Transformers: The Lost Light

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike's optics shifted up. Yes, the giant glowing Decepticon symbol and associated data were still floating above his head in the noosphere. Everyone should know who he was, that is everyone with a full Cybertronian's data intake ability. What was going on here?

"I am Deathstrike."

[General Havoc]

Hornet smiled and waved again at Novawing as he introduced himself, but his expression soon shifted into one of puzzlement as the smaller bot told him his name. It was not exactly the sort of name he was expecting to hear from a bot even smaller than himself.

"Deathstrike?" he asked, sounding somewhat confused. "That's a weird name. Where'd you get that?"

Though direct as always, Hornet wasn't trying to be rude. Whether he succeeded or not was unclear.

[Cynical Cat]

"Megatron gave it to me after my first Omega Sentinel kill."

[General Havoc]

Hornet's reaction was perhaps not the one that might have been expected.

"Wow!" he said, optics widening. "Megatron gave you a name like that?! You must have really made him angry! Did you ever get to fight Megatron? Did you have to fight lots of Decepticons?!"

The notion of a bot doing such things while that size was, perhaps fittingly, not ludicrous to Hornet. He had to imagine as much, after all.

[Cynical Cat]

It was like a child! Amazing. To deliberately engineer a being with a child's stunted mentality appalled Deathstrike, but somehow it didn't shock him. Autobots had bizarre relationships with organics. The wouldn't lift a digit to stop a tyrant from starving half a continent but would die to defend others. But unlike many Decepticons, Deathstrike didn't despise organics and had experience being around children.

He spoke gently. It wasn't Hornet's fault he was made mentally crippled anymore than it was a Decepticon's fault he was forged to be a slave. "It wasn't like that," Deathstrike replied. "Megatron was pleased my team had killed a powerful enemy. I sparred with him many times, but never fought against him for real. And I am a Decepticon."

[General Havoc]

It was the last sentence that stopped Hornet short, aborting in mid-formation the barrage of follow-up questions he was about to pelt the small bot with. For a second, Hornet wondered if Deathstrike was making a joke, but the bot's voice didn't sound humorous. And then, only at length, Hornet remembered that he was a robot, and activating his AR Overlay, he saw what had previously been apparent to literally everyone else.

Hornet's optics grew wide, wider than should have been possible, and he blinked several times in silence as he read the affiliation over and over again. Only after a good deal of time had passed did he return his gaze to Deathstrike himself. Slayer of powerful enemies, sparring partner of Megatron himself, powerful enough for Megatron to give him names and titles, and all of it done while no larger than Hornet was? Hornet didn't know whether to feel afraid, amazed, or jealous. He settled on thunderstruck.

"You... you're a Decepticon?" he asked, still scarcely able to believe it, despite the visible evidence and the fact that nobody would pretend to be one in this company. "But... I thought they didn't want to be around Autobots like us?"

The notion that, as a POW, Deathstrike likely had little say in who he was going to be around had evidently not occurred to him.

[Cynical Cat]

Of course the child-bot would be unable to understand the situation without it being explained to him. How best to answer this? Deathstrike took a moment to consider and accessed his old memories.

"I am a prisoner of war. Until I am freed, I go where I am told and Breakout wants me to go with him."

[General Havoc]

Maybe it was obvious to others, but Hornet actually had not realized that there would be Decepticons on the voyage. For one thing, he'd never thought to ask. The Autobots had won the war (whatever that meant), and the Decepticons were no longer going to fight them and that was that. Hornet had never spared much thought on what the Decepticons themselves would now be doing with themselves beyond the fact that they would (presumably) no longer be trying to shoot at him. Not that he had an objection to people shooting at him less, but still.

But here was a Decepticon. A real, live Decepticon, in the steel. Coming with them. Were there others? Hornet had no idea, for he'd never even thought to look over what the crew was. Beyond the fact that Wheeljack and his few close friends from Earth (other than Hotrod) were not going on the mission, he'd really not considered it important who was and wasn't showing up.

All this left Hornet right where he'd been a moment ago. The Decepticon logo still spinning above the small bot's head still shone down on them both like a spotlight, and Hornet visibly had to restrain himself from shying away from it. But even Hornet knew that it was just an AR overlay, harmless now, as were all the Decepticons, at least in theory. Why Deathstrike had been requested for something like this was beyond Hornet, but that would have been true in any event. And so, with only a moment's hesitation, Hornet purposefully deactivated his own overlay, sending the Decepticon logo vanishing back into the invisible ether from whence it had come. It was, as far as Hornet was concerned, a relic of a former past, no longer important or relevant to what was happening. That was what it meant for the war to be over.

"Are you a flier?" he asked, a soft smile spreading over his face, as though this were the most logical thing in the world to ask at this juncture. "Wheeljack built me to fly in atmospheres, and Breakout says we're gonna be going to Gas Giants and other cool places. I've always wanted to fly in one of those!"

To others it might have sounded like Hornet had completely lost his place and rebooted into a new conversation. But in reality he'd simply done everything he felt he needed to do with the information provided.

[Cynical Cat]

"I was a flier," Deathstrike replied. "In my original body. This one the Autobots have placed me in cannot fly. Hopefully we will go to many interesting places and you will be able to fly through all sorts of atmospheres. Flying in gas giants can be very dangerous. The super storms can tear you apart if you aren't careful."

[General Havoc]

For the second time in as many minutes, Hornet's train of thought crashed into a ravine. Which given that he was about to rhapsodize eloquently about his favorite subject (flight), was quite a thing.

"You mean... you can't fly anymore?" Hornet's tone of voice said everything that needed to be said. It was all of the horror and fear and flabbergasted astonishment at the sheer wrongness of it all that Deathstrike was probably more used to seeing in regards to his status as a Decepticon. Hornet looked like he'd just suffered a segmentation fault, his face freezing in absolute horror, and he took a full pace back, rubbing his upper wing with one hand, as though desperate for the re-assurance of its lift-producing leading edge. To Hornet, losing his ability to fly permanently was beyond terrifying, it was the sort of nightmare scenario that still occasionally woke him in the middle of a cycle screaming. And here was a flier that...

It took Hornet a second to even remember how to react, but when he finally did, he did so in a way that, of course, was not what most would have done. Stepping forward, he reached out and took Deathstrike's wrist gently but firmly.

"Come on," he said. "Wheeljack can fix you. He can fix anything. He'll find a way so that you can fly again."

[Cynical Cat]

"He can fix me," said Deathstrike gently, "but he will not. I am a prisoner and until the Autobots decide that I should fly again, he won't fix me. He made a promise to respect his leaders and promises have to be kept."

[General Havoc]

Once more, Hornet did not understand. He was getting tired of that by now.

"But... but what's that got to do with anything?" he asked. "How come they won't let you fly?"

[Cynical Cat]

"The won't let me fly because I'm a prisoner," said Deathstrike. "If I could fly then it would be easier for me to escape or harm others so they won't let me fly until they decide to let me go."

[General Havoc]

The Prisoner thing again. That seemed to be the key. Hornet released Deathstrike's arm as he took a step back and looked the small bot over.

"How... how come you're a prisoner?" he asked.

[SirNitram]

"Outrunner!" he chirped. "Are you coming too?!" A number of bots did not like Outrunner for some reason, but Hornet had never been able to figure out why. Nearby stood a number of others, including several bots Hornet hadn't seen before. One was clearly a flier of some sort, while the second seemed to be a ground-based bot, though who they were, Hornet had no idea. Their transponder signals gave him the respective names of Novawing and Pathfinder, but that meant little to him at this point."

"Yep! I'm outta here because of those mean NAILS characters; I chose not to fight, and now I'm choosing not to pretend it makes me better than those who fought for their own reasons. Also, they're trying to set up speed limits. Speed limits! Speed shouldn't have limits but your own engine!" Outrunner's attitude was more cynical than Hornet's, but the two had been fast friends; neither wanted to fight if they could avoid it, both loved speed and human culture, and, in the end, Hornet had gotten Outrunner to come out of the shell of anger at the Autobots for the war. "Maybe we'll find a planet with some tight cornered tracks; you owe me a rematch, little guy. I think I can win this time!" Tight corners were practically required for what Outrunner considered 'real' races. He could whip around but Hornet had to make a big arc, letting the ground racer win some time. He didn't always insist on it; after Hornet's first kill, he had challenged the guy to a straightaway on one of America's highways. Hornet's easy win had helped a little, Outrunner always thought.

[Cynical Cat]

"I'm a prisoner because I lead a Decepticon attack to try and free other Decepticon prisoners," replied Deathstrike. "We had information that Ultra Magnus and a strike team had left, but they're ship broke down and they were still on site. We only had a narrow strike window, because a new team would be coming, so we attacked when they were still there. We had enough strength to overcome the guards, but not Breakout and Ultra Magnus and the rest of their team so we retreated. I stayed behind to fight so the rest of my team could get away. Then I would fly away. It didn't work out that way."

Deathstrike paused for a moment. There was a lot he could say here, but it would just be pointless bragging. So he skipped down to the end. "Breakout and I fought, at the end. He won. I fell down the Transdistrict Iacon Divide, the chasm dividing much of inner from outer Iacon. Between the fall and battle damage my body was wrecked. The Autobots picked me up and wanted to ask me questions (which was as nice a euphemism for interrogation as Deathstrike could come up with at the moment) but didn't want me in a powerful body. So they transferred by spark and brain module into this case, where I wouldn't be able to escape or overpower my captors.

"Then they declared the war over." Deathstrike decided to omit the politicking, it would be too confusing to a child-like mind. "Breakout decided to go on this mission and thought my knowledge and experience would be useful so I'm coming with him."

[Dark Silver]

Red Alert shuddered as Outrunner yammered on, at length, and loudly. Too loudly for Red Alert.

His hearing had always been sensitive - Adaptus saw fit to gift him with, as he dubbed them, the best ears in the business, and the yammering on and on was enough to drive him just a little more closer to the edge.

"Get inside Outrunner..."

The Lost Light's Chief of Security checked Outrunner's name off the data slate, and looked to the next person in line, his eyes narrowed, then he asked the same question as always, "Name?"

The Blue and Chrome Autobot before Red Alert smirked - or he would have smirked if he had a mouth instead of a mouth plate.

"Brainstorm,", the Autobot replied.

Red Alert looked over Brainstorm, and to the tan colored briefcase the Engineer carried, "I'm going to need to search your Briefcase, Brainstorm."

Brainstorm, for his part, blinked, "You're kidding right? This contains a work in progress. If I open it outside of a controlled environment, do you know what'll happen? End of the world my friend, end of the world."

Red Alert stared at Brainstorm with the same placid, disbelieving expression he always reserved for the boasters. Brainstorm ticked over for a few seconds, before continuing, "I'm serious. I'm almost certainly serious....I think."

"Besides," Brainstorm promptly presented a Security Clearance card, and showed it to Red Alert, "I'm exempt from all security checks. See? Special Dispensation from Rodimus himself. It's authentic, check out the rubsign!"

Red Alert studied the card, his mouth making a look of incredulousness, and shook his head, "So, as Head of Security I'm suppossed to let the Galaxy's most famous weapons engineer on board without checking his bags?"

"The Galaxy's most famous weapons engineer huh? Someone's been reading my Autopedia Entry." Brainstorm sounded smug at this.

"...Did I say famous?" Red Alert was annoyed - how could Rodimus simply bypass him after he was entrusted with the ship's security! He was absolutely livid at this, "Sorry about that I meant notorious. Get the hell on the ship. NEXT!"

Brainstorm cocked his head, patted his briefcase, and walked onto the boarding ramp of the Lost Light.

The annoyance was still on his face like a large flashing sign, as he looked back to the data slate, "Name?"

The voice came from below Red Alert, and was obviously from a higher pitched source than the gravelly growl it attempted to sound like, "Megatron. But you can call me Death."

Red Alert groaned, "Swerve...please tell me you're here to wave us off?"

The diminutive Orange and white Autobot laughed, spreading his hands out, "No, no, oh Primus, no. I'm here for the Quest. Love a good quest - haven't been on a quest since the whole Luna 1 thing. The Moonquest!"

"Please stop saying 'quest'," Red Alert pleaded.

"So, can I go aboard?"

Red Alert simply put the pad up higher infront of his face, "Of course Swerve....as long as you promise to never ever speak to me again...."

Swerve grinned and swaggered his way up the boarding Ramp, giving Red Alert a thumbs up, "HEY BREAKOUT, where you been you big lug you!" he screamed as soon as he was out of hitting range of Red Alert......

Red Alert shuddered, groaned and not for the 100th time that day, asked the eternal question, 'Why me?'

"NEXT!"

[LadyTevar]

It is a good thing Hornet and Outrunner were doing all the talking. Pathfinder's circuits had temporily frozen as he saw the 'Con ID hovering over a minibot with no weapons, no armor, nothing but the name of the spark inside. Deathstrike. Terror of Iacon, Megatron's pet, Starscream's rival for AirCommand, and one who'd put more than a few of Pathfinder's friends in stasis lock or worse.

But... now.. "What have they done to him?" Words finally got past the shock, just loud enough for Novawing to hear, "Why didn't they just scrap him, instead of leaving him like this? Whose idea was this?!"

[frigidmagi]

"Be careful Wheeljack. The current situation is frankly unsustainable. This kludged system of Bumblebee's can't work. Hornet needs you, so stay functioning." I say. I'm not sure Wheeljack believes me, he was always hard to read when he wanted to be. But I am sure in my analysis of Cybertron's current government, Bumblebee means well, but he's too ready to compromise with the wrong people (78.5% chance of crippling compromise, +18% if Starscream becomes politically active) and second guesses himself too much. Metalhawk is not a aide either (71.45% chance of Metalhawk causing warfare). Granted politics aren't my strength. The extent I took part in politics was to ensure military capability would be there and prevent tryanntaries. I need to speak to Rewind, he's not only a person who lived through the Functionalists Regime but an archivist. He can most likely answer my questions (82.34% likelihood).

Swerve grinned and swaggered his way up the boarding Ramp, giving Red Alert a thumbs up, "HEY BREAKOUT, where you been you big lug you!" he screamed as soon as he was out of hitting range of Red Alert......

Swerve... Is a trial. He is not a bad bot but... He... Never.... Stops... Talking... Ever. Still...

"Swerve, I've been... around. You?" I ask, setting myself for a barrage of wordfare.

[rhoenix]

It is a good thing Hornet and Outrunner were doing all the talking. Pathfinder's circuits had temporily frozen as he saw the 'Con ID hovering over a minibot with no weapons, no armor, nothing but the name of the spark inside. Deathstrike. Terror of Iacon, Megatron's pet, Starscream's rival for AirCommand, and one who'd put more than a few of Pathfinder's friends in stasis lock or worse.

But... now.. "What have they done to him?" Words finally got past the shock, just loud enough for Novawing to hear, "Why didn't they just scrap him, instead of leaving him like this? Whose idea was this?!"

Novawing observed Deathstrike, a list of emotions flickering through him, most inspired by memories. "Fear," he replied quietly. "If something scares you, most seek to bind and control it as a way of dealing with that fear, as though it would conquer the fear itself. For a warrior such as he though..."

He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head. "...Deathstrike, no matter what else you can say about him, had a code of honor. And right now, that code of honor lets him walk tall with his chin held high, even though his chassis could barely be considered fit for a broken-down cassetticon. You have to respect him for that, at least."

With that, he moved at a calm place into line with the others, waiting to board this ship.

He'd really have to explore the Lost Light soon, Novawing thought to himself with slightly narrowed eyes. Nobody likes being a passenger on something they don't know much about, and most especially not him.

[General Havoc]

Wheeljack nodded solemnly. "I don't plan on going anywhere," he said to Breakout. "But if you're right, and everything falls to pieces here, I want Hornet off-planet for the result. He doesn't understand the politics of the situation and Cybertron could become dangerous for him. More dangerous than your little expedition maybe. But that's not why he's going."

The science-bot turned and followed Hornet with his optics as the smaller bot ran over to a gaggle of Transformers including two former Decepticons, not that Hornet saw things that way. Literally.

"He's going because he needs to get off of Cybertron. He doesn't want to be here at all, and he can't go back to Earth. One way or another, Cybertron will be here when he's ready to come back, but right now he needs to go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

He turned back to Breakout. "I know you can't vouch for his safety any more than anything else, but I'll make you a deal. I'll try to make sure I'm still here when he gets back, if you do your best to make sure he's still intact when you return."

*------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Hornet frowned at Novawing as he made his 'broken-down Casseticon' comment. Having spent his entire life being called a Casseticon by largely everyone he'd ever met, Hornet knew just how stale such jokes could get, how much more so for someone used to being as large as the rest.

Still, the prospect of having one's flight taken away was the sort of thing that haunted Hornet's nightmares. Actually having it happen to someone, even a Decepticon, seemed needlessly cruel, particularly given that the war was over.

"But if the war's over," he said, "can't they just put you back in a flyer body?" He wasn't sure how spark transplants worked, but apparently they'd managed it at least once for Deathstrike already. "I mean... don't you miss flying?"

[Cynical Cat]

"They say the war is over," Deathstrike replied, "but they think I might not agree. And I miss flying all the time."

[General Havoc]

Hornet lowered his eyes as Deathstrike admitted to what had to be the case. Yet despite everything, his next question was indicative enough to show that he'd managed to grasp something of what was being talked about.

"Well... don't you agree?" he asked.

[Cynical Cat]

"Tell me what part of the Autobot grand plan for the future involves Optimus Prime being driven into exile? What will they do with all the Decepticon prisoners? Why should any Decepticon not on Cybertron accept the war is over if all they have to look forward to is death and imprisonment? How can the Autobots rule if 'freedom is the right of every sentient being' and most of the Cybertronians that have returned are not Autobots and do not trust them?

"I think the peace is failing. It will take bold and decisive leadership to save it and of that I have seen none. But perhaps I am wrong. I don't know what is said or planned in Autobot councils. Perhaps their is a plan to save it. Perhaps my view is coloured too much but what I am and the situation I am in. It does not matter. I gave my word to Breakout that I would aid this mission and I will keep it. What happens here will happen without me."

[General Havoc]

What Hornet thought of that answer, or if he thought anything of it at all, he gave no sign. So easy to read normally, Hornet simply stood there as Deathstrike said his peace, watching the small Decepticon with an expression that revealed very little but a soft, vague sadness, as if Hornet was recalling something distant and painful. It was highly unlikely that Hornet had even been alive to experience something of the sort, yet he seemed to stare into space for a few moments before, without a word of explanation, he stepped forward and gave Deathstrike a hug.

Anyone who knew Hornet knew about his tendency to do this sort of thing, but anyone who didn't would likely be confused beyond belief. He gave no explanation for it, as was his wont, but wrapped his wings around Deathstrike and squeezed him tightly. Normally, one of Hornet's hugs was a considerably more... energetic... affair, but Deathstrike was actually slightly smaller than Hornet, and thus Hornet had elected to behave as he did around humans, who even by Hornet's own standards were incredibly small and fragile.

When at length he had finished, Hornet stepped back, a soft smile on his face that somehow looked vaguely sad. "It'll be okay," he said, though what he meant was not exactly clear. "You'll see."