could ever be healed. The scars were too deep, and he had lain unconscious in Spat’s chambers for far too long. Some things just couldn’t be healed. That was life. He didn’t want to be the one to tell the General that, though.
The young Predacon turned back to his counsel and scanned the readings for the millionth time since Grapple had been immersed. Everything seemed normal. Nothing was going wrong at the very least. Who knew, maybe this time the Generals blast marks would heal, and there would be no violence. The killer tortoise had already throttled one CR ‘bot already. The young Pred had no desire to be the second. Dutifully he returned to his scanners.
Minutes passed and the droning hum continued. The young Pred, lost in reading after reading, failed to hear as a new ‘bot entered the room and gazed at the CR bath. The new Predacon was large, and colored a jet black that contrasted even with the existing shadows. His eyes burnt a mute red, and seemed to be bottomless pits filled with secrets and the threat of something terrible. In place of a Predacon Emblem, the sigil of the Tripredicus Council was graven into both his shoulder and left breastplate. The sunken lines gleamed dangerously in the low light.
“Ahem.” the obsidian ‘bot half coughed, half growled to the younger Pred. The other looked up in surprise, then shock, and then outright fear as his eyes beheld the graven sigil. His jaw dropped open and he all but jumped from his chair. The young Pred saluted instantly and stammered a greeting, before the other ‘bot cut him off with the wave of a thickly armored hand. Not a fighters hand, but a strong one none the less.
“Commissar! This is unexpected!” the young Pred babbled, unsure of what to do. “I…”
The 'bots red optics shifted from the CR tank to its monitor. The younger Transformer fell silent out of fear. “Bring him up.” the Commissar commanded. “I must have a word with ‘General’ Grapple.” The word ‘general’ held more than its fair share of venom and contempt.
“But sir, he’s in deep stasis. It will take him nearly an hour to regain consciousness, even if I begin the sequence now.”
“Bring him up anyway.” the Commissar growled angrily. “Use the drug. I’m on orders from the Council itself to bring him to a special meeting of the dear late Commander’s underlings.”
The Predacon tech hesitated for a moment, before practically running over to a small cabinet specially fitted into the far wall. From it he removed a metal syringe, filled with a thick golden liquid. Syringe in hand he closed the panel and scurried back to his main control panel. After a quick series of keystrokes, the hydraulics beneath the bath began to move, pushing the sleeping Grapple into open air. Before the lift mechanism had even halted the young Pred was there, inserting the point of the needle into Grapple’s thick neck. He pressed the plunger hard, forcing the golden liquid into the tortoise’s system. Once finished he carefully removed the syringe and turned to look at the Commissar.
“Sir, I’ve injected the serum,” the monitor Pred began. “General Grapple should regain consciousness in three to five cyc…” Suddenly a gnarled hand seized the small young by his throat and lifted him high into the air. With a gurgling scream the tech was thrown across the room, where he impacted with the wall. The Predacon crumpled and crashed to the floor. Grapple flexed his hand and finished uncurling from the grating over the bath.
“Wh…who, d…dares?” the tortoise gurgled, before convulsing and coughing up a two lungs full of CR fluid. Grapple dropped to his knees in pain as he struggled even to breathe. The Commissar, meanwhile, simply stood his ground.
“I would be more careful of my words if I were you.” he said in a deep voice. “Threatening the life of any Council representative, much less one of its Commissars, is a crime punishable by death.” Grapple managed to look up, but only with great pain. The drug induced convulsions continued to wrack his body.
“What…do you w…want?” Grapple hissed between coughs.
“I want nothing,” the Commissar replied. “The Tripredicus Council on the other hand, demands your presence along with your fellow generals in less than twenty cycles. A link will be placed in your command center. The feed will be live.” The hulking obsidian ‘bot paused. “You are being granted an audience.”
Grapple froze, despite the spasms.
“Do not be late.” finished the Commissar. Having said his piece, the standing ‘bot turned easily on his heel and left. Grapple’s stomach sank. This was bad. Very bad.
Painfully the monster pulled himself to his feet and stumbled from the room. The Commissar was the bases direct link to the Tripredicus Council, though because of the sensitivity of their mission, his presence was not widely know. Grapple knew that he was in trouble. They were all in trouble, because coming from a Commissar, the word “audience” could only mean one thing: the Tripreds themselves.
"Ready for the transwarp jump," Trapper intoned.
"Why?" asked the penguin.
"To go to Cybertron with the rest, haven't you been listening?"
Penji met Trapper's contempt and doubled it.
"Dock on big ship, silly!"
"It would save energon," said Rita, "allow us to meet with the others, and make any repairs."
"Yeah, but.. Ok, fine. Cheese Wedge to Xavior, request permission to dock."
A few cycles later, the occupants of the Cheese Wedge disembarked into a hold of the Xavior. Penji looked around curiously at the ship's strange construction.
"Ooh, pretty."
Mandrake only snorted and maintained his position. "I can maintain my balance a lot easier on four legs than I can in a chair." The heavy 'bot hunkered lower on the deck, switched his tail once, then his optics began to dim. "Wake me when we get there." Wherever 'there' is.
Trapper:
"wow...this ship is some high quality construction"
Phyphen awoke to the pleasant hum of a vessel. Actually, the movement wasn't pleasant at all, but it was a nice feeling none the less.
”What?!?!?!”
Phyphen bolted upright with the sudden realisation that they were leaving... a bolt of fear shot through Phyphen as she leapt up to her feet.
**CRASH**
Phyphen was so startled by the thought of the ship moving that she totally forgot she was in beast mode. The small red fox lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. The young bot quickly transformed and strode over to the nearest window.
Outside the window was nothing but blackness. Off in the distance was a small planet fading away as the bright stars, millions of miles away, panned the view. Phyphen sighed deeply - she didn’t realise that they were leaving. She though that the Maximals lived on the planet.
Phyphen slowly left the window and aimlessly wandered out of the room and down the hallway. Her heart sank as she meandered around the Xavier. Phyphen didn’t even glance upward when a ‘bot walked by. The young ‘bot was so deep in her own despair that she wasn’t even looking where she was going.
‘What am I going to do now?’ she though to herself, ‘How do I know that I can truly trust these people?’ Phyphen sighed again. A peculiar sense of emptiness washed over the young ‘bot. ‘At least I had some friends back home… I don’t have anyone here. I am totally unprotected.’ Phyphen sighed again as a sparkling drop of fluid ran down her cheek.
Phyphen glanced up once and walked into the dark room in front of her. Phyphen transformed into her red fox and crawled under the nearby desk. ‘Maybe I can just stay here until the ship docks… then they’ll go back home…’ Another silver tear ran over her molten copper fur as she laid her head in her paws and fell into a troubled sleep.
“Hey…. Hello? Wake up.” Phyphen squinted and opened her eyes to see a decidedly feline face peering under the desk at her.
“Ah! Who are you?” She asked, slightly startled.
“I’m Burnout, captain.”
“Are you looking for me?”
“No, I just came in here to get some documentation about this ship’s transwarp engines. My second in command seems to be having some trouble with them. What are you doing in here?”
“I’m just waiting….” She shrugged.
“Well if you want you can come sit on the bridge with us. You looked like you could use some contact with other bots. And I for one get bored on trips through subspace. Whata u say?”
*****Bridge*****
“GONE?!?!?!” Retro practically screamed at the ship’s artificial intelligence. “How the FREAKIN’ SLAG could the transwarp engines be…. GONE?!”
“Please, I’m searching my files as fast as I can, no need to shout…. Ah, here it is. You said to me a while back to pull out all the superfluous computer panels and components that weren’t necessary.”
“And that included our engines?! Are you saying this thing wasn’t meant for Transwarp travel?”
“I don’t think that’s the case. I do have high range sensors, navigational devices and other systems that would accompany a high speed travel.”
“So what are you saying? Are there engines on this thing we don’t know about?”
“Perhaps. Like I said, when you brought me on-line, my data-tracks were in serious disrepair. I would recommend a use-initiated engine load-out check.”
Retro massaged his forehead in desperation. “Ok…. Perform a complete engine systems check Dedlis.”
Dedlis’s voice turned slightly monotone as he recited the status of the engine systems.
//Main reactor operating at 68% capacity.
Main reactor operating efficiency at 97%.
Sub-light drives: Active.
Sub-light drive output: 182 deferons.
Sub-light drive efficiency at 89%.
Induction-ring drive: Inactive.
Negative particle stores at nominal charge.
Ring emitters: Functional.
Induction coils: Primed.
Induction-ring efficiency drive at 94%.
Current vectored estimate for Induction-Jump: 97.88%.
Spatial conditions for Induction-Jump: Nominal.//
“……What the hell…. Induction Drive??” The possum franticly pulled up diagrams and schematics of the engine section, wondering if what he thought could be true. He’d read about how, if a ring of negative-particles were to surround a space craft, like a bubble, it could effectively render the ship’s mass null and sent the ship off at the speed of light. But the greatest scientists on all of Cybertron couldn’t figure out how to even CREATE a negative-particle, let alone harness it.
Retro stared in awe at the computer screen. There it was, everything anyone would need to create an Induction-ring. He knew now more than ever that this ship came from another race.
“Well I’ll be damned….”
//Um…// Retro’s voice rang out thorough the ship’s PA. //We’ll be leaving soon. I don’t know how bumpy this is going to be, so just be prepared. Retro out.//
Right now rhapsody needed a friend, or maybe just someone to listen. She had taken so much stress in the last month that she could hardly stand up straight. "What about the ones that we left behind...." She wispered to herself, aftershock, raid, rehual, chapel, Redwing..." That name was the worst of them all to her as she sat in her corner and stewed in self discontentment.
"Whats up?" A smily voice said sitting down next to her. It was Mimi. RHapsody squeezed a weak smile and returned looking at her feet. "Awww cap'em whats wrong, we just left that hell hole for good! We will save don't worry."
"Its not that easy.." Rhapsody said, she was not being easily cheered up.
"Come on," Mimi grabbed rhapsodys hands and pulled her up, "We need to find you a man." THe song bird almost burst into laughter at the felines suggestion. In the way out Mimi caught a glimpse at the other resident cat, "Ohhhh sexy, that one is mine." She wispered passing by burnout.....
“We’re back!” Rita announced, stepping off the Cheese Wedge, “Burnout! Get over here and say hello.”
With that she sauntered off to find the fuzor, after dedicating a cycle to hoping Catfish wouldn’t get into too much trouble before they got back. Fluffy she didn’t have to worry about. He was staying inside the other ship, sleeping off the drugs. It would be kind of awkward if someone who didn’t know him somehow stumbled inside and woke him, but she didn’t worry too much. In fact, if it was Weede she hoped Fluffy ate him.
Then again that would just be more drugs for the poor lizard to process.
Catfish skittered out behind Rita and Penji with a definite mission in mind. She paused and cocked her head at the group of Maximals on the bridge. This place was a veritable mess of psychological problems. Well, first things first. Where was R…Ooooh! Shiny buttons!
Trapper:
"so, uhh, does this ship have a tech lab or what, I need to run heavy analysis on some samples"
The young fox crawled out from under the desk and sat upon her haunches. She peered up at the feline ‘bot, “How did you find me?”
Phyphen glanced down at her frame and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was covered in dust. Phyphen shook herself sending a little cloud of dust up into the air. Phyphen walked a few steps away from the desk and stretched.
“I might as well… I’ve got nothing better to do until this ship docks and returns home.” On that sad note the molten copper fox leapt upward and settled herself upon the desk. She looked up at the ‘bot pleadingly without saying a word. Burnout smiled and caught on. He bent down and scooped up the fox in his arms, grabbing his papers in his free hand he walked out of the room.
“Burnout,” the young fox inquired, “Where are we going anyways?”
Trapper wanders around the ship with one goal in mind, find someone, it is a big ship, and its kinda easy to get lost. Eventually he wanders onto the bridge.
Retro:
"Who are you?"
Trapper:
"Names Trapper, I'm captain of the ship that just docked. Its called the cheese wedge. Um, I was wondering, my ship's lab is kinda tapped so I was wondering if I could use this ship's lab and engineering for little bit,"
Rita walked along, glancing around, when an airlock door opened to the right. She turned to it just in time to feel a muscular, furry form stumble into her.
"S**t! Watch it!" the two Bots said at once.
Rita glanced up at Buckshot, slumped against her, then noticed the weird expression on his face. The canine blinked, and gulped. His face was noticeably green.
"I hate...fragging...spaceships..." he moaned.
"I told you not to get off until we finished docking." said a female voice from the airlock.
Eternity walked in and patted Buckshot sympathetically on the arm.
"I'm okay...just need a minute...oh damn..." the canine muttered, shaking his head.
Mandrake walked in behind them, glanced around indifferently, and looked at Rita.
"You the captain of this tub?" he asked.
There was something so wholesome and heartwarming about carrying a cute little cradled fox in his arms, Burnout almost forgot where he was going.
“Oh, we’re headed to the bridge. You’ll get a nice view of us trying to figure out how to heck to get this ship to work.” He immediately wondered why he didn’t swear and insert ‘heck’. The fox was either really smooth, or naturally that innocent. They were both on the same side, so Burn didn’t mind being warm and kind to the newcomer.
On reaching the door to he bridge, they met up with Trapper on his way out. He smiled at them and waved slightly, before muttering some directions to himself. “Three hallways down, take the first right….. “ He passed Burnout and his new friend on his way toward the small lab Retro set up a little while ago.
Entering the Bridge, the cat-bot sat Phyphen down on one of the passenger chairs and took a seat a couple feet away at the terminal next to his best friend.
“Hey Ret,” Burnout smirked. “How did it go with Tundra.”
Retro looked blankly for a moment, then a wide grin erupted onto his face.
“Aww yea!” The fuzor said, and gave his little buddy a high five. “Oh, this is…..” He looked at Phyphen for a moment and pursed his lips. “Hrm, I don’t think I got your name.”
Penji went off by himself. He waddled around the ship, trying to figure out its construction, and scope out its weapons systems. As he neared a corner, a big multicolored sloth stumbled into him.
"Whoa.. penguin dude!"
"Penji!"
"Shyeah."
“Try sitting down and putting your head between your legs. Don’t focus on anything.” Rita advised Buckshot briefly, as she moved him from her on to the floor. Catfish had never actually gotten space sick, but she’d still absorbed that type of information from the pads of childcare. It was pleasant to put it to good use. That done she turned to Mandrake.
“Nope, you want Burnout, but I’m looking for him too so you can stick with me.” She turned and headed towards the bridge.
Phyphen perked her ears up and cocked her head to the side. It appeared that the little fox just smiled. Phyphen transformed back and was sitting cross-legged in the passenger chair.
"My name's Phyphen, and you are...?" she trailed off.
"Retro" the 'bot answered back.
"Oh... are you in charge of the ship? I need to know when the vessel is arriving at its destination... 'cuz I need to hop the next flight home... back to where we left." Phyphen looked down and sighed. 'I don't think I'm ever gonna get home.' she thought to herself.
Retro gave a sidelong glance to his buddy Burnout, a look filled with concern, pity and a great deal of confusion. Retro cleared his throat thoughtfully, “So, where ya from, kid?”
Phyphen pursed her lips for a moment, “In all truth, I’m not entirely sure, but I spent a lot of time in and around Endport. I don’t exactly have a stable home. This ship is about as permanent as its been,” the young ‘bot laughed in spite of her situation.
“So what are ya guys doing here anyway? No one told me that… why did you come to the Pred base? All I know was there were some big fights… I wandered past the CR chambers and you have some really injured ‘bots.”
Phyphen leaned in and rested her elbows on her knees, cradling her head in her hands. Now this was a topic that interested her.
Mandrake vented a by-now familiar (to Eternity and Buckshot, anyways) sour grunt and stumped along behind the new face, his low-slung beast mode nearly filling the width of the hall as he trudged gamely along behind the faster femme. Pretty soon he settled into his best long-distance travel speed, one a precocious 'tot referred to once, long ago, as 'whomping,' for that was the sound he made as his feet struck the deck.
"I suppose you noticed the, ah, unique design of this ship?"
She did not turn her head when she spoke, but Mandrake assumed she was speaking to him. "Non-Cybertronian."
"Yes. It's origins are unknown even to Burnout, and it's his ship."
"Hmmmph...." He would have said more, but his thoughts were interrupted as crystalline laughter echoed up and down the hallways. A child? Here?
The femme rolled her optics. "Catfish." Taking only a moment to consider, she turned down a side hall and stalked away. Mandrake only paused for a moment, then turned and followed.
Again wandering upon the ship, Trapper again stumbles onto the bridge
Trapper:
"Okay, does anyone know where the lab is on this ship? Does it have one? And can I get some mechfluid with a shot of prefiltered energon?
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