The High Road: Part 8
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 EIGHT
“Hello Relic.” Catfish said in an eerily calm voice. It wasn’t her tone that was eerie, but…it was Catfish and she was calm, serene even. It doesn’t get much eerier then that.
She walked over to the panel generating the force field and tapped it a few times. The shield flickered once and shut down. “Come, let’s take a walk.”
“I’m restricted to this room.” Relic said, rising anyway.
“I’ve never held with restrictions, I think they’re restricting. Don’t worry, no one will find us where we’re going. Come.” She said, holding out her hand, “There’s a lot you need to talk about.”
Relic took it, hesitantly. Catfish didn’t even flinch as the blade-like claws bit into her skin. Her eyes glowed a deep purple in the dim light. She pulled him along out into an empty hallway.
And they walked.
“Where are we going?” Relic eventually asked after a few corridors of silence.
“We’re walking.” Catfish said, this actually wasn’t completely true. Relic was walking, she was doing more of a half-skip-step-walk. “We often have destinations, but we don’t need them. Where are you going?” Relic got the distinct impression that the question didn’t pertain to their immediate destination.
Querion stretched his back as he stepped out of the CR Hall. Out of there at last. He looked at the empty mug in his hands, grinned at Mimi, and deposited it in her hands, then ran off before she could lay her irate hands on him.
The wolf-bot slowed to a halt after turning several corners, satisfied that he was not followed. He tapped his chin contemplatively, then knocked on the ship walls.
"Dedlis?"
"Yes?" A metallic voice rang through the halls.
"Do you have a training facility around here?"
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He panted heavily, as he deflected a punch thrown at his face with his severed blade. Querion followed with an elbow into his opponent's face. The enemy staggered backwards, but began his assault yet again. The wolf-bot sprang to a side, pinned the offensive fist down, then launched his own barrage of fists at the opponent's face. His enemy fell facedown onto the ground, disappearing before it hit the dust in a flicker.
Querion smiled, pleased at the development of the new technique.
"Pretty good training grounds you've got here," he complimented.
"Thank you," came Dedlis's reply. Then all was silent. Not a conversationalist, apparently.
The swordsman looked at the sabre he was gripping so tightly, musing over its fate. The cogs in his head started to whir again, as he rushed to find paper and pencil to pen his ideas down on. As his fingers moved to sketch out the details, Querion scratched his head, surprised by the recent rush of creativity.
[Onboard the Xavior – Switchblade and Timber]
“What do I think?” Switchblade asked with a note of disbelief in her voice. “I think that I wasn’t even expecting that much.” The badger ‘bot smiled against her will, stony exterior breaking and letting a rare drop of hope touch her features. “I don’t…” she began, but stopped abruptly when she began to laugh. Switchblade raised her head to look Timber in the optics. “It’s a deal,” she said, thrusting out her right hand. Timber took it and they shook once. To Switchblade’s surprise, Timber smiled back at her.
Reaching back over the small bar, Timber poured herself another drink and then held her mug aloft. “To the future,” she said, still beaming. Switchblade picked up her half-empty drink and did the same. “To the future,” the badger echoed. The two ‘bots touched glasses and drained their drinks. When they were done, Switchblade stood.
“Well,” she said, “I’ve still got some errands to run. Just to clear things up before we disembark. I wanted to talk to Solarflare too. About what we just discussed, that is. He’s a good ‘bot to have in a pinch, and I think he could be useful in the future.” The badger ‘bot paused. “Not that I think there’s anything out there the two of us couldn’t handle…” This time they both laughed.
“Go then,” Timber replied. “And then get back to me with the details.” The wolf again reached over the bar, pouring out a bit of the nigh corrosive liquid from the far tap. “I’ll be around.” Switchblade nodded happily, and walked away.
“It’s good to have friends,” the courier mused as she exited the small room and stepped into a short hallway.
Switchblade walked on through the ship, stopping every so often to poke her head in a doorway, looking for Solarflare. Her words to Timber had been truthful, the finch ‘bot was an above average fighter, and trustworthy too. He was the kind of person that even she would consent to have watching her back. Given the near paranoia of an armed courier that was saying rather a lot. Silently Switchblade hoped that he too would consent to leaving with her once they hit Cybertron. She counted him a friend, and in her business, friends were in short supply. It would be good to have two on hand. Especially since she’d never truly had any before.
A curious thought struck her, and she allowed herself a short, contented laugh. That such a wonderful turn of events could come from such a botched mission was nearly inconceivable. To think, that just a sort while ago the idea of having friends at all seemed impossible. And now? Now she was poised on the brink of having a virtual family. Simply amazing. The universe, it seemed, worked in strange and unfathomable ways. She smiled yet again, and continued to smile even as she found Solarflare.
The finch was making his exit from the med. bay that housed Relic. By the expression on his face it was obvious that someone or something had managed to seriously upset him. When he saw Switchblade, however, his demeanor changed. His optics lit up a fraction of a percent, and he put on a weak but genuine smile. “Switchblade,” he said simply. “What’s up? I’ve been looking for you.”
The two Transformers slowed to a halt a few feet from each other. Both smiling, but for different reasons. “Oh, I’ve been here,” Switchblade confirmed. “Just a little busy for the last hour or two. You?”
Solarflare remained silent for an instant, unsure of what to say. Whether he should just out and tell Switchblade what he felt, now before he had the time to talk himself out of it. For the briefest of instants his mind wrestled for its next words. In the end, however, it was only a pleasantry. “I’ve been good,” he said, cursing his cowardice. “That session in the CR tank has got me feeling good as new. You know, it’s funny. I never knew I needed it that badly until I actually went and did it. Guess we’ve all been under a lot of stress lately.”
Switchblade nodded her head in agreement. The silence returned. Once again Solarflare attempted to screw up his courage. He knew he had to do it sometime. It was either that, or go insane from not telling her. With a sudden resolve he decided to do it. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. The finch opened his mouth to speak, but tragically, Switchblade beat him to it.
“Solarflare, I need to ask you something,” the badger ‘bot said. She was smiling, and her words filled with confidence. Solarflare’s heart nearly skipped a beat.
“Fire,” he managed with some difficulty.
Switchblade nodded. “I was wondering what you planned to do once the Xavior reached Cybertron. I know that it’s a strange question,” she said “but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and come to the conclusion that this whole Resistance movement has passed the point where either of us can do anything about it.” The badger paused to let her words sink in. Solarflare remained frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes from hers. She seemed to him, in that instant, the most captivating creature in the whole of the universe.
“I think it’s time that we moved on,” he heard her say. “This fight has become Rhapsody’s more than it has ours. Guns and explosives work well if you’re trying to kill Predacons, but that’s not what this is about anymore. It’s about opening up equalized a dialog with the Maximal Council, and making them see what has really been going on on Gianna.” Switchblade paused. “So, it’s with that in mind that I wanted to make a proposition.”
“Yes.” Solarflare said anxiously. He nearly tripped over his own words. Adrenaline coursed through his system, banging like a drum in his ears. His heart beat rapidly. She was going to say it! She was actually going to say it! Switchblade opened her mouth to speak.
“I want you to become my business partner.”
Solarflare’s breath caught in his throat as he stared back at the badger ‘bot in disbelief. He could see Switchblade leaning slightly forward, eagerly awaiting his response. For his part, however, Solarflare found that he couldn’t even move. The shock of her words had hit him hard. And deep.
“When we get to Cybertron,” Switchblade clarified. “You’re a great guy, and what’s more, I can trust you to watch my back.” She smiled warmly at him. Solarflare reflected that it was something he’d only rarely seen her do. “Timber’s already in.” she continued. “With you onboard, I can’t see anything in the universe that could get in our way. Think about it. The biggest armed courier contracts with the biggest payoffs… Living life on the edge, having a blast, and making ourselves rich in the process...” Switchblade’s brow furrowed. “Solarflare?” she asked, slightly concerned.
“Cybertron?” he replied weakly.
[Cybertron – The Maximal Chamber of Elders: Closed Session]
The room, as rooms go on Cybertron, was huge. Harkening back to the days of Autobots and Decepticons, the massive chamber was a large circular affair, with heavy marble pillars imbedded in the walls, and an arching cathedral ceiling scaled to inspire awe in Transformers twice as tall as the average Maximal. It was a grand meeting hall and audience room, where for years on end the leaders of the Autobot, and later Maximal factions had met to discuss the issues of greatest consequence to their empires. It was a place steeped in history dating back to Optimus Prime, and a place where decisions of life and death were still made and debated.
The doors to the grand chamber had been locked tight, and the room darkened until the only lights shining were those above the massive semicircular bench used by the Council of Elders as its legislative seat. In raised chairs behind the bench, sat the members of the Council itself, grave stoic individuals to whom the task of government had fallen. There were thirteen in all. Twelve of them were Elders, elected from a pool of the wisest ‘bots willing to take on the position. The thirteenth was the High Elder, Tachyous Prime, said to be the wisest of them all, and publicly at least, bearer of the fabled Matrix of Leadership. Today their moods were as dark as the room in which they sat. In front of them a holographic projector flashed images of a war torn Endport, and the Maximal Resistance. It is a familiar reel, detailing individual crimes and biographical information in small white letters across the bottom of the image.
“And they just gave this to us?” asked one Councilman, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Of their own free will,” Confirmed another. “It was delivered to one of our agents in the Jaral System. The courier identified himself as an operative of the Tripredacus Council and ordered that this be delivered to the Council directly. We received it only hours ago,”
After a short silence, and a few more holo-slides, the first voice returned. “I find this ‘information’ highly suspect. I ask that that be very clearly entered into the record,”
“As you wish,” replied a third, deeper voice, seated in the center of the semi circle. “Are there any other premature objections?” The first speaker fell silent, marking the new Councilman’s words. As well as the tone in which they were said. The silence returned and the slide show moved on, pausing and giving extra emphasis to the image Rhapsody. The Council ‘bots frowned as they read the list of her crimes. It just didn’t add up.
“This information disturbs me,” a fourth voice said. Its speaker leaned forward for the briefest of moments, adjusting his position and allowing his craggy silver face to be seen. “I have heard of this Rhapsody before. She is a good soldier, and a valuable one.” The voice paused. “I would venture to say one of our best in her particular field.”
“Your point, Councilman Garrak?” the center most ‘bot boomed in its deep voice. It held a hint of irritation.
“My point, Prime, is that this information came from the Predacons. From the Tripredacus Council. It is unsubstantiated, unreliable, and absurd to the point of outright fiction.” Garak’s voice held a tinge of anger, disbelief. “This hologram is asking me to believe that one of our best agitators, a Maximal whose loyalty has been tested and proved over and over again, is not only a traitor, but a blood thirsty murderess as well.” Garrak huffed. “And it is asking me to believe it based purely on the assertions of a triumvirate of liars and despots. They are not to be believed.”
The owner of the deep voice leaned forward. The elegant features of Tachyous Prime, High Elder, came sharply into view. “People change Garrak. And you know this…Rhapsody, only from her file. I have never judged you the kind of fool who would base all of his assumptions on a mass of irrelevant background information. Perhaps I was wrong.”
Garrak, the older ‘bot, bristled, but fell silent. “We shall see,” he muttered under his breath.
The holo-slide show moved on, cycling through each Resistance member in turn. When it reached its end and began to recycle, Tachyous Prime waved his hand. “Turn it off,” he boomed. “We’ve seen enough.” Obediently the projector flickered and died, leaving only darkness. “Lights, half power,” the High Elder called. The light level rose, revealing all thirteen Councilmen.
“Is there anything else to report on this subject, or can we move on?” the High Elder asked with more than a hint of impatience. There was no response. “Excellent. It is my opinion that this so called Resistance, formed on a nothing planet, in a nothing system, against a perfectly legitimate government, is less than nothing, and should be looked upon as such in the eyes of this council. It is not our duty, gentlemen, to cure all the ills of the world. It would be the ultimate folly to assume that we could.” Tachyous Prime snorted. “In the great sweep of things, this insurgency, no matter who leads it, is a small unimportant matter, and beneath our concern. Rather let the Predacons and their contemptible Tripredacus Council deal with it. They have done so to our satisfaction thus far.” The High Elder consulted his itinerary, searching for the next item of business. “If they want it, let them have it. Just so long as it doesn’t bother us. Traitors deserve a traitor's demise. Who better to deliver it than the Predacons?” There was a pause. “Well then, that’s settled. Shall we move on?”
They did.
Later, as the meeting ended, and the Council members disbursed, a junior Elder caught the shoulder of the old Transformer Garrak, and led him aside. Turning slowly, Garrak beheld the form of the Elder Nova. “Elder Garrak,” the ‘bot said gently, “May I have a moment of your time?”
Garrak came to a halt near a small alcove and gestured to his aids for privacy. The modeless functionaries walking nearby scattered leaving only Garrak and Nova. Garrak’s bodyguard maintained his position, though being stationed by the heavy chamber doors, he was still well out of earshot. Garrak noticed that Nova too was without his aids. Even the young Elder’s bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. That in itself said much to the much older ‘bot. For whatever reason, Nova intended for their words to be truly private.
“Ah, my good Elder Nova,” Garrak said once his companion seemed satisfied with the condition of the room. “What is it that I can do for you today? It’s not often that I get to speak with the younger members of the Council. Most of them are too sure of their own supreme wisdom to even bother with those of us that are old and seemingly out of date.”
Nova gave the elder statesman a weak smile. “Perhaps,” he replied to the verbal jibe. “It is true that we often get caught up in the powers we’ve been so newly granted. Yet there are still some matters, I think, in which wise council is still desired.”
Garrak smiled thinly at the Elder. “Yes. There are some matters in which I wouldn’t mid wise council myself. Unfortunately, at my age, many of those you considered wise are already dead, leaving you with no one to rely on but yourself.” The smile faded. “I gather that you have come to discuss one such troubling issue.”
Nova nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It is this Resistance that the High Elder dismisses so casually. It worries me. Both the individuals involved, and the apparent gaps in the information provided us by the Predacons. I would like to trust them, given the pains the High Elder has gone through to unite the leadership of our two factions, yet, I find it impossible to completely silence my doubts,” Nova sighed. “There is something about this entire affair, that doesn’t add up to me,”
This time it was Garrak’s turn to nod. “Yes, I took notice of your objections in chambers today. I agree,” he said. “It does not follow that such a bitter resistance should spring up to such a mild government, and in such an out of the way place. There seems to be little or no cause for it. Then to have that same rebellion spearheaded by a loyal member in the employ of the Maximal Army? No, it does not follow. Thinking back, there are many many strange things about this situation,”
“I’ve had a few of my personal informants keeping tabs on the situation,” Nova offered. “They haven’t been able to find much, but what they have found, points to something the Predacons have gone great lengths to hide. For instance, I’ve received word that a number of unidentified ships blasted off from the vicinity of this Endport about the same time that there seems to have been a major disturbance on planet. Garrak, the place has been placed under an information blackout. Why do that if there is nothing to hide?”
“Why indeed,” Garrak intoned gravely.
“There is another report which makes mention of a very strange ship just disappearing from a high grade Predacon warship. It was bore the same markings as one of the ships which escaped from Endport,”
“Radio communication tap?” Garrak asked.
“I will only say that the information came from a reliable source,” Nova sighed. “Do you see where I’m headed with this?”
Garrak stood a moment, deep in thought. Seeming to make up his mind, he began to move away from the alcove, gesturing for Nova to accompany him. “I believe so, yes,” the older ‘bot said gravely. “Walk with me for a moment. We shall talk, and then wait to see what develops,”
The two continued on, speaking of what was to come. Far away, the storm continued to build.
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